Tomorrow, I’ll deal with the fallout, but tonight I need to feel someone coming around my cock as I shoot my load inside them, and I’m pretty sure Tam’s okay with that. Tonight I need to take. In the morning, I’ll work on fixing all the shit I’ve managed to fuck up.
I grab Tam’s waist and flip her onto her stomach. She makes this shocked little sound of appreciation. I lift her hips until her pert arse is up in the air, and her glistening hole is practically begging me to slip inside.
Don’t mind if I do.
I grab a condom from the wallet I threw on the coffee table and tear that fucker open with my teeth before I roll it down my cock. Tam cries out as I slam inside. I tease her by pulling all the way out, and she writhes on the end of my dick like a champion fucking rodeo rider. She’s slick from back to front thanks to me eating her out, and I throw my head back and let the sensation of her wet snatch squeezing my cock take over. I slip my thumb over the puckered flesh of her arsehole and ease inside. She freezes. Fuck. We’ve done a lot of things, but we’ve never done that. Her whole body is rigid as she whispers, “What are you doing?”
“Shh, just go with it.”
“Your finger is in my arse, North,” she shouts. “There’s not a whole lot of ‘going with it’ I can do.”
“Well, at least it’s not my dick,” I supply helpfully, which only serves to make her angrier. She rears beneath me, but it’s not the happy kind of ride ’em cowboy bucking I’d anticipated.
My concentration is shot to shit because all I can think about is Will and his lips on mine. All I can think about is sucking his dick, shoving inside him, and the way he ruined me for all other lovers with those hands. But I’m here with Tammy, and I should know better than to lose my shit when I’m with her. What If I’d called out Will’s name? I need to be more careful, I realise, as I meet Tammy’s irate gaze.
“Come on, Tam. I’m sorry, I forgot.”
“You forgot I don’t like your finger in my arse?” she wails like a banshee, and I remove my hands from her body. “God, who are you these days, North?”
I wish I knew.
“I just … I fucked up. Now can we please try this again?”
“No!” She slides free of me and climbs off the couch, stalking down the hall and slamming her bedroom door.
Fuck.
I get up and walk through the house, pulling on my jeans to let my cock know we’re both well and truly done for the night, and then I grab a beer from the fridge and sink down onto the lounge, turning on the TV so I can watch a game.
The players run around the field in their short shorts, and I think it’s the only time I’ve ever watched a game and not noticed where the ball was. I’m too busy watching all that bulging muscle, and the way they buck their hips in order to unseat their opponent in an attempt to keep the ball. I never noticed how homoerotic the game is.
Which is just fucking ridiculous.
And yet, that’s all I can see. I wonder what would have happened if the footy games Will and me used to play had involved this much physical contact. But it had been years after those footy matches that I stopped looking at him as just a friend and started viewing him as a sexual conquest.
I’d never entertained the idea of fucking a man before. Hell, we’d been kids and jacked off together in the same room, beneath the same fucking blanket while watching Sharon Stone writhe around on top of Jonny Boz in Basic Instinct—before she brutally murdered him with an ice-pick—and it had never occurred to me that penis was fun to play with, apart from my own, that was. Now that I think about it, Will had done an awesome job of not paying a whole lot of attention to the screen, which had heightened my own orgasm.
But I remember when it went from understanding that he was gay to wanting to fuck him. It had been when I slept with Jess. Yes, I know that makes me a piece of shit. I have no excuse for my behaviour other than she was devastated that Will didn’t want her in that way, because she loved him, strange as that may seem. She was crushed, and I didn’t like seeing beautiful things destroyed.
Jess had told me a lot about Will, about the things they did when they were together, and I’d found myself listening with bated breath. I was way more curious than any straight man had a right to be. This was Will, my childhood friend, my brother from another mother. I couldn’t think of him in that way, but I did.
Several nights, I’d come with Jessica’s lips around my cock, and I’d wished more than anything that they’d been Will’s. Why hadn’t he ever come out to me? Would he run if I confronted him about it?
Maybe he thought I’d already known about him. Maybe he was afraid of my reaction, but we’d never had the kind of friendship where we shied away from anything, so I’d been determined to find out. I don’t think I’d meant to fuck him that night, and I certainly hadn’t thought I would enjoy it, but it’d been unlike anything I’d ever felt, unlike anything I’d felt since, and that pissed me off. That he still owned that. That he was still the only person on the planet who made me feel this way.
I glare down at my dick, not surprised the chubby fucker is poking at the zipper of my jeans, dying to get out. With a glance at the empty hallway, I unzip my pants, knowing that Tammy is probably out cold and snoring softly into her pillow. I stroke my hand up and down my cock. I cup my balls and pull them through the too small space created by my fly, but I like the snugness around them, as if they’re cinched tight in someone’s grasp. Closing my eyes, I think of Will’s dick pressed up against mine, his hands threaded through my hair, and his full pillowy lips against my own, his hot mouth and penetrating tongue. I slide my hand over my head, remembering the way he’d suck me, and I groan as my orgasm rocks through me. Come shoots out of the head of my dick and all over my shirt.
I sigh, feeling empty inside, and not just because I blew a massive load all over my stomach, but because even with a woman in my house, with her living here and me spending as many hours at the pub as I can cram into my day without looking like a stalker, I’ve never been so alone.
It’s as if the floor has opened up and a giant black maw looms beneath me. I cling to the sharp teeth, desperate not to fall into that murkiness. I fell once, and I never really learned how to climb out. Not that it matters. Can’t change the past, and I can’t make it right. I can’t do shit but jack off and fantasise about all the things I wasn’t man enough to own up to. All the things I should have held onto.
Hell, I didn’t fall. I’m still fucking falling, and there isn’t a safety net in the world big enough to catch me.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep this shit up. Jacking off into my hand every goddamned time North comes waltzing into the bar just isn’t working out. For now, my resolve is strong, but that doesn’t mean shit because there’s only ever been one man who could blow my resolve to smithereens, and it’s North fucking Underwood.
I run my hand through my hair and a set of warm arms wrap around me. Josh. For a half-second there, I almost forgot about calling him last night. He’s a good friend, if you can call a fuck buddy a friend.
He drove for an hour and a half after a long day of work when I sent him that text last night. He showed up here with a bottle of whiskey, even though he knows I have more than enough at my disposal, and yeah, it could have been just because he wanted to get laid, but it felt like more than that. For the first time since we met, it felt like he was actually reaching out as a friend.
Newcastle is a hell of a lot bigger than Red Maine, but I know Josh doesn’t have a lot of close friends, and we may put on our big gay panties every day and send a big fuck you to the world, but that life gets lonely. Sure, I could try harder to be what this town considers socially acceptable, but that wouldn’t be me, that would be me pretending. And I’d be fucking miserable. I spent too much time as a kid pretending to be something I wasn’t. I won’t go back there again. Not for anyone.
I sit up, and Josh’s snore deepens. I turn and flick his morning wood with my thumb and forefinger, and he st
artles awake. Chuckling, I stare out the window at the ocean below.
“Shit, what time is it?”
“Just on six,” I mutter without having to look at the clock. Every fucking day without fail, I wake at the arse-crack of dawn. Josh groans and flops back on the bed, and I turn to look at him. The sheet is tangled up around his feet and he’s naked head to toe, and sporting a decent-sized erection this morning. He catches me staring and laughs. “You wanna go again before I have to leave?”
I raise a brow at him. This is not the first time he’s spent the night. Neither one of us read anything more into it than we have to, and normally I’d be all over that shit because really, what better way to start the day than morning sex? But recent events have a habit of catching up with me in the harsh light of day, and from the second my eyes sprung open, there was another man on my mind.
Isn’t there always?
“Nah,” I say, and stand up. My cock bobs with the weight of my morning wood and Josh grins as his gaze rolls appreciatively over me.
“Shit, you’re a sight for sore eyes, Will.”
I grin at that, because it’s nice to be wanted. I don’t go to a gym. Sometimes I run on the track that overlooks the ocean when I need to clear my head, and carrying boxes of booze all day has my lifting covered. I’m six-foot, two-inches and leanly muscled, and despite the tattoos, the piercings, the drink, and the fact that I smoke too much weed, I take pretty good care of myself.
Josh’s not too bad either. He has kind of a stocky, gym-bunny build, and a short but thick cock to top it off.
“I gotta take a shower and get ready for deliveries,” I say. “But you can stay as long as you want—just don’t get come on my sheets.”
“You ever think about taking the day off, Will?”
“And miss out on all the action that the town drunks of Red Maine can provide? Never.”
“You ever think about getting out of this town for more than just a quick fuck at Sinners? Or, I don’t know, dating someone?” he asks. I shoot a glare in his direction. We don’t date. We fuck. We have fun. Sometimes we talk and then fuck, but neither one of us reads more into that. As though he senses my irritation he says, “Jesus, would you relax. I’m not asking for me. I’m perfectly happy being the man you invite to your bed at midnight and kick out before dawn.”
My heart gives a little lurch at that. Yeah, I’m pretty much an A-grade arsehole.
“I know better than anyone how isolating this life can be. I know you’re still in love with him, and I hate to be the one to say it, but I don’t think he’s ever going to come around, which leaves you with two choices. You can die alone, an angry, surly bartender, or you can put yourself out there and date.”
“Josh, I run a bar full-time. A bar I never leave unless it’s for a quick fuck or to go get extra stock in an emergency. I also take care of my dad.” He raises an eyebrow, because he’s met my dad. “Okay, so Dad’s the one who reminds me to eat, but I don’t have time to ‘date’ and even if I did, it’s not like I’m met with an abundance of willing participants.”
“Well not in this shithole town, no. But do you ever think about moving? Sell the bar; it’s too much and you’re too fucking young to have that kind of noose around your neck. Go explore. Travel overseas—hell, even moving to Newcastle would be better than staying here.”
I nod in agitation because I’ve heard all this before. “Would you leave it, please?”
“No. I won’t. Look this is fun; we have fun. Can I see myself winding up with you long-term? Not a chance in hell.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your hand in civil union,” I spit out.
“Man, you gotta get rid of this chip on your shoulder. Yes, society sucks. We should be able to love who-the-fuck-ever we please; we should be able to walk hand in hand down the street and not give two shits about what everyone thinks of us, but sometimes you find yourself stuck in a place with nothing but bigots and instead of waving your rainbow flag or wearing it with pride, you use it as a weapon to provoke the beast. You’re too caught up in this shit, Will. Forget about the town. Forget the pub. Forget about your responsibilities and what your dad needs from you—what do you need?”
I knew the answer to that question without even having to think about it. I need North, and like Josh had said, I’m not going to get him. I wasn’t fooled by his sudden coming around. The North I know can change direction at any point. He leaves you breathless, seeking, wondering which is up from down, east from west, and the worst part is you have no idea whether you love or hate the fact that he can turn your world upside-down with a mere look.
North is heartbreak. North is a headfuck. North had been my whole world. He was no good for me then, and he’s still no good for me. I know that, and yet I’ve never wanted anything more.
Josh left sometime during my overly long shower. I may have taken a little longer than expected in there, but he’d given me a lot to think about. When I come out, I find a note on the dresser, pinned in place by the left over bottle of Jack Daniels we’d only managed to get halfway through last night. I pick it up and read his tidy handwriting.
Will,
Next time, we do it at my house. Dinner with friends first. No setups. I rather like being the man you call to come fuck your brains out. But, in the interest of keeping you sane, if you ever want to meet some people who aren’t as emotionally stunted as the two of us, you know where to find me.
Also, change your sheets. I jacked off while you were in the shower. Didn’t want you finding that one when you slip into bed tonight.
— J
I glance at the sheets in a heap on my bed. Bastard. Like I have time to do laundry today.
Despite the deliveries, Tuesdays are slow at the pub. After Jenny comes in, I leave before the lunch rush and take a walk by the ocean. I don’t cross paths with many people, just a few old ladies strolling, a jogger and his dog, and a woman pushing a pram. None of them really pay me much attention, but the old ladies surprise me completely by nodding and telling me good morning.
Maybe I’m not as frightening as I think I am, which I have to say is disappointing in some ways, but the more I stand here and look out at the ocean, the more I realise that Josh is right. I get to choose how my life goes. I get to decide if I live it alone or with someone else. And though I may not be able to sell the pub because all of our money is tied up in it and we’d get a lot less return, it doesn’t mean I have to spend my life hiding behind the injustice the world dealt me. It doesn’t mean I can’t be who I am and still be happy. If I continue down this path, I’m no better than them.
Pity then that the only man I can see myself happy with is still too afraid to be himself.
After pulling on my jeans and shirt, I reach for the knob, but the door opens and I find myself face to face with North. He looks surprised to see me dressed. My eyes rake over his naked torso, committing him to memory because I’m not sure I’ll ever get to see this sight again. And goddamn is it a sight. From head to toe this man is sex personified, and as he stands in the doorway, holding my gaze, I breathe in the cloying scent of come, sweat and aftershave, and I have to fight the urge to pull him to me and kiss those big beautiful lips.
Stupid.
So fucking stupid to think that this wouldn’t change anything between us, or that it could change us for the better.
“I’m gonna take off,” I say.
“Half-baked? Your dad’s gonna fucking kill you.” His minty breath washes over my face as he pushes me back from the doorway. “Friends don’t let friends walk home half-baked.”
Friends don’t fuck one another, either.
“It’s fine; obviously I can’t stay here.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because you just fucked me and ran off to the bathroom like a little bitch who was afraid she had cooties,” I snap, and North’s dad snorts in his sleep. We both hold our breath. He settles back into the same steady rhythm and North shoves me f
arther into the room. I have no choice but to go. He closes the door behind us and says, “You’re not going anywhere.”
“This was a dumb idea.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I ask. Is he really that fucking daft? “Jeez, North. I don’t know, maybe because you wouldn’t let me touch you.”
“It’s not my thing.” He shrugs. I close my eyes because that stung more than I’m willing to let him see. “That doesn’t mean anything has to change between us. We’re still exactly the same people we were an hour ago. Now come on, I need sleep. I’m stuffed.”
Is he really going to pretend like nothing happened?
You can’t just turn that shit off. Trust me, I’ve tried. He wanted it as badly as I did, so why the hell did he walk away?
“I’ll just take the floor,” I say. Arguing with him tonight won’t do any good.
“Stop being such a fucking pussy, Will, and get in here.” North sheds his jeans and climbs into bed. He’s not wearing boxers now, which surprises me. I can’t help but look. North wets his bottom lip and rolls over to face the window.
I shuck off my shoes and shirt, but I leave my jeans on and climb under the covers, despite the heat and the poor ventilation. Sweat prickles along the back of my neck and across my forehead.
North rolls over. Grabbing hold of my belt, he gives it a good hard tug that makes my stomach knot and my dick twitch. “Take your fucking jeans off or your nut sack is gonna be twisted up around your ears by morning.”
“You’re worried about my nut sack, now?”
“Dude, how many times have we slept in this bed in only our boxers?”
“You’re not wearing boxers, North,” I point out.
Finding North Page 5
