Chapter 7
The limo pulls up to the curb at ten minutes to noon, black, gleaming, and so obviously, painfully expensive that it may as well have my last name painted on the side. The driver, Hank, gets out and tips his hat, and Kieran just stares at it.
“A fucking limo,” he says. The words come out flat. “You said you were calling a car, Chase. A car. This is not a car.”
“Chase’s mom loves him and wants him to be comfortable, and has no idea what normal people do,” Nick says. He squeezes my hip. “No offense, babe.”
“None taken,” I mutter. My face is burning.
Usually, when my parents send a driver, he comes with a sleek black SUV.
It’s still over-the-top, but not quite as absurd as this.
But my mom texted this morning: Hank will be there at noon with something roomy for you and your friends.
Have a safe drive home, sweetheart! I should have known.
My mother’s idea of “roomy” and a normal person’s idea of “roomy” live in different universes.
Hank smiles at me. “Glad to see you’ve had a good trip, Mr. Whitmore. The bags from your car are in the trunk, as requested.” Hank opens the trunk, and Nick dives for his phone, pressing the button on the side. “Oh damn, it’s dead.”
“It’s been a week,” Kieran says as he digs his own out of his duffel and attempts to thumb the screen awake.
My wallet is where I left it. So is my favorite sketchbook, which I would have missed more than the car.
“I have to text my mom,” Nick says. “Do we have time to charge it?”
“There’s a wireless charging tray inside the vehicle,” Hank says, swinging the door open and revealing the gleaming black leather interior. We stash the bags holding my online purchases in the trunk with our duffels, then head for the door.
Nick climbs in first, his big body settling onto the leather with a satisfied groan, and setting his phone on the charging tray. “Oh my god, the legroom. I could live in here.” He pats the seat beside him. “Come on, boys. Adventure awaits.”
Kieran hangs back, his eyes on the limo like it’s personally offended him. The morning light catches the ink on his arms, the dark sweep of his hair falling across his forehead, and my chest tightens.
“Kieran,” I say. “It’s just a ride home.”
“It’s a statement,” he says, but he climbs in, his movements stiff, like he’s forcing himself through each motion. I follow, sliding in beside Nick, and the door closes behind us with a soft, expensive thud, and Kieran sets his phone on the charger next to Nick’s, which has already come to life.
“Damn, my mom is a teensy bit panicked,” Nick says, showing us the wall of notifications. Then he types a message back and takes a selfie of the three of us in the limo.
“I thought you were texting her from my phone,” I say.
Nick chuckles. “Yeah, so on the last day, some lady named Martha replied and said she wasn’t my mom and I needed to stop texting her. Guess I had the number wrong.”
“Nick, holy shit. I hope your mom didn’t call the police.”
He scrolls through the text, grimacing. “Okay, she might have. But only yesterday. I’m sure it’s fine. Wait, she’s calling. Hey Mom, sorry. Yeah. No, my phone accidentally got into someone else’s bag and took a little trip without me, that’s all.”
As Nick placates his mom, the engine purrs to life, and the limo smoothly pulls away from the curb. Through the tinted rear window, I watch the shore house shrink behind us, the weathered cedar siding, the wraparound porch, the path leading down to the beach where we fucked in the ocean.
My stomach goes hollow as I realize the vacation is over.
The fling is over. And I still haven’t convinced Kieran it’s more than a fling.
The limo turns onto the main road and the ocean disappears behind buildings.
Nick gets off the phone with his mom and reaches over and presses the button to close the driver partition, then sprawls across the seat, his legs taking up most of the available space, one arm thrown behind my shoulders.
“You know what’s great about limos?” he says.
“The sex positions. Seriously. The bench seating, the legroom. We could fuck Chase right here and Hank wouldn’t even know.
” He grins at Kieran. “Think about it. You bend him over that seat, I take his mouth. Or vice versa. The possibilities are fucking endless.”
My cock stirs at the image, and I glance at Kieran, hoping he might be considering it.
Kieran’s fingers find my lower thigh through the thin fabric of my shorts.
He’s sitting on my other side, close but not touching except for his hand resting warm against my leg, his thumb fiddling with the hem of my shorts.
His thumb is doing it without him, the way a body does when the brain is somewhere else.
His eyes are on the window, watching Jersey roll past, but his hand is on me like he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll dissolve.
“Your life is insane,” he says, not looking at me. “You know that, right? This—” He gestures at the limo, the partition that could separate us from Hank with the press of a button. “This is not a thing that happens to normal people.”
“I know,” I say.
“I’m gonna have fond memories of this, though.” His thumb drags the edge of my shorts up, just a little. “The time I fucked a couple of rich assholes at a beach house. Good story to tell.”
The words rich assholes land like a slap. I flinch, and Kieran feels it. His hand goes still for a second, then resumes its slow circles, softer now, almost apologetic. But the damage is done. The gap between us isn’t just financial. It’s the way he sees me: a rich kid playing at something real.
“Okay,” Nick says. “Enough of that. The way Chase grew up isn’t his fault, and he’s still the same person you’ve had so much fun with this week. A limo doesn’t change who he is.” His voice has lost its teasing edge. He’s serious now, his body angled toward Kieran, his free hand resting on my thigh.
“Fine, I’m sorry. I’ll stop being a dick. I guess I’m just pissed off that our week is almost over.” Kieran looks out the window for a long minute. “So, Nick, are you and Chase gonna be boyfriends now?”
Nick doesn’t hesitate. “Obviously. We’re already boyfriends.” His hand squeezes my thigh.
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah. We’ve been best friends for years, why not? You think I’m gonna go back to pretending I don’t want to fuck you after the week we just had? No chance.”
My chest tightens. I look at Nick, at his open, earnest face and the dimples that only show up when he means something, and I have to look away.
Kieran laughs, low and rough, and stops too soon. “Good for you two. Really. That’s… sweet.” He swallows, his throat working.
“You could be our boyfriend, too,” Nick says. “I mean, clearly Chase loves fucking you, and damn do I love the way you kiss.”
Kieran snorts. “I’m not dating a couple of college boys, though. No offense.”
“Why not?” Nick asks. “I promise we are very fun.”
I laugh, and it hurts more than I let on. “Very very fun.”
Kieran sits back and blows out a breath. “Come on, guys. We’re from different worlds.”
“I don’t know. Philadelphia feels like all one world to me,” Nick says. “Perhaps we could do something to entice you?”
“Entice me how?”
Nick meets my eyes and winks, then drops to the floor of the limo, in front of Kieran. “Just imagine. Two mouths to use whenever you want.”
I drop to my knees beside Nick, the limo’s carpet rough under my bare knees, and Kieran’s cock is already hard in his sweatpants, the outline of it thick and unmistakable.
“Two needy holes to fuck,” Nick says. “Two cocks to play with. Two hot guys who only want to keep you happy.”
“You want to make me happy? Get your mouth on my dick,” Kieran says, eyes darkening.
Nick tugs at the waistband of Kieran’s sweats, pulling them down just enough to free his cock, and the sight of it, thick and cut, the Prince Albert piercing glinting dully in the tinted light, makes my mouth water.
I lean forward without thinking, the way I have every time since that first night, and run my tongue over the metal.
Kieran’s breath catches.
“This beautiful cock deserves daily worship, doesn’t it?” Nick’s breath feathers across my lips as he moves in close. We kneel on either side of his legs, our mouths brushing against his velvety skin.
I suck Kieran’s cockhead between my lips, and Nick is right there with me, his mouth finding the shaft, his tongue working up the underside while I suck the head.
We’re kissing around his cock, our lips brushing against each other, sharing the taste of him between us, and the filthiness of it has my cock leaking all over my underwear.
“Fuck.” He slides one hand into each of our hair, and he looks down at both of us with his mouth open and his eyes wet at the corners. “Look at you two.”
“Tough to imagine giving this up, huh?” Nick asks. “We’re addictive.”
I suck him deeper, taking the piercing against my tongue, the cool metal warming in my mouth.
Nick works the base with his hand, his mouth moving in rhythm with mine, and we find a sync without discussing it, like our bodies have been practicing for this, like we were built to service him together.
Kieran’s hips roll forward, his cock pushing deeper into my throat, and I gag and pull back, saliva dripping down my chin.
“Switch,” Nick says, and we do, his mouth replacing mine on the head, my lips wrapping around the shaft where his hand was. The taste of Kieran’s skin, salt and musk and clean sweat, fills my mouth, and I moan around him, dropping kisses lower until I’m sucking one of his balls into my mouth.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “You’re going to make me cum if you keep that up.”
“That’s the idea,” Nick says against his cock. “This is our treat.”