Page 13 of Christmas Miracle
There was, it seemed, only one thing that he could ethically do. Though once more his body urged him to stay, to go to the bed, to wrap himself around that impressive cock and stroke him off, he couldn’t do it. It was the most intensely sexual moment of his life, and he couldn’t let himself take part in it.
“I … sorry,” Brett said, all in a rush, as he forced his gaze away with what felt like an actual effort. He kept on turning, facing the door, his hand, which was shaking, for some reason, reaching out to grasp the doorknob, to pull it and to make good his escape.
Before he did something that he would regret. Something which couldn’t be taken back. How long would it be before he could close his eyes and not have the sight of John pleasuring himself locked there?
John had been so rough with himself, so impatient. He had been utterly silent, too, unlike when Brett had been rubbing his back. His expression had been almost angry like he was upset with himself for needing to do this, and that, as it turned out, Brett could completely understand. Hadn’t he just spent ages holding onto the couch, trying to come to grips with his own throbbing body?
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” John spoke, and once more, Brett froze in place. He had heard John’s voice so many times over the years, but he hadn’t heard it sound like that before. John always had a deep, intensely masculine voice, but it was little more than a growl now, a low, incredibly sexy, purr.
Was it true? Brett could have knocked, could have warned John that he was coming in, but this was Brett’s house, and he hadn’t thought about it.
While he was thinking about that, while he was trying to figure out if he actually needed to leave or if there was some way for them to work this out, to make things okay between the two of them, John spoke again. Right as Brett thought that maybe they could just ignore what had happened, just go back to where things had been before, John’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“I mean it. You didn’t do anything wrong.” There was the slightest of pauses, and Brett just had time to wonder what John was thinking about, to wonder about what the expression on his face would be, to wonder if he would still have his hand on his erection, when John continued. “If you want, you could just come here.”
