Page 5 of The Liar's Reckoning

There’s something intrinsically virile about him. Masculine in that way society expects of men.

“I should hit the gym more often,” I blurt out.

“You look fine to me,” he says.

I take the compliment, whether it can be believed or not. He and I both know he’s being paid for this, but part of what I’m paying for is the fantasy. That this is a real thing I could do. A real person I could be. Though I doubt in any parallel universe I’d ever attract a man likethis.

His shoes come off next, which means his pants are about to go. My cock pulses with an aching demand to be touched. I widen my legs instead and lean back in my chair, keeping my arms folded tightly over my chest.

“What kind of guy do you like?” he asks.

“Hm?” His words almost distract me from the fact that he’s unhooking his waistband.

“What draws your eye? Pretty? Rugged? Big? Little? What do you like?”

“This.”

“Hm. That doesn’t answer the question.Thisis a lot of things. And it can be whatever you need.”

“I like that you’re strong. Not pretty but beautiful…”

“Standard gym bro, then?” he asks.

I laugh. It’s unexpected and comes out sounding nervous and rough. “Is that what you are?”

He shrugs and slides his pants down his thighs along with his belt. Bent over, he takes off his socks, too. When he rises, he’s bare but for black boxer briefs. I have yet to see a tan line, which means he must run in very short shorts.

I only notice he’s not hard because I’m so painfully erect. It doesn’t bother me—I wasn’t expecting him to be turned on by undressing for a stranger.

“Keep going?” he asks.

“Please.” My voice is hoarse.

Hooking his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his shorts, he peels them off his hips and bends again, his hair falling forward as he slides them off his strong legs. When he stands upright, he’s fully naked.

My breath catches in my chest. You’d think I’d never seen a naked guy before, but I’ve been in plenty of locker rooms. There’s a rare occasion where I watch porn. But I’ve never beenalonewith a naked man—agaynaked man.

“Would you um…” I gesture at the chaise. Nod in its direction. “Lie back?”

Silently, he complies with my request, moving his discarded clothing to the foot of the bed. He considers the chaise, tilting his head side to side before sitting down, propping his back on the arm, and placing one foot on the cushion, the other on the floor. Casual repose? It would look perfectly normal if he were dressed—lewd only because he’s not. His tan line is stark, and it would be funny if he weren’t so damn hot.

Fuck. I give my cock one rub. Just one. Squeezing it hard to try and tame it into something less needful. Silas rests a hand on his thigh and stares at me, no doubt wondering what’s next.

“I just wanna look at you,” I try to explain.

A tiny frown forms a crease between his brows, but he nods.

“For a while anyway.”

“That’s fine. Let me know if you want me to do anything different.”

If I were bolder, I might get up, walk over, get closer and take a better look. And I might still do that at some point. But right now, I’m testing myself.

Am I really gay? Or was that one hot kiss a fluke—one that confused me and made me think something about myself that doesn’t have to be true?

Sure, I’ve never been attracted to a woman—not in a sexualway. And when I get myself off, which is rare, I never think about women either, but I also don’t think about dicks and holes. I think about that one kiss mainly—about how I nearly came in my pants from grinding my cock against Rhett Buckner’s thigh.

I’ve wondered whether I’m sexual at all. It’s not like I’ve struggled with celibacy. I probably could have been a priest if my parents hadn’t pressured me to study law. Although I’m not particularly religious, either.

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