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“If I were up to your standards, we could probably have some fun together.”
Armstrong pulled his mouth from its bruising campaign on Max’s lips and bit at the hinge of his jaw when Max wrapped his hand around his dick. Just like Max figured: thick to match the rest of him, and cut—too much friction.
Grady took the shirt and unfolded it. The expression of distaste returned. “I can’t wear this. It has your number on it.” Max gave him a smile full of teeth. “My number or my DNA. Your call.”
“I hate you,” Grady told him, voice flat. Max only grinned wider. “I know.”
Grady must hate himself. That was the only explanation. “Like I’d turn down a blow job.” “We do have something in common.”
“You are cordially invited to fuck my face.”
Fortunately Max had plenty of experience antagonizing men into doing what he wanted. Getting a guy to fuck you and slap your ass wasn’t all that different from getting one to crosscheck you and punch you in the face.
Max hadn’t had a complete personality transplant in the last week, so that wasn’t happening. In another few days, maybe he could admit it to himself without wanting to take a header into the boards.
“Fuck!” Grady’s shoulder crunched against the boards as a familiar body rammed into his side. Served him right for letting himself think about Max for even a second. “Aw, baby, did you miss me?” He didn’t stop to bat his eyelashes, just gave Grady’s ankles a tap with his stick and left with the puck before Grady could get his feet back under him.
Max had entered his contact as MAXIMUM ORGASM followed by multiple eggplant emojis,
Grady wanted to throw himself out the bus window. He really needed his date tomorrow to go well. He had to be hard up for regular sex if he was fantasizing about running his fingers through the mess on Max’s belly and using it to open him up for Grady’s cock.
Whatever that feeling was when Grady complimented him sincerely, it needed to go back in the box.
“Why a lobster?” He could practically hear the eye roll. “I’m from New Brunswick. They give us those when we’re born.”
“Ever had phone sex?” Jesus. “Not while I’m driving.” “How long until you make it home, do you think?” Max asked, faux innocent. “Wonder how much trouble I can get into before then.”
Max could see their hookups of convenience evolving into something else. A house somewhere between Newark and Philly, a rivalry they played up in public and laughed about in private, maybe another dog.
“First of all, I have no idea what a dying vibrator sounds like. I’m a responsible adult and my toys are always charged—”
Like Max hadn’t gone and fallen completely in love with him, after sliding into it by reluctant degrees over the past month and a half.
The Grady from a few months ago would have recoiled in horror that today’s Grady found comfort in that. Today’s Grady opted not to think too much about it and went down to breakfast.
Grady kept his thoughts on Starry Night Over the Rhone to himself, even if it was silly. The two people walking together in the foreground with all of the beauty of the universe behind them—paying no attention—and somehow all he could think of was that little splash of red on the woman’s dress, and how it reminded him of Max’s lobster tattoo.
“You and whoever you were thinking of when you looked at Starry Night Over the Rhone.”
Max was gonna die of sex.
Grady was too come-dumb to notice if Max waved a sign advertising his feelings in front of his face, so it was fine.
Sometimes Max forgot how handsome Grady was when he smiled, since he didn’t do it often. This laughing, relaxed Grady was like kryptonite. Max’s chest hurt. He blamed the pot.
“I should be the lobster,” Grady repeated quietly when Max’s fingers traced down the side of his face. “You crack me open.”
Grady let Max pull him up and lead him inside. He left the weight of his shell by the pool with his wineglass.
“Tell you what. If I’m around for Christmas next year, ask me again.”
He feels safe? He’s kind and generous and makes me laugh? He helps me remember what it’s like to be able to rely on someone other than you?
I was looking forward to spending the rest of my life getting you to pretend you’re annoyed with me. I know all this started with a stupid bet, but I think I’m in love with you. I think you’re in love with me too.
“Someone they love?” Grady’s voice cracked. Fuck. Fuck. “Now you say that to me?” Max’s hands shook and his eyes burned. “Now?”
“How have you kept this quiet for so long when your face does that when you talk about him?”
“Hi, honey. I really love you a lot, but if you score on my team tonight, you’re not getting laid for a week.” “I was thinking more along the lines of, you know, ‘I need space for a few days.’” Max could handle that. And it seemed like Grady was willing to give it a try too. “A whole week does seem like kind of a stretch.” “We’ll figure it out,” Grady promised.
“You sound so reasonable. It’s disgusting.”
So come over and you can rub my belly.
Ok, that was really bad. Sorry. I’ve spent too much time listening to Jess flirt with her girlfriends. I promise I did not just casually suggest pet play by text. That’s an in-person conversation.
Besides, how thirsty would that look to Grady’s sister—that Max had been so desperate for it that he hadn’t even bothered bringing his travel bag in from the car. Max was that thirsty, but he didn’t have to advertise it to anyone but Grady.
“I hate you,” Grady said without heat. Max batted his eyelashes. “Does that mean we can have nasty, disrespectful sex later? I miss it.” “I literally came all over your face this morning.” In the shower, so it barely counted, but still.
A pathetic gurgle slipped past his lips when Max flicked his tongue over his hole, but Max
“You romantic motherfucker.”
