Page 186 of Bad Pucking Influence

“I can sure as hell try.” My eyelids get heavy as I imagine getting a glimpse of what I’m sure is a nice, fat cock.

“And if I don’t?”

I purse my lips together with a frown. “I don’t understand the question.”

“If I don’t come, then what?”

“You go to bed with blue balls?” I shrug noncommittally.

“No.” He exhales heavily and shakes his head. “I mean, if I don’t, does that mean I don’t actually like guys?”

Oh, we’re going deep. Shit, okay.

Dropping my feet back to the floor, I right the chair with a thud. “I think you’re expecting attraction and desire to be black and white, and in my experience they’re more like a rainbow, and no, that’s not a gay reference, it’s just an analogy.”

“I’m not following.” Damn those blue eyes are intense when they’re confused.

“Okay.” I chew on my lip, searching for a way to simplify the complexities of sexuality. “How’s this? Mostly, I like men who are bigger though every once in a while I want to play with someone smaller. I gravitate to white guys but sometimes I’m in the mood for Latin. Or Asian. And I’ve been known to crush on straight guys from time to time. My preferences change with my mood, but my mood swings don’t define me.”

“In every one of those examples you’re still gay,” Noah points out.

“That’s because my rainbow is narrowly focused on men. Yours might be more broad, including men and women.”

“I also don’t have sex nearly as much as you.”

“So what? That just means my rainbow is more vibrant.” I throw my hands up. “The point is, sex isn’t black and white, it’s a gradient. Maybe you won’t like cock as much tonight as you did last night. Maybe you’ll like it more. Either way, it’s not like you have to label yourself afterward, and even if you did, there’s no rule that says you have to stay with that label forever.”

Nailed it.

“I’m not worried about the label.” Noah swirls his fork around his empty plate. “I just… For years I didn’t give myself time to be confused. I focused on hockey and didn’t let myself ask questions I didn’t have the answer to. After last night, I can’t make the questions stop.”

Oh shit. It’s not quite fatal attraction level clingy, but he’s trying to solve existential issues of attraction while I’m on more of a ‘bang him out of my system so my suddenly picky junk goes back to normal’ mission.

“These questions.” I rotate my wrist in a circle like that might help me find the right words. “Are they still along the lines of whether you like cocks or not?”

“Partly.”

“Anything else?”

“Whether I’d finish…if a man touched me.”

I assume since he said man his questions must refer to men in general, not me specifically. I can work with that. And hallelujah because I really do want to get my hands on him. “I accept your terms. Show me this cake.”

Noah drops his fork with a clatter and sits ramrod straight. “My terms?”

“If you win the cake bet, I’ll play with your dick this time.” I wink and pop out of my chair, heading toward the living room. “Coming?”

“There’s literal stitching on that cake,” I protest, because even though I really want to touch Noah’s cock, I can’t turn off my competitive nature. “She cheated somehow. Leather stitching isn’t edible and the whole thing has to be edible, right?”

“The icing is meant to look like leather stitching.” Noah grabs the remote off the coffee table and rewinds the program to the close-up view of the baseball and mitt that a knife cuts through seconds later. And even though I’m well aware that there’s cake inside the mitt, my brain won’t let me accept the fact that it’s actually cake when it looks so real.

“Then you cheated. You’ve seen this one before and knew which was the cake.”

“This episode just got released last night. I haven’t had time to watch it until now.”

“You could’ve watched it while you were making dinner and conveniently suggested this little game knowing you’d win.”

“Right, because I knew we’d be making bets involving sexual favors and household chores.” His eyes have a playful little glint to them that I don’t normally see. Definitely flirting.

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