Page 41 of Wrecked Rose

So, I’m going to have to figure out if there could be something between us. And once I go down that road, it creates another set of complicated questions. How would I handle telling my family? My friends? The world?

And holy shit, am I actually considering having sex with a man?

In my head, I hear warring opinions. A loud voice that says,Fuck no. You’re a guy and you like pussy. You like the soft curves of a woman, the sweet way they smell, the way they taste.Flashes of memories skitter through my mind—different girls, going down on them, making them come, being inside of their tight, wet heat. I’d fucking liked all of that. I know it.

But then there’s this other voice. A quieter one, but definitely just as strong—one that makes me pause and think.Griff, you’ve never been so turned on as when you felt Max’s hard body. His firm lips. You liked the way his stubble scratched against your skin when you kissed him. The way his big hands cupped the back of your neck. And, holy hell, his cock and yours, rubbing together.The sensation had been overwhelming, unlike anything before.

So. Max… and me.Together?

As I walk through the door from the garage with my brain close to a very panicked overload, I roll all those thoughts around in my head, letting everything sink in. Girls turn me on. And so does Max. Is itjustMax? Like, is there something special or different about him? Or… all those times I’ve noticed guys in the past, has there been something I’ve trained myself to ignore? Because I thought it was wrong, or…?

Unsure about answers to any of the questions filling up my head, I end up sweating it out in the gym for about an hour, trying to get my brain to turn off. The minute I get in the shower, though, I start thinking about everything again. And an idea forms.

Beau and Lyla are still at their respective sports practices, so they won’t be home until five or six, depending on how long practices run. Micah mentioned working at Daphne’s parents’ bookstore today, so he won’t return until later this evening either.

I hurriedly towel dry while my heart begins to pound. Leaving the en suite, I cross the room to my dresser and dig around for a pair of pajama pants. Once I’ve slipped them on, I flop down on the bed. Sit up. Stand. Pace. Grab at the back of my neck. Blow out a hard couple of breaths. I don’t know how long I spend talking myself into what I feel I need to do. It’s a test, of sorts.

Only with this test, I’m not sure what constitutes passing… or failing.

Slowly, as if on autopilot, I walk over to my laptop. Batman looks down on me from the framed poster above my desk. It’s like he knows what I’m about to do and is asking if I’m sure I want to open Pandora’s Box.

“Shut up, man.”

I unplug the computer, pick it up, and carry it with me to the bed. With a furtive look around as if someone can see what I’m doing, I get myself comfortable against the pile of squishy pillows at the head of my bed and crack the laptop open.

I’m going on record as saying I don’t often look at porn. I don’t need to—I’ve never had a problem finding a willing girl to provide me a little relief. My hand in the shower does nicely, too. I’ve got plenty of mental images in the spank bank.

I suppose I’m like any other teenage guy—sometimes I feel the urge to get off and every once in a while, it’s fun to watch some porn.

I pull up my favorite website and click on a random video. There’s a seriously hung guy banging a curvy blonde on a bed. And of course, porn being porn, the camera is right where I can see all the goods: his long, thick cock drives into her pussy in a furious rhythm. It’s hot, no doubt about it. And before I’ve had a chance to watch half the scene—boner. I watch for another minute, then switch to a different video. In this one, the guy’s got the woman on her hands and knees. They rock together slowly, moaning out their pleasure. Every once in a while, the camera angle switches, showing me exactly what the guy is seeing—his dick, pumping in and out of her pussy, her tightly puckered asshole on full display. I tilt my head to the side. Porn stars must spend a fortune waxing all their bits because this girl is completely hairless down there.

I do a self-check, palming myself.Yep.Dick still nice and hard. I blow out a breath. Phase one complete. I do a quick Google search for septic tank horror finds and click through some truly heinous photos.Nasty. I spend a few more minutes forcing myself to look until I’m back to an unaroused state.

Right.Okay, most guys I know also dig watching a little girl-on-girl action. I always have in the past, so with a few clicks, I pull up a superhot video I’ve seen a few times before of two women in the back of a limo kissing. The blonde yanks down the top of the redhead’s evening dress and plays with her nipples. Then the redhead runs her hand up the blonde’s silky-looking thigh.Oh. Would you look at that?Her friend’s not wearing any underwear. She pushes her back on the seat, hikes that dress up to her waist and goes about worshipping her lady friend’s pussy.Oh, yes.And yep. That definitely has my dick’s attention.

I suck in a breath, wanting so badly to jerk off now and ignore phase three of my plan. But I can’t. I have to know.

This second time around, I want to make good and sure my dick is completely limp when I start, so I pull up something extra gross—the Dr. Pimple Popper website. I laugh inwardly as my erection dies a quick death.Yeah. This website is foul.No action happening south of the border. Thank goodness because it would take some kind of pervert to be turned on by that nastiness.

Sufficiently disgusted, I decide to take a small break, so I set my laptop aside, leave my room, and head downstairs. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and rummage around in the pantry until I find a bag of Ruffles. Pulling it open, I stand at the counter for a few minutes munching away on the salty chips and chugging the water.

Am I stalling?Eh, maybe. Finally, I find a chip clip and put the remainder of the bag back in the pantry. Sipping on what’s left of my water, I head back up to my room.

Chapter 27

Griff

Once I’ve gotten settled again, I pull up the porn site one final time and click until I find a video with two men. Hitting play, I watch for a few minutes with bated breath as they begin to kiss and touch each other. My head goes a little hazy when the one guy begins to suck the other’s cock. It reminds me of when poor Aubrey was giving me head and all I could think about was Max.Fuck. Um. Yeah. I’m totally hard.And it gets worse—harder?—as I continue to watch. My brows inch up. There’s a whole lot of lube being used. The one guy preps the other with his fingers, sliding one finger, and then more, into his ass. He’s hitting exactly the right spot, too, because his man is writhing on the bed, half out of his mind. Prostate, maybe? I’ve heard that can be good… but I’ve definitely never experimented with my own back door, with a girl or without. I keep blinking at the screen, unable to move or look away. When he takes his dick in his hand and inches slowly inside the other guy’s ass, my eyes widen. I swallow past a hard lump in my throat.

And keep watching.

Holy fuck.My hand dives into my pajama pants, and I pull out my cock. Breathing carefully, I begin to stroke myself. I’m so hard I can barely see straight, but that doesn’t stop me. I grip firmly at the base, sliding my hand up and down my length, groaning with pleasure. And I continue to watch as these two men on my laptop screen go at it. I imagine for a moment it’s me and Max I’m watching, and that makes me harder than anything.Holy shit.I’m jacking myself in earnest, barely able to breathe as I watch the dudes on the screen get each other off.

And wouldn’t you know, when I’m sure I’m going to explode, I hear voices and footsteps pound up the stairs.Oh hell.My heart jumps up into my throat and as much as I need to finish, I can’t remember if I locked the motherfucking door. I yank my comforter over my lap as the door flies open, and Lyla hurries in. “You aren’t going to believe wha—” Her eyes fly from my flushed face to the open computer.

The cheesy music from the porno is still playing on my laptop, and I glance down to see that the guy on the bottom has come all over his stomach and the other is still fucking his ass. I slap the lid of the computer down. “Fuck, Lyla. Out!”

“Oh my God, were you just…” Her mouth drops into an O.

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