7. Hudson
Chapter 7
The appointment notification had come in the night before just as I’d gotten out of the shower. My run had gone well and a round of weights at the gym had my arms feeling like noodles. When I’d finally gotten home, all I’d wanted to do was wash off the sweat and head to bed.
The summer night air drifted through the windows, teasing my nose with the scent of the last sweet peach blossoms as I settled into bed. My phone buzzed and I clicked the notification.
Most of my massages came from a couple of the hookup apps. Guys would see I was nearby, see in my profile that I offered full-service massages, and hit me up. Only a few of my appointments ever came from the local business directory, but the listing was free so there was no reason not to advertise there.
Money was money.
Whether eighty dollars an hour for your run-of-the-mill one-hour massage or one-twenty an hour for a full-service massage, the work was easy enough—and often pretty damn enjoyable—plus, I liked staying busy and helping people feel good.
Reading through the appointment request, and then reading through it again, I laughed out loud.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
Lance had requested a massage.
A full-service, ninety-minute massage.
He’d signed up for ten o’clock in the morning, paid the fifty-percent up-front fee, and signed the consent.
Obviously, he hadn’t known it was me he was requesting to run my hands all over him. And he definitely didn’t read the consent form thoroughly or he would have very likely realized what he was signing up for.
Like the evil Kermit meme, I sat in bed propped against the headboard, one part of me saying, Tell him and save him the awkwardness, while the other part of me demanded, Give that man the best orgasm of his life and see if he can keep stonewalling you.
Shit.
I didn’t want to put Lance in an awkward position.
But…
I grinned to myself as I thought about showing up at his place with my table.
Fuck it.
He’d signed up for ninety minutes of full service and that was exactly what he was going to get.
That is, if he still wanted it once he saw it was me and realized what he’d signed up for.
A thought struck me. Maybe he did realize what the full-service massage was. A zing of jealousy traveled through me at the thought of Lance getting off with anyone else.
And what exactly do you think is going to happen if you keep pushing him into the casual-fuck-slash-friend-zone? He’s eventually going to find someone else to spend time with.
My stomach soured.
Nope.
Lance was getting the full-service treatment, and we’d deal with the consequences later.
Which was how I found myself at Lance’s door a couple minutes before ten o’clock. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how it was all going to go down, but my body hummed with anticipation. Obviously, I wasn’t going to force the guy to do something he didn’t want to do, but I also wasn’t going to turn down the chance to get off with him if he wanted to follow through with what he’d signed up for.
The look on Lance’s face when he realized I was the massage provider was absolutely priceless.
“You ordered a massage?” I asked, doing my best to keep the glee from my words.
“Is there any job you don’t do?” Lance grumbled.
“What can I say? I’m a jack of all trades.” I shouldered my way through the door. Maneuvering the table, I leaned it against the couch. “So, you signed up for ninety minutes of full-service massage. Let’s just get the paperwork out of the way and we’ll get started.”
“Why’d you say it like that?” Lance asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Like what?” I blinked, trying to look nonchalant and innocent. I was suddenly reminded of the time Lance caught me sneaking cookies from the jar Billy kept in the back room at the store.
“Full service,” Lance repeated the words with emphasis on the word full.
“Well, the option you chose includes…um, well, it means we both enjoy the massage and things end on a very…um, happy note,” I explained.
“What the fuck are you?—”
I saw the moment understanding smacked Lance in the face.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lance chuckled humorously. “Fuuuuuck.”
Pulling the paperwork from my bag, I moved toward the table in Lance’s little apartment. The place wasn’t fancy or huge, but it was tidy and had plenty of room for one person. He hadn’t changed it much from when his mom lived there, but I noticed he’d removed a lot of the more frilly and tacky décor she’d been drawn to.
“So, we’ll discuss what we’re comfortable with upfront. If, at any point during the massage, you choose to keep things non-sexual, you just say the word. I’ll check in from time to time to make sure you’re comfortable with the pacing, pressure, and taking things further.” I added our names to the paperwork and dated it. “I don’t have an appointment after this, so we’re good to let things take a bit longer.”
The look on Lance’s face told me he hadn’t completely come to terms with things. “I just wanted a damn massage because I overdid it painting,” he muttered. “I didn’t know you would be giving the massage, and I most definitely didn’t mean to solicit a sexual service.” He ran a hand over his face. “Fucking hell.”
My heart sank a bit, but I wouldn’t press him to do something he didn’t want to do. “No worries, we can still do the regular massage. I’m certified, so I can definitely help with the sore muscles.” I tapped the pen against the paper. “We can just sign here and get started.”
“What do I have to sign if you’re just doing a plain ol’ massage?” Lance asked, his brow furrowed as he glanced at the paper.
“This part of meeting a new client is always a bit awkward. If they signed up for regular, we just go with regular and I don’t even mention the other options. If they signed up for full service, I have to confirm they knew what they were signing up for. Some guys are like, Yes, definitely. Totally knew what I was signing up for. Let’s get started. But a lot of guys are either on the fence, not sure if they want to follow through, or don’t really know what they want.” I pressed my finger to the paperwork. “That’s where this comes in. We discuss our do’s and don’ts. We decide on a plan. Then we get started and see where things go. The client controls the situation—at least to a certain degree, it’s not like I just agree to anything they want to do—and I almost always leave a very satisfied client. Whether because the massage was just that great or because they opted for something a bit more.” I shrugged.
Lance looked from the papers to me and back to the papers before pinching his nose. “Almost always leave a very satisfied client?”
Smirking, I nodded. “The ones who maybe aren’t as satisfied usually end up scheduling another appointment and telling me they regretted not going with the full-service option.” The scent of soap and coffee engulfed me, Lance’s warm body so very close. I bumped my hip against his. “What other questions do you have? Maybe asking them will help you feel more comfortable.”
He turned incredulous eyes my way. “I didn’t make an appointment for sexual services,” he growled.
I shrugged. “Okay, but I can still tell you have questions. Go ahead.”
Lance looked a bit helpless for a few moments as if considering his next words. “Do things ever go wrong? You just open your table and fuck them right there? What about safety—of any type?”
“Never really had anything go wrong. There have been a handful of guys I’m just really not that into, so I only agree to the bare minimum hand job. If they’re hot or I’m feeling some kind of way toward them, I’ll usually sign off on blowjobs, one-sided or mutual.” I twirled the pen between my fingers. “Only been a few guys I’ve let fuck me. That’s not a part of the paperwork, so I discuss it with them beforehand and off-contract. I don’t just open my table and let them fuck me. I do an actual massage. Most often, I’m pretty much just edging them for an hour or so and then I’m getting them off. I only get off if it’s something we’ve agreed to beforehand. Safety is a must. Clients sign off on their health status if we’re doing more than hand jobs. I’m careful and I take precautions to prevent anything unsafe.”
“But what about the chance of meeting some creeper who wants to hurt you?” Lance asked, worry etched on his face.
My heart lurched, loving the fact he cared so much.
“It’s a risk, but it’s never happened. I feel out the situation when I arrive. If the vibe were to be bad, I’d leave.
Lance furrowed his brow. “I know you’re a grown man, but I can’t say I like the idea of you putting yourself in a situation that could be dangerous.”
Smiling softly, I bumped into him again. “That’s sweet and it’s appreciated.” A weird flutter lit up my stomach at the thought of Lance being concerned about me. Aside from Dad and Henry—and Billy, somewhat—I’d never really dealt with someone worrying about me.
Missy sure as hell didn’t.
But the fact Lance was concerned for my safety had me feeling some sort of way. Honestly, I could have taken the route of being irritated that he was trying to control my life. But, in reality, I couldn’t help the warm rush it gave me knowing Lance was worried about me.
“I really did just want a massage,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Do you want me to try my best to talk you into something a bit more than the regular massage?” I asked, my cheeks hot and my dick hopeful.
Lance glowered at me. “No.” Then he sighed. “Yes?” He ran a hand through his gorgeous silver and black hair. “Fuck, Hudson, I don’t know.”
“Let’s do the paperwork the way I’d usually do it with a client who is unsure,” I suggested.
Lance nodded. “Yeah, fine.”
We sat at the table and I willed my heartbeat to slow down and my breathing to steady.
“Before we get to the other part of the paperwork, let’s start with the scents and oils. Any scents bother you? Allergic to scents or ingredients?”
Lance shook his head.
“I use a very light oil. I usually like to keep it unscented. I’ll use essential oils in a diffuser. I brought a lavender candle, will that be okay?”
Lance nodded, his eyes darting to the paperwork.
Chuckling at his nervousness, I flipped the page.
“So, number one for me is no kissing,” I said, pointing the pen at the line of words on the contract before I initialed.
“Why?” Lance asked, his scent doing delicious things to me, his face much too close to mine.
I shrugged. “Too personal. I don’t kiss on hookups and I don’t kiss during a massage.”
“So, you’ve never kissed a guy?”
“I didn’t say that,” I said. “Just don’t kiss people I’m not planning on taking things further with. So, I’ve not kissed a lot of guys.”
“Guess we’ve got that in common,” Lance said as he put his initials next to the no kissing clause.
The zing his words gave me almost had me doubling over. Thinking of Lance kissing someone sucked. Thinking of how good it would be for the two of us to share rare kisses lit a fire in my belly.
“These next ones will be things I check with you on. Even if you opt in here, you can opt out on the table.” I tapped the pen on the paper. “Me giving you a hand job.”
Lance bit his lip.
“You can say yes now and change your mind. You can always change your mind.”
He nodded. “Okay, yeah.” He initialed.
“You giving me a hand job.”
Shaking his head, he opted out.
“Me giving you a blow job.”
Lance initialed.
“You giving me a blow job.”
He huffed. “I’m only saying no on these because I’m not sure I can keep feelings out of it.”
“That’s fine. Anything you opt into or out of is fine.” I trailed the pen down the list. Part of me was disappointed that he didn’t want to return the favor, but I understood his hesitation. The other part of me whispered that maybe it would be worth letting things tiptoe toward a relationship if it meant getting to experience some of these things with Lance rather than just doing them to him. “Assuming you opt into the full-service, do you want to get off?”
Lance nodded and added his initials.
“Are you okay with me getting off?”
The heat shading Lance’s cheeks was adorable as he initialed his agreement.
Pointing the pen at the next line, I continued. “When was your last sexual health check-up? What were your results? And do you agree to sexually safe practices?”
Lance spoke as he filled in the information. “Right before I left the city. Results have always been negative. And safe sex is good.”
“I get tested regularly. Results are negative—I can show you if needed. And safe sex outside of a committed relationship is a must for me.”
“Have you had a committed relationship?” Lance asked.
“Remember that guy I dated in high school? Tim? That’s the closest I’ve had to a real relationship.” I put a dot next to the final signature line. “Once we both sign here, we’re good to go. I’ll do a regular massage. At about the seventy-five minute mark, I’ll check in with you regarding how you’re feeling. At that point, we can finish the massage as usual, or I’ll take things a bit further—depending on what you tell me.”
“Okay,” Lance said.
“Then the last step is paying the rest of the fee and we’ll get started.”
Lance pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “Can I just send it straight to you or do I need to go back to the site?”
“Just send it to me,” I said. We’d traded online payment information for the businesses, so I knew he already had my details.
Lance clicked a few times and my phone dinged. He shuffled a bit, gripping the back of his neck as he tossed his phone to couch. “Um, I’ve only had a few massages, how does this all work?”
“I’ll set up the table while you go take off your clothes. You can use your own robe or the one I brought—it’s completely clean, washed it myself in hot water and bleach. You’ll come out here to a dimly lit room, some essential oils diffusing, a candle burning, and I’ll head to the bathroom for a couple minutes until you call me out. You’ll start on your stomach, robe off, blanket at your waist. The table isn’t heated, so if you want a warm blanket, let me know and I’ll ask to use your dryer for a moment.”
“No, I’m good without the heat.”
Resisting the completely foreign urge to lean in and kiss him, I stood abruptly. “Okay, sounds good. Let’s get started.” Ignoring how badly my body wanted to feel his mouth on mine, I walked toward my massage table. “Do you have a robe or want to borrow this one?”
Was it weird I wanted him to wear my robe so I could ball it up and sleep with it every night?
Yeah, that was fuckin’ weird. But Lance had me completely out of my comfort zone and, apparently, I turned into a creeper when I was knocked off my game.
“I have a robe.”
“Okay, just take your time. Come out when you’re ready.”
About ten minutes later, I had the bed set up, the oils diffusing, the candle lit, and Lance’s living room lights dimmed.
Lance walked into the room, backlit by the bathroom light.
Fuck.
I was in over my head for sure.
Clearing my throat, I gestured toward the table. “Get comfortable. Holler at me when you’re ready.” I tried not to breathe in his scent when he passed me as I headed to the bathroom.
Washing my hands, splashing some water on my face, and taking deep breaths while looking out the tiny window overlooking Haven Grove, I calmed myself.
Well, I calmed myself the best I could.
Never in all of my hookups or massages had I been so amped up.
What the hell was it with Lance that heightened absolutely everything?
Recalling my childhood with him around, we’d always been close. He’d take Henry and me on drives, letting us take turns driving when we were old enough to reach the pedals. Lance often persuaded Dad to let us stay up just a bit later when there was something we wanted to watch. He was always the first to join in whatever outside game my brother and I were playing—maybe not having kids of his own made him more apt to play since he wasn’t parenting. Or maybe Dad just didn’t have the energy after everything with Missy and Billy.
But Lance had been a constant in my life.
Until he left.
And here I was, stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Fighting new desires and old demons.
With no ability to predict the outcome, only trauma of the past to guide my thinking, I needed to either stick to my guns or step out with faith.
Refuse to budge—casual sex or nothing—or take a chance and see where things could go.
Where things might go? Right back to the city, out of your life. Nobody stays.
“If I don’t stay, they can’t leave,” I mumbled to myself. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I renewed my commitment to casual sex only. Protecting myself and sticking to my guns had worked for me since before Lance left town, and it would keep working for me now that he was back home.
“Ready,” Lance called from the living room.
The apartment smelled of soft lavender and the combination essential oil I’d placed in the diffuser. Lance’s broad shoulders and back lay before me on the table and everything I’d been thinking in the bathroom scurried out of my head.
Thumbing through my phone, I found the massage playlist I’d created and hit play. Dribbling a bit of oil on my hands, I rubbed them together. “I’m going to start on your back and shoulders.” Lance’s body tensed momentarily when I touched him, but the first few strokes relaxed him.
“Am I supposed to talk or stay quiet?” Lance asked, his words muffled by the bed’s ring pillow.
Smiling as I focused on the muscles beneath my fingers, I said, “Whatever you’re comfortable with. Some people talk the whole time. Some prefer to just enjoy the moment.”
Lance appeared to be an enjoy the moment type guy because he settled into my touch and the only noises from him were soft grunts and groans as I worked on particularly stiff or sore parts of his body.
I moved from his shoulders to his head, a soft smile playing at my lips when he groaned. Many people loved having their head massaged.
I worked my way down his arms and took my time on his fingers, imagining his hands on me, our fingers entwined, how gentle and firm his touch would be.
“I’d like to work on your glutes if you’re comfortable with that,” I said softly.
Lance grunted, the sound at odds with the gentle, soothing tones of healing frequencies coming from my phone.
“I need words, please, Mr. Ingram,” I teased.
“Yes, you can work on my glutes,” Lance grumbled.
Positioning the blanket so only the body part I wanted to work on was exposed, I kept things professional as I went to work on the tight muscles in his ass.
His very fine ass.
Look, I was professional, but not fucking blind.
After attending to both sides of Lance’s backside, I made my way down his legs. His calves seemed to be extra sore, likely from the ladder work while painting, so I worked on them a smidge longer.
Reaching his feet, a chuckle escaped me when Lance jerked and grunted. “You okay?”
“Fuck, that tickled.”
“Sorry, should have warned you. Can I try again?”
“Yeah.”
Lance wiggled and squirmed through it all, but he allowed me to work on his feet. By this time, we were approximately sixty minutes into the massage. “Go ahead and turn over,” I directed, holding the blanket so he could maneuver himself to his back. “I’ll work my way from your head and neck, down to your legs, and then you’ll have the option of how you’d like things to end.”
Lance remained quiet, his face like stone, eyes closed. Leaving his feet alone, I moved to the head of the bed and started in on his head. Massaging his scalp, his temples, his jaw, then working my hands under his head to the base of his skull and neck.
“Are you comfortable with me working on your pecs along with your shoulders and arms?” I asked.
Lance answered, “Yes.” His words soft and relaxed.
I kept myself focused on the muscles as my hands glided over his broad chest, the crisp hair teasing my fingertips. I noticed Lance tense and grip the blanket gathered at his waist. “You good? Too much?”
“I’m good,” he croaked.
“Tell me if anything isn’t good for you. This is supposed to be relaxing, not something that causes distress.”
I continued to work on his chest, shoulders, and arms. Then I shifted the blanket to work on his quads, the muscles tight either from his painting session or because Lance was anxious over what might come next.
Or both.
At the seventy-five minute mark, I spoke softly. “I can continue this. I can stop. Or I can do the full-service options we talked about. Your choice.”
Lance was so quiet for so long, I feared he’d fallen asleep and didn’t hear my question. Finally, words escaped on a strangled whisper, “I don’t know.”
“It’s completely your choice,” I said. “If you don’t want?—”
Lance laughed darkly. “It’s definitely not because I don’t want,” he growled. “It just feels…I don’t even know how to describe it.”
“Do you want my opinion?” I asked, keeping my words soft.
He grunted.
“I think this is an opportunity neither of us wants to turn down. If you’re into it, let it happen. I definitely want to finish this the right way.”
Lance grumbled something.
“I need words,” I said.
“Stick with what we discussed,” Lance said. “I want the full service.”
Feeling like I’d just won the lottery, I wiped my hands on a towel. With other clients, if I planned on only a hand job, I’d keep things well-oiled. But with Lance, I had every intention of getting my mouth on him, and lavender oil wasn’t my favorite flavor.
Shifting the blanket down to his knees, I found him hard and dripping, his pre-cum smearing against the salt and pepper hair of his lower abdomen. Thumbing over his slit, loving the hiss of pleasure escaping his lips, I took him in hand and stroked gently.
I kept my eyes glued to Lance’s features as I stroked him. His chest rising and falling, his jaw clenched. He wanted this, but he didn’t want to want it. Or, more likely, he wanted it, but he didn’t want to want it the way it was being offered.
Bending to whisper at his ear, still stroking him gently, I said, “This may be all I can give, but I promise I can make it so good.”
Lance turned his head, his mouth seeking, but I shifted, giving him my cheek. We stayed that way for a moment, faces pressed together. Chests heaving, my fist stroking over his leaking shaft, both of us fighting for control of a situation that begged to burst into an inferno.
“Fine,” Lance bit out. “I’ll take what you can give. For now.” A hand came up and gripped the back of my neck. “Just know, I’m as stubborn as you and I’m not giving up.”
A shiver ran through me, his words—a threat or a promise?—setting me on fire. Shifting down his body, I teased a nipple with my tongue before making my way to his cock. “Can I suck you?” I asked.
Lance grunted.
“Words,” I reminded, my voice silky hot.
“Suck me,” Lance demanded.
Tonguing his slit, savoring the flavor, I twirled my tongue around his swollen cockhead before spreading my lips around him and taking him deep.
Lance cursed, his hips bucking. One hand fisted in my hair and guided my head, his hips thrusting gently as I cupped his balls.
I was hard and my body screamed for more as I bobbed up and down on his cock, spit and pre-cum mixing to make a mess of my lips and chin. We’d both finish in less than three minutes if I doubled down and worked Lance over.
But I wanted more.
If this was our one time, I wanted it to be more than a quick jerk and blow job. I popped off his cock, spit stringing between his dick and my chin.
Lance groaned and pushed up on his elbows. “What’s wrong?”
“Want you inside me,” I panted. “Please. I can’t promise anything more than this. I know I’m fucked up, this is fucked up…” I paused, pressing a hand against my dick. “But…Lance. Please.”
He was quiet for several heartbeats. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but based on what my brain was doing, I had a pretty decent idea. While I was thinking about keeping things casual, Lance was likely planning ways to take things further. We were both probably thinking about how things didn’t feel anywhere close to casual between us, but while I steeled myself to force it to be that way, Lance was probably grasping onto it with both hands, trying to figure out how to use this stupid, crazy connection to his advantage.
Taking hold of his dick again, I stroked softly. “Lance.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and brought his hands to his eyes. “If we do this, there’s no going back to what we have now. We can say we’ll try. Say things won’t change.” He huffed out a breath, rocking his hips slightly as I gently stroked him. “But things between us changed the moment I walked into that bakery and saw you sitting there. You can deny it all you want, but there’s something here. I can be patient—for now.”
“I can’t?—”
“We’ve got time,” Lance interrupted. “And we’ve got something deeper than just old friends and business partners.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him it wasn’t fair that he wouldn’t just take no for an answer and realize I wasn’t cut out for anything real.
Instead, I took a deep breath and nodded. I could go along with what he was saying if it meant getting what I wanted. “So…”
“What?”
“We didn’t discuss this part,” I said.
“Forget the damn paperwork,” Lance growled.
Moving quickly to my bag I grabbed a condom. Returning to Lance’s side, I refused to think about how badly I wanted to kiss him. How much I wanted him to lead me to his room and spend the day owning my body.
What the fuck was wrong with me lately?
Clearing my throat, I tore open the foil packet and rolled the latex down his shaft. “How do you want me?”
Lance chuckled with no humor. “Baby, if I had you the way I wanted you, I’d never let you go.”
My heart clenched as unfamiliar emotions washed over me. I’d never let you go.
Oh, god.
I wanted to trust him. Wanted to believe his gruff, whispered words.
Shaking my head against the haze of lust and desire, I cleared my throat. “The table can hold us both,” I hedged, smearing oil on his cock and my hole.
“This is your show, Hudson,” Lance said, his words steely and controlled. “For now.”
Trying to think of a slightly less intimate position, I crawled onto the table—forever grateful I’d splurged on the premium model—and straddled Lance’s hips, my back turned toward his face.
If I had you the way I wanted you, I’d never let you go.
I couldn’t catch my breath.
Ignoring the mini breakdown my head and heart seemed to be smack dab in the middle of, I raised myself on my knees and guided his cock to my hole.
I wasn’t going to lie. When I’d seen Lance’s name on my appointments, I’d prepped and stretched in hopes of things turning into exactly this. As I sank down on him, his thick cockhead breaching my tight muscles, I groaned.
“Fuck, Lance,” I bit out.
“You okay?” he asked, his big hands gripping my hips as he held himself still.
“Yeah, it’s good. You’re just thick.”
He chuckled. “Never had any complaints, not that there’s been many chances.”
I lowered myself until I bottomed out and paused to take short, shallow breaths. “Fuck, just give me a second,” I panted.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Lance said, humor and promise lacing his words.
Losing myself in the rhythm, I rode him. Savoring the pleasure, the stretch of my body around him as each thrust brought his dick brushing over that sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves zinging through me.
Lance’s hands were firm yet gentle as he gripped my hips. He touched me as if he thought I’d break, guiding me gently up and down his shaft. But his fingers gripped into my flesh from time to time as if fearful I’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight.
“Get off,” Lance demanded. “I want you over the table.”
The image of Lance taking me over the massage table set fire to my belly and had my balls drawing up tight. I shifted from the straddle and moved to the side of the table while Lance sat up and swung his legs over the side.
Pushing away the fact every cell in my body wanted to step between his thick thighs and wrap myself in his arms, I bent over the bed and spread my legs.
Lance muttered something about crazy and think this is one time, but he stepped behind me and slid his cock back into me. Like coming home, my body sang with pleasure to be filled by him. He set a hard and fast pace, and I suddenly hated every single man who’d been with him before me—was insanely jealous of anyone who would get to be with him after me.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
I moaned, pushing myself back on his cock.
Increasing his speed, Lance bent over my back, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and chest. “Fuck, Hudson, I’m not gonna last. Can you come this way?”
“Yeah,” I panted.
“Touch yourself.”
Reaching for my rock-hard cock, I jerked myself in time to Lance’s thrusting hips. Grunting, the tingle in my lower back telling me I was only seconds away, I stroked harder, focusing on the spectacular release my balls were about to have rather than the scent of Lance wrapped around me. His hard, hot breaths against my ear. Large hands cupping my shoulder and my hip.
Just as an orgasm ripped through me, Lance gave a final thrust and stilled, his cock pulsing deep in my body. With his chest plastered to my back, Lance grunted as he unloaded inside me, my body shaking with release as I shot all over his hardwood floor.
When we’d both come down from our high enough to catch our breaths, Lance pulled from my ass and stripped off the condom. Padding to the bathroom, he returned with two wet cloths and we cleaned up.
Anticipating a discussion I wasn’t sure I was up for, I kept my back turned to him as I dressed. For the first time in my life, my usual disconnect and nonchalance with hookups was absent. I wanted to dash out of his apartment, but at the same time, I wanted to throw myself into his arms and let him make me promises.
Promises I wanted so damn badly to be true.
Everybody leaves.
Clearing my throat, I turned to face him. He’d dressed as well and his eyes were glued to the mess I’d made on his floor. Quickly, I used the wet cloth to wipe up the evidence of our time together. “I clean and sanitize all of my massage supplies,” I said, feeling like an idiot.
“Good to know. I’ll write it in the Yelp review.”
“Are you…” I wasn’t sure where that question was going. Was Lance good? Did he enjoy the massage? The sex? Was he mad at me? Fuck, I didn’t like the feeling of connection with someone I’d just had sex with—it threw me off, made me anxious.
“Am I feeling like the biggest creep in the world?” Lance bit out. “Yeah, I am.”
“What?” I asked, genuinely shocked.
“I took advantage of a situation.” Lance ran his hands over his face. “And that may not even be the worst part.” He huffed out a breath. “Look, I’m not used to this. I’m sorry I let it get to this point.”
Panic coursed through my veins. “But we’re good, right?” I was willing to let this happen over and over, but only if it meant keeping Lance in my life.
“We’re good.” He paused. “I think.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think I just need some time. I kinda feel like shit.”
Staring at him for what felt like years, I nodded. “Drink a bunch of water to wash out the toxins.”
Lance cocked a brow.
“From the massage.”
He nodded.
“Just so you know, I don’t feel cheapened or taken advantage of. This was good, it was completely consensual, and I’m willing to let it happen again.”
Lance scoffed. “Gee, thanks. Nothing like fucking your best friend’s son and getting upgraded from casual, one-time dick to casual, part-time dick.”
My heart clenched in my chest. I didn’t like seeing Lance upset, especially not with me.