Page 11 of Branson's Promise

I had to give it to him, his will to keep this platonic was strong, but I could feel desire radiating from him that I knew was far stronger.

“Fuck friends. I'll ask again, do you want me to stop?”

He let out a frustrated, somewhat adorable growl and threw his head back, uttering what sounded like ‘white flags’ before locking his eyes with mine. “No.”

Satisfied, I pulled Branson down, bringing his body flush with mine and his throat within kissing distance. I licked a stripe up the side then sucked his ear lobe into my mouth, giving it a sharp bite before releasing it to ask, “Do you think about that night?”

Branson let out a groan, a deep rumble that vibrated through him. He felt so fucking good on top of me. The weight of his lean body pressing against mine was perfect. No, not perfect. Exquisite.

“Yes.” It was said on a breath, barely a word.

“So do I. And I want to do it again. But I’d do things much differently this time.” Simultaneously, I moved one hand to rest gently on his hip while the other ghosted between us, coming to land on his denim covered erection.

“Tell me,” he all but moaned.

“This time,” I rocked my hips up so he could feel what he did to me. “This time, I’d strip you slowly, removing your top first, kissing every inch of skin on display. Then I’d pull off these sinful jeans,” I rubbed his cock, deepening the pressure as I continued, “and lay you on my bed. Your pale skin would look stunning against my navy sheets.”

“And then?” Branson snaked one of his hands under my shirt and rubbed it across my abs, up through the soft hair on my chest then over to my nipple. He pulled back, a look of delightful surprise on his face when he found the cold metal barbell through my right nipple.

“And then,” I continued, “I’d worship you. Give you everything you could ever want.” Though I meant that sexually, my heart beat a little faster at the thought of spoiling this man in every way possible.

“Yes, that, I want that,” Branson said, his finger still toying with the jewellery and his hips slowly rocking back and forward, meeting the movements of my hand.

“Anything you want, gorgeous, but right now, I’d really like to kiss you.”

Branson nodded and I took his cheeks in my hands, pulling him towards me, brushing my lips over his.

“Bran?” A voice sounded from behind us, and Branson bolted upright, shooting off my lap and landing next to me. He jumped up, straightening his very obvious erection as he turned to face the attractive man standing on the other side of the roped off area.

“Milo! You made it!”

Milo? Who the fuck was Milo?

Chapter 6

Milo

Iwatched him, well both of them, for far longer than was socially acceptable. There was something so inherently sexy about the way they were together - the way they touched and explored each other. The whispering and shared looks had my stomach swirling and my dick thickening against my zipper.

Branson was hard not to look at. Trust me when I say, I'd tried. But the truth was, I've been lusting over my roommate for weeks. His scent - sweet and citrusy, reminding me of a lemon pie - his voice, his laughter, and his ability to imprinthis personality on our entire apartment had me wanting him in ways I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

I'd never admit that to him though, because I had little to offer him besides a jaded heart and an empty bank account. My father had told me so many times I was useless, destined to be alone and my heart and mind believed him. So I'd distanced myself from any form of attraction or romantic relationship because what if he'd been right all along? What if I really wasn't worth having around? Distance felt safest.

It was hard where Branson was concerned though. He was overwhelming, not in a bad way, but in a way that momentarily stole my breath when he entered a room before remembering I could breathe in his presence.

So, when I arrived at the bar, after he’d invited me earlier in the day, and found him on top of another guy in the VIP area, I froze. And I watched. They were mesmerising. Two contrasting bodies - one big and built, the other lean but toned - blending together sensually. Branson's smaller form writhing atop the other man, his hands powerful tools that rubbed fervently over Branson.

The man was older too, distinguished and so bloody sexy, like he wouldn't look out of place in a boardroom or on the cover of a fashion magazine. I couldn't take my eyes off of them until the bouncer cleared his throat and I realised how fucking creepy I was being.

That was the only reason I called out his name, interrupting them just as their lips brushed together. Yeah, that was the only reason.

Now, I was standing opposite a visibly aroused and flushed Branson, and a tall, imposing, perfectly styled blonde who looked like he wanted to destroy me. And not in the way I'd like to be destroyed.

“Milo! You made it!” Branson beamed while gesturing to the bouncer to let me through.

“Sorry I’m a little late, I got held up at the studio.” Branson pulled me into a hug and I resisted the urge to sniff him, instead, focusing my attention on the man behind him. Once he pulled away, I stepped to his side and reached out my hand to the imposing blonde.

“Hi, I’m uh, Milo, Branson’s roommate.” The blonde gave me a half smile, his lip tipped up on one side, his vibrant blue eyes boring into me. He was attractive. Extremely attractive. Tall and broad, his blonde hair neatly styled. His eyes were bluer than Branson's, more ocean blue then the grey blue of my roommates. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, a good ten or so years older than me.

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