Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys 2)

I’ve been missing out.

Tripp pushes me up against the wall and covers my body with his. He fumbles with my fly, one hand rubbing me through my jeans, and just as he gets them open and is about to pull me out …

“Wait.”

Tripp freezes.

“I want to kiss you.”

Our eyes lock, and some of the tension leaves his face. “You do?”

I tug his face to mine.

And like earlier, tingles explode across my skin. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and I relax into the kiss, into knowing it’s Tripp, into getting to share this with him. Our friendship has always been perfect, but this, here, fuck. If I thought cuddling with him was the most amazing thing, I was wrong.

Kissing Tripp is addictive.

He shoves my jeans and briefs down my thighs and closes his hand around my cock. His fingers are rough and thick, and when he spits into his hand and starts to jerk me off, there’s nothing sweet or delicate about it. It’s blinding, burning need. It’s pure want.

I grab his ass and press my thigh between his legs, and Tripp starts to thrust against me with purpose. It’s hot. So fucking hot.

I can barely stop to catch my breath, let alone think. All I know is I should have been doing this with Tripp a lifetime ago, because fucking hell, how does this feel so good?

His hand works me over confidently. Tight but not too tight, paying the tip the perfect amount of attention to drive me crazy. I’m close way too quickly. And I know that’s the point of a quickie, but I never want this to end.

I grip his ass, encouraging his thrusts to get harder, faster. He’s panting, and I’m swallowing every noise he’s making. Taking them from him. Making them mine. I wish we were home and could take this slower. I want to touch him. I want to learn what a cock other than mine feels like in my hand. But too soon, I’m slipping.

My balls start to draw up, pleasure pulling them tighter and tighter. “You need to come.”

“Goddamn it, Dex.”

I’m about to offer to pull him out when he drives his cock into my leg painfully, and his whole body goes stiff. Seeing the way his head drops back and his eyes fall closed …

I close my hand around his and start to jerk off hard and fast, fucking the fist we’ve made around my cock until it’s too much, too good, too … everything.

“Tripp …” I moan as it hits me. My cock jerks as I spill over our hands, panting hard and closing my eyes as I let the intense waves of pleasure pass over me.

I’ve never, ever done anything like that.

And when I open my eyes and find Tripp watching me, I give him a lazy smile before tugging him into another slow kiss. I’m still high. Still buzzing. It’s going to take a while for me to come down from something so indescribable.

My brain is too scrambled to work out how I’m feeling; all I know is that sex has always been great, but never, ever like that. Maybe it’s all the cock. Maybe it’s because I was so goddamn horny beforehand, or maybe it’s because of Tripp and how much I already love him.

I don’t know what to say after that. How to tell him what it meant to me or how happy I am that I got to experience it with him.

I kiss him again. “If someone had told me that’s what it was like to have a husband, I would have found me one a long time ago.”

Sixteen

TRIPP

Fuuuuck, what am I doing?

Do I regret it? Not yet. Do I want a repeat? Right fucking now, before we both sober up and realize we’ve crossed lines we shouldn’t have.

“Let’s go home,” I say in his ear.

We stumble outside the club, but Dex’s hand doesn’t leave me the whole walk to a designated Uber pickup area. Whether it’s around my shoulder, tugging my shirt, or holding my hand, Dex’s affection is back. It more than makes up for the sticky mess in my pants.

The buzz in my veins is worth the possibility of being hurt tomorrow when he blames the alcohol, confusion over being married, and any other excuse a supposed straight guy clings to the morning after.

While we wait for our car, Dex pulls me right up against him. His hands are on my hips, his mouth is just an inch away, and even though every self-preservation instinct is telling me to pull away, I can’t step back. My feet won’t allow it.

“So,” he murmurs. “We’ve never done that before.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Why not? We should’ve been doing that the whole time. You’ve been holding out on me.”

I run my hand down his arm. “Oh, honey, if you’ve never had a handy before, I really worry about your taste in women. Also, when gay guys offer straight guys shared orgasms, it can get messy, and I’m not talking about all the cum.”