Page 46 of Just Bromantically Invested

My gaze catches on the way his Adam’s apple bobs.

“Penn. I need you to tell me. Right now. What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” My voice shakes I’m so scared.

Madden’s hand wraps around mine, breaking my contact with him. He steps closer until there’s just this shivery, zappy sliver of air between us. The tension radiating from me is so thick I need to close the distance, anything to put an end to it.

“Penn.” His voice is strained, like he’s barely in control.

I hook my free hand in his shorts. “Why are you wearing these?”

He blinks a few times and looks down. “I was saving you from the alcohol.”

“I’m saved,” I rasp. “Take them off.”

There’s a giant question mark in Madden’s eyes as he sets down the vodka and releases me. Then he pushes his shorts and briefs from his hips and shoves them to the ground. My swallow is so loud he has to hear it.

And for the first time since I’ve been paying attention, he’s not soft. He’s not all the way hard either, but his thick cock is sitting higher, and I can’t drag my eyes away from it.

Madden steps closer, fingers dancing over the edge of my shirt. “Tell me to stop.”

There are so many reasons why I should.

“No.”

Madden pulls my shirt up and over my head, then pauses with his hand on the button of my pants. His eyes search mine, and I give him a nod. The button loosening gives me chills, and when Madden tucks his thumbs into the sides of my pants and slides them off, it feels like every inch of my skin has been supercharged.

I’m so achingly hard. I want more, and I don’t have the words to say it, don’t even know if what’s happening here is really happening.

Madden straightens, and I risk a glance down, finding himas hard as I am. A rush of want shoots through me, pooling in my stomach as I inspect a dick that isn’t mine and want to touch it so fucking badly. I’m aching all over, desperate for more, wondering how the hell it can be Madden standing right in front of me, sending my brain to short-circuit.

I’ve seen him naked way too many times to count, but not one of those times has felt as intimate as this.

Madden takes a cautious half step closer and sets his hands on my biceps. I want those hands everywhere. “What’s on your mind?”

“You.”

“And what are you thinking about?”

Nothing. Everything. There’s too much rocketing around in my skull to take hold of, but my body is coming through loud and clear. I want Madden. I just want him.

“Touch me.” The words are a whisper. “Please.”

His puffy lips part on a breath, face so close I can read the mix of doubt and want in his expression. He’s not holding back, and I hope I’m not either. I’ve never felt this much burning need for anyone before.

I shift in place, cock brushing up against his, and my eyes roll back into my skull. Skin on skin, cock on cock. It’s overwhelming pleasure, and part of me is expecting to wake up because there’s no way anything can feel this good.

Madden releases my bicep and wraps a large hand around my length.

I choke on an exhale at the touch. “Oh … oh, fuck.”

“This okay?”

“More,” I beg.

His hands are rough, and even with how much I’m fucking leaking everywhere, there’s an edge to the hand job I’ve never experienced. I’m so eye-crossingly hard, dick so tight and sensitive, that with every pass of his hand over my length, I’m sure I’m about to come. His thumb swipes my angry tip, payingextra attention to that spot on the underside that drives me fucking wild.

I watch as Madden dangles a line of spit over my cock and lands it in his hand. The spit helps him stroke me faster but doesn’t take that delicious edge away, and my balls are so fucking tight I’m on that cusp between feeling amazing and painful.

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