Chapter One
Cameron
Possibly the worst idea ever.
I had precisely three thoughts as I held the red plastic cup of some sugary alcoholic beverage.
Isn’t plastic bad for the environment?
What the hell is in this drink?
Where the fuck is FP?
FP.
Frank Peter.
My friend.
Well…acquaintance.
We played badminton together.
I surveyed the crowd at the bonfire and winced yet again.
Get outside of your head. Meet some new people. Maybe get laid.
Had those been his words or my thoughts? Hell, yesterday—when I agreed to this shit show—felt like it was so freaking long ago that I had no clear memory of the coercion. He’d caught me between patients when I’d been focused on the five-year-old with extensive tooth decay.
I sipped the booze. Well, ingesting this much booze isn’t helping. And think about what it’s doing to your teeth…
Yeah, definitely brushing before bed. Not that I didn’t brush and floss three times a day anyway. I was a little anal about that.
Being a dentist and all.
“You’re cute.” A sultry voice behind me spoke just as fingers skittered along the back of my neck.
I turned.
“Dr. Johns.”
Goldie’s expression of shock would’ve been comical if I hadn’t been her dentist for the last eight years. The urge to demand if she was nineteen was on the tip of my tongue. Had she been ten or eleven when I’d treated her first cavity?
I blinked. Right. Because that’s the most pressing problem.
“Uh…” She bit her lower lip. “My mom knows I’m here, and she said I was allowed.”
Okay. Blatant lie. I might be three sheets to the wind, but even I could see a huge lie with maybe a grain of truth. “Your mother knows you’re at this bonfire, with these friends—most of whom are older than you—and she knows you’re drinking?”
She bit her lower lip again. “Sort of.”
I arched an eyebrow.
Or at least I thought I did.
“My birthday was three days ago.”
Okay. That answers that question.
“How about you finish your drink, have some water, and call your mom? It’s pretty late.”
“Yeah, okay.”
And she would. Goldie was a good kid on track in something to do with science. Physics. Right? “How’s university going?”
“I aced all my first-year classes.” She winced. “And I’m coming to see you next week. Just before Christmas.”
“Well, make sure you brush your teeth before bed tonight.” I held up my cup. “This stuff—”
“Will rot my teeth.” She handed me her cup—still half full. “I’m going to grab a bottle of water and call Mom. I shouldn’t have hit on you.”
“You didn’t realize it was me.” Of that I was one-hundred percent certain.
Her eyes widened like saucers. “Oh God, no. But, still…” She winced. “I thought I wanted to lose my virginity tonight. I think being sober might be a better idea. Thanks.” She pressed a hand to my arm. “You’re awesome. Just, uh, don’t tell Mom…?”
“Perhaps text my answering service when you’re home safe? I’ll get the message, and then I won’t worry.”
“Yeah.” She gazed around. “You’re not driving, are you?”
“That obvious?”
“That you’re seriously hammered? Even with me being tipsy, I can see you swaying.”
“I like this song.” Except I don’t know what song this is.
“Oh.” Her brow furrowed. “Right. Wasn’t this the song of the summer in, like, 2014?”
When she’d been, what, eight?
If my math was right.
The song ended, and a ballad by my favorite rock band, Grindstone, started playing.
“Oh, this is a much better song.” Clearly on impulse, she kissed my cheek. “Thanks.”
Before I could respond, she was heading back up the hill toward the house.
Follow or trust she’ll grab that water and call her mother?
I hadn’t demanded she hand me her cup. Speaking of… I spotted a spruce tree and decided a little alcohol wasn’t going to damage it. On that thought, I poured the dregs of both of the drinks on the tree, found a bag for recycling, and put the cups in it. I was just about to head back to the house to call a cab—having decided I was not going to get lucky tonight—when a body pressed against mine.
For an instant, I panicked—thinking Goldie had changed her mind.
Then, oddly, I relaxed.
The body was almost certainly male. Strong, angular, and with a very interested cock poking my ass.
I didn’t panic. I wasn’t gay, but I wasn’t homophobic either.
“So, if I offered to suck your brains out through your cock right now, would you be interested? You ever swing my way?”
My entire body wracked with a shiver. Not of revulsion, but of dire curiosity. “Never... but I'm not homophobic. My best friend swings your way. I've always been interested in what it is he's so into. I've been wanting to try for a while.”
Kade was gay. Always had been and always would be.
His husband Tanner had come out later, but he was also very gay. The two had been married almost a year and had a baby with special needs whom they’d adopted back in April. She would be a year old on Christmas Day.
And none of that was relevant, but that was what flashed through my mind.
My best friend would be laughing his ass off if he even knew I was considering this. “I’m a little drunk.”
“Oh.” The hand on my hip loosened.
I grabbed it and put it back. “I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.”
“Consent’s a thing.” He whispered the words in my ear. Judging by that, he was likely an inch or two over my own five-ten.
Breathe. “You think we won’t be seen?”
“I know a place in the woods. Super private. And you can be quiet, right?”
My cock, previously interested, perked right up to full attention. “If I need to be.” The truth was, I’d never had a blow job. I’d never requested it of my few sexual partners. All women. Trying something once is an adventure. You’ll get a blow job and your first gay experience.
Likely my only one, but I wanted to know, for just a moment, what Kade got out of his relationship with Tanner. Well, the sexual stuff. Emotionally, I would never question why they were together. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
He shifted so he could grasp my left hand in his right, and he tugged me away from the bonfire and the rowdy university students.
I winced at the fact I’d thought I might find a woman to hook-up with. As soon as I’d realized everyone was barely legal, I should’ve bailed. Have you asked the age of the guy who’s leading you into the forest? And isn’t this what serial killers do? “Uh, how old are you?”
He didn’t turn, just kept leading us.
Pointing a flashlight at our feet.
“Okay, and why do you have a flashlight? Were you planning to, I don’t know, lure someone into the woods?”
He chuckled. “Only you. Watch the branch.”
I did.
Barely.
“And…?” I might’ve said that with a bit of an imperious tone.
“Twenty-two.”
So eleven years. That’s not so bad. At least he’s not a barely-over-the-legal-limit nineteen-year-old.
Except he might’ve been lying to me.
“Relax, Doc. I’m legal.”
Ah, so he knew me. Mission City had a number of dentists, but I could say with absolute certainty I was the only Black one. “So you know me.” I considered, even as the path turned sharply to the left. “Do I know you?”
“Do you want to know me?”
No missing the amusement in his voice. “Well, considering you’re going to, uh, suck my cock…”
“All good. If you think I did a good job and want to know after the fact, that would be okay.” He squeezed my hand. “An air of mystery.”
“Yeah.” The temperature was also dropping. I’d been overheated by the fire. Now? Getting chilly.
Bonfires in mid-December were nearly unheard of, but we’d had a dry spell with no precipitation, and the kids were home from university. Given we were usually waterlogged, the break was appreciated. We still weren’t close to the fire hazard of the dry summer we’d just endured.
“Here.” He flashed the light onto an older wood structure.
A shed? A cabin? I couldn’t be certain.
He handed me the flashlight, then dug some keys out of his pocket. A moment later, he had the padlock open and was guiding us into the space.
“Is there electricity?”
“Nah. It’s just a storage shed. Watch where you’re walking.”
Clearly, he meant for me to avoid the various gardening implements—a lawnmower, a wheelbarrow, a wall of shovels, hoes, clippers, and even some things I didn’t recognize.
“Can you lean against the door?”
He closed it.
The temptation to shine the light on his face overwhelmed, but I tamped it down.
The door didn’t look overly dirty. Plus, I wore a jean jacket I’d had since high school—because I thought I looked cool in it.
Well, he did approach you.
But he already knew me.
Right…carry on.
I leaned back against the door, still pointing the flashlight at the floor. “Do you want me to turn it off?”
“Nah.” His voice was a little rough.
And I was inordinately pleased when he placed a large kneeling pad on the floor by my feet. The idea of him crouching or kneeling on the floor while getting me off hadn’t sat well with me.
Slowly, he sank to his knees.
The beam emitted from the flashlight illuminated his blond, spikey hair.
I wracked my brains for who this might be, even as he unbuttoned my jeans and lowered my zipper. If he’s a patient, I’ll have to refer him to another dentist. Dr. Bunston will have an opening, I’m certain.
Miley Bunston had graduated from the University of British Columbia three years after I had. She’d moved to Mission City last year, working in an established clinic. She was, by all accounts, very competent—
Holy fuck, his hands are cold.
Hands now holding my very rigid cock.
All thoughts of referring patients and other dentists fled my mind.
Through our entire voyage into the forest, I’d been uncomfortable, with my erection pressing against my fly.
Now this guy had liberated me, and I was bombarded by the sensations of rough calluses stroking up and down my sensitive skin. He elicited all kinds of pleasure, and then he ran his thumb over my slit.
“Are you ready?” His voice had a deep timbre.
“Yeah. I should ask if you’re sure.” Because consent was a two-way street.
He rumbled his laughter. “Yeah, Doc, I’m giving my consent.” Then he angled his head so he could scrape his tongue along my crown, lapping up any drops of precum that might be there.
The urge to thrust bore down on me. I wanted to know what it would be like to be in someone’s mouth. Would it be as hot as the videos of porn I’d watched?
Only a couple because of intense curiosity. I’d soon realized how people could become addicted, so I’d scrubbed my browser and moved on.
He sucked my crown into his mouth.
My back arched as heat flooded my veins.
Yes. This. And more.
As if he heard my unspoken plea, Spikey Hair sucked me down farther. Nearly all the way.
I worried he might gag, but he pulled back a fraction, then swirled his tongue around my shaft, all while he sucked and sucked and sucked. The feelings of affection grew, likely out of proportion to the pleasure he was bringing me, but I felt gratitude. At his generosity. At his gentleness that was mixed in with vigor. A huge contradiction.
Is he expecting me to reciprocate? Could I do that? Suck off a stranger’s cock?
I didn’t have an answer for that, and even as the thought flitted through my mind, it got shoved out by the sensation of my balls drawing up. A ferocity overtook me as I shouted something to the effect of, “I’m…fuck…”
Yeah. So articulate.
And I came. Hard.
He’d had the option to pull off. Instead, he doubled down and continued to suck me dry.
He brushed his hand against my balls, and another zing of pleasure shot through me. Oh God. Best orgasm ever. I did give a little apology to the dozen or so women with whom I’d been intimate in the last few years. Mostly during my university days—and no one serious.
Spikey Hair gently tucked my sensitive cock back into my boxer briefs, then re-zipped my jeans and secured the button. Finally, he gazed up at me.
Taking that as permission, I angled the light so I could see his face, but wasn’t shining the light in his eyes.
Oh shit.
What’s his name? Oh God, what’s his name? We went to coffee at Starbucks last week, for fuck’s sake. What’s his name?
He grinned. “Jasper. We’re in the same badminton league. Well, I joined a month ago. You’re pretty flummoxed, I can see. So it’s okay you don’t remember my name.”
Fuck.