Page 48 of Rhett

“No. You said something right.”

Over and over and over again, I lead Rhett to the cliff’s edge but don’t let him plunge off. He’s sweating, bites his lip, muscles tight and cock looking like it’s going to burst.

I’ve never edged someone before. It’s killing me as much as it is him, bringing me to the cliff with him, and I’m not taking the dive either.

When he’s begging, “Fuck, please do it. Make me come,” I nearly empty my own balls, hands-fucking-free, just by how incredibly sexy he is.

“No more waiting.” My heart’s beating too fast, my body trembling, eager for what’s to come. I climb onto the couch with him, lay Rhett on his back and get on top of him. “I’m going to make us come together.” I pour lube onto our shafts, then line them up. “Fuck, I need you.”

My mouth slams down on his. Kissing Rhett is like an out-of-body experience. I never realized how much I liked kissing before, or maybe I didn’t like kissing this much until him.

He lets my tongue invade his mouth. I rut against him at the same time, our cocks rubbing together, Rhett moving up to meet each motion of my hips.

The familiar buzz starts at the base of my spine. He feeds me needy sounds, which I devour. When Rhett’s body tenses beneath me, bows upward, I can’t stop myself from joining him.

Light flashes behind my eyes, my balls drawing up when I feel the first spurt of Rhett’s release. Our thick, hot cum mixes between us as we keep moving, what feels like a never-ending load in my balls. When I’m finally wrung dry, I collapse on top of him, both of us breathing heavily.

“That might be the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” I say, cheek against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of Rhett’s breathing. When he doesn’t answer right away, I lean up so I can look at him, hoping I haven’t misread anything, that we didn’t go too far. “Are you okay?”

He nods.

“That all you’re gonna give me? I must admit, you’re worrying me.”

“I don’t mean to.” He reaches up, hand close to my face, but lets it linger there a moment like he’s unsure if he should touch me.

I take his wrist, pull until his palm is against my cheek, and Rhett…smiles. It really does look so good on him.

“I guess I’m bisexual,” is what he lands on, and I chuckle.

“You’re something. That’s for you to decide. Do you have negative feelings about that?”

“No.” He brushes his thumb against my cheek. “I’ve spent my whole life feeling alone in one way or another. With you…I don’t. It doesn’t matter to me that it’s a man making me feel this way. I just want more of it.”

I’m pretty sure my heart nearly falls out of my chest and sinks right into Rhett’s. “No one has ever talked to me the way you do.”

“I’ve never talked to anyone the way I do to you. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You won’t. God, you won’t,” I say, and kiss him.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Rhett

The past twoweeks have been like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and…I’m afraid to feel too much about it.

I love the workdays with Tripp. I wish we could go every day, but then Talia reminded me that I don’t want to become a workaholic again, even if I do enjoy this career more than my last one.

On top of that, I’ve gone to Tripp and Meadow’s a few other times too, for dinner or to hang out. We haven’t made the baked ziti yet. I think Tripp is waiting for me to offer, which is something I appreciate more than I can say.

But Tripp has cooked for me. One night we all watched a movie together in their living room, and another time Meadow had me model a shirt she made for her dad as a surprise. Since we’re similar sizes, she figured that would work, but I think she just wanted to give me a hard time and make me model for her.

Each time I go to their place, Tripp and I go out to the shop together, under the guise of working, and I lose myself in the sensation of him edging me with his hand until he finally lets me come.

I don’t know why I like it so much, but I do. There’s the pleasure part, of course, but it’s also just… I like Tripp making it last. Like him being in control of my orgasm and knowing that ultimately, it’s still me who is the driving force, the one making the decisions. It’s confusing, but not something I feel comfortable talking to Talia about.

Every time we finish, Tripp holds me for a while—holds me and talks to me. He makes me laugh too, and we grumble about having to clean up before we slip into the shop bathroom to wash up, then head into the house, acting like nothing happened.

A few times Tripp came over to my place when we didn’t have work and Meadow was at school, and we’d work on the remodel of my spare room.

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