Page 220 of Tempting Venom
“Who?”
“Myself.” His eyes hood, a shine lurking deep, his cock rubbing aggressively against mine through the boxer briefs. “I just couldn’t shed my own skin and this…”
He raises himself up, then sits on my groin, still rubbing our cocks together, but the rhythm is slowed down. With a shaky exhale, he lifts my palm and places it on the fracture in his sternum. “This is why I couldn’t shed that skin. I’m barely stitched together, Marcus. Fuckingbarely.”
I open my mouth, but he places a hand on it. “Shh, don’t talk, okay? Just make me feel good. You do that so well, Marcus. No one does it like you.”
Christ.
I’m about to flip us over and fuck him, but a noise comes from outside.
Preston is too busy humping my cock to notice it.
Fuck.
I grab his arm and pull him down, then clutch the sheet as a knock echoes in the air.
“Marcus?” The door opens just as I drag the sheet to the middle of our chests.
And sure enough, Mom—who I totally forgot comes home at this time—peeks inside. “Guess what? I brought fresh bagels for breakfast?—”
She stares, her mouth hanging open as she takes in the scene, or at least the guy lying in my arms.
Preston’s face is tinting red as his body shivers against mine.
“Morning, Mom,” I say nonchalantly.
“Morning, sweetie.” She clears her throat. “I’ll…see you and yourfrienddownstairs, yeah?”
“See you in a bit,” I say, and she closes the door.
We both remain silent as the sound of her footsteps disappears down the hall.
“Shit…” he mumbles, burying his head in the pillow. “Killme.”
“I’d rather not.” I slide my fingers in his hair, because I can’t not.
He lifts his head. “Why are you so nonchalant about this? You’re used to your mom walking in on you having sex?”
“No, told you that doesn’t happen here. Until you, that is.”
He bites the corner of his lip. “How…was it when you came out to her? Assuming you did?”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t say I did officially. She saw me with a guy a couple of years ago, and said, ‘Oh, well, I’m not jealous at all that you have variety while little old me is stuck withmen.’ And she air-quoted the word ‘men,’ then rolled her eyes.”
He laughs, the sound making his chest vibrate against mine. “She seems like such a baddie.”
“She is.” I stroke my fingers through his hair. “If your mom were alive, would you ever introduce me?”
He nods absentmindedly. “I guess.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Mom was such a fun person, had so many queer friends, she’d celebrate it, probably throw a big-ass party.” He smiles with a soft look in his eyes.
“So your homophobia didn’t come from your mom.”
“I’m not homophobic. I respect people’s sexualities.”
