Page 39 of His Every Move

The banter between us was easy, fun, light. While the atmosphere was still charged with sexual energy, the moment itself felt almost like… a romantic first date.

It wasn’t much longer before I was back between his legs, pushing my cock against his dripping wet hole, any kind of warning signal or yellow flag fading away.

All that was left behind was a blissful night with Benji, all my problems momentarily forgotten.

Just what I needed.

Chapter14

Benji Morrison

The kisses woke me up.Wet and plentiful, covering the side of my face.

“Eli, damn, some—Lucky.”

My morning wood instantly deflated as I opened my eyes and realized I was alone in my bed with my new furry roommate. Yesterday was a drunken blur. A dream. It felt real, but there was no way I had spent the entire night with Elijah. It was probably some vodka-fueled fantasy that my horny brain had cooked up to try and satiate the constant throb between my legs.

My cock wasn’t the only thing throbbing this morning. My head gave a couple of angry pulses as I rolled over and reached for the water bottle on my nightstand. I nearly tipped it over but caught it last minute, my hand closing around something else with the bottle.

A mask. A leather mask.

From last night.

Holy fuck.

It wasn’t a dream. It had actually happened. And if I had any actual doubts then, my sore hole refuted them.

Not only had he fucked me, but he also realized who I was.

Fuck.

I uncapped the bottle and took a heavy chug of the cool water. Last night, as great as it was, could have easily turned out real fucking bad. I had to lie to him, and Ireallydidn’t enjoy that. But what else was I supposed to do? Tell him that I let my darker urges take control and ended up watching him through his security cameras before meeting up with him at the party? He’d rightfully think I was a massive creep and likely cut all ties with me. Probably go straight to the cops.

There’d be no explaining myself. He wouldn’t understand the kind of shit I went through that twisted me up inside. I worked hard to fix myself, but that work was endless. Unforgiving. Every time I’d take a step forward—whether it was through therapy or medication or daily mediation or whatever else was on the menu of wellness that month—I’d find myself taking a full leap backward. Sometimes, it’d be through letting my bad habits take control; other times, it’d be sinking back into the bottle. Most of the time, it was a mix of all of it.

I felt broken. Drifting through life without an anchor. Unable to really plant my feet and grow. It was like I was stunted. Like my life had been put on freeze, starting from the day Michael was shot.

Finding Elijah, meeting him, being with him. It was like a kick start to my paused life. I enjoyed getting to know him, learning about him, strolling through Central Park with him, and yes, watching him. He made me excited, not just sexually but in every way fathomable. I enjoyed him so much because he allowed me to shed some of the shit I’d been through, feel like I could start new again.

And I almost fucked it all up last night.

I rubbed my face and fell back onto my pillow with a groan. The bedroom continued to spin. Lucky must have sensed I needed some support because he stopped the licking and cuddled up against my side in a tight ball of fluff. “Good boy,” I said, scratching his head.

After about thirty minutes and drinking the entire bottle of water, my hangover finally began to subside. I dragged myself out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. I clipped Lucky’s leash to his black leather collar and headed out to walk him.

Stepping into the sunshine made me wince, but five minutes of walking down my busy NYC street was enough to start bringing life back into my body. Lucky stopped at nearly every corner and marked it. He found one section of the sidewalk that must have had the entire neighborhood’s message board written in dog piss because he honed in and started to sniff like his life depended on it.

I leaned on a scaffolding post and let him explore. My thoughts drifted back to Eli, to last night.

Having him inside me, underneath me, kissing me, touching me.

Jesusfuck, I needed to have him again.

But I had to do it the right way next time. I needed to send him a text, invite him out to drinks or something. Some silly little veil of manners before we lifted that veil and got down to the carnal, raw truth of why we were meeting.

I wonder if he’s online.

I doubted it. He was probably still sleeping, or maybe he was off on a lunch date. That idea made my skin prickle. I took out my phone, Lucky still focused on his doggy status updates. I lowered the brightness so my screen wouldn’t be immediately readable by anyone walking by, and then I went to CamStar.

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