Chapter 17

"Huh."

What the fuck is "huh" supposed to mean?

Beau's got his hand on my crotch and he's squeezing it like he's testing the firmness of a fucking melon. His head's tilted to the side and he's got this ridiculous look of wonder on his face.

He traces the length of my cock and rubs his finger in circles around the head. Then he slides his hand down to my balls and weighs them in his palm.

"Do you want me to cough twice?" I grit out.

His gaze snaps up to mine, as if he's forgotten that the groin he's groping is attached to an actual human being. "Oh, uh…" He glances back down at his hand on my cock. "I've never done this before."

No fucking shit.Although, at this rate, all he'll have to do is breathe on my dick and I'll probably come like a geyser.

Watching Beau orgasm, knowing I'm the one who made him come… god, it's doing a number on my head. I've never felt so powerful before, so confident in what I was doing, so certain that this was right. Now, though, with the afterglow of his orgasm fading, doubt is creeping in. This is a new experience for Beau. It's normal for him to be curious. It doesn't mean he'll want to do it again. Or if he'll want to do it again with me.

Beau pauses with his hands on the fly of my pants. "Can I?" he asks, waiting for permission like a kid waits for his mom to say okay before tearing into a present.

I close my eyes and try to take a calming breath. It's one thing for me to jack Beau off. I know my way around another man's dick, and to him, a hand is just a hand, right? It's something else entirely to have Beau touch me like that. We've already gone way further than I'd ever dreamed. He's already ruined me for anyone else. I need to draw the line somewhere.

"Beau, you don't have to," I say, finishing the sentence I'd started earlier. It's more difficult to claim plausible deniability once he's held another guy's cock.

Beau growls and when I open my eyes, I find his jaw set and his eyes flashing with determination. He looks like he did on the football field right before a play, or at the gym when he's going for a personal best.

He undoes my pants without waiting for me this time, folding back the two sides, then curling his fingers under the waistband of my briefs and tugging it all down.

"Fuck, Beau." My cock lies on my stomach, throbbing and leaking. The head is an angry purple.

Beau stares at it wide-eyed, and for once I can't tell what he's thinking. Is that a look of wonder? Or a look of shocked disgust?

His tongue slips out and he wets his lips. His chest expands like he's taking in a deep breath. Then he runs the tips of his finger, feather-light down the length of my dick.

My cock jumps at the touch and I suck in a gasp.

"Is that okay?" The concern in his voice sounds genuine and I let out a stilted, strangled laugh.

"Yeah, it's more than okay. It's… oh god."

Beau's taken my cock and wrapped his big calloused hand around it. "It's like holding my own dick, but not. Like, holding it in my hand feels normal. But I don't feel my hand on my dick. I can imagine how it feels, but I can't actually feel it."

I'm going to die while Beau dissects the mysteries of the fucking universe.

"That must be what you feel, right? Like when I jerk off. It feels good. That's what you feel."

"Jesus, Beau."

"Huh."

That goddamn "huh," again. He's killing me. I'm going to burst a vein in my cock and then Beau will have to explain to my parents how I died. Not my problem. I'll be dead.

Beau moves his hand, a careful glide up so the engorged head is in the middle of his palm. He twists his wrist and the pleasure that rushes through me is so intense it borders on pain. He swirls his thumb around my glans, presses it into my slit. My hips come off the couch, needing more friction, but Beau backs off. The bastard.

"Beau, please, harder."

He pauses for a moment like he's trying to figure out what I mean. Then he gives a single nod and bends forward.