Him (Him, #1)

by Sarina Bowen

I fuck his mouth with my tongue the way I want to fuck him with my cock. Deep, hungry strokes that leave us both breathless, and now he’s the one clutching my shirt.

Fuck. My straight-as-a-blue-line friend is about to freak out. An hour from now, he’ll probably have one hell of an identity crisis, and for what? The best kiss of my life wasn’t worth screwing up his life.

I want him more than anything in the goddamn world.

Earlier, I told him he’d acted like a douchecanoe. But that’s crap. I’m the one who’s in love with my best friend and pretending I’m not.

It’s hard enough to look at his face each day and not feel heartbreak.

Seeing him walk away from me splinters something inside me.

Well, Pat, I just threw myself at him. We made out like porn stars up against the side of a bar. Then he gave me the brush-off. And I don’t have any idea what any of it means.

I wish I could feel it again—the press of his body. The scrape of rough hands on my forearms.

Fuck me. I’m a strong guy. I’m a tough guy. But I was not built to withstand the sight of Jamie Canning stroking himself.

Holy mother of God. I’m caught in some kind of fever dream. I have to be, because there’s no other explanation for why my best friend is offering to put his mouth on my dick.

“You know, you’re a cocky bastard when you’re gay.”

I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Canning. The way I crave Canning.

I wrap an arm around his waist. If I’m honest, I wanted this as much as the blowjob—the right to just touch him. To lean on him, skin to skin.

I don’t feel any different, though. I fooled around with a guy yesterday—shouldn’t I feel different? Feel gay, you mean? A laugh bubbles in my throat. Does one feel gay?

Now he’s naked. And I’m even harder.

Am I really attracted to him? Would I like it if we hooked up? Am I totally crazy?—I know the answers to them now. Yes, yes, and maybe.

But I’m pretty sure that my dick is an equal-opportunity player.

There’s a warm feeling in my belly when I look at him. And it’s not just sexual. It’s…comfortable. Like we’re close even when he’s twenty yards ahead. I wear a consciousness of him like a second skin.

I click on the title: Hot jocks suck ’n fuck. Did I mention I’m browsing gay porn? Yep, I’m a filthy liar—I told Wes I was taking a nap, and look at me now.

Chillax, I order my dick. We’re just getting started.

I’m attracted to women, no doubt about it. I’m also attracted to men, apparently. Wonderful. Complicated fellow, my dick.

Jesus. Good thing he’s not a traffic cop, because he’s sending enough mixed signals to cause a ten-car pileup.

I’m a glutton for Jamie Canning.

“You can bite the pillow when I make you scream.”

“My dick and I reached an understanding.” “Yeah? And what’s that?” I ask curiously. He shrugs. “We both like you.” Fuck yeah.

I love you. The words are always right there on the tip of my naughty tongue. I swallow them back like I need to and say something much more practical instead.

Jamie Canning has no idea the kind of power he has over me.

Maybe another time? God, when I go gay, I really go gay.

Why hasn’t anyone ever told me the prostate was some kind of magical pleasure zone? Are there unicorns and orgasm fairies dancing around in there?

“You’re a bossy bastard, Canning.” His lips tickle the head of my cock. “I fucking love it.”

His cheek nuzzles my left pec. “You’re a cuddle whore, huh?” I am. Absolutely. Just never dreamed I’d be cuddling with another guy.

“I’d let you do anything to me, Canning.”

Friends. We’re friends. Except that doesn’t feel like the right label.

Funny how he thinks it’s weird when I sniff his hair, but he’s perfectly fine that I’m about two seconds from dry humping his backside. Times they are a changin’.

Kissing Jamie Canning is mind-blowing. I’m greedy for it, because I know in my gut it won’t last. The summer ends for me in four weeks, and Jamie’s interest in me may be even shorter. So I’ll take all I can get.

“Want you,” I whisper. Lately, those two words define me. “Have me,” he says.

Like me, Jamie has two speeds: horny and asleep.

Forty minutes later I have Jamie’s dick in my mouth and I’m stroking his prostate like a champion. He’s writhing and begging. “Give me more,” he pants. “Give me the D. You know you want to.”

But if we do this, I won’t just be fucking Jamie. It will mean something to me. And chances are, it won’t to him.

I’m going to fuck the only man I’ve ever loved.

He’s beautiful. Goddamn beautiful. And I’m so hard it hurts.

Hell, my hand is trembling around my cock as if I’ve never done this before. But I haven’t done this. Not with someone I love.

“My job, baby. I make you come.”

I am, and always have been. I love everything about him.

I hold him as close as I dare. Even if my entire life goes to shit before breakfast tomorrow, I’ll always have this night.

“Where did he touch you?” Jamie squeezes one of my butt cheeks. “Here?” I chuckle. “Yup.” “Fucker.”

He trusts me. Fuck, I’m such an asshole. Because trust was the last thing I felt today when I was imagining Jamie’s hands all over that chick. And the fact that she’s rocking a vagina makes it a thousand times worse. I’ve never had to worry that the guy in my bed might choose a girl over me.

I feel sick when I picture him leaving me. I feel sicker knowing I’m competing with not one, but two gender pools for his affection.

Our mouths fit together so perfectly. Every time we kiss, I fall even more in love with him, and it has nothing to do with sex or lust. It’s him. His closeness and his scent and the way he soothes me.

My life has been chaotic for as long as I can remember, and I always dealt with it alone. My parents’ criticism, my confusion over my sexuality. But for six weeks every summer, I didn’t have to be alone. I had Jamie, my best friend, my rock.