Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
taylor
The sun was well above the horizon and casting a lengthening shadow before me as I walked across campus and to the Bel House in Harrison’s clothes and with a small backpack stuffed with my dirty clothes.
On our lawn, Peanut was running back and forth, catching his favorite tennis ball, while Jason ran in the opposite direction, just as excited about the whole affair. They were still far in the distance when I slowed down to watch them.
The sight of Peanut filled me with warmth that was all too common when you earned a dog’s adoration and love.
The sight of Jason did different things to me, of course.
Shirtless and in his light gray sweatpants, wild curls adorning his head, football star’s physique and all, he was a good-looking guy.
So I stood there and watched him, aware that I had slept with a man last night, and had every intention of sleeping with that wonderful man as many times as he would want me.
Jason paused on the lawn, legs spread apart, arms rising high above his head. He was so unbothered, almost oblivious, that people never failed to turn their heads when they passed one of his shirtless exhibitions. He stretched his arms high and arched his back, and my gaze went down to his abs.
I cringed.
Something about looking at Jason was as wrong as it could be.
I’d only done it because some part of me was still confused about Harrison and all that had gone down last night and this morning.
Was I gay? Did good-looking guys do this to me all the time?
Had I just been intentionally ignorant? But no.
The thought of attraction clashed with the sight of Jason.
It was like looking at a brother, and I wanted to gag.
Good. That made me happy.
Especially when I reverted my thoughts back to Harrison’s firm ass and his muscled arms and his thumb touching my hole. That turned me on as easily as anything.
Oddly relieved, I crossed the rest of the distance between me and the Bel House. Jason spotted me and grinned, tossing the ball at me instead of Peanut. I caught it easily.
“How’s that walk of shame going?” Jason asked.
I tossed the ball high above Peanut, who raced to the other end of the front lawn to catch it. “Not so much a walk of shame as a pride parade,” I said.
Jason’s eyes widened, mouth falling open. “You’re kidding me.”
I clicked my tongue. “Scored a big one last night.”
“You didn’t,” Jason said.
I came closer to him and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Jason.”
“What did I do?” he asked.
Everything. He’d done everything that night at the bar, when I’d been sulking that Harrison would pull away from me, when I’d still been pretending for myself that kissing Harrison was just a ploy to make Emma jealous and not the product of so many stormy, confusing feelings that had enslaved me for weeks.
“You helped me see,” I said simply. “And now I can’t unsee it. ”
“He’s definitely something to look at,” Jason agreed.
“You’re not allowed to look at anyone other than Bennet,” I said.
Jason laughed. “Those were Bennet’s words, actually. He said so last night.”
I smiled, feeling this strange pride that other people found Harrison attractive. “Mine.”
Jason grinned harder. “Tell me everything.”
“You won’t pry everything out of me with an iron rod, but I’ll tell you this,” I said. “I don’t think I ever felt this…satisfied.”
Peanut wagged his big tail and carried his tennis ball toward the door of the house, so Jason and I walked there together. “I hope you mean this as emotional satisfaction, because I don’t want to know otherwise.”
I laughed and punched his shoulder. “Yeah, asshole. That’s what I mean.”
We stepped inside the house, and Jason hesitated, then shot me a casual look. “What about that girl you were trying to make jealous?” he asked.
“What about her?” I asked, a little testily.
I poured myself a glass of juice from the pitcher in the fridge, while Jason washed his hands in the sink.
“To be honest,” I continued, “I’m trying not to overthink things.
It’s all very confusing. For one, I’m suddenly kinda gay.
” The word didn’t feel right. “Or bi, I guess.” But that wasn’t exactly it either.
“Maybe you’re pan,” Jason said. “And you guys have chemistry. That much is obvious to everyone.”
I glanced at him and smiled, nodding my agreement. Yeah. We had chemistry. We had biology and arts and PE, too, all things considered.
I got ready for a lecture, but Harrison was on my mind all morning.
I could still feel him, could feel the press of his muscles against mine, could feel his ass smashing against my groin and his lips dragging down my chest and his tongue on mine.
I could feel the warmth of him, the tightness around my fingers when I entered him and stretched him.
But above all that, I could feel his chest rising and falling under my head and arm as we slept together through the night.
That big, beautiful guy, with a mustache that seared my skin where it touched me, with eyes like melting chocolate, with words of a dictionary and thoughts of a philosopher and liberty of a Bohemian, lingered before my eyes until I was back in my room, lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Jason had asked the tough question. Emma was supposedly happy, but I couldn’t let myself completely forget that Harrison had, until the other day, been heartbroken enough to want to do anything, anything at all, just to catch her attention for a passing moment.
I pushed Emma out of my thoughts the only way I knew how.
I forced myself to think of Harrison and Harrison alone.
Harrison on his knees this morning, sun shining on the back of his head as he sucked my dick.
Harrison feeding me sweet French toast while the syrup dripped down my chin.
Harrison pressing me against the door before I stepped out of his apartment, hand on my waist, mouth on my mouth.
I pushed my hand down into my sweatpants, feeling myself as the heat grew from a spark to a full flame inside my chest and stomach. But it was his thumb this morning that left the strongest impression on me, the strangest.
My hand moved down to my balls, gripping them softly, then harder, as I worked up the courage to try what he had done to me already.
I could hear Harrison’s groans as I’d entered him. I could see the ripple of tension in his muscles as he shuddered and thrust himself against me. It looked like it felt so good.
My finger moved down my taint, then found my hole. It circled it gently, pressing little by little as my breath grew shallower and my teeth closed around my lip.
White heat rose through me as I pressed my finger harder, feeling my hole tense and relax against the intrusion, and my dick got so hard that it ached.
Stay horny for me, he’d said.
I pulled my hand out of my pants and breathed hard. It was hotter than I’d realized. Then again, I’d never thought about it. I’d never been tempted or curious enough to try it.
I couldn’t say if it felt as good as I imagined from seeing Harrison take my dick, but I knew that I wanted to find out. And the only way I wanted to find out was with him. Not like this. Not alone in my room, but with Harrison towering over me, my legs curled around his waist.
I stopped those thoughts right away. If I let myself daydream about it, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I would go for a cheap pleasure instead of waiting for the real thing.
My phone buzzed on the desk, and I got out of bed to see what was up.
Thinking of you, the message read.
The next one followed soon. I feel like I was enchanted. I can’t break out of the spell.
My heart hammered fast. Despite doing all I could to pretend there weren’t red flags planted along this path, reading these words was such encouragement, such relief, that I felt like I could take deeper breaths all of a sudden.
I’m thinking of you, too, I texted back. Non fucking stop.
Harrison replied almost immediately. Got important classes the next two days?
Nothing I can’t skip, I replied.
Pack a bag. I’ll pick you up at five.
I stared at the message, not understanding it entirely for a little while. Then, focusing on the only thing I understood, I typed back a reply. What should I pack?
Whatever you’re most comfortable in, Harrison texted. We won’t be hitting a fashion runway.
And a minute later, he added, Actually, I don’t expect you’ll need clothes at all that much.
Say no more, I wrote back. The messages left me smiling, tingling with excitement for a long time after. I didn’t have a second to rest or, God forbid, think twice about it, because it was half past three already.
I hopped into my shower, sang to myself, then spent far too long trying to get my hair to behave. The result was a messy mop that had required way too much effort, but I hoped that Harrison would notice the effort rather than the results.
I stuffed my backpack with mostly casual stuff for a couple of days, sweatpants that were easy to take off in a pinch, T-shirts that served the same purpose, a pair of pants, and a shirt in case we went out.
Then I dug through my drawer to see if I had anything at all that was even remotely sexy.
All my underwear was straight guys’ boxer briefs, black, dark blue, dark green, without a single pop of color or a good fit that would accent either my ass or my balls.
Then I dug a little deeper and found an old jockstrap.
Not the sexy kind either, but a plastic cup I wore when I played football with friends on some weekends.
I lifted it, looked at it, then put it back in the drawer.
I zipped up my backpack, threw it over my shoulder, and went for the door.
Just as I opened it, I hurried back and threw the jockstrap deep into the backpack under my other things.
I didn’t have to show it to him if I felt iffy about it.