Page 320 of Seasons of Love
I look into his eyes to see how serious he is, and he’s staring back with the same determination he’s had when leaving gifts for me in the coaches’ office or bringing me a new cake he’s baked. Always confident I would never decline them.
“Our Christmas bubble?”
“Our Bubblelicious Christmas bubble,” he says.
“So, how do you propose we start my journey of self-discovery?”
He bites his lip and points down at the very clear hardness in my sweatpants.
18
BUBBLE
I might be very brave or very stupid, but I think I’ve just convinced a man, who up until today I thought was straight, to have free rein when it comes to using me.
Juju would definitely have my head cut off as well as my balls.
I know Riley’s been hard from the moment he pulled me onto his lap. He may be confused about his attraction to men or me, but his body has no doubts about what it wants. That’s a language I speak fluently.
“What do you”—he swallows—“mean?”
“I’m just going to help you take the edge off, okay?”
He nods.
I remove my sweater and help him take off his.
“Christ on a pedestal, Riley.” I knew he kept in shape and often trained with his team, but this is a whole new level of sexy I wasn’t prepared for.
“You’re one to talk,” he says. His hands run down my chest, tentatively touching my peaked nipples. “You’re so graceful when you move. There’s no doubt you’re a dancer and an athlete. That day in the locker room…I had to run away because seeing you was too much. I think it was the first time I started wondering about my sexuality. Not consciously, but I was rock hard all the way home, and it didn’t go away until I took care of myself.”
I gasp. “Tell me what you did.” I press my hips against his, and it has the desired effect. There’s no need to remove any more clothes. I want him to feel comfortable, but there will be no mistakes here. He’s getting the orgasm of a lifetime.
“I went inside my place,” he says, leaning his head back on the couch.
“Any particular room?”
“The hallway. I was so hard that it was painful.”
I pick up the pace of my thrusts, trying not to moan because what I’m doing to him feels good to me too.
“Did you take yourself in your hand right there and then?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me how you like to stroke yourself.”
“Curtis,” he moans.
I lean forward so we’re skin to skin. My nipples are painfully hard and so sensitive to every pass against the hairs of his chest.
“Fine. I like to grip it tightly, with long strokes. Sometimes I twist my wrist as I get toward the head.”
I whisper in his hear. “I’ll have that head in my mouth soon, Riley. It’ll be so good it’ll blow your mind.”
“Fuck, Curtis.”
“I know. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
