It’s been waiting for me.
I stare down at it, straining between us, and wet my lips.
I shouldn’t, but I will.
“Oh fuck,” Caleb hisses when I reach out and wrap my hand around him. He’s heavy and warm in my palm.
So damn perfect.
He’s not my type? I scoff.
He’s absolutely my type in every possible way.
He glances down at me holding on to him. Neither of us moves, but his cock is dripping. Desperate. Showing me exactly how he feels about this.
“Oh god,” he whispers and then shifts his hips forward slightly.
I know what he wants, and I give it to him. I stoke him once,twice, and he gasps, his hands landing on my shoulders as he holds on for dear life.
He’s groaning and panting, his hips fucking forward through my fist. He’s moaning like a whore, and those sounds are doing things to me.
Terribly wicked things.
And he watches it all, cheeks pink, chest heaving. He knows who’s stroking him, who’s getting him off.
Me.
And when our eyes meet, his cock explodes, cum hitting my pants and shirt, some even landing on my feet.
He trembles and shakes, his eyes rolling back in his head, and then he lets out a whimper and his eyes flutter open.
I stare down at the mess he made and unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
“That was…fast,” I say. It’s the wrong thing to say, but I do it anyway. I’m still holding his softening cock, and it’s still jerking in my hand, as if riding the aftershocks.
I can’t think straight.
“Don’t say another word,” he grumbles. “It’s been a while, okay?” He closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose. “Just—let go of me, Whit.”
I unwrap one finger at a time from him, dreading each and every movement that takes me away from him, and then I take a step back.
I’m filthy from his release.
Even so, my cock likes it. It likes what just happened. It’s hard and straining from the sight of Caleb utterly wrecked by me.
His gaze snags on the bulge in my pajama bottoms, and his lips twitch up in a smirk. He looks suddenly pleased with himself.
“Thought I wasn’t your type,” he rasps, and my eyes narrow.
“I’m going to go wash up.”
Then I turn and disappear into the bathroom, standing in the dark room, the only light coming from the nightlight plugged into the wall. I stare at my shadowed face in the mirror and tell myself not to.
I cannot get off to this. But my hand sneaks into my pants anyway. I pull my aching cock out and stroke myself to completion, Caleb’smoans echoing in my ears, the feel of him in my hand, the way he held on to me. Like I was a lifeline.
Like he wanted more.
When I return, scrubbed clean, Caleb is sprawled out on the little bed. He turns to watch as I approach, and he looks so fucking hot that I almost can’t bring myself to look at him. The sight of him is almost painful.