“Yes.”

“But the sex … I heard you.”

I down the rest of my drink. “Oskar always takes things too far. I’m sorry I didn’t put a stop to it.”

“You went along with it though. I don’t … I don’t understand.”

I pick my words carefully. “They were concerned that we spend too much time together.”

“What?” Dex has never sounded more confused. “That’s not possible.”

“Well, this funny thing can happen with little gay boys called the Straight Best Friend, and they wanted to make sure I didn’t, uh, fall for you. They wanted to make sure I wasn’t getting things confused between us.”

He gives a hollow laugh. “And now we’re married.”

“No. Nope. We’re moving on, remember? No guilty tone. Now, can we please forget how it got started?” And I must sound convincing enough, because he grins.

“Lucky for you, my brain doesn’t like to retain information, so it’s already gone. You’re sorry, I’m sorry, we’re all sorry.”

“Good. Now.” I tap my chin. “This one-night stand with a guy thing. Would you rather fuck Coach Roland or Graham?”

“Now you’re being pure fucking evil,” he grumbles.

“Wait until you see where I’m dragging you next. There’ll be endless possibilities for your choice to actually happen.”

Dex’s face lights up. “You’re finally going to take me to Rump?”

Rump is my favorite gay bar in Vegas, and Dex has asked to come with me before, but once I tell him I won’t be there long, just long enough to find a hookup, he leaves me to myself.

I love it because of the decent hookups and cheap drinks. And by cheap, I mean the cheapest on the Strip, so still really, really expensive. “Yep, you’re taking your husband dancing. And seeing as I’m probably not allowed to grind up on other dudes, you’re going to have to endure it.”

“Grind up on me anytime, baby.”

I was right. Taking the night off from our marriage to become best friends is exactly what we needed. And the very thing that always gets me hurt.

But by this point, I hurt when I’m with him. I hurt when I’m without him.

There’s nothing else I can possibly do.

Fifteen

DEX

It’s impossible to be down or confused when you’re full of margaritas and tacos. Tripp’s suggestion for us to go out was genius, and now, as we wait in line for Rump, I can finally relax. Things this afternoon have almost been back to normal, and I didn’t realize exactly how empty I was until now.

The pressure of being married has gone to my head, and it’s sad that we’re closer and more affectionate as best friends than husbands. But if we have a whole year of this ahead, we’re sure as hell going to make it work.

A trade isn’t an option.

“Would you rather,” I start, “nipple piercing or dick piercing?”

“Nipple for me, dick for the guy I’m with.”

Well, that’s something I’ve never considered. “Is that … does it make a difference?”

“Yes.”

“I know with chicks it helps hit the—”

“Same thing for dudes, just different location.”

Oh. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that before.”

“It also makes giving head more interesting.”

“It does?” Okay, when I’d asked that question, I didn’t think it all the way through. I’d meant which would Tripp rather get, but now that we’re talking about it, I have way too much cock on the brain. I can’t stop picturing it, and now I’m really curious about how it all works. You’d think having a gay best friend would mean I know a hell of a lot more about gay sex than I actually do.

“What do you like about it?” I ask.

“What?”

“Giving head.”

Tripp looks at me funny. “It’s a dick, and dicks are hot.”

Not the answer I was hoping for, but I have no clue what I wanted to hear. I don’t think dicks are hot, so that doesn’t help me. But when Tripp looks away and I let myself take him in again, I can’t deny the stirring of interest that hits me.

I’m curious.

Probably too curious for a straight guy.

But until I’m faced with a cock, how will I ever know how I’d react? I never thought I’d get hard over having Tripp touch me, and that happened, so maybe I could find a dick sexy. Or his, at least.

And I promised myself I wouldn’t think about these things tonight. Tonight is about getting back to normal. I wrap my arm around Tripp’s neck and haul him closer to press a kiss to his hair.

“You smell like hot sauce,” he says, elbowing me.

I breathe hot sauce breath all over his cheek and tighten my hold on him.

“Fuck off,” Tripp says, squirming.

“Sharing’s caring.”

“One bro does not share stank breath with another bro.”

“Good thing we’re husbands now, then.”

We wrestle as the line moves forward and only break apart once we hit the front and the bouncer apologizes to Tripp about making him wait in line instead of being let straight in, as though it’s some huge fail on his part.

Tags: Eden Finley Puckboys Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net