Page 48 of Hot Doggin'
Stiles works up a rhythm and I can tell he’s concentrating hard because he’s wholly focused on my dick.
Look up at me, just once. Meet my eyes so I can try and read you.
But he doesn’t, or won’t. Instead, he rasps, “Feel good?”
“Fucking incredible.” My breathing picks up, coming as hard and fast as my heartbeat. His beard tickles my balls and I groan. “Hphmm. Fuck, your mouth.”
I wish he could go on and on and last all night. I wish he never had to come up for air. I hope he loves it as much as I do because I never want this feeling to end.
Stiles finds a rhythm, syncing his hand with his mouth, working in tandem to bring me off.
Burnt crispy dried up hotdogs that taste like charcoal.
Girls with lipstick on their teeth who try to kiss you.
Toe lint and flaking skin that smell like day-old cheese.
I’m trying my best to hold off, but nothing, not even the most disgusting thoughts, are putting me off of my desire.
I can feel heat gathering in my gut, the muscles in my ass and thighs tensing, and I know without a doubt my orgasm is coming for me like a freight train. I’m unable to slow it down or stop it. Nor do I want to. I just want to feel it roll through me.
“Don’t stop. I’m close.” Is he going to swallow me? I want him to. Need him to. Didn’t even realize it was something I needed until now. It’s a possessive thought, a selfish, greedy thought, but I want my load in his belly, marking him from the inside.
My last thought before he sucks all conscious thought out of my head through my cock is that if his mouth feels this good, what does his ass feel like?
Stiles makes a choking sound as he tries to swallow me, and I raise up again on my arms, so I can watch his struggle. I rub my thumb over his lips, parting them to see a drop or two of milky white seed drip down his chin. I swipe it up and push it back inside his mouth, and he sucks on my thumb, his eyes finally focused on mine.
The urge to kiss him is undeniable, more insistent than my need to breathe. Sitting up all the way, I lock my arms aroundhis neck and draw him forward, crushing our mouths together in a kiss that makes my frantic heart slow down, my breathing even out, and everything inside of me settles and makes sense. Nothing has ever felt so right and natural.
This kiss.
This moment.
This man.
This is what I’ve been searching for. What I’ve been waiting for for thirty-four years.
Fucking fuck. I’m in love with him. I’m in love with my best friend, and I agreed to this ridiculous fucking deal that all we were doing was trading blow jobs. I told him it didn’t mean anything.
I lied.
Across the hall, a dog stops barking. The diesel truck on the street below my window moves off into the distance. The water running through the pipes in the wall, separating my apartment from my neighbor’s, turns off. As the house grows quieter, my mind gets louder. Thoughts, doubts, voices from the past, haunt me like ghosts.
Beside me, Stiles stirs, deep in sleep and oblivious to the war raging in my head. His warm breath puffs over my shoulder, as reassuring as a weighted blanket. How did I ever sleep soundly before we shared a bed? His bushy brows and dark lashes twitch before smoothing out, and he rolls over to find a cool spot.
Throwing off the covers, I reach for my crutches and make my way as silently as possible out to the kitchen. The cold, hard linoleum floor beneath my ass soothes me, grounds me. Sodifferent from the shifting desert sand or my soft bed. This feels safe.
I tip my head back against the cabinet door behind me and close my eyes. Tonight, I did something that will change the rest of my life. And I don’t know if it’s a change I can live with.
What if I ruined everything? What if my feelings push him away? If we’re on two different pages, and can’t come together, then I’ve…
Never once have I contemplated taking my life. Not when I lost my leg, not when I lost Danny. Not the grueling lonely months of rehab that followed by surgery. Not even when I found myself out of the Army, displaced like a fish without a bowl, not knowing what came next for me. But tonight, the thought crosses my mind like a dark shadow dancing along the wall. If I’ve lost him? Done something to irreparably damage our friendship? There’s no coming back from that. I can’t live without Stiles, there just isn’t enough good left over after him worth waking up for every day.
Without Stiles, there would be no point.
He would kick my ass for feeling that way, which is further proof that I need him. He’s the best thing I’ve got going for me, and I would do anything to keep him in my life, even if it means lying to his face every day about my feelings.
Loneliness takes root inside of me, and spreads like a cancer, affecting every part of my body and mind.
