10. Chapter 10
Harlow
I’m the worst husband in the world.
Not because I wouldn’t be a good husband. I’d like to think I’d be a fanfuckingtastic husband. What it really is, is that I’m the worst best friend in the world.
This was a mistake. Not the marriage. This massage.
First off, Grayson is fucking… hot. That’s really what it comes down to. He’s hot.
And yeah, we’ve known each other for literally ever, and I already know he’s attractive.
But I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
It was like it unlocked something in my brain.
He’s not hot in an abstract best friend way.
He’s fucking hot. Like really fucking hot.
Burn to the touch hot. Drop to my knees and—nope.
No. Nuh-uh. Those are definitely bad best friend thoughts.
But we’ve already established that my dick is a whore. A real big fucking whore, as it turns out. And it’s very intrigued, because very hot, very naked Grayson is just a few feet away. But that’s not even the biggest problem.
I mean… it’s a contributing factor for sure. But the real problem is the unholy, ungodly groan he just let out.
I’ve never been so thankful in my entire life to be lying on my stomach.
The massage therapist must hit a tender spot on his back because he, honest to God, whimpers. I swear I’m not strong enough for this. My whore dick pulses as I bite into my lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.
“I’m sorry, you have a bit of a tense spot here.”
“It’s okay,” Gray responds, his voice a raspy drawl that has my stomach heating.
“How much longer do we have?” I ask softly.
“We’re just about done,” Mara answers.
Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.
Although… I don’t know how I’m supposed to get up and dressed without Grayson noticing the way this whole thing has affected me.
Wildly embarrassing. Wildly inappropriate. But hey, I guess if your dick can’t get hard for your hot husband, who can it get hard for?
My stomach flips. Okay. Yes. He’s my husband. We don’t have to freak out about it.
The hands on my back leave, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Almost fucking done. Thank God.
“Alright, you gentlemen can take a few minutes to relax and then get dressed,” Lita says.
I hum in acknowledgment, and a few seconds later, the door closes behind them with a soft snick.
“How are you feeling?” Gray asks. He sounds half drunk, and I’m glad at least one of us got some relaxation out of this.
How do I answer that? I feel like I’m losing my mind a bit. I’m feeling pent up and annoyed with myself and a little confused. And like I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to get off this bed.
“Uh… I’m okay.”
“Ready for that nap?”
I can hear a slight smile in Grayson’s voice, and it makes me smile too. I can’t help it. Even with my misbehaving dick, I still love hearing him happy. “You betcha.”
Ew. Why did I say that?
Grayson shifts, and I turn my head in his direction. Wrong choice. Bad choice.
He’s working on standing up, his back to me. The oil is still clinging to his skin, his muscles bunching as he pushes to his feet. Alright. No. Enough of that. I whip my head the other way quickly.
With any luck, he won’t realize I was staring. With any luck, I’ll be able to keep control of myself and not look at him.
I can hear him moving around, his clothes rustling, and then his footsteps growing closer.
A second later, he’s kneeling in front of me with a lazy smile stretching his lips.
“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t already asleep.
” I force a laugh, but it sounds fake. Perfect.
Grayson’s eyebrows draw together. “You alright?”
I nod. “Please move so I can get dressed.”
His eyes widen. “Right. Of course.”
Sitting up carefully, I keep the drape, well… draped over my lap. With my hands over my cock too. Just to be safe.
This is fucking ridiculous. I’m twenty-five years old. I should have better control of my damn dick by now.
Apparently I don’t. “Fucking whore,” I mumble under my breath.
“What?” Gray asks.
I squeeze my eyes closed, my face burning hot. “Nothing. Are you looking at me?”
“Uh, no. My back is toward you.”
Small mercies. I stand up, keeping my back to Gray’s voice—a man can never be too cautious—and quickly step into my briefs and jeans. When my dick is tucked into my waistband and mostly hidden, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Once my shirt is on and I’m fully dressed, I turn around. Gray is standing with his back to me, his head tilted as he studies the wall like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
He turns around and grins again. I nearly scoff. I’m glad at least one of us is enjoying this. I mean… I’m enjoying it. But for all the wrong reasons, I think. Ugh. The worst best friend husband ever.
“I am.”
Gray reaches for my hand again, and I reluctantly take it. It’s not that I don’t want to hold his hand. It’s just that I’m pretty sure touching his skin in any capacity isn’t going to help my situation at all.
The entire way back to the hotel, Gray talks my ear off, and I’m so ready to put a little distance between us while we nap that it’s not until we’re more than halfway back that I remember we only have one fucking bed.
Grayson’s warm, heavy arm wraps around my stomach, pulling me backward into his solid body. I sigh, still half asleep, and snuggle deeper, shimmying my hips until I’m comfortable again.
I did everything I could to not cuddle with Gray when we first got back to the hotel, but for now, my dick seems to have chilled out, and really, I just love being close to him. I love cuddling with him and having him wrapped around me like this. Always have. Pretty sure I always will.
In almost all the ways that matter, Grayson has always been my person. I can count on him. He’s never let me down or hurt me. Not in any lasting way anyway. He’s my safe space. It’s been that way since we were kids.
And right now, it’s easy. It’s easy to pretend we aren’t married. It’s easy to pretend we’re just normal best friends. It’s easy to just exist. With warmth and comfort and Gray’s strong body wrapped around me.
Actually, scratch that last part. Better to not put any ideas in my head.
He’s still asleep, I can tell. His breathing is deep and even, and his soft snores are ruffling my hair.
His grip around my waist loosens, and he drags a hand up until it’s resting against my lower stomach, palm open.
Jesus. His hand is big. How have I never noticed that? It spans almost the entirety of my stomach, his palm resting over my belly button and the tips of his fingers brushing my hip bone.
His fingers flex, and he nuzzles into my hair, which is real bad news for my dick.
What is wrong with me? Ugh.
I try to move his hand off me, but he tightens his fingers and pulls me closer to him.
It’s fine. I can just lie here. Stare at the wall or something. Let him finish his nap, and all will be well. Totally fine.
Opening my eyes, I do just that, blinking at the plain off-white wall across from me. See? Easy. If it gets too bad, I’ll just wake him up.
With a breathy sigh, he shifts a little and… oh Jesus, he’s hard.
Still cool. Still fine. Totally normal. This is fine. He’s asleep. It’s biology. It means nothing.
Only my stomach feels fizzy. The same way it did when I was watching us kiss.
God, that was unreal. I wonder if his lips are as soft as they look.
I wonder what he tastes like. I fucking hate that I can’t remember.
How fucked is it that two weeks ago, I had never even thought about kissing Grayson, and now it’s like… it’s all I can think about.
I don’t remember shit from last night. I couldn’t tell you whose harebrained idea it was to get married—I’m sure it was mine, seems on-brand—but I know it was my idea to stay married.
Fuck, what if I tricked him into this? Then what?
He shifts, and I go still, even though I wasn’t moving to begin with. A small noise leaves his throat, something between a whimper and a sigh, and my stomach heats.
This is a nightmare. Only surprise, surprise, I’m wide awake.
I can be a grownup about this, surely. What’s a little hard dick against your ass between best friends and pretend husbands? Only, wait, we’re not actually pretend husbands now, are we? No. That shit is real.
That thought should be a bucket of ice water on my libido. It’s not. Truly, what in the fuck is wrong with me?
Gray’s fingers tighten, and he pulls me backward at the same time as he rolls his hips. It’s a tiny movement. Probably wouldn’t even notice it if I was asleep, but I’m not asleep, and I notice. My cock notices too, giving a hard throb. I only have so much control.
In all this time, this has never happened to us. I’ve never woken up like this with Gray. Cuddling? Sure. Like this? No.
When he groans and rolls his hips again, I inhale a sharp breath and jump out of bed.
Grayson startles, a confused “What?” leaving his lips in a groggy voice.
I ignore it, ignore him—not proud of that—and dash to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it.
I swallow hard, glancing down at my tented sweats.
Turning to the sink, I flip on the cold water and splash some on my face, trying to get myself to calm down.
Maybe I just need to jerk off.
I glance up at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed as fuck. I sure as hell can’t go back out there like this.
It’s been a while since I’ve had sex. We were so busy with last-minute wedding stuff that it’s been… I don’t know, a month maybe? That makes me frown. That’s tragic, really. Should have known something was up.
Fuck it. It’s fine. I’ll get myself off and go back in there. Maybe then my dick will chill out.
Reaching into my sweats, I pull my cock out, biting down hard on my lip to keep myself from making noise.
For a second, I just stand in place. Am I really about to get myself off to thoughts of Grayson?
I shake my head. No, I’m not. I’m not. I won’t think about him at all.
Trying to clear my mind, I stroke my cock. It feels so good I could weep, and I pull my hand up to spit in my palm. I can’t be in here long, or Gray is gonna know something’s up. Need to hurry this along. Basic biological need and nothing else.
I stroke myself quickly, choking back the whimpers that want to spill from my throat. My stomach muscles flex when I twist the head. Ugh. I really need to hurry the hell up.
Fuck it.
I can worry about the guilt of being the worst friend ever later.
I close my eyes and picture Grayson.
Fingers sinking into my hair and tugging. Full lips under mine. His big hands on my body. My tongue pushing past his lips, tangling with his.
My balls pull tight to my body, and I lean over the sink as I start coming.
I nearly tear a hole in my lip trying to keep myself quiet. My knees go weak, and I stroke myself through it, my cock pulsing against my palm as I drag my orgasm out, and cum lands in thick stripes across the porcelain of the sink.
Guilt sets in as soon as my body comes down, and the reality of what I just did hits me.
I release my lip with a grimace, staring down at the proof with my hand still loosely gripping my softening cock.