Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Harvey
I’m not gay.
The encounter with Tatum should have put to rest any concerns I had on the matter—not that I had concerns—but I stepped out of the shower a few days later and found Otis curled up on the sofa with a half empty bottle of Jack in hand, and it gave me a twinge of guilt.
Use me.
What the hell had he even meant by that?
Tip toeing past my sleeping best friend—because I was considerate and wanted to let him sleep, not because I wanted to avoid any further conversations about using him—I dug into the stash of medication the sexual health doctor had left after his visit and took my prescribed dose like a good boy.
There was no way I wanted to fuck up this arrangement Tatum had put on the table, so I’d be a goddamn boy scout for the foreseeable future.
Otis murmured in his sleep, shifting onto his side, and I froze like a little bitch.
When he settled without opening his eyes, I left subtlety behind and practically sprinted off the bus.
“Where the fuck are you off to?”
I would have sworn Calix was a cat in his past life. He hated people, thought he was the center of the universe, and always found the highest place to sit. Perched on the roof of the bus, he leered down at me like I was dog shit on his shoe.
“Going for a run. You got a problem with that?”
He sniffed. “You going to talk to your boy? We have a show tonight, and he doesn’t seem to know what day it is, let alone how to hold his bass right now.”
My chest tightened, and I cursed the sun behind his head because I couldn’t glare at him properly while I had to shade my eyes to see him.
“Tobias manages just fine; so how about you worry about your own shit before coming for mine.”
Because Otis was mine…in a purely platonic, best friend kind of way.
A flash of the hunger in his kiss burned through my mind, and I pushed it away brutally, replacing it with the feel of Tatum’s breasts under my fingers. The way her ass fit so perfectly in my hand.
Fuck, I was going to have to find her and convince her to blow me before sound check.
As much as I wanted to fight Calix, I knew it would get me nowhere, so instead of waiting for his response, I started my run and enjoyed having had the last word for once.
My stomach growled as I turned down the main street of town, and the smell of fresh baked bread drifted on the breeze.
There had been a time when just the smell of bread would have had me obsessing for hours, but I’d long since learned that carbs were empty calories.
These days, I treated my body like a temple.
Every calorie was tracked. Every macro accounted for.
Otis had voiced concerns about my eating and exercise patterns in the past, but he hadn’t grown up as a fat kid.
He didn’t know how close I was at any given time to being nothing more than the butt of every joke.
No fucking way would I be that kid again.
As I passed the source of the yeasty scent, I picked up my pace and sprinted until my lungs burned and my heart thundered in my ears.
Fuck me for even noticing the smell, I should have been better than that.
Resolving to decrease my caloric intake for the day to remind myself that I was in charge of my hunger, I continued my run.
Two hours later, my legs were in that wonderful Jell-O state, while my head swam with endorphins.
I climbed the steps onto the bus and collapsed into the closest seat, briefly thinking about the last time I’d sat there.
Lainey had been riding me like a fucking champion.
There was no pang of regret for stopping that arrangement in favor of Tatum’s offer; there had never been anything between us beyond a fucked-up need for validation through sex.
We both knew what we’d signed up for, and there were no hard feelings now it was done.
I’d seen her getting tag-teamed by a couple of roadies the night before and thought nothing past a good for her, I hope she gets off.
I needed another shower, but as I tried to force myself upright, my lower body sent a clear fuck no. Fine. I’d rest for a minute or two, then try again.
I couldn’t say how long I sat, but after a while the air shifted and a hand landed on my shoulder. My nose filled with the mouth-watering scent of fresh-baked cookies, and Tatum moved around the seat to kneel between my spread thighs.
“Do you need a hand with this?” she asked, reminding me of my request from the laundromat.
“Help yourself,” I said, trying for my signature smirk, but ending up somewhere closer to a genuine smile.
Her eyes sparkled up at me as she extended her tongue and licked a line up my inner thigh. Minx. As she hooked her fingers in the waistband of my shorts, I lifted my hips and let her strip the fabric down my legs, shuddering in pleasure as my cock sprang free.
Did it matter that anyone could walk onto the bus and see us like this? Fuck no. I’d welcome the audience. They could get a front-row seat to how well she took my cock.
I watched in awe as her pink tongue ran over her lips, leaving them shiny and ready to stretch over my length.
“Take all of me,” I muttered, guiding her head to the tip with a fist in her hair.
She followed instructions perfectly, her plush lips sliding all the way down until I hit the back of her throat.
“Fuuuck,” I grunted, pushing my hips up and forcing myself deeper.
This was heaven. Saliva pooled on my balls as she moved over my length, keeping me deep with impressive effort.
I stroked my hands through her hair in encouragement, looping the soft curls around my fingers as pressure built in my lower back.
This was perfect. A strong hand cupped my balls, tugging perfectly as one large index finger stroked along my perineum. Fuck, yes. This is what I wanted.
I dropped my head to watch, unable to resist any longer, and had to smile at the adoration shining from those perfectly blue eyes.
It was that look, combined with the finger that pushed deep into my ass, that sent me spiraling.
Sparks lit behind my eyes as I came in hard spurts.
Every drop was swallowed like fine wine, and I blinked stupidly as my rapidly softening cock slipped from between puffy pink lips.
“Otis.” His name was both prayer and acknowledgement as my best friend slipped his finger from my ass and swiped a wrist over his damp lips.
“Harvey.” Calix’s voice broke into the moment, and Otis disappeared in a puff of smoke.
I lurched up in my seat and found my lead singer scowling down at me.
“If your wet dream is finished, get the fuck in the shower, it’s time for sound check.” Without waiting for a response, he stomped down the front stairs, leaving me alone, confused, and uncomfortably damp in the shorts. It had, in fact, been a very wet dream.
But it didn’t mean anything.
Because I wasn’t gay.