Chapter 14 Tommy #2
“She did not cheat on Brett.”
“Maybe—”
I shake my head. “No. Not a possibility,” I say solidly. “She was drunk, and I’m pretty sure he was too, so I think it was an accident.”
Zack eases up, and suddenly I feel flush with heat.
I look out the window, watch as the streetlights pass, and tense, not wanting to admit what happened after that, but…I also feel like I need to confess my damn sin, and maybe if I do I’ll be able to forget about Nora Brighton.
About the way she makes me feel.
“I sort of um…heard them. Woke up with this massive hard-on and was on my way to the bathroom when…”
“Shit,” Zack says. “I bet you were pretty freaked out.”
I shift in my seat. “I mean…it’s just k-kissing,” I say with a blush. “It isn’t like I found them having sex.”
My voice cracks on that last word, and my stomach does a little flip, and because I don’t know when to not push the envelope, that’s the moment my brain decides to think of Nora and Rush, naked on the couch.
Having sex.
I close my eyes, trying to push the thought out. I’ve seen Rush naked and shirtless enough times I can envision it. Him on top of her, his round ass glinting with refracted light from the television screen.
And I’ve heard him enough times with women, so I know exactly what he sounds like when he comes, which makes me feel super weird and on edge. Some things you just don’t need to know, but living in a house with my brothers, some things are also impossible not to know.
I can sort of picture Nora, beneath him. Her long, fiery red hair spilling over her pale, freckled shoulders. I only know she has freckles there because of the sleeveless shirts and dresses she’s worn, so in my imagination I can form the image.
My cock stirs in my pants, and I groan, absentmindedly adjusting myself because I don’t need to deal with that right now.
I probably should have taken care of myself earlier, but between school, lunch, and working with my bio partner on our lab project after class, not to mention, practice…I haven’t exactly had the time to jack off today.
“Wait…are you—” Zack’s voice lifts with interest. “Are you fucking hard right now?”
“No,” I lie. “I just have to pee.”
“Bullshit,” Zack says, and I can hear the interest in his voice. “You got turned on, didn’t you? When you saw them?”
“No!” I say too loudly.
Zack chuckles. “It’s okay, man, seriously.”
“No, it’s not like that, it’s—”
But it is. Hearing him say the words out loud—that I got aroused when I saw them—it hits me hard in the chest, because he’s right. And admitting that makes me feel like a damn creeper, on so many levels.
“Mhmm. Is that what’s bothering you, then? You feel like a grade-A sinner because you watched your brother and your other brother’s ex-girlfriend make out?”
“I mean…maybe…”
More or less, I’m freaked out because I came from watching them, and then when I was alone with Nora, I wanted to talk to her and tell her everything and—
My phone buzzes again in my pocket, and I ignore it, telling myself I’ll look when I get home. It’s likely Freddie, anyway, probably asking when I’ll be home since it’s late.
I look at Zack, feeling on edge, but also feeling like I need to tell the truth so I can move on. Otherwise, I think this will eat at me, and I don’t want that. I don’t want these thoughts to destroy my focus or infiltrate my mind when I least expect it.
“I sort of um…seeing them…” I swallow hard. “I tried to, you know…not come, but—”
“Oh.” Zack’s voice drops. “Oh…that’s why you’re messed up?”
I don’t look at him, pulling my legs to my chest as I stare out the window. “I mean it is kind of fucked up, Zack. I know what I did was wrong and—” I close my eyes. “Then there was this morning, and she all but ran out there, and I offered her a ride, and then we just sort of got to talking and—”
“You like her,” Zack says carefully, pulling up to my house.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I think she’s gorgeous, yeah, and she’s never been anything but nice to me, and when we talked this morning, I felt like I do when I talk to you. Or Chloe…”
Zach gives me a cautious look. “Can I ask you a really personal question?”
I look back at him. “What?”
“Did you…” He clears his throat. “Were you watching her?”
I blink. “Obviously. Why would I watch my brother?”
Zack chuckles. “Did you come? I know you said you didn’t want to, but I know that’s an…issue with you.”
I feel on the spot when he says the words. Like I have a problem or something because I view masturbating as a damn chore and sex as some scientific thing I don’t understand.
I mean, I understand it. I’ve just…never done it.
But I want to. Have sex, that is. As I think about the idea, I find my mind forms the image of Nora. On the couch, beneath my brother. Those sweet sounds—moans—escaping her mouth.
And then I imagine being in his place. What it would feel like to have Nora’s body against mine, her lips against mine.
“Yes,” I say guiltily. “I couldn’t help it.” My cheeks heat, and I feel like my entire body is on fire. “But afterward I got freaked out, because it wouldn’t go down…even after I came.”
Zack chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” I bite.
“You know, I thought your aversion to sex was because you didn’t get turned on by anything, but apparently I was wrong.” He shakes his head. “Turns out you have a voyeurism kink, who knew?”
I cross my arms. “It’s not like that. It’s not just a sex thing.” I wrinkle my nose.
“You like her too, I know.”
“Yeah.” I speak softly.
“Maybe you should ask her out.”
My eyes widen in shock. “You aren’t serious?”
Zack shrugs. “I mean, Rush didn’t waste his shot, why waste yours? It’s not like she’s with Brett anymore, right? Cheating or not…she’s fair game.”
“I can’t ask my brother’s ex out…that’s like…in the rules or something.”
“No one’s saying you have to marry the girl. Just…ask her out for coffee or something. Maybe she could come to your next game? That’s neutral.”
I consider his words, but have none to respond with.
“I’m not saying you should date her or anything, just…hang out with her. Talk to her. See where it goes. That’s all. I think…it would be good for you.”
My phone buzzes again, and I consider his advice.
It doesn’t have to be a date. It can just be hanging out. Like we did earlier…
I could handle hanging out, right?
I thank him for the ride and get out of the car, ending our conversation as I head for the house. The door is still unlocked, and for that I’m thankful. I lock it after I let myself in, noting the house is quiet. Too quiet.
I walk past the couch, expecting to see Rush—and maybe Nora—there, even though I know I won’t.
I stop, staring at the empty couch, and look at the clock. It’s late, and I’m sure my brothers are already asleep, which is where I should head, but I can’t help but think about Zack’s words. About this morning. And last night…
I settle on the couch, where Rush was. I let my hand brush over the soft suede cushion. It feels the same as it always does, but different. Like it’s been changed forever.
I lean into the cushions, positioning myself on my side, like he was. I put myself in his shoes, imagine looking at Nora like he did. Imagine kissing her like he did and…
My phone buzzes again and I huff out a sound of annoyance as I pull it from my pocket if only to shut the notifications off when I see I have a text from Nora.
Curious, I open the thread and gasp when I see the photo. The photo and the video.
I drop my phone, closing my eyes as I try to scrub the image away.
I was not prepared for this!
I suck in a breath, wondering what to do.
On one hand, I know this could be a mistake.
Maybe it was meant for Rush. I don’t know what’s really going on between them, though I know Zack’s insinuation couldn’t be further from the truth.
But if she did kiss him—drunk or not—maybe this is in the same vein. Maybe she’s drunk.
Maybe she’s reaching out to Rush because there…is…something there?
Jealousy pangs my heart at that thought.
I mean…I guess I could understand if there was. Russ is the kind of guy women love, so it would be no surprise if she flocked to him—even after a breakup with Brett. Russ…just has that sort of thing about him. He’s bright and fun and the life of the party everywhere he goes, so I could see it.
Oddly enough, I could totally see Nora and Rush being a thing, even though it makes no sense.
But whether it was a mistake or not, she still sent it to me, and there is a small sliver of myself that wants to believe that wasn’t a mistake. That she meant to.
Because she likes me too.
I know that’s a stretch—one conversation in my truck is not going to make any woman fall in love with me, but…I can’t help but feel like maybe it could be more than just a mistake.
Maybe it’s divine intervention or something. Like when I magically ask for a damn connector in a sea of Lego pieces and then find it immediately.
Maybe this…Nora and I…maybe we’re like that. Maybe if I start asking, I’ll find the connection I’m looking for.
But I also feel my dick straining in my jeans, and looking at this photo, being on the couch where I watched her…it’s too much to ignore even though I know I should.
The house is quiet and I know my brothers are sleeping, so it’s not like I’m in danger of being caught, and even if one of them did catch me—with my hand wrapped around my cock—it’s not the same as being caught by Nora.
Nora…
The thought of her walking down that hall, like I did the night before, pervades my brain.
I slide my hand in my pants, between the waistband of my boxers and my skin, to adjust my unruly dick. But when I feel how hard and wet I am, when I feel that relief the minute my palm touches my weeping cockhead, I don’t want to fight the desire inside me.
Twice in one day is a record for me. And there’s a part of me that wants to give in to that and embrace how it feels. To feel aroused like this and not feel like it’s a damn chore.
No, I want this. I want to come, and for the first time, I let myself feel that want. I close my eyes and pop open the button on my jeans, slowly pulling my cock through the slit in my boxers.
Just knowing she was here…in front of where I currently sit, has my dick throbbing.
I imagine leaning in to kiss her like Russ did. Imagine tangling my fingers through her hair. Imagine her smooth, soft lips against my own and her hand wrapped around my bare cock.
The last time I let anyone touch me, I was sixteen and I was too nervous to take my pants off.
I came in my pants, without warning, and the whole thing was fucking humiliating.
Especially because I didn’t understand what was happening or how it happened so fast and then I started freaking out and Kiara got all pissed off.
Would I burst so easy if Nora touched me?
Probably.
But thinking about it—about her touching my cock with her hand, slowly pumping me like I do to myself—has my cock aching.
And then I let my mind wander to the thought of her mouth, her tongue caressing mine as I make out with her like Russell did. With my hands in her hair, her sweetness on my tongue. I know she would taste like sugar. Because she’s made of sugar from her head to her toes.
I focus on the feel of my hand around my cock.
The aching hardness, the blossoming moisture on my tip.
I imagine kissing her mouth, her neck. Finding that lacy little bra strap I only got a glimpse of.
I imagine her lips trailing down my skin, their soft warmth sliding down my neck, my chest, my abs…
And then I groan deep as I imagine Nora taking my cock in her mouth like the women in the porn I watch sometimes. I imagine her head bobbing up and down as I slip my fingers through her locks, and the thought alone throws me into an orgasm.
I fall back, pulling my cock with me, and my cum spurts onto my shirt.
“Oh, fuck…” I whisper as I lean back, feeling every twitching pulse of my cock.
Holy shit.
I’m more than thankful when I go soft quicker than I did last night.
I stare at the ceiling, the shame and guilt hitting me again, because that’s three times now that I’ve masturbated to the thought of Nora in damn near twenty-four hours.
You like her.
Zack’s words bat around the newfound desire that’s awakened in me.
Yes. I do.
I like Nora Brighton, and that realization is as harrowing as it is exciting, and maybe even a little dangerous. I like her, and I think I want to see her again.
I look at her text—or more aptly, the image and the video she sent. I could keep it and stash it away. Never tell anyone—even Zack—about it. It would be easy, but it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
Because I like Nora.
And she’s more than just some fantasy to me. And if I’m going to do this—if I’m going to try and talk to her, try to explore these feelings I have for her, I can’t let my fantasy override my judgment.
So I delete the photo and the video without a second thought.
Because I tell myself if it’s meant to be, I’ll see her again that way. And when I do, it’ll be because she wants me to see her like that. And it’ll mean so much more, because I’ll know it’s real and not some accidental text.
Even though they’re gone, I can still faintly see the shadow, the memory of what was there as if the image is burned into my screen or my damn retinas.
But I push it aside because I want more than sexy photos of Nora for my spank bank.
I want Nora Brighton, mind, body, and soul.
So I take a deep breath and text her. I type it and erase it five times before I settle on something basic and friendly enough that it doesn’t sound sexual in any way.
Me: We should grab coffee. Talk more.
I stare at the screen, waiting for her response, even though I know it’s not coming because it’s late. But part of me hopes. Hopes that I’ll be awakened by a soft chime and see yes in that open space.
But her text doesn’t come, as I knew it wouldn’t. Instead, exhaustion hits, and though my body aches from my practice this evening with Zack, I feel lighter than I’ve ever felt before.
And for the first time, when I close my eyes, I fall asleep excited to see what the next day brings.