Travis
Itold him to come by my place. What the hell was I thinking? This cannot happen. It’s completely and totally stupid.
I know that.
But also . . . goddammit, I want it.
Not Oakley specifically—although he is growing on me—but the chance to explore my sexuality. To get to touch and feel my way through it. To take my damn time, for once.
I couldn’t pass it up.
But using Oakley for this? Isn’t that just as bad as him hooking up with poor unsuspecting girls who sleep with him and think they’ll be the one to change the forever-bachelor bad boy?
I guess, since we both know it’s only physical, it’s okay. I mean, Oakley isn’t going to suddenly fall in love with me. That’s for damn sure.
I can’t believe I told him to come by.
Maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll get bored and move onto something else. It’s a possibility with Oakley.
When I hear the knock on my door, I lean my head back against the couch and nearly laugh because, of course, he couldn’t let it go. I sigh and stand up, heading to the door and pulling it open.
Oakley wastes no time waiting for an invitation and walks inside as I close the door behind him. When I turn around to face him, he’s already stripping his t-shirt off over his head and tossing it on the floor, going for the button on his jeans next.
“Oakley, what the hell are you doing?”
His hands stop as he tilts his head to the side in confusion. “Getting naked. That’s why I’m here, right?”
Jesus Christ. How does he make something so huge this simple?
“You don’t want to talk first?” My eyes are already tracking over every insane muscle of his torso. I mean, how the hell did he get that damn sculpted? His biceps are bigger than my thighs, and my thighs are not small. I participated in leg day plenty when I was playing sports.
“Why would we talk?” He looks honestly perplexed by this concept. “We’re hooking up, right? Both super horny. You’re waiting for your dream guy.”
He takes a step closer to me, and my heart starts to race. The words coming out of his mouth make sense, and holy hell, he is hot. Like unfairly fucking hot. It’s scrambling my brain. “It would just be sex. Just fooling around.”
“Exactly.” He stops a foot away, his tennis shoes literally touching my socked feet. “So why talk about it? We both know the score.”
That’s true.
“Okay,” I say, my voice as shaky as my hands. Is he really not nervous about this at all?
He just smiles and waggles his eyebrows at me in a ridiculous over-the-top way that’s far too damn charming.
He undoes his jeans and pushes them down, kicking his shoes off in the process and leaving him in tight black boxer briefs and white socks.
It should look ridiculous, but it’s only ridiculously hot.
I can do this. I want to do this. My eyes slide over his body, and I realize I haven’t moved. I’m just staring at him like an idiot.
“Get naked,” he says gently.
I swallow hard, my hands still shaking as I nod slowly and then remove my shirt.
His eyes slide over my body, and an unexpected shiver goes through me from his perusal.
From what I can tell, he likes what he sees.
His tongue peeks out slightly to lick over his lips in a way I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing.
He takes a step closer to me, and my heart races.
I’m really going to do this with Oakley Easton, who’s the exact opposite of everything I wanted in high school.
The big, loud jock who can’t resist making a joke about everything.
But also the man I’m now starting to realize is kind and funnier when he’s not putting on a show. Who makes me smile without trying.
I take a deep breath and push my jeans and underwear down in one quick motion. I bend down to pull my socks off and kick everything to the side, leaving me totally naked. My dick is hard and aching, pointing straight up, and already leaking.
There’s no part of me that doesn’t want this.
And Oakley moves closer, with a big grin on his face, before he pushes down his boxer briefs, freeing his cock that’s obscenely proportionate to the rest of his bigass body. He pulls his socks off too, leaving him also totally naked. We’re just standing in place, looking at each other.
His hands move to my bare hips, and I try to keep from jumping at the jolt of electricity racing through my entire body, but I think he saw my reaction. Either that or he’s having the same type of response.
He licks his lips again, his eyes moving down my chest and stomach and then lower. My dick eagerly twitches at his attention, and he looks down at me with awe in his eyes.
“We don’t have to do this,” I say quietly.
His eyes move back up to meet mine in annoyance but also with fiery lust as he drags his thumb over my lower lip. “They’re so damn soft.”
“I’m not a woman, Oakley.” I feel the need to remind him again.
I jolt, a hiss escaping from me as he wraps his big hand around my dick. “Really? I had no idea.” He strokes me slowly, and my head falls back slightly, panting breaths falling from my mouth.
“I just . . .”
“Travis?” I force my eyes back to his. “Shut. Up. Stop overthinking everything for once,” he says right before he crashes his lips against mine, and a zing of pleasure soars through me.
His lips are confident and strong as he kisses me hard, his hand still stroking my dick like it’s the most natural thing in the world to him.
I feel the kiss all the way from my lips down to the tips of my toes.
The sheer pleasure has me thrusting into his hand and gripping his hair, my fingernails digging into his scalp, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
He instead kisses me harder, moving us until my back hits the wall of the living room/kitchen/bedroom of the studio.
Jesus, he’s a good kisser.
I raise my free hand to his bare chest, dragging my fingers over every defined muscle of his stomach, each one flexing as I explore him. When I wrap my fist around his hard cock, he moans into my mouth as he swallows my tongue.
I stroke him, using his precum as lube, while we both jut our hips forward, chasing that high as we kiss. He grips my ass hard, and I moan, nibbling on his lips with my teeth and then stroking my tongue over his. We’re both panting, and my body is on fire, but then I realize this isn’t what I want.
Apparently, I stop kissing him because his hands still, and then so does his mouth as he pulls back to look into my eyes. “Hey, stay with me.” His voice is raspy and sexy as hell, but I hate the worry I hear there.
I try to catch my breath as I shake my head and move my hand from his cock to his chest, reveling in his rapidly beating heart under my hand. His skin is soft and warm over all that hard muscle. “Not like this.”
“Like what?” His dark brow rises as he studies me, releasing my cock and moving both hands to my hips. “How do you want it?”
I think back to every rushed hookup I’ve ever had. Remembering the shame and fear in the back of my mind as I quickly got off and got my partners off. I don’t want that. I want to slow down and enjoy this.
“Slow,” I say, smoothing my hand over each rock-hard pec and then down his hardened stomach, tracing every ridge.
His eyes track the movement, but he doesn’t make a move.
He lets me explore him with my hand. He has a light dusting of hair between his pecs, and I take a moment to feel it under my palms and then use my finger to follow the trail that goes from his navel to neatly trimmed pubic hair.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I say dumbly and can feel him smiling even though I’m not looking at his face.
I ignore his cock—which, yes, is extremely impressive—long, thick, and cut.
Flushed red and leaking at the tip, with striated veins I definitely want to take my time exploring.
But I move past it to his strong thighs, covered in a dusting of hair, just as hard and defined as the rest of him, the muscles flexing when I move over them.
My hands move up his backside and over his firm ass, which also does a nice flex as my hands drag over it to his strong back. I marvel in every masculine ridge of him, all the way up to his shoulders.
I trail my fingers over every bulging vein of his biceps and then down his forearms—who knew forearms could be sexy?—and his wrists. Every single part of him is beautiful. Even his hands, which I take in mine, removing them from my hips and threading our fingers together, then look into his eyes.
“You okay?” he asks, but there’s no mocking tone. He’s staring at me, studying me carefully.
I nod, liking the way his hands fit with mine as we stand there, totally naked, neither of us any less hard than we were before I slowed things down. If anything, our cocks are standing fuller between our bodies. “I’ve never taken my time before.”
He seems to think that over for a moment and then nods, his lips parting slightly. “I haven’t either.”
I raise a brow, assuming he’s lying. “Never?”
He shakes his head. “It’s usually just about getting off and leaving before any more questions can be asked.”
I nod in understanding. Maybe we’re more alike than I thought.
“I liked kissing you though,” he says, flashing a shy grin, and I laugh, but I liked kissing him too.
I didn’t have time to enjoy a kiss before. Or exploring. The smart thing would have probably been to just get off quickly, but I don’t know.
Oakley seems hellbent on letting me do whatever I want, so why not take the opportunity?