Page 71 of The Idiot

Oh, Jesse.

Cupping his face, I murmur against his lips, ignoring his revelation. “Show me what you did to my cock in that dressing room earlier.”

I offer him my tongue by invading his mouth. It takes him a second, but he figures it out. And damn, does he figure it out, swirling and suckling. Jesse has officially figured out kissing.

I don’t know if it’s the feral sounds I’m making, if it’s the pleasure from my mouth, or if he likes that silicone sliding between his cheeks, but his fingertips feel like they’re clawing at the top of my ass cheeks. Does he think he needs permission?

Reaching back, I cup my hand over his, slide it down the curve of my ass, and squeeze. I swallow the groan he lets out as his hips punch forward.

I’m a vers top, but it looks like Jesse’s just sent out some strong top signals. I doubt he even realizes. I have no clue if that’s even in the cards for us, but the thought of him fucking me makes me feel whole inside. For now, however, I could just kiss him for the next century.

And it feels like we do, even after we erupt all over our stomachs. Long after the water washes it away. We kiss until my lips are raw and as swollen as his, and it’s still not enough. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him.

When I realize the temperature has waned, I know it’s time to leave this steamy compartment of bliss. Our kisses are barely even kisses anymore, just lazy brushes to each other’s temples, cheeks, and necks.

Resting my forehead on his shoulder, the chill brings a hit of reality. He sounds so sedated, his fingers idly circling the globes of my ass as he tucks his face in my neck. We’re basically just holding each other. I don’t think either of us has said a word for fifteen minutes. It’s companionable and feels like… more than exploring.

“What are we doing?” I whisper.

“I don’t know,” he whispers back, nuzzling deeper into the side of my neck, “but… I like it.” His hand retreats from my ass, sliding up my spine, featherlight to my shoulder. Hesitant. Vulnerable. “Do you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Of course, I do—because I think that means he’s mine.

CHAPTER 23

Jesse

I know what my brother Pete’s problem is—he’s just needed to go on a cruise for the last thirty-five years. Sighing, I lean back against the headboard. Murph tosses the sex rag that he grabbed to clean us up to the floor and flops down on the bed with his head by my feet.

Ha! Is that his way of telling me he’s off limits until he regains some energy?

I can’t say I blame him. I kind of thought all our exploring would cure my horniness, but instead, it’s made me insatiable, especially since the kissing lesson in the shower a few days ago.

Kissing is no joke. It’s like a gateway drug. I reallyama cockslut.

Reaching out, Murph toys with the feather on myPinocchiohat where it’s lying discarded on the mattress. I smirk again over his insistence that I keep it on after we left the farewell costume party an hour ago. The kinky bastard. Good thing Mom still had it stashed in the attic, even though it took motivation to squeeze into it.

Where the hell did he get lederhosen, though? I can’t unsee the image of him in those. The oldRicolacommercials will never be the same. I kind of want him to shout it the next time I make him come.

I track his happy trail up to the patch of hair on his chest, watching his rib cage rise and fall in his post-frotting bliss. Licking my lips, I don’t actually mind how raw they feel after another long night of kissing. If men knew the way he can kiss, I doubt he’d be single. I understand now why Philip was on him like spots on a tiger. Maybe he sensed Murph’s abilities.

Nudging his shoulder with my foot, I tease, “I can’t believe you have a Pinocchio kink. Guess I’ll have to dress up in it at home whenever I want you to attack me like that again.”

His hand stills on the feather, and his body goes rigid. “At home?”

Shit. I just assumed. My post-haze deflates, realizing there’s an expiration date to our… adventures. Of course, there is. We can’t run around fondling each other all day in Wenatchee. I didn’t even think about that.

“I was joking.”

“So… what happens on the cruise, stays on the cruise?”

That phrase is funny in movies. I can’t find any humor in it right now, though. I feel like I’ve just been voted off an island, Dick Island. I don’t want to be voted off. I was just getting settled in.

“Yeah, sure,” I concur, albeit grudgingly. “Why? Did you want to tell somebody?” I joke, yet it has me wondering about the possibility.

I don’t even know how I’d explain all of this to my family. It’s completely different from Cam and Pete’s situation. I think they’re moving in together soon. Murph and I are friends andwe’re just fooling around. I can’t imagine walking through his kitchen, waving to Charlotte a greeting of, ‘Hi! I’m here to jerk off your son.’

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