Page 43 of My First Time Fling

Mark leaned up against me, pressing his chest to my back, and the pressure deepened. I gasped, and he laid his left hand on top of mine, up on the wall. He laced our fingers together as he grabbed my cock with his other hand.

He started to stroke my cock and pump into my hole at the same time, and I just about lost it. He nipped at my earlobe, then bit gently on my shoulder. His possessive touch sent shivers through my body, and I whispered his name as he thrust into me.

Mark’s motions grew smoother, bigger, and I gave in to the rhythm, a pulsing pleasure building at my core. It had been too long, and with Mark jerking me off as he fucked me, I knew I couldn’t last.

“Fuck me,” I begged, my voice ragged. “Fuck me. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. I surrendered to his grinding, insistent demands, pushing back onto his cock, meeting his thrusts. Water cascaded down next to us, and the steam in the air was so thick that I couldn’t see clearly. But I didn’t need to see. I just needed to feel. Mark’s hands. Mark’s lips. Mark’s cock.

“Don’t stop,” I begged again, right on the edge. “Fuck yes. Yes. Fuck. Don’t. Fucking. Stop.”

I came suddenly, shuddering, my forehead resting against the shower wall as Mark stroked me through it. It was hard and fast, and I was breathless by the end, whimpering in pleasure. The sight of me coming must have snapped something in Mark, because he grew even more forceful after that, his cock plunging into me, erasing every sense except a floating, endless heat. He trembled when he came, his right hand gripping my hip, his cock throbbing deep inside me until, finally, he was still.

A languid glow took me over, and I sighed a little as Mark pulled out. I turned around, leaning my back against the tiled wall, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“See,” I said, pulling back but keeping my arms locked around his neck. “I told you it would be amazing.”

Mark looked into my eyes, his pupils dilated, and he laughed, deep and sweet, like honey over rocks. “I should have listened.”

“Probably a good habit to get into,” I said, flashing him a smile. “I am always right, after all.”

“And it was okay at the end? I wasn’t too rough?”

“You were incredible.”

Mark’s grin grew bigger. “Good. Because you deserve incredible. But maybe we should practice some more anyway. Just to be sure we’re doing the absolute best job we can.”

“Who knows? Give us a year and we might even perfect it.” I stopped, hearing my own words, and tried to laugh it off. “Not that I’m saying we still have to be together—I mean, not that I don’t want to be together, but—God, sorry. I’m awkward. I didn’t mean we have to plan our entire future right now, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Jesse, you’re good. I like it. I see a future with you.”

My heart soared as he kissed me again. Everything was going to be fine. I’d just been overreacting earlier. Mark clearly cared about me. Liked me. Wanted me. And he said he saw a future with me.

Everything was going to be fine.

Right?

* * *

“Bartender, I’ll take a thousand-year-old Scotch, neat. Make it your peatiest.”

I looked up from slicing lime wedges to see Brooklyn saunter into the Flamingo a few weeks later, an arrogant look on his face. I raised an eyebrow, and he cracked immediately.

“Or you could just make me something sweet with an umbrella on the rim. Because brown liquor is disgusting.”

“That’s the Brooklyn I know and love.” I smiled as he walked over. Even on my crappiest days, Brooklyn could make things seem a little brighter.

I decided to make him a whiskey sour, just to prove him wrong about the brown liquor thing. I knew he’d like it—I used my own recipe for homemade sour mix—and I turned to grab the bottles while he took a seat at the bar. Everybody liked a whiskey sour, even guys so intent on proving their masculinity that they would look askance at a drink with any sweetness.

“How’d the meeting with the bank go?” Brooklyn asked as I measured out the whiskey.

“Okay.” I shrugged and turned back to face him, still mixing the drink. “I got approved for a loan, but not the amount I was hoping for. And the interest rate is horrifying to contemplate. If I had a bigger down payment, things would look better, but as it is…”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

I made a face as I handed Brooklyn his drink. “Maybe. Or maybe Cam will decide he wants to sell to that developer anyway. At this point, I’m just rooting for him to take pity on me.”

“Didn’t he tell you he didn’t care about the money?”

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