Page 30 of Rock Bottom

“Does it feel good?” Dante asked as he ground his palm into my cock.

“Yes.” My voice came out as a tight whisper, but I didn’t even need to say it. My hips had started to rise and fall on their own, chasing more friction. Dante wasn’t even stroking me anymore. I was fucking up into his fist through my clothes, as wound up as a bloody teenager. And like an idiot boy, I was already seconds away from losing control and making a complete fool of myself.

My hand shot out and, trembling, latched onto Dante by the shirt. “Dante…” My breathing was ragged already, my cock leaking everywhere. If we didn’t stop, there was going to be an even bigger mess. One I couldn’t blame him for because I was still doing this to myself, grinding against his hand like a dog.

Dante closed his lips over the pulse in my neck and sucked until it hurt. “This what you need, kitten?” he asked and flicked his tongue over the bruise.

“I…I can’t…I need…” I gasped. Words. Where were my bloody words? What was I even going to say? I didn’t want to stop. I was too close, and I needed it too bad.

“Shh. Don’t worry. I’ll give you what you need, kitten,” Dante cooed and went back to showering my neck with sweet kisses.

There was nothing to do but bury my head against his shoulder and let it happen. It was his scent more than anything that finally pushed me over the edge, and I finally found the right word.

“Fuck…” I let out the most pitiful moan as I came in my pants like a schoolboy. Even as wave after wave of pleasure wracked my body, my face was burning with embarrassment. There was no way he was ever going to let me live that down.

“I-I’m sorry.” I tugged my shirt down as if I could somehow hide what I’d done. “I don’t usually…It’s just…I haven’t…It’s been…”

Instead of the wicked laugh or the taunting I was expecting, Dante brushed his thumbs over my cheeks and lifted my head from his shoulder, smiling down at me like I’d done something amazing. “Good boy,” he said and planted a gentle kiss on my lips. “You did so well. You needed that, huh?”

I wanted to melt into the floor and die of embarrassment, but I nodded anyway.

“What do you want now?” he asked.

“A shower.” I winced, face still blazing. That wasn’t supposed to come out. You bloody idiot, Church. You could offer the man a handie at least! But I couldn’t make the words come out. I was too fucking humiliated after losing control like that, despite Dante’s praise.

“Okay.” Dante smiled, kissed my cheek and jumped up like he wasn’t sporting an impressive erection of his own.

I frowned. “Where are you going? What about…”

“My impressive cock?” He shrugged. “My dick, my problem. Unless you want to help me with it?”

“I…” I didn’t have an answer for that. A minute ago, I would have been totally on board, and there was a part of me that still was, but… What if I was making a colossal mistake? I could come back from humiliating myself by coming after a little dry humping. If I let this continue, one of us was going to get hurt, and it would most likely be me. I couldn’t do casual flings, no matter how good it felt.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready, dude,” Dante said and stretched his arms over his head. “If you change your mind, or if you need a tune up, me and my dick will be upstairs until you need us. Go shower or do…whatever. But you might want to change your pants before Bowie gets back.” He paused on the stairs and looked back at me, a sly grin spreading over his face. “On second thought, leave it. I like marking my territory.”

“You didn’t mark me.”

“Might want to ice that big hickey on your neck, then!” he shouted with a smirk and bounded up the stairs.

I slapped my hand over where he’d been sucking on my neck like a vampire. “That little shit!”

I sighed and let my forehead rest against the cool glass pane of my window. Rain raced down it, blurring the outside world. Thunder growled, blocking out the sound of the vacuum cleaner going downstairs. It’d been two days since I’d sat in Church’s lap and jerked him off through his clothes, and he’d been avoiding me ever since. I didn’t know if he was still pissed about the hickey—which wasn’t even that noticeable—or if I’d done something wrong. I knew he'd wanted it, so that wasn’t it. I had given him every opportunity to back out, and he said yes every time. Maybe he was still in the closet. That’d explain why he refused to tell me if he was bi, pan, or gay. Maybe he didn’t even know.

Since that afternoon, he hadn’t even had dinner with me. Church had been leaving me a plate in the microwave to heat up and spent a lot more time walking around outside. I’d popped out to ask him if he needed anything a few times. He’d just politely declined. It was like we’d gone back to being strangers, exactly the opposite of what I’d been hoping for.

I missed something, or fucked up somewhere, but where? I blew on the glass and drew a smiley face in the fog my breath left behind, but even he started to melt.

I gave up trying to entertain myself with my own thoughts and went downstairs to find something to eat. Church was probably outside on the porch with his tea, watching the rain. I thought about joining him, but decided against it. He’d been flighty ever since we’d messed around, and I didn’t want to scare him off.

Oscar, the cleaning guy, was around somewhere, but I didn’t spot him as I plopped down on the sofa with a Tupperware container of last night’s leftovers. I switched on the TV, but there was no cable, and no streaming out there, so I quickly turned it back off in favor of finishing the shepherd’s pie leftovers.

Once I was finished, I set the container on the coffee table and stretched out on the sofa to wait for Church to come inside. If I was lying right there, it’d be harder for him to avoid me. Maybe I just needed to give him an excuse to talk to me.

Unfortunately for me, the rain and the quiet were just relaxing enough, and the couch was just comfortable enough that I must’ve fallen asleep. When my eyes opened, there was a scuffling sound coming from the loft. I frowned and rolled my head toward the ladder. What the hell was that sound? God, if there were mice in the cabin…

I cringed and sat up. My eyes drifted toward the front door. Maybe I should get Church to check. That’s what he’d want to do. For all I knew, there was an intruder upstairs going through my things. But if it was just a mouse or a bird or something that’d gotten in, I’d feel stupid calling in my bodyguard to deal with it.

I rose from the couch and climbed the ladder as quickly and quietly as I could. When my head popped up over the edge, I frowned as I spotted Oscar kneeling next to my bed, peering under it.

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