Page 40 of Cherry Picking
“Not talking about it, Riles.”
His tone is punchy and tired, and we won’t be getting anywhere as long as he’s this worked up.
“Hey.”
“Hm?” His voice is slightly muffled, so I can imagine he’s got his head dipped under the water, probably propped the phone on the soap stand, though having me on speaker isn’t the safest idea.
Maybe we could both use a little danger, even if the thought makes me a little anxious because my boyfriend’s best friend happens to be down the hall.
“You know I’m fucking proud of you, right?”
All I hear is the water for several seconds before he scoffs.
“For punching a dude’s lights out? You’ve got low standards, Easton.”
I smile and wish I could see the eye roll he’s definitely giving me.
“No, I just know my boyfriend. I know people only make your shit list when they break your honor code. And I know that when you get into fights we always come back to the house and have really hot sex.”
“Fuck,” he curses, and then there’s some shuffling around, his voice right in my ear when he speaks again. “Don’t make me hard right now when there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I hum and lean back on the couch, moving the phone away for just a second to listen for Locke and peer at the bathroom door: sealed shut with the light on.
“Who says I won’t do anything about it?”
We’ve had phone sex before. Over the summers when I go home to see my parents and Parker, but this feels different.
Almost exciting.
“Tell me you don’t want to wrap your hands around your cock and pretend I’m behind you, jerking you slow while I rut between your cheeks.”
Griffin’s breathing deepens, and if I close my eyes I can practically see him pumping his shaft slow with anticipation.
“Fuck no,” he growls with a short moan. “I’d need it quick. Rough. On your knees with me buried in your throat. You’d have to take it, Riley, because I’m too fucking keyed up.”
Okay, yeah, whatever it was had to be bad. Griff is about as dominant in bed as a labrador retriever. Bossy, sure. Loves togoad me into pounding his ass, but he’s surprisingly gentle when it comes to handling me unless I’ve given him the go-ahead.
Or if something has really gotten under his skin.
“Do it, hotshot.” I lower my voice and let the deep timbre seep in. “Squeeze your fist around the head and slowly drag it down. Let me lick your naked tip and drink all the sweet precum you can give me.”
The breathless pants coming down the line tell me that he isn’t following instructions, but the gasp of my name at least confirms I’ve got his attention.
“Too slow. Fuck. Riley. I need you.” His sentence dips off on a whimper, and knowing there’s no way he can last long like this, I switch tactics.
“How about this, baby? You fuck my throat good and raw; take it all out on me. Drain those big ass balls of yours, and when you get back to the room later, I’ll lay you out and fuck all of that frustration right out of you. Sound good?”
“Oh god. Oh god. Dammit, dammit, dammit!” He shouts, though it sounds like something is smothering the sound, and then he’s gasping and groaning in that way he does when he comes.
The sounds are so loud in my ear that I miss a door opening and footsteps coming down the hall until Locke is standing on the other side of the coffee table with his hands on his hips and his brows raised.
I don’t think I was particularly loud with any of that, but then I realize that I’m sitting with my legs splayed wide and an erection tenting my shorts.
“You okay, baby?”
Locke shakes his head, but he’s got a smile on his face now as he turns and heads into the kitchen.
Griff laughs hot and heavy in my ear, ending on a groan and the soft patter of the shower shutting off.
