Page 33 of Getting It Twisted

If I fuck him, I might start to care about him again, like I once did.

And that’s dangerous.

“I don’t think so,” I say, pulling away from him. “We should get back.”

“What?” he coughs out. “Come on, Daniel, don’t leave me blue-balled here.”

I raise an eyebrow at his cum-stained shirt. “Have you looked at yourself?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t even fuck me yet.”

“I made you come. You should be grateful.”

He glares at me. “Grateful?”

“Yes. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“You know this isn’t what I wanted!”

“Keep your voice down,” I hiss.

“Why, you scared George will hear us?”

“Go wash your shirt.”

“Fuck you, Daniel.”

“No, thanks. And I won’t fuckyoueither.”

His jaw drops, and he goes quiet.

I did it. I got the last word. It feels good to win the conversation for once, but not as good as I thought it would.

Nathan gets off the bed and pulls his pants up. Before he leaves, he shoots me a glare so dark and murderous that, if I were anyone else, I’d be worried he really wanted to kill me.

I turn onto my back and slip my fingers into my mouth, groaning at the taste. How can even his cum taste so good? I shove my hand into my pants and grip my neglected cock. I’ve been rock-hard ever since we landed on the bed, and all it takes is a few pumps. When I come, I think of him as he was just now, helpless and splayed out and panting into my mouth.

Chapter 7

Nathan

After wiping my shirtso furiously it almost rips, I exit the bathroom, on the hunt for a drink. Or several drinks. Only, I don’t get far before a hand grabs hold of me and George leans into my ear.

“You want what you came here for? Come with me.”

He leads me into the bedroom opposite Daniel’s. Rummaging around in a drawer, he comes up with a ziplock bag containing the lone key to my house. When I reach out a hand, he returns the key where he found it and steps in front of me, obscuring it from view.

“First, you’re going to tell me what you’re planning.”

“Planning? With what?” I cross my arms, instantly bored. At least boredom is better than the sting of rejection. My jaw clenches when I think of how Daniel pinned me down and jerkedme off like it was a damn chore. As a cherry on top, he refused to fuck me too.

At least he kissed me. Damn, he’s a good kisser. And his callused hand jerked me so rough and hard, just the way I like it. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, but it wasn’t enough.

“Planning,” George says, “with Daniel.”

“What? Oh. Well, I was coming back to town. What was I supposed to do?”

He throws his hands up. “You could have—I don’t know—left him alone!”

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