CHAPTER 23
Jesse
I know what my brother Pete’s problem is—he’s just needed to go on a cruise for the last thirty-five years. Sighing, I lean back against the headboard. Murph tosses the sex rag that he grabbed to clean us up to the floor and flops down on the bed with his head by my feet.
Ha! Is that his way of telling me he’s off limits until he regains some energy?
I can’t say I blame him. I kind of thought all our exploring would cure my horniness, but instead, it’s made me insatiable, especially since the kissing lesson in the shower a few days ago.
Kissing is no joke. It’s like a gateway drug. I really am a cockslut.
Reaching out, Murph toys with the feather on my Pinocchio hat where it’s lying discarded on the mattress. I smirk again over his insistence that I keep it on after we left the farewell costume party an hour ago. The kinky bastard. Good thing Mom still had it stashed in the attic, even though it took motivation to squeeze into it.
Where the hell did he get lederhosen, though? I can’t unsee the image of him in those. The old Ricola commercials will never be the same. I kind of want him to shout it the next time I make him come.
I track his happy trail up to the patch of hair on his chest, watching his rib cage rise and fall in his post-frotting bliss. Licking my lips, I don’t actually mind how raw they feel after another long night of kissing. If men knew the way he can kiss, I doubt he’d be single. I understand now why Philip was on him like spots on a tiger. Maybe he sensed Murph’s abilities.
Nudging his shoulder with my foot, I tease, “I can’t believe you have a Pinocchio kink. Guess I’ll have to dress up in it at home whenever I want you to attack me like that again.”
His hand stills on the feather, and his body goes rigid. “At home?”
Shit. I just assumed. My post-haze deflates, realizing there’s an expiration date to our… adventures. Of course, there is. We can’t run around fondling each other all day in Wenatchee. I didn’t even think about that.
“I was joking.”
“So… what happens on the cruise, stays on the cruise?”
That phrase is funny in movies. I can’t find any humor in it right now, though. I feel like I’ve just been voted off an island, Dick Island. I don’t want to be voted off. I was just getting settled in.
“Yeah, sure,” I concur, albeit grudgingly. “Why? Did you want to tell somebody?” I joke, yet it has me wondering about the possibility.
I don’t even know how I’d explain all of this to my family. It’s completely different from Cam and Pete’s situation. I think they’re moving in together soon. Murph and I are friends and we’re just fooling around. I can’t imagine walking through his kitchen, waving to Charlotte a greeting of, ‘Hi! I’m here to jerk off your son.’
“Why would I tell anybody?” he grumbles.
Is it just me, or did he sound salty and condescending? Would it be embarrassing to admit that he showed a not-so-straight guy the ropes?
“Right. Of course not. I know that.”
Maybe it’s because it’s the last night of the cruise and we have to go back to reality tomorrow, but my mood is taking a nosedive right along with Murph’s. I hate when he’s grumpy. Plus, if I’d known that a moment ago was my last time exploring with him, I’d have… I don’t know—made it last longer? Gotten more kisses?
Now all I’ll have left is memories and… and what? A big fat question mark over what to do about my new sexual interests?
The thought of messing around with another guy seems foreign and unappealing. I’d have to know them really, really well, like Murph. Maybe it was just the pheromones on this sex cruise.
It’s ten o’clock, but I don’t feel like sleeping yet. Clearing my throat to break the silence, I give him another nudge. “Hey, want to watch that porn again?”
His head rises from the mattress like the dead come alive. The look he gives me is preposterous. “Now?”
What am I supposed to say? If I don’t have him, all I’ve got left is porn? I don’t want to be a pity case, and he’s always telling me I’m needy, so I just shrug like I’m bored.
I find the film on his laptop and hit play. Turning off the lights, I return to the bed, surprised to find him still sprawled out the wrong way. I thought he’d climb back up to the pillows and go to sleep, since his mood seems to have taken a turn.
Settling against the headboard, I chew my lip, watching the flick with a new perspective. It’s surreal this time because I’ve done everything the men on the TV have. Well, almost. I know how those touches feel, the sensations that they foster. Is that what Murph and I look like when we mess around? It’s so… sensual. Beautiful, even. Nonchalantly, I slip my hand into my boxers and give myself a stroke.
“Come here,” a low voice rumbles from the foot of the bed.
It gives me a start until I focus on his eyes through the darkness. I thought he’d fallen asleep. Maybe I’m imagining things, but he looks… hungry. Hungry for me.
That whole ‘what-happens-on-the-cruise-stays-on-the-cruise’ comment has me skeptical about whether this is the kind of green light I hope it is. His hand clamps down over my ankle, though, and he tugs for me to move. I go with eagerness and hope—we’re still on the cruise, after all.
I’m a bit uncertain about what he wants to do until he arranges us with me straddling his shoulders and tugs my boxers down. There’s only one access point from this angle. The realization has my breath quickening at the thought.
His hand grips my cock. Smiling up at me, he bastes his lips with my precum. “Go on then. Watch your porn,” he says wryly before placing a soft kiss on my zipper scar that sends a shiver down my spine. Did he actually remember my Good Housekeeping jerk off story and knew it was there? I lose all curiosity when he takes me deep into his mouth.
Aw, hell.
Porn was all I have left, and now he’s going to ruin it for me forever. I won’t have his mouth to thrust into and those intense eyes staring back at me if I ever watch it again. Trying to think positively, I console myself with the knowledge that if it has to end, this is definitely a great way to end it.