Chapter 7 Vince #2
Rolling to my knees, I reach behind me to tease my opening with the toy, using my other hand to jack off. My stomach tightens and my breath stutters as my climax builds.
I push the device in a little, and when I rock my hips, the vibrator slips from my fingers, entering me. At first, the intensity is exactly what I need. I buck my hips and jack off, but when I reach for the vibrator to reposition it, I can no longer grab it. It’s too far in.
Panic claws at my chest as I scramble to dig it out. Shit. Shit, shit, shit!
I slam my useless hand onto the mattress, my muscles tightening. The pressure around the vibrator intensifies, yet frustration shrouds the pleasure.
“Okay. Think, Mercer. What do you need to do?”
Sitting up, I pull my feet up into a squatting position in hopes gravity will work some magic. It does, but not in the way I want. The vibrator shifts inside me, hitting my nerves in all the right places.
My hand instinctively goes to my cock. It’s so powerful, so good that for a moment, I forget all about the problem and pump wildly.
But then I imagine a trip to the emergency room, imagine having to explain how I got a vibrator the size of my finger stuck up my ass, and instantly the need to come evaporates.
I try to grab it again, but I can’t even touch the damn thing. It’s too far up there.
Frustrated, I reach for the nearest thing I can find and hurl it across the room. “Fuck!” My voice echoes off the walls, loud and visceral.
A second later, footsteps sound outside, fast and heavy. My heart pounds frantically, but before I can move, before I can warn whoever it is not to come in, the door flies open and Fletcher rushes in, face tight with worry.
“Vince?”
His eyes get huge when he sees me, and I can only imagine what I must look like—naked, knees spread in a squatting position with a hand around my hard cock.
I am too humiliated to even move.
“Shit. I’m… God, I’m so sorry!” He turns away, hiding his eyes. “I heard you shout. I thought—you know what, I’ll just go.” Fletcher turns to leave, but I call out before I can stop myself.
“Wait.”
My skin prickles. I would rather fall into a hole and die than ask Fletcher for help with this, but it’s either that or I go to the ER.
Fletcher freezes, hand tight on the doorknob. He doesn’t turn around.
The damn toy is still hitting my prostate, making me see stars. I grunt and try to find a position that doesn’t feel so damn amazing. If it doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to lose my mind.
“I need—fuck, I need your help.”
Fletcher is clearly confused. “My… what?”
I swear I’m going to die of embarrassment. I search for a way to explain that isn’t as horrifying as the truth, but there is none.
“I got a vibrator stuck,” I blurt.
Fletcher whips his head around, sputtering like he’s trying not to laugh. “Sorry… what?”
“Just close the door and come here. I need you to get it out.”
Even from this distance, I can see his Adam’s apple bob. Like the thought of getting anywhere near me in this position is too much.
“Please?” I beg. “It’s… dammit. It’s still on.”
This time, Fletcher really does laugh. “Oh my god. You’re serious?”
“Yes!”
He crosses the room and kneels behind me as I crawl on my hands and knees. I hide my face in the mattress as he bends to look. “I can’t see anything.”
“Oh, it’s in there! Trust me.”
He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to touch you then.”
“Obviously.”
Fletcher chokes back a laugh. “Jesus, Vince. This is not how I’d thought it’d go.”
My brain short-circuits. He’s thought about us together?
His large hands spread my ass, and he starts to slide two fingers in, but stops. “Wait. Where’s your lube?”
“Don’t bother. It’ll just make it slippery.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, for fucks—get it out, Fletcher! Please!”
“Okay. Sorry. Here I go.” He slides two fingers in. The stretch is so perfect that I immediately bear down on him, instinct driving me back. Maybe if I hadn’t waited a damn eternity to masturbate I’d have more control.
Fisting the sheets, I suck in a breath, trying to calm down. My cock twitches, warm fluid leaking from the tip.
Fletcher ignores the embarrassingly loud groan coming from me and shoves his fingers a little deeper. “Okay, yeah. I feel it. Shit, it really is on, isn’t it?”
“You think I’d lie about that?”
He chuckles. “Hold still.” He adds a third finger, pushing in more and spreading them.
One finger slides beside the vibrator, which makes the toy press hard against my prostate. I buck my hips, crying out.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
Fletcher freezes. “Did I hurt you?”
I look over my shoulder. “Toy in my ass, Fletch. What do you think?”
His eyes widen, then he stifles a laugh in one hand. “I’m sorry! This is just… okay. Here. I think I can get it. Angle your hips up.”
“If I move at all, my nuts are going to spill.”
“Then come. I don’t care. Do you want my help or not?”
The toy rubs against my nerves again, and I hide my face in the mattress. “Dammit. Just hurry up.”
I try to think about the movie, the guitar, the successful trip to my apartment. Anything but the way his calloused fingers are moving in my ass. Or the firm hold he has on my hips. Or the subtle sounds he’s making… fuck.
“Why’d you even use it? It’s so small.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen! It just slipped in.”
“Mm-hmm.” Fletcher snorts. “That’s what I told the first girl I had sex with too.”
I try to glare at him over my shoulder, and we just end up laughing. The movement jostles the vibrator. “Fletcher! Please!”
“Okay! I’m sorry. I’m trying.” He changes his angle, twisting his hand inside me with just the right pressure.
I quickly close a hand around the base of my cock, trying not to embarrass myself further—but it only makes it worse. The skin-on-skin contact is pure bliss.
His left hand digs into my hip as he pushes in again.
This time, instead of the toy, it’s his hot, thick finger pressing against my prostate.
It’s too much. I lose control, groaning loudly as my balls draw up.
My hand flies without meaning to, and my cock spills in hot, white ropes onto the comforter.
Fletcher freezes, as if surprised that I really was that close to coming. He mutters a soft curse under his breath before quickly pulling the vibrator out.
“There. Got it.”
He drops the toy on the bed, then walks to the sink, washing his hands quickly.
I don’t move—I can’t. My limbs are jelly, breaths labored.
“I’ll just… um. Yeah. Bye,” he says.
I can barely hear him through the sudden pounding in my ears.
Fletcher disappears in a rush, and I collapse on the mattress in a heap of embarrassment. For fuck’s sake. Did that really just happen?
I hide my face in the cool sheets. I won’t be able to look him in the eyes ever again.