Page 33 of The Bro Pact
If the lacrosse team can do it, then so can I.
I watch intently as Ren continues to stroke his cock in front of me. He picks up the pace, gritting his teeth while his nostrils flare. His long raven hair spills free, framing his face as if he’s the angel of darkness, intense and brooding while he pleasures himself.
Warren’s moments away from coming, and for some reason, I feel the need to be closer to him.
To participate.
I step out of the doorway, whispering in his ear. “Come for me.”
Warren erupts, nutting all over his hand and making this sexy little whimper.
Holy shit.
“Fuck, that was good. Thanks, bro.” He slaps me on the shoulder with the hand that isn’t covered in cum. “I’m gonna hop back in the shower and finish up before we go to the bar.”
The bathroom door shuts in my face, and my heart sinks to the floor, even though I’m really not sure why.
CHAPTER TWELVE
KYLE
Iwasn’t in the mood to go to the bar like we had planned, so Ren left without me.
He seemed confused as to why I suddenly didn’t want to go, asking if I was sick. I said I had a headache, but the truth is, I just can’t brush off what happened like he can.
Ren is wild and carefree; nothing fazes him.
I’m not like that, and I can’t get over what happened so easily.
He’s clearly had experiences with guys before, and yeah, we didn’t touch each other or anything, but there was still a level of intimacy that I can’t seem to shake.
We watched each other jerk off and come for fuck’s sake.
It’s not nothing, despite his nonchalance.
I don’t know how he does it, and sometimes I wish I could too, but then I remember that sex is connected to feelings for me. I didn’t sleep with Marissa until after we confessed our love for each other. She was my first, and I was hers.
Warren lost his virginity at fifteen to an older girl, and then got beat up by her boyfriend.
I worry about him.
Always.
The thought of Ren going to some small-town bar alone has trepidation skittering down my spine. His boisterous personality, especially when drinking, can get him into trouble, and the last thing we need is Ren locked up in a tiny cell in middle-of-nowhere, Utah.
Sighing, I stand from the table and pull my phone out of my back pocket, sending him a quick text.
Where are you?
For the life of me, I can’t remember the name of the bar he said he was going to.
He doesn’t answer right away, so I begin to pace, waiting for a response and racking my brain for the name.
My phone finally chimes, and I quickly open my texts.
“Buzzard’s Bar and Billiards,” I say out loud, pretty sure that’s not the place he originally said he was going to.
It doesn’t sound too promising, so I open my Uber app and get the quickest ride I can.
