by Johnson, Cat
“So, what are you going to do about it?” The question catches me off guard. I don’t actually know what she’s talking about.
“Um…pay for it?” I guess, referring to her steak.
“No, idiot. What are you going to do about Cole?”
Oh. Oh.
“Because,” she drawls, “I’m thinking I might owe him for setting me up with someone who’s so...” She pauses again and props her chin on her fist. “Unavailable.”
I blush again at her grin.
“Why don't we both send a rescue text?” she asks me.
“Both text Cole?” Kind of horrified but also impressed by the simple deviousness of the idea.
6
Cole
I wake to the ping of the message tone on my phone. Slumped on the end of the couch with a puddle of ice cream on the floor and a giant Dawn on the television screen lets me know I've reached my least favourite season of Buffy. “Fuck.” I carefully lower my feet to avoid the sticky mess and walk into the kitchen to get a cloth to wipe up. The phone pings again, and then again. I ignore it while I clean up the spill. I don’t want evidence of my sad little pity party melted onto the floor.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble as the phone pings again. I grab it from under the cushions as I head to the laundry to dump the cloth. I open the phone to see three texts from Phil and two from Jessie.
Jessie: In what universe did u think this was a good idea?
Phil: Ok help. This chick = crazy.
Phil: U promised 2 rescue me
Jessie: Come get me - UR friend is INSANE
Phil: U better get me out of here or we cant b friends
I know he’s teasing, but I panic, then curse him for the stupid mind games he doesn’t even realise he’s playing. I respond to them both.
Me: I’m so sorry Jess - I’ll tell him I have an emergency and he needs to help. I’ll call u an UBER.
Me: Tell Jess u have an emergency - I’m coming to get u
I chuck the phone back on the couch and race into my bedroom. My jeans are still on the floor, and I pick them up, intending to put them on. I’ll be in the car with Phil. Just him and me. I shove my jeans in the wardrobe and instead grab the gold teddy that matches the blue one I wore the morning we kissed. I slide it on with a t-shirt dress over the top. I find a pair of tights and chunky white sneakers, and I’m dressed to go. It’s not my usual armour—too sweet and informal for that—but it gives me a little edge to meet with the man who’s been tormenting my thoughts for what feels like forever.
Parking is a nightmare. Phil insisted he’d had too much to drink and couldn't find the car by himself. I’m glad he went to Paddington; it’s safe enough here for me to wear whatever, although I wish I’d known I would have to get out of the car. The slouchy t-shirt dress would not have been my first choice for out in public.
I round the last corner to the pub to find Jessie and Phil sitting together, talking animatedly and laughing like they’re best friends. What the actual fuck? I send Phil a quick text, hovering at the corner, not wanting to be seen. He looks up from his little chitty-chat and spots me almost immediately. His grin is huge, and he beckons me over to their table. My expression turns thunderous as I sit down. Jessie grins at me and they giggle.
“Clearly, you guys got along better than your texts would suggest.” I am extremely proud of how calm I sound. Jessie snorts and I glare at her. Phil laughs loudly. He gets a nasty look too.
“Babe,” Jessie says, her eyes twinkling with so much mischief I can’t quite hold onto my grumpiness. “Seriously, you thought we’d be good together?” Her amusement does not match her words.
“Yeah, well, clearly I’ve lost my touch at matchmaking,” I say with a grumble I don’t really mean. How can I, when I mismatched her with the man I want for myself?
“You so totally have.” Phil slings his arm around Jessie, and they dissolve into a puddle of laughter.
“How much have you guys had to drink?” I ask.
“Not nearly enough,” Jessie replies, and they fall all over each other giggling again. I’m conflicted about whether I should be completely pissed or relieved that they don’t hate each other after those texts. My nerves are all jangled and raw. I’ve swung from disappointed, sick and miserable I set him up with someone else, to jubilantly happy I got the match so wrong. I can’t work out where the pendulum of emotions stopped, or what was with this insta-bestie vibe they have going on.
I huff, half-amused and wholly exasperated. “Come on, you two, I’ll drive you both home.” I push out from the table and wait for them to collect themselves and stand to follow me.
* * *
“That was fun.” Phil sighs and lies back against the headrest in the car. We’ve dropped Jessie safely at her house, all giggly and flirty.
“Yeah.” It wasn’t really.
“I like Jessie.” With his eyes closed and his head reclined on the headrest, I risk a glance at his face. He looks happy. “I think I would have been really into her if I wasn’t already into someone else.”
My breath catches. It can’t be his ex. He'd been done with her way before the weekend they broke up.
“I should have said something before.” He means me. He fucking means me. I’m lucky we’re minutes from the house. I drive in silence, my mind reeling with the idea he wants me. He. Wants. Me.
“Cole?”
“Yeah, you should have said something before.” I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. Phil lifts his head from the headrest and stares at me, his eyes clearer than I thought they’d be, given how much he’d had to drink.
“You should have too.” It’s direct, and it’s true. I’m glad I inflated my courage with my outfit.
“You’re right. I should have said something.”
I pull Phil’s hand tentatively to my leg. He squeezes it, and I exhale a breath of air I didn’t realise I had been holding. He leaves his hand there, his thumb stroking along the line of my thigh muscle for the two minutes it takes to reach my house.
7
Phil
“I have something for you,” Cole purrs, leaning against the wall of the hallway entrance to his living room. The sound of his voice is so fucking delightful, a shiver runs through my whole body. I crowd into him, getting up the courage to steal the kiss I need, but he pushes me away gently. I stare directly into his eyes from where I stand, just feet away from him. Crossing his arms and grabbing the hem of his dress, he bites his plump lower lip and sends a coy look my way as he draws it over his head. My tipsy giggle at his feigned shyness turns to a choking cough at the sight of the gold teddy he’s wearing underneath. He toes off his chunky white sneakers and shimmies out of his tights. Then he’s almost naked in front of me, wrapped only in the negligee and a matching jock so tiny it barely covers his straining cock.
An unconscious rumble escapes at the sight of all that delicious, soft, almost translucent skin bared just for me. The long, lean lines, the smooth as silk skin, and that cock, that stiff cock straining toward me. My fingers flex and all my muscles are rock hard with anticipation and the need to pounce on this man. I want him so bad. I don’t know what to do.
I reach out and touch my finger to his lip, gently pulling it from between his teeth. I lean in slowly, giving him time to tell me I’m doing it wrong, and I kiss the puffy swollen mark where his teeth have been. I sigh heavily into his mouth. His tongue slides out and licks across the seam of my mouth and I part my lips, wanting to devour him. He tastes minty and clean with an edge of something dark and sultry.
I pull away. “Holy fuck, Cole, please?” I don't even know what I’m asking for. My body ruts against his. I take his mouth again.
A whimper escapes me when he steps away. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he reassures me. He takes my hand and pulls me gently toward his room, to this bed that nobody but he and I has ever slept in. A wave of possessive lust rolls over me. I don’t want him to bring anyone else here. My body vibrates with t
he need to touch him, roll around in the smell and taste of him, rub myself all over him. I feel like an animal, out of control and overtaken by hormones and lust.
Cole looks back at me as I squeeze his fingers tightly, only just holding back from dragging him into my arms to grind against him or bite him and own him. His eyes widen in surprise, and he does a little skipping hop into a run, dragging me the last few steps through the bedroom door to the bed. Our momentum sends us flopping onto the bed next to each other, and he’s barely turned before my hands are all over him, sliding his silken covering off to reveal his muscled belly and chest. My hands creep down and slip under the fabric of his underwear, scratching through the short curls surrounding his cock. The little mew of protest he makes as he squirms away is adorable.
“Take your clothes off,” he orders, and I struggle and flail around the bed, trying to take off my clothes while lying down. When I’m finally naked, hard and pulsing with a desperation I’ve not felt before, I look over to Cole, who’s divested himself of his delicate gold underwear. He’s so fucking beautiful I lose my breath.
Rolling over to lean above him on my hands and knees, I wrap my hand around his dick, and he grips my biceps tightly. I’m not sure if he’s bracing himself or trying to stop me from feeling his pulsing hard erection. I stop pumping my fist and loosen my grip, but I don't let go; I can’t. He strains up from the bed and kisses wetly into my mouth, the sound loud and filthy in the quiet of the room.
“Please, more,” he begs, and he lets go of my bicep to grab my wrist and set my hand stroking him again. I grunt into his mouth and thrust my hips against his thigh. I want to fuck him in the worst way, and my mind stutters at the thought, slowing my fist. Cole reaches past my hand on his dick, and he wraps his fingers around my erection. My breath saws in and out of my chest. Cole. Has his hand. On my dick.
“Keep going,” he murmurs, “I’ll copy what you do, so do what you like.” With his face pressed against mine, I feel the cheeky grin I love—the one he doesn't show just anyone—curve against my cheek. My thoughts scatter as I grip the base of his cock gently and slide my hand all the way to the tip, slippery with precum, where I press my finger against his slit and spread the silken fluid over his sensitive head. His mirrored actions have my guts clenching with a rush of pleasure, made even more intense with the knowledge that it’s Cole jacking me off and I am the one in control.
His sweet moans and grunts mix with mine, and it’s rough and loud and unrestrained. My whole body shudders with the heat of his hand around my dick and his hard body beneath me. I pull back quickly, letting go of Cole so he’s forced to let go of me. I kneel over his thighs, holding tight to the base of my cock, knowing if he touches me again, I’ll come without getting my cock inside him.
“I want to fuck you so bad, Cole, please?”
His eyes widen. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, his voice all gritty and lust-filled. I hesitate, just for a second, unsure what he means. I’m very aware he didn't answer my plea, but it’s Cole and I trust him. He reaches up and pulls me to lie beside him. Cole grasps my hand holding my dick and urges me to slide my fist up and down again. Barely calmed from before, I groan loudly into his mouth where he’s taken possession and is feasting on my lips, on my tongue, owning me. It’s not what I expected. It’s so much more aggressive than I’m used to. I adore it. I could drown in his kiss.
Cole pulls away, and a whimper escapes at the loss of him. I snatch at his hand to grab him and gather him back to me, but he eludes me and rolls to grab lube from where it rests on the bedside table. His arse is round and high and tight, and I want to smack it or bite it. I whimper again. He glances back and I look up. His sexy smirk says he knew exactly what I was looking at, and even if it didn't, the way he clambers to all fours, tipping his arse toward me would have clued me in.
“Oh my god, you’re so fucking sexy.” I groan and slide my body over his, wrapping my arms around his chest and over long, lean limbs. The heat pouring off him is incredible, and my cock slides against his leg as my body undulates without my consent. The muscles lining his stomach and ribs are taut under my hand as I stroke up and down his abdomen. His cock drips with precum as I slide my other hand up and down, stroking it the way I like to stroke myself while I rub my cock through the crease of his fabulous arse, pressing into his balls on every downstroke.
Cole reaches through his legs and runs his hand over my cock, slicking it up with lube. The intensity of his hand squeezing and pulling the pleasure from me knocks every coherent thought out of my head.
“It’s okay, baby,” he growls, “I’ve got you.” He pulls my cock forward and presses his thighs together. He rocks gently and it only takes two thrusts from him before I’ve learned the rhythm of him holding me tightly and sending pleasure rushing from my cock through my whole body. I clamp my arms around him, holding him still, and thrust hard between his legs. He grunts with every drive between his squeezing thighs. My cock slides hard along his erection, stealing my breath with every silken slide.
“I’m going to come,” I cry desperately into his ear, my hips surging and stuttering with the pleasure of fucking the man I like. More than like. Maybe even love. Cole’s cry sends me over the edge, and his cum fills my hand. My shout follows my cum mixing with his until everything is drained from me and my body drapes over his.
“Phil, fuck, Phil,” Cole groans and he collapses on the bed, chuckling breathlessly and squirming. “There’s cum all over the bed.”
I huff out a laugh too and pull him toward me. He wriggles, and I clamp my hand down on his gorgeous arse, holding him still and squashed into my side.
“Thank you,” I say to him. He puts his head on my chest and his arm around my belly, tickling down my side with wandering fingers.
“We’re going to itch tomorrow if we don't clean all this off,” he says, but he doesn't move, and we fall asleep curled up together.
8
Cole
I sit uncomfortably in the middle of the bed, wearing my most masculine boxer shorts and vest after stealing the first shower. Phil saunters out of the bathroom, all confident, naked, and gorgeous, and barks out a laugh.
“What are you wearing?”
I tip my chin, pretending I'm not cringing and out of my comfort zone. “I just wanted to make sure you knew you were in bed with a guy.”
Phil’s eyes flare, and just like that, he drops his towel and unabashedly struts across the room to me. He leaps onto the bed like a big cat stalking prey and butts his head against my chest, pretending to growl. I’m scared of what he’ll say. He’s also hilarious, and I laugh nervously.
Phil sits back on his heels and drags my singlet up, trapping my arms by pulling it over my head. My shoulders are forced back, my chest pushed out and exposed. He grumbles low in his throat and licks up my neck. I drop my head back and give him full access. Suddenly, I don’t care what he’s thinking about in bed with me, just so long as he doesn’t stop touching me. He slides his hand down into my now too-tight boxers, giving my cock two light strokes and pulling a desperate whimper from me. After a last quick, hard squeeze to my dick and an intense bite on my nipple, he withdraws his hand from my boxers. I moan for him to come back and blindly grab for his hands to place them back on my body. Phil’s nose ends up in my ear, and his hands slide down my back and squeeze my arse.
“Cole? Sweetheart?” he whispers. “I most definitely know I’m in bed with a guy. My guy.”
Epilogue
Cole
Three weeks later
Jessie’s raised eyebrows and pursed lips let me know how unimpressed she is at what I’ve just said.
“I know, I know. It’s not true or fair, but I feel like I am being kept hidden.” My stomach roils with a squirming, slimy feel at the implication behind the words.
“Even though Phil’s just had that new football contract, and you’ve been at work till at least eight every night since you guys got together?” Her
tone is incredulous and justifiably judgy. She’s absolutely right, but it’s still making me anxious.
Sighing, my shoulders slump, destroying the perfect lines of the vintage 1940s dress I’m wearing. I want to get mad, work up an indigent fury. But all I feel is a rapidly growing worry Phil has changed his mind about dating me, or he really is keeping me a dirty little secret.
“It’s okay to feel how you feel.” Jessie’s expression has changed to one of sympathy, and I’m not sure if it’s better or worse than the unimpressed one she sported earlier. “But, Cole, Phil’s not like that. He’s spent practically every night with you either at his or your place. Seriously, I only spent one date hanging out with him, and he spent the whole time talking about how amazing you are, to me, a complete stranger.”
Of course, Jessie’s right, but it’s hard to make the feelings go away no matter how silly they are.
Jessie slips through the crowd, and I follow her to where she snags a great table near the bar and the little stage. A cool eclectic group of musicians who meet up here at the Museum Hotel fairly regularly is playing a funky jazz cover of November Rain. It’s a really long song.
“Wanna drink, babe?” Jess asks me. It’s my turn to buy, and I protest, but not very hard. I want someone to spoil me. If it can’t be Phil, then Jess can do it.
“Yeah, thanks. Whatever you’re having.” She winks and slides off the barstool and into the crowd to beat her way to the front of the line at the bar.
