by Jo Raven
Christ. I reach up, put my hand on his head with the intention of pulling him back, but for some reason I only dig my fingers in his spiky hair and inhale. I turn, press a kiss to his forehead.
He tilts his head up so that my mouth trails over his lashes, over his cheek. He grins at me, and it hits me square in the chest. I fist my hand in his hair, not sure what to do with this feeling, and with the heat pooling in my dick.
Candy shifts, puts her hand on my face, and I turn toward her. Her mouth draws me like a magnet, and I kiss her, licking at her lips. She kisses me back, and her taste lights up my blood, turns it into a burning current under my skin. I grip her hip, pull her closer, and take off her glasses.
I chuck them to the floor, and my dick twitches. I’ve wanted to do this since I met her.
My hand in Jet’s hair tightens, drawing a moan from him, and fuck. That sound… it goes straight to my cock.
Everything with these two goes straight to my cock, making it even harder, so hard it could drill through steel.
This is getting out of control.
She breaks the kiss, reaches for Jet. He goes willingly, and they kiss over me, her hair trailing over my arms, his body a line of fire against my side.
Oh fuck, this is even hotter.
The booze is singing in my blood, and Jet and Candy are making out in my lap, their bodies grazing the top of my leaking, throbbing cock with every movement.
I don’t know if I’m in heaven or in hell. I stroke Jet’s hair, lower my hand to the back of his neck—and slip my other hand around Candy’s back. Holding them both.
Mine, says a fierce voice in my head. It reverberates in my body. They’re mine.
When they finally break apart, breathing hard, mouths swollen from the kiss, I try to think of something to say, but coherent thinking is frankly beyond me. I want. I need. I’m pretty sure something big is about to go down between us, and I’m so raw with arousal I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m too desperate to come, and the situation is too close to my wet dreams and fantasies to stop it.
I want. I wanna try stuff. Touch and lick and kiss and suck. I pull them both to me, prepared to pick up where they stopped—when a ringing sound breaks through the haze.
Candy slips from under my arm and scrambles off the sofa, fumbling for something on the table.
Her bag, I realize when she throws it open and pulls out the source of the noise.
Her cell phone.
“Yeah? Bry, that you?” She turns her back to us as she talks to this Bry, her voice rising. “Are you all right? What’s wrong? Are you crying?”
I turn and find Jet’s eyes on me, a question in them. Scratch that, lots of questions in them—but only one I’m willing to think about right now.
“Yeah. I’ll be right over.” She nods, sighs. “Stay put, okay? Be there in ten.”
“Candy,” Jet starts, but I put a hand over his mouth. He’s not going off in the night after being dizzy and sick. He tries to bite me, then tries to pry my hand off his face, but I drag him to my chest, hold his head there, and he suddenly quiets and goes lax against me. “What’s going on?” I say. ”If you need to be somewhere, let me drive you. You’ve had a few drinks.”
“So did you. I’m fine, I promise, but ugh.” She kicks at the carpet. It makes me snort. She’s cute when she’s upset—and hot, with her long blond hair disheveled, her mouth reddened from all the kissing, her blouse askew.
Releasing Jet, I climb off the sofa, not caring that the bulge between my legs is so obvious, my dick still fully hard. “You sure? I’m much bigger than you. It takes much more booze to take me down than you.”
Her eyes darken as she looks me up and down. She likes that I’m so much bigger than her, I can tell. Her tits heave with a deep breath.
Fuck, if I get any harder, I’ll come in my pants.
I close the distance between us, tuck a blond curl behind her ear. “Candy…”
“Seriously, I’m fine.” She smiles up at me. “You’d better take care of Jet.”
“I’m fine,” Jet objects from the sofa, but we both ignore him.
“Got to run. God, I wish I could stay.” She twists away from me, grabs her purse and jacket from the table and hurries to the door. “Have fun without me!”
Groaning, I reach down to adjust my hard-on in my pants, and when I turn around, Jet is reaching for the bottle of whiskey.
He lifts it in my direction and smirks, giving me a heavy-lidded look. “So, are you gonna take care of me?”
Damn. “Gimme that. You’ve had enough.”
He lifts it out of reach. “It will put hairs on my chest.”
“Your chest is fine as it is.” I grab the bottle and tug it out of his hand, put it down on the table.
“You like?” He wags his brows at me and lifts his T-shirt, baring his flat stomach.
Yeah, I like.
And I shouldn’t. “Let’s get you into bed.”
He winks. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Fifteen
JETHRO
Yeah, I like girls, and I like boys. I like them both together. On me. Under me. In me. Around me.
I sometimes thought my dad knew. That it was one of the reasons why he hated me. Hated my mom. Why would he hit her if he didn’t hate her, right? Why would he hit me?
But looking back, I’m not sure he knew. Guy was a fucking psychopath. What he did later… What he did to Mom. Christ. Who knows what went on inside his head?
Fucked up shit.
Now Joel… Sooner or later he has to notice, right? Notice that I’ve been with plenty of girls, but he’s the only boy I’ve ever wanted.
I don’t know what I’m doing. All I know is that I’m hard like a rock from having Candy kiss me and Joel touch me, and my tongue is loose from the Scotch. My limbs are loose.
I’m melding with the sofa, melting into it. The only hard part about me is my dick that’s trapped painfully in my jeans, and not for the first time today. If I don’t come soon, I’ll burst.
And he’s right here, flushed and just as hard, glaring at the booze as if it’s to blame for our state. For being left here, together, without a girl between us to justify any lust we might feel.
Well, guess what? I’m not letting it go. I’m not going to bed without coming—and if he doesn’t want to participate, then fuck him.
Though the way he keeps glancing at me, angrily and appreciatively, makes me want to push him some more. He’s relaxed, too, not drunk but buzzed, and oh man, that hard-on has to be painful.
“You look like you need some help.” I nod at the big bulge at his crotch.
I’m all about helping him. If he takes me to bed, then I’m taking him in hand. A fucking pity Candy had to go. I was looking forward to testing the waters—getting Candy off as he watched to see what he’d do—but there’s still stuff we can do without turning too gay for Joel’s comfort.
If he agrees.
He reaches down a hand to help me up. “Come on.”
I grab his hand, tug on it. Surprise flickers over his face. He yelps as he starts toppling over me and manages to catch himself with one hand on the back of the couch.
He’s arched over me, his crotch almost in my face. “What the hell? Jet—”
I cup his hard-on and get another yelp out of him.
Two in a day. Way to go. I knead the hard flesh through the fabric, cupping my own dick with my other hand.
“Jet…” This time his voice is breathless, and he hasn’t moved from what has to be an uncomfortable position.
I give my dick one last squeeze and grab his shoulder, pulling him to me. He curses as I twist and push him underneath me on the sofa.
“What are you doing?” he sputters.
“Getting us off.”
“I don’t need your help for that.”
“Yeah, you damn well do.” He struggles beneath me, and I’m sure he can throw me off him if I let him. “Stop fighting me, dude. Afraid of getting
cooties? I promise you won’t touch my naked dick, so relax.”
“What, then?”
I glance down at this broad chest that’s rising and falling as if he’s run for miles and wink. “We’ll play. I got toys.”
“What sort of toys?”
He’s right to be suspicious. It’s not like I’ve ever mentioned my toys, and we’re practically dick to dick, every slight movement bringing them close enough to touch. Every time that happens, we both gasp.
“Sex toys. You don’t have to use one if you don’t like it.” I shrug. “You can watch.”
I know I have him at that, his pupils dilating, his hips rolling upward. Of course that means our hard-ons brush together, and I can’t help a moan.
“Fuck. Need to come,” he grinds out, his hands clenching against the sofa cushions. “You crazy fucker. Get off me.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” I’m more horny than angry, but I’m seriously put out by these people. First Candy runs off, now Joel. Given I want them both plastered on me, touching me, fucking me and getting fucked by me, I’m fucking annoyed.
And did I mention horny? My balls ache, and my dick’s dripping so much I have a stain on the front of my jeans.
I climb off him awkwardly, my head more than a little buzzed after all. Has to be why I threw caution to the wind and groped Joel, then told him I’m about to play with some sex toys if he wants to watch. Don’t I have any shame?
Looks like I don’t, not when I’m drunk. Huh.
Because even as I’m thinking all this, even as Joel straightens and glares at me, I’m turning around and heading to my room.
If he doesn’t care about coming, his loss.
Sexy idiot.
***
Closing the door to my room, I head straight to my closet and rummage inside before yanking out the small box with my secret helpers. I open the box and upend it on the bed, dumping everything on the quilt.
I’ve rarely used anything but the dildo, but tonight? I need, and fuck caution anyway. I need some pain, I need something to fill up the void.
A slim vibrator I haven’t used in ages catches my eye. Yeah, this. And what are those? Oh yeah. I lift the small nipple clamps, connected with a slim steel chain. Why the hell not?
I strip quickly, pulling my T-shirt off and throwing it to the floor, then pushing down my pants, freeing my hard cock. I give it a good squeeze, my breath coming out in a long hiss, and I sit back on the bed, not sure where to start.
My dick is weeping, so yeah, the clamps can wait. Not sure I want them yet.
I grab my bottle of lube from the box and squeeze out a good amount in my hand, then spread it on the vibrator and spread my legs.
The blunt head of the vibrator penetrates me, sleek and cool, the sensation making my toes curl. I push it in deeper and activate it.
A deep moan escapes me. I grab my dick and start stroking myself. I’m so close, so fucking close.
A noise has me opening my eyes. Shit, I hadn’t realized they’d fallen shut.
The door to my room is opening, and Joel is standing there, frozen.
“Holy fucking hell, Jet.” His voice is faint. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m…” My voice breaks on another moan. Damn this vibrator is good, though I need something bigger, something hot. I need Joel, goddammit. “Fuck.”
“What the…” He approaches the bed, and I can’t move, can’t do anything but keep stroking myself. “Oh hell, dude.”
I expect him to turn around and go. Move out. Move to another country, perhaps.
What I don’t expect is for him to sit on the bed and lean back, cupping his hard-on. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, his eyes slightly wide. “You do that often?”
“Why?” I lick my lips. “Wanna give it a try?”
He shakes his head so fast it’s fucking funny. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Hurt? It feels fucking good.” I release my dick to brush my hand over the vibrator, and it slips a bit deeper, making me groan out loud. “You came,” pant, “here,” pant, “to watch?”
“I came to see if you were okay, but…” He bites his lip, and damn that’s distracting. “Jet.”
“Wha?” My eyes are falling shut again. My balls are drawn up tight. I tug harder on my dick, my breath catching.
“Goddammit, you’re hot,” he says, unless I’m imagining the words, this whole encounter in my room, and I manage to open my eyes just enough to see him unzip his pants and take out his cock.
Fuck, it’s a damn big cock. I know I’ve seen it before, but its size always shocks me. In a good way.
And the thought of that cock filling me up, spreading me, is enough to snap the pressure behind my balls. I come like a freight train, a strangled cry leaving my throat raw as I shoot all over my chest.
I fall back on the bed, and fuck, the vibrator is still jolting me from the inside. Have to pull it out. I groan, still shaking with my release, my hand wrapped around my spasming dick.
“Son of a bitch, Jet.” Joel’s gaze is glued to my dick and to the vibrator still stuck inside me, his hand stroking his cock hard and fast, from the base to the purple, wet head. “Take that thing out of you. Slowly. Keep stroking yourself as you do it.”
I grimace as I reach for the vibrator, riding the last wave of pleasure, his order bypassing my conscious brain and shooting straight to my nerve endings.
With a shaky hand, my other hand clenched around my softening dick, I turn the vibrator off and tug it out of me, inch by inch, and as it slips free, I hear Joel groan out loud.
He’s coming, his cum hitting his pecs in long spurts. I stare at his jerking cock and his open mouth, dazed, thinking, this is for me. Not for Candy or any other girl.
He was hard for me, came for me. Right? Christ, I really hope this won’t come back and bite me in the ass in the morning.
As if that’s possible. I never learn, do I?
***
I wake up in the night in my bed, covered up to my chin, trembling with some half-remembered nightmare and Joel standing at my door, asking if I’m all right.
Then it’s morning and the smell of coffee draws me out of my den. Scratching at my naked chest, watching white flakes flutter to the floor—dried cum, oh great—I pad to the kitchen.
Joel is leaning against the table, a mug in his hands. “Morning. Wanna go running with me today?”
I take in his running shoes, track pants and hoodie, the lines of sweat at his chest. “You just went.”
“A short run, in the park.”
I grab a mug, pour myself some coffee, add sugar. Take my damn time. “Why?”
“You and I need to talk,” he says and fuck, my blood pounds in my ears.
“Sure we do.”
“We could…Why the fuck are you butt naked?”
I turn around, prop my hip against the counter and sip my coffee. “Nothing you ain’t seen before.”
Or last night.
He opens his mouth, closes it. It’s kinda funny. Makes me feel a little guilty for making him uncomfortable.
But hey. He’s seen me naked a thousand times at the gym showers. And if he’s uncomfortable because last night he came as he watched me fuck myself on a vibrator, well… Accepting he likes dick as well as pussy won’t end his world.
It sure as hell didn’t end mine, and I had worse to contend with back when I realized.
Yeah, I’m in full fuck-you mode today, and I’m not even sure why. It’s Sunday, and Joel wants to go running with me.
Oh, and talk.
Dammit.
It doesn’t help that he’s openly staring at me, at my dick that’s up to greet the new day. Hey, morning wood is a fact of life, and damn but Joel looks good all sweaty, manly and broody in the watery sunlight spilling through the kitchen window.
“So talk,” I mutter.
He walks to the sink, giving me his back. Probably so that he won’t stare at my dick anymore while talking. “About l
ast night.”
“What about it?”
“I’m not gay, man.”
Fuck’s sake. So predictable, Joel. “Fine. You’re not. Happy?”
He turns to give me a sharp look. “I mean it. I’m not into guys.”
“Then why are you looking at my dick?”
He curses and turns back around, his back a rigid line.
Stop pushing, I tell myself. Remember he’s your best friend. He’s your only family. This isn’t worth it.
I sigh. This is a fucked-up way to start a Sunday. “Look, J…” I scratch the back of my neck. “It’s okay.”
“I liked… being with Candy and you.”
The quiet confession startles me. I feel my eyes going round. “You did?”
I mean, I knew he liked watching. Maybe that’s what he means?
“I liked touching you both. Having you both follow my directions. Feeling you both there.”
Okay, this is much more than I expected Joel to admit to. And it scares me a little, because it gives me hope. More hope than I can afford.
“But that’s it.” A tremor goes through his strong back. “I don’t wanna kiss you, or blow you, or fuck you, okay?”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time. You’re not gay.” I put my mug down on the counter, not to throw it at him.
No point in explaining again what bisexuality means, that it’s normal to like both genders, that there’s nothing evil about it.
I’m not gay either. I like both. And in my case… I need both. I don’t know why—and I guess I never will—whether it was my fucked-up childhood or if the necessity was always in me.
“I’m gonna head out again,” he says after a moment. “Coming?”
“Nah, you go ahead.” I draw a deep, calming breath. “Got stuff to do.” Which isn’t a lie—I should do a load of laundry and study for my GED—but it still sounds oddly petulant in my ears. “Maybe some other day,” I add, to soften it.
“Jet.” When I don’t turn around, he moves closer, the heat of his body palpable.
He’s still here, and I need to clarify something. “So you liked it.” I glance at him over my shoulder. “The threesome. You’d do it again.”
It’s not a question, but it’s meant as one, and he seems to realize that. This guy knows me better than anyone.