Page 16 of Bad Boy
I grab our trash, standing as well. “Wanna hang out after school this week? Study and work on shit?”
His mismatched eyes dart to mine, and he pauses, staring back at me strangely. He blinks rapidly and runs a hand through his auburn hair.
Lincoln breaks eye contact and stuffs his hands into his tight-as-fuck front pockets. “Yes. I can help you with your homework—”
I cut him off right there. “That’s not why I want to hang out, though. You get that, right?”
He shuffles his feet and then peers back at me, speaking softly. “I guess so.”
“Well, know so, Preppy.” I sling my arm around his shoulder again and steer us toward the exit. We pass Barb, who gives me a knowing grin, at the counter again, and I can’t help but wink back. “See ya later, Barb!”
“Looking forward to it, boys!” she says, smiling kindly at us. I peek over at Lincoln. His cheeks are so adorably red, and he has the most genuine smile gracing his lips.Fuck, I really want to lean in and kiss them again. So I remind my horny brain and semi-hard cock that we’re just friends. . .for now.
* * *
By the time I pull into the garage and turn the Camaro off, my blue balls are nearly killing me. I was brought to the edge in that fucking photo booth, then cockblocked by a little old lady. I swear I was about to come in my pants before Barb interrupted.
The entire ride back to school, I couldn’t help myself. I glanced at him at least five times per red light. And I swear to God, he blushed every single time. There’s just something about him, and Ihaveto know more.
I need to get to my room stat. I rush through the garage and past the kitchen, which, luckily, no one is in. I don’t feel like getting the third degree from Mom. I practically run up the stairs and down the hallway to my wing of the house.
Can your balls explode? Is that possible? There’s gotta be at least a gallon of jizz in there.
I shut my bedroom door quietly behind me and lock it, nearly tripping over my boots as I toe them off and desperately shed my clothes like there’s a naked girl—or boy—on my bed, waiting for me. But no, it’s just me and my hand and some lotion.
I grab the photo strip before I jog—butt-ass naked and hard cock bobbing—to my en-suite and rummage for the lotion I know I have in my toiletry bag.
I uncap it and squirt a good amount into my hand, grasping my cock and groaning at the cool, slick sensation. I drop my head and brace my arm against the counter, closing my eyes as I stroke myself faster. The lotion makes sloppy noises that remind me of our kiss, and I pick up my pace.
I need to come so fucking bad.
I open my eyes, and the images of Lincoln and I making out are on the counter, staring back at me like my own personal porno as I imagine all the filthy things we could do beyond kissing.
He seemed so into it—so enthusiastic, fucking raring to go—and that thought has my mind flipping to what he might be like in bed.
I zero in on the photo of us tongue-kissing for the camera, and I imagine that tongue on my dick. I picture him in my mind. He’s on his knees in front of me, licking my cock and sucking my balls into his mouth with vigor.
And that’s all it takes. Literally, all it takes.
I grip myself tighter and squeeze my eyes shut as I nut all over the bathroom counter with a quiet groan. I’m out of breath as I come down from the orgasm high, my dick softening in my hand.
Wow.
First time I’ve jacked off to thoughts of a real guy.
Definitelya fan.
CHAPTEREIGHT
LINC
It’s Monday morning, and I’m standing by the flagpole waiting for Remi to get here. There are only five minutes left until the first bell rings, and I’m getting anxious that he’ll make us both late. I can’t get a tardy if I want to maintain my perfect attendance.
I adjust my navy blazer and smooth my hair back as the brisk autumn wind continues to assault me and my wardrobe, causing a chill to seep into my bones. Maybe we should meet somewhere inside from now on. Or maybe even carpool; it’s almost time to retire Betsy Anne for the season.
I didn’t tell him we’re practically neighbors. And I don’t really know why either. I froze when he mentioned hanging out after school this week. I’m not sure what my parents will think of him. Will they like him because he’s technically a Keller? Or will they take one look at the dark clothes, tattoos, and eyebrow piercing and tell him to leave? It could go either way. My hands start to clam up just thinking about it.
As I slip my phone out of my messenger bag to text him for the first time, a black Range Rover pulls into an empty spot near the front. The driver’s side opens, and Remi hops out. I smile because Mr. Keller must have already gotten to him about the cars, and Remi must be giving them all a test drive.
