Page 270 of Wrath

The doorbell rings. My stomach drops. “What the—”

“Dude, lemme in,” he rasps through the phone. “I’m tenting my pants out here!”

“Dammn, boy. You don’t even sound breathless.”

“Soccer sprints, baby.”

I pull the door open, and Mills is looking like a snack. He’s got on beat-up jeans, tented by his massive boner, and the same red and white Henley shirt he pulled on this morning. But he’s got flushed cheeks from the jog, and he’s giving me this lust-slack grin as he holds his cock.

“Masturbating on the walkway. Miller.” Mills laughs, andthen he launches himself at me—full-on tackle with his arms around my neck and his face pressed against my shoulder. I think he forgot about my ankle, still in its boot.

“God, you smell good. And this Polo.” He nips at the collar of the hunter green shirt I have on, then at my throat.

“Hope you don’t mind me borrowing,” I tell him. “I wasn’t sure what to wear.”

“You look fucking lunchable, babe.”

Such a weird endearment—makes me laugh my ass off. I pull him inside and slam the door shut. “Miller, Miller, Miller…what a dirty boy, trying to rip a hole in those jeans you stole from my drawer…”

I end up on my knees, working his button undone and unzipping his fly. I end up sucking his dick in the foyer because I can’t help myself. Mills slides down the door. He’s gripping the back of my head as he comes, and then he’s kissing my mouth. He’s taking my hand, leading me into the bedroom, where he stops short, wide-eyed and then open-mouthed as he takes in more than a hundred roses covering our pillows.

“Ez. Holy shit.” Now he’s kissing me. He’s walking me backwards toward the bed’s edge, wrapping his hands around my elbows and holding tight so I don’t fall in my boot.

I ease down on my back, and Josh is crawling on top of me. He tickles my cheek and then my throat with a rose…and my lower abs. Then he works my pants down my hips, freeing my hard cock, and he gives one of the best blow jobs of my life so far. The kissing, licking, lapping at my cockhead, sucking—it’s alljustright. He nudges my balls aside and hesitates, and I groan, “Please, Josh.” Once he’s got a finger in me, I can’t hold out for long. I come almost violently, going a little dizzy as he finishes and lays his cheek on my hip. And that’s how we’re posed when the doorbell rings.

Turns out nobody thought about the fact that 11:30 Atlanta time is 10:30 Alabama time.The reporter’s here an hour early.

“Fuck!” Mills laughs, looking panicked.

"Shit.” I shove my dick into my underwear and button my pants as he does the same. He hisses, “Tuck it down more,” and I do. I check him out. “You’re looking okay.”

“Because I’m hard as fuck and I just tucked it up into my pants waist,” Miller says.

We stand there gaping at each other. He laughs and straightens the bedding. Then he rubs a hand over the roses.

“Dude, this is beautiful. You did so good. Thank you.”

“Open the nightstand drawer, Millsy. If you’re that hard, sit in here, let it deflate, and eat some Fun Dip.”

“Wuhhh!”

I’m chuckling as Miller opens the drawer where I stashed his V-Day treats. The doorbell rings again, and I hug him, kissing his hair as he sits on the bed, grinning up at me.

“I love you, angel. Thank you for the sugar high.”

I kiss his forehead. “Always.”

“Go slow with him,” Mills says. “Don’t let yourself feel pressured.”

“Are we having ‘the talk’, Dad?” I tease.

He stands up so he can hug me tight and kiss my cheek. His hand strokes my back. “I’m so damn proud of you, Ez. All the work that you’ve been doing…”

He must mean in therapy. I kiss his lips. “I love you more.”

“I’ve got your V-Day when this guy leaves.” Mills cups himself, and I get one more hug before I hustle to the door, pulling it open for a short, slim guy with black glasses, a paisley button-up, and gray slacks with what I think are…

“Doc Martens?”

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