Page 91 of Chase
I lean my back against the closed door and fumble to undo the button on my pants, shoving them down fast and releasing my cock that’s been straining against my boxer briefs.
I start to stroke myself steadily but firmly, and I pick up the pace fast. I don’t have time for this, and I have an entire mountain-sized fire to put out right now.
But he was here.
So close to me. Touching me in the way onlyhe’sallowed to do.
Chase is a potent mix of every fucking thing I’m attracted to. His feather-soft hair that he pushes around like he’s taming it, or his elegant fingers that are somehow also alarmingly strong. The way he holds me. The way he manages to be so pushy and so kind, all at once.
I stroke myself faster, catching a whiff of his scent that’s still on my shirt.
He always smells a little bit like sugar from whatever he makes in the kitchen, but there's also the scent of his deodorant mingled with his natural smell layered underneath.
I groan quietly as I squeeze my cock tighter, pumping my fist.
I can hear Chase’s voice in my mind right now, urging me closer to the edge.
You know you’re going to come for me, he’d say.
Just do it, Logan.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
My hips come forward involuntarily as I get closer. It’s like his words are pushing into my head, toying with me.
Let me take your pictures. Paint you. On a canvas, and with my cum.
Just fucking let me in.
I bite back a moan as I let go, coming hard all over my own fist. I fuck up the angle and some of it falls with a tiny splat to down on the marble floor, and I accidentally drip streaks all over the top of my slacks, too. I lean back against the bathroom door again, giving up on trying to keep my clothes clean.
My eyes flutter shut, and I try to catch my breath.
I'm screwed.
And already, I’m saying things I don’t plan on around him.
I nearly told him about Daniel, out there on the couch.
The story should be simple to tell.
My best friend got famous, when I was still a nobody.
And the tabloid blogs fucked with his head. I didn’t know he was around hard drugs until it was too late. He went out on a houseboat with two social climbing partiers one night, and the pills were cut with something bad. Something too strong. He’d always struggled with depression and substances, but fame lit a match underneath it.
That’s what I mean, when I say I’m scared.
There’s still no one in my life I’ve told about that part of my past, and I almost did it on a whim.
I wash off and toss on a clean set of clothes, trying to calm the storm in my mind.
I make sure I’m presentable before I head back out. I go to the kitchen and make a quick green juice, then head into the living room.
“You can ask for double,” Emily says before I’ve even sat down.
I pull in a breath, trying to center my mind back onto business.
“They already raised my rate from last season. I don’t need to be greedy.”
