Camden
Ilooked at his dick. Jesus Christ, I’m losing my goddamn mind. But I can’t take how much she clearly shook his confidence. How upset and broken he looks because of the nasty things she said, trying to hurt him.
And it was, for sure, just trying to hurt him. His cock isn’t monstrous or anything—I’d say it’s an average length—but it’s thick and mouthwatering as fuck, with a prominent head and a bulging vein that runs through it . . . And I have to stop picturing it. Guaranteed Kennedy had no complaints.
Now I know my best friend has a really nice dick. One I’m going to have to fight not to think about during my many jerk-off sessions.
Not to mention him coming up with that totally insane plan I have to hope he was kidding about. There is absolutely no way I’m going to test out what kind of lay he is. There’s no fucking way I’m falling into that trap.
And it would be a trap, whether he actually means to be setting it or not. It would be pure torture to touch him, knowing I’m not what he wants. Knowing he’d be thinking about Kennedy or some other girl. I can’t do that to myself, and he has to know that deep down.
We haven’t talked about me admitting I’m in love with him—both of us knowing it’s a moot point.
He’s straight. There’s no reason to go there.
But doing this weird sort of experimental thing where I get gay practice, as he calls it, and he gets me to grade his sexual skills and maybe help him improve? Yeah, no way in hell.
Not happening.
He followed me to go pick up Lucy before we headed back to my place. After making her a snack, we play with her in the living room until my mom comes home. She greets us all, not at all surprised Kingston is here—he is more often than not—and has a chance to sit down for a moment.
“Are you working at the tavern tonight?” I ask her, and she nods her head.
“Yeah, just until midnight though.” I know I’m frowning. She goes into her job at the distribution plant at ten in the morning and works until six. Then when she picks up a tavern shift, she usually goes in around eight.
“That’s a lot, Mom.”
She shrugs, holding Lucy in her lap. “It is what it is, Camden.” She’s young. I mean, really young. She had me when she was sixteen. But she’s starting to get wrinkles around her eyes and looks tired every single day. And it’s no damn wonder, since she has no time for herself.
I want to make it better for her. I want to go to college and get a kickass high-paying job, so I can help her out more than I’ll ever be able to around here.
It’s not like our house is big or anything—just a three-bedroom, one bath—but it still costs a lot to keep it going with one income. I know it’s hard on her.
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Lucy whines.
“We were just about to make dinner.” Kingston hops up with a grin on his face because he’s always willing to help. He knows how hard it is for my mom, and never once has he complained or given me a hard time about having to do household chores or cook.
“Bless you, boys,” Mom says as she runs a hand over Lucy’s hair. I hate that I can feel how tired she is from here as she leans her head back against the couch, holding Lucy tight to her.
Kingston and I head into the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients for spaghetti, which we’ve made together a lot. It’s hard to fuck up spaghetti, and we aren’t chefs by any means. But it’s Lucy’s favorite meal, and it’s quick and easy.
I feel his eyes on me the entire time we cook, like he has so many things he wants to say. God, I hope none of them actually come out of his mouth. Once he gets an idea in his head, though, he’s stuck with it. But I’m still hoping logic will kick in on this one and he’ll talk himself out of it.
It’s not a good plan, Kingston.
Thankfully, he doesn’t bring it up again.
We all eat together, then Mom leaves for the tavern.
Kingston and I put Lucy to bed, each of us reading her a story.
And while Kingston could have been talked into reading her another one, the tough, mean brother—a.k.a.
me—said that was enough and kissed her goodnight before closing her door. Then Kingston and I head to my room.
He lies down on my bed, and I grab my backpack. “You have homework, I’m sure.”
“Fuck homework,” he says so effortlessly, it makes my eyes roll. I still have a fond smile on my lips.
“So, about this new plan . . .”
“What?” I look over at him in horror, but he’s totally calm, just lying on my bed.
“The plan. To fool around a little. Operation Get Camden Some Gay Practice and Make Sure Kingston Doesn’t Suck at Sex.”
“That’s not a thing,” I say blankly, standing at my desk and staring at him with fear coursing through my veins.
“Oh, come on, Camden. You know this is a great plan. How often do I come up with plans?”
“This is why.” I drop my bag and walk to the bed, sitting on the edge, my back totally straight because I’m freaking out. How has he not dropped this already? “I’m a man, Kingston. You’re straight. It’s not a good plan.”
He sits up, reaching out to take my hand, and I want to pull away, but I don’t. “It is though.” His eyes are pleading with me, earnestness shining in them, and it nearly kills me. I think he actually thinks this is a great idea. “She fucked with my head, Cam. I can’t even jerk off.”
I should be surprised by how candidly he just said that to me, but I’m not. It’s like he has no shame or embarrassment whatsoever. Or at least he didn’t until this whole breakup thing happened. “You can’t jerk off?”
His shoulders shrug. “I can get hard, but not . . .”
I hold up a hand because it’s too much of a mental picture in my head, and I’ve seen his dick now .
. . And shit, I can’t do this. “Okay. So find a girl. I’m sure there’s another chick at school who’d love to tell you how hot and sexy you are, how great your dick is, and fool around with you. Okay?”
He shakes his head, still holding onto my hand, clinging desperately. “No. I can’t. I don’t trust anyone else. Just you.”
He’s killing me. “But I’m a guy,” I remind him exasperatedly.
“So?” He seems genuinely confused as to why that’s an issue.
“So . . . I have a dick.”
He shrugs. “So? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Pleasure is pleasure, right?”
I’m really tired, and it’s been a long day. My side is killing me, and I hate how his logic is starting to chip away at my own. He’s good at that, even though he doesn’t have to try. “It’s different equipment.”
“Not our mouths. You can tell me if I’m a good kisser. And I can be a guy you kissed.”
Jesus Christ, he just doesn’t stop. “But . . .”
He moves closer to me on the bed, his other hand resting on my thigh and his eyes pleading with me as his hand grips mine.
“Please, Camden. It’s fucking with me. I hate that it is, but it is.
And if I went out with another girl at school, I know I’ll just hear Kennedy in my head.
I’ll worry she’ll go to school and tell everyone I suck at this too.
You’re the only person I trust to tell me the truth and not tell anyone. ”
This. Guy. I hate that this makes sense to me. That I understand the fear of high-school gossip. That feeling that no one can be trusted fully. But he does trust me.
He trusts me with everything.
And I don’t think I can deny him, no matter how I try.
“A kiss?”
His bottom lip pokes out like he’s thinking, his eyes pensive as he shrugs. “To start.”
“Kingston,” I scold, but he only laughs. He’s also leaning in. I stare at his naturally dark-red lips that are full and masculine.
My heart has kicked up in speed, trying to beat right out of my chest, and my breathing is ridiculous as his mouth approaches mine. I breathe him in, taking in his woodsy and masculine, clean scent.
“This is a bad idea.”
His lips brush over mine but don’t connect as he breathes words against my mouth. “No. I only have good ideas.”
“Definitely not true.”
His hand moves to the back of my neck, holding onto me. “I’m going to kiss you. Tell me if I’m doing it right.”
“I haven’t kissed anyone, Kingston. I don’t know.”
“You will.” He waits for a moment, as if to give me time to stop him, but I don’t.
His lips connect with mine, and all the years I’ve dreamed of this moment—all the nights I’d stay awake and think about his lips touching mine before scolding myself—come to the front of my mind and quickly disappear.
Because he’s strong and demanding but also sweet and soft at the same time. His tongue teases the seam of my lips open, and when I do, it sweeps inside, setting my goddamn soul on fire. His lips are firm as he kisses me with fervor. His hand grips my neck, holding me in place, and I kiss him back.
I can’t hold out anymore. My hands move up his back, and I hold on to him, our bodies crushed together as our tongues tangle and we fight for dominance. Both winning. Both losing. Both holding onto one another as our mouths collide.
His bigger body presses against mine, moving to pull me down under him. I wince at the pain in my hip, and that’s when we part. His look of concern humbles me because I may care for everyone else in my life—and maybe him too—but it’s mutual with him.
He cares about me just as much as I care about him.
“Your hip?”
“I’m fine.” I want to pull him back down onto me, but I think what we’ve already done is dangerous enough, and I return to my senses. “But we should stop.”
He grins, his big body looming over me but not touching. “Or we should keep going. That was fucking hot.”
“No.” I place a hand on his chest and gently push him until he’s sitting up, then I join him. “We can’t. You’re a good kisser, really good. I have no doubt you’re a great lay.”
“But we won’t know if we don’t—” I hold up a hand to stop him again and shake my head because I can’t hear that.
I need to will my dick to calm the fuck down and get away from him, so I climb off the bed, hoping it will give me strength. “No. That can’t happen.
“You have a nice dick, and you’re a great kisser. Operation over.”
He rolls his eyes, but he looks amused, still not moving from my bed. “Definitely not over.”
I groan, but he laughs happily.
This has to be over.