Page 137 of Finance Bros

He presses a soft kiss to the base of my neck. “There you go.”

“I’ll handle it much better this time. I swear to God.”

“I know.”

He knows?Does that mean he trusts me?

“What does it mean?” I ask.

“It’s literal,” he says with a distinct smile in his voice. “It defines itself.”

I wish that were true for anything with me, but maybe I won’t press my luck right this second. I have one of my answers at least. It’s not the heaviest, but a weight lifts nonetheless. I let his wrists go and turn in the circle of his arms. He looks into my eyes, the soft smile still on his face. I return it, pushing his half wet hair away from his beautiful eyes.

The look in them is all-encompassing—like there’s no part of me he can’t see. I’m still over here searching his, but the love is there—written plainly and perfectly.

A line forms between his brows after a moment. “Jesus, you’re hard.”

“Ignore it,” I say, slamming my mouth to his. He backs up a step, but in the next second, he’s got me pinned against the wall, his thigh between my legs and his mouth hot on mine.

I have mixedfeelings about the butt plug. Girth-wise, it’s about half the size of Ryan, which was what I was going for, so I’m happy with that. I already had a near constantawareness of my asshole, so it’s not like having it half stuffed makes me all that much more preoccupied by it.

Anyway, I’ve got the plug in while Ryan and I are running our separate Saturday errands before we’re scheduled to meet at Miguel’s. I wasn’t counting on it arousing me.

I guess I was thinking of it like a shoe tree. Something I could stick in there to keep me propped open so when Ryan wanted in—or I beg Ryan in, my hole would be more resilient. The plug isn’t big enough to stimulate my prostate—at least not while I’m upright. When I’m sitting however—like I have to while I’m getting my hair cut—all I can think about is how badly I need to get off. I calculate how long the walk to my apartment is as I get harder and more desperate.

I don’t make it any farther than the barbershop bathroom. The good news is I come fast. The bad news is I can’t look anyone in the eyes on the way out because I do think I made a loud enough noise when I came that I embarrassed myself.

Such a good orgasm, though. Best solo work I’ve ever done.

Thinking of solo work, my array of flesh lights come to mind. While my laundry is running and after I take a shower, I pack for the rest of the weekend, including one item from my nightstand I think Ryan might like.

I meet him at his place with Stephanie on a leash, but we only have time for me to drop off my things and collect his before we need to head to Miguel’s. It’s another gorgeous day, perfect for a walk and for him to hold my hand apparently. With our fingers locked and palms pressed together, we make our way up and down the hills of San Francisco and finally Castro Street with its porn cookie shops and sex toy stores, its amazing restaurants and array of rainbow flags.

“You feel like you belong here?” I ask.

“Here as in…?”

“This neighborhood.” It was all I started out meaning, butnow with the door to ask him about staying in the Bay Area wide open, I consider pressing the issue.

“Why? Because we’re fucking?” he asks.

Because you’re in love with me?I swallow roughly and say instead, “I feel likeIdo. Like I have an all-access pass.”

“I used to work at that bar,” he says, pointing across the street, “For about a month before the internship.”

“Seriously?”

“I thought I’d still be able to pick up shifts, but with the challenge it’s been?—”

“But you said you’d never?—”

“I hadn’t.”

“Been with guys,” I go ahead and finish in case he can’t actually read my mind.

“Women go to bars, too.”

“So—back to my original question,” I say, exasperated, “You feel like you belong here?”

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