Caught in the Undertow by Helena Maeve

Author:Helena Maeve [Maeve, Helena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Published: 2016-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Ward had no memory of falling asleep, though he remembered laddering his fingers up Dylan’s spine, the shadows so stark on his skin. He woke alone, the dent in the pillow beside him his only sign that Dylan had ever lain there.

Sunlight streamed through the wall of windows, revealing a glittering bay and a holiday view over the city. The faint hum of a vacuum cleaner echoed from under the bedroom door.

Ward didn’t recall closing it.

He rolled over in bed, his thoughts pinging off the inside of his skull. He’d met Dylan’s parents last night. He had joined them for Thanksgiving dinner.

He had taken their son home and fucked him into the mattress.

Blood rushed to his cheeks at the recollection and his cock gave a guilty twitch. He was half-hard already and dredging up the sense-memory of Dylan’s body beneath his hands was a surefire way to make it worse.

As he kicked off the bed sheet, Ward swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood. He staggered a little, lightheaded from too little sleep, but the absence of a hangover surprised him.

Then again, he had been a good boy last night. The vices he’d chosen to indulge in were of a different sort.

He let the shower stream down from the ceiling fixture, spattering his cheeks and running in rivulets down his body. He should’ve asked Dylan to stick around. They might have indulged in a little morning fun under the pretext of cleaning themselves up.

He saw it in his mind’s eye—Dylan naked under the torrential downpour, steam eddying around him as he curled a hand around his dick. He’d go slowly. He’d make a show of it for Ward’s viewing pleasure. He would run his other hand over his chest, pinching a nipple to tease himself then reaching down low again to cup his sac, all while Ward looked on, patient in a way he knew he’d never be in reality.

Ward came like that, spending all over the tile wall as he pictured Dylan on his knees, mouthing at his cock.

‘You’ve done this before,’ he had blurted out last night. The observation hadn’t bothered him then, but now he wished he’d stopped to grill Dylan about it.

Curiosity churned in the pit of his stomach. Was it someone at Ledwich? Did Dylan have a boyfriend before he left for college?

It wasn’t so far-fetched. Dylan had grown up on the fringes of the American gay capital and his parents didn’t strike Ward as the bigoted sort. Not like Benjamin.

The thought was as effective as a bucket of ice thrown over his head. Ward switched off the tap and toweled himself dry.

The hum of the vacuum cleaner was still going full force when he emerged from the bathroom.

Eager to remain in his little bubble for a while longer, he rummaged through the pockets of his jeans for his cellphone. No joy. He remembered leaving his leather jacket in the living room last night—just before he’d followed Dylan to bed and the two of them had got up to unspeakable things.

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