BONUS CHAPTER #2
This has to be leftover insanity from last night. The whole week has everyone’s wires crossed. Lance is drunk, horny, curious, and looking at me like—
Like that.
But that’s all this is.
The trouble is, my first thought wasn’t a ‘no’. It’s how fast I could get upstairs before those ten minutes ran out.
I stand and follow. I reach our floor, swipe the keycard, and push open the door to our suite.
The room is dim, lit only by the single bedside lamp Lance must have left on. Two beds, mine near the window, his closer to the door like always. The ocean is a low rumble through the cracked balcony door, mixing with the distant thump of music still drifting up from the reception.
I barely get the door closed before hands grab my jacket from the side and shove me back against the wall.
Lance fucking Bradford’s face fills my vision, eyes closed, lips already parted. He closes the distance fast.
He devours my mouth before I can even process it. All heat, whiskey, and raw fucking intent. It’s easily the most intense and aggressive kiss I’ve ever had. I’m so stunned I just open for him, letting him take everything while he presses me down with surprising strength.
My hands hover at his sides for a few seconds before they land on his waist, gripping tight. Lance makes a rough sound into my mouth and presses closer. He’s already hard. So am I. My cock thickens so fast it’s almost painful.
“Fuck, wait a goddamn minute, you motherfuck—” I rasp, pushing him away when we finally break for air.
He doesn’t let me pull away that much. He cages me in, hands on either side of my arms, eyes glassy but focused.
“Shut up and let go, G,” he growls, sounding impatient and almost scolding. “We leave tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ll ever work up the nerve to do this again, and right now, I want you. Stop thinking so goddamn much and just have me.”
He yanks his tie loose and tosses it. I can’t help it—I bend down and latch onto his neck, right above his collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Lance moans, head falling back, fingers working frantically on my shirt buttons.
Clothes come off in a frantic, clumsy rush. My jacket hits the floor. Lance yanks my shirt open so hard that buttons scatter across the carpet. Belts clatter somewhere behind us. Trousers are shoved down our thighs as we stumble backward toward my bed, mouths still locked together.
Lance is naked first. He sprawls back on my sheets, tries for a joke even now, voice shaky with nerves.
“Fair warning, Big Guy…I might be terrible at this. I’ve never done the whole ‘getting railed by my best friend’ thing before.”
I don’t laugh. I can’t. He looks too good spread out on my bed like that.
We’re clearly heading all the way. My body’s screaming for it.
Lance’s hands are on me immediately, greedy, pulling me down on top of him. His legs wrap high around my waist. The moment our bare cocks slide together, something in my chest shorts out. This is already ten times more intense than anything that happened during the fivesome.
I push his thighs wider, spreading him open.
The sight of Lance like this—flushed dark, cock hard and leaking against his stomach, ass completely exposed under my hands—fucks with my head.
Ten years of friendship and I never once pictured holding him open like this.
He looks almost shy about it, a deep blush crawling up his chest as I stare.
I can’t help it. I lean down and kiss him again, harder.
Lance laughs breathlessly into my mouth, the sound shaky.
“Fuck…I really hope I remember all of this in the morning.”
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. My hands shoot out and lock tight around his wrists, pinning them on the bed, stopping everything.
He looks at me, confused.
I pull back just enough to look at him. My voice comes out thick and strained. “I don’t want you to fucking forget this.”
He goes still. The drunk haze clears for a beat, something softer and almost sad crossing his face.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he pants. “Sorry, G. I just—”
I roll off him, chest tight, breathing hard. I’m not even mad that it’s not happening tonight. But the thought that Lance could wake up tomorrow and treat this like it never happened just pisses me off for some fucking reason.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter.
“Fuck, George. Stop being so goddamn noble,” he says, voice cracking with frustration but soft underneath.
“No,” I cut back, turning to look at him. “You stop being so fucking reckless with this. With us.”
That shuts him up.
I hold his gaze. “If we cross that line tonight, I want you here. Wide awake, not drunk. If you want to experiment…if you want to try this with a man, I can be that for you. I’ll let you use me however you need. But fuck…I want you to at least fucking remember it, Lance.”
Worry crosses his face, like he finally gets to see how much this bothers me.