Chapter 16

Penn

I'm expecting Madden to rush off back home, but once he pulls up in the parking lot at my place, he turns off his car and climbs out.

"You coming up?"

He hesitates, still holding the door handle. "Is that … if you have plans, I can go."

"What? No." I hate that we still have this level of awkwardness between us. I also hate that I hope he stays so we can go upstairs and get naked and I can pretend like I'm not shamelessly ogling him, and he can do his best to ignore the inevitable boner situation that pops up between us.

I'm trying to control it. Sort of. Okay, no, that's a lie. The thing is, it's been a long time since I was with anyone, since I felt that stir of wanting something more, and with Madden, it's more than that. I'm so used to physical closeness between us, and I've been missing it lately. I know I could leave my clothes on and probably initiate something, but the craving I have for affection from him is getting so strong—as is the need to feel his skin against mine.

Madden doesn't look convinced.

"Come on, dude. I know you're itching to get those shorts off."

That gets him. Madden follows me inside, and we take the elevator up to my floor. I consider inviting Lana over so they can have time to get to know each other, but since Madden still thinks we're dating and Lana knows my little secret about Madden, the best thing I can do is keep them as far from each other as possible.

Especially since my little secret about Madden isn't so little.

I'm being open to it. It's taken me some time to wrap my head around the possibility that I'm actually attracted to him, but the fact he can get me hard every time he's around is indisputable evidence.

The next step is trying to figure out what the hell I'm going to do about it.

My heartbeat is getting louder the closer we get to my apartment. Madden's hair is loose, blond waves around his jaw, easy confidence carrying him toward my place, and I'm coming to terms with how in tune with him I am.

This is making my head spin.

I've always been in tune with him, always taken comfort in his presence. Was that more than the best friends I thought it was?

And what the fuck happens if I make a move and he's not interested?

Fuck me.

I get my apartment unlocked and beeline straight for the kitchen. There's a ninety-nine percent chance that he's getting naked right now, but I ignore whatever is happening behind me and pull out a bottle of vodka. I don't bother with the Coke that I only buy for him anyway and drink directly from the bottle.

I choke the burning liquid down, then go for another as a large hand appears in front of my face and pulls the bottle from my grip.

"What's all this?" Madden leans a heavy shoulder against the fridge, shirtless but still in his gym shorts. He holds my gaze as he takes a sip, and then his face screws up. "Shit. I thought maybe you smuggled water in here. Why are we drinking?"

" I'm drinking."

"Yeah, but why ?"

I sweep my eyes over him again, taking in his chest, his abs, the way his nipples are round and pink, and my mouth goes dry. The burn of the vodka is still on my tongue when I reach out and set two fingers on his chest.

"Penn?" He sounds close to laughter.

He probably should be. What the fuck am I even doing? Whatever it is, I'm doing it, and I just stand there and watch as my fingers slip between his pecs and continue down until they reach his abs.

"Penn?" The amusement is gone now. Mine is too. I'm struggling to remember how to breathe, and the longer I stand here, the longer I keep contact, the more blood rushes to my cock. I'm fucking terrified over what I'm doing, but even though I beg my hand to behave itself, it refuses to listen.

I swallow roughly and drag my eyes up to his. I'm not expecting what I see.

Madden's looking at me in a way he's never looked at me before. His pupils are blown out, his jaw is tense, and his chest is moving faster than normal.

My gaze catches on the way his Adam's apple bobs .

"Penn. I need you to tell me. Right now. What are you doing?"

"I don't know." My voice shakes I'm so scared.

Madden's hand wraps around mine, breaking my contact with him. He steps closer until there's just this shivery, zappy sliver of air between us. The tension radiating from me is so thick I need to close the distance, anything to put an end to it.

"Penn." His voice is strained, like he's barely in control.

I hook my free hand in his shorts. "Why are you wearing these?"

He blinks a few times and looks down. "I was saving you from the alcohol."

"I'm saved," I rasp. "Take them off."

There's a giant question mark in Madden's eyes as he sets down the vodka and releases me. Then he pushes his shorts and briefs from his hips and shoves them to the ground. My swallow is so loud he has to hear it.

And for the first time since I've been paying attention, he's not soft. He's not all the way hard either, but his thick cock is sitting higher, and I can't drag my eyes away from it.

Madden steps closer, fingers dancing over the edge of my shirt. "Tell me to stop."

There are so many reasons why I should.

"No."

Madden pulls my shirt up and over my head, then pauses with his hand on the button of my pants. His eyes search mine, and I give him a nod. The button loosening gives me chills, and when Madden tucks his thumbs into the sides of my pants and slides them off, it feels like every inch of my skin has been supercharged.

I'm so achingly hard. I want more, and I don't have the words to say it, don't even know if what's happening here is really happening.

Madden straightens, and I risk a glance down, finding him as hard as I am. A rush of want shoots through me, pooling in my stomach as I inspect a dick that isn't mine and want to touch it so fucking badly. I'm aching all over, desperate for more, wondering how the hell it can be Madden standing right in front of me, sending my brain to short-circuit.

I've seen him naked way too many times to count, but not one of those times has felt as intimate as this.

Madden takes a cautious half step closer and sets his hands on my biceps. I want those hands everywhere. "What's on your mind?"

"You."

"And what are you thinking about?"

Nothing. Everything. There's too much rocketing around in my skull to take hold of, but my body is coming through loud and clear. I want Madden. I just want him.

"Touch me." The words are a whisper. "Please."

His puffy lips part on a breath, face so close I can read the mix of doubt and want in his expression. He's not holding back, and I hope I'm not either. I've never felt this much burning need for anyone before.

I shift in place, cock brushing up against his, and my eyes roll back into my skull. Skin on skin, cock on cock. It's overwhelming pleasure, and part of me is expecting to wake up because there's no way anything can feel this good.

Madden releases my bicep and wraps a large hand around my length.

I choke on an exhale at the touch. "Oh … oh, fuck."

"This okay?"

"More," I beg.

His hands are rough, and even with how much I'm fucking leaking everywhere, there's an edge to the hand job I've never experienced. I'm so eye-crossingly hard, dick so tight and sensitive, that with every pass of his hand over my length, I'm sure I'm about to come. His thumb swipes my angry tip, paying extra attention to that spot on the underside that drives me fucking wild.

I watch as Madden dangles a line of spit over my cock and lands it in his hand. The spit helps him stroke me faster but doesn't take that delicious edge away, and my balls are so fucking tight I'm on that cusp between feeling amazing and painful.

I want to live here.

I'm panting with need, and then I meet his eyes. His face is inches from mine, stare heated, a side of Madden that I wish I'd had access to for long before this moment. His gaze never leaves my face as he jerks me off, like he's checking I'm okay, so I don't break eye contact either. I might not have the words, but I want him to know that I'm in this. I don't know how long it's been coming on; I don't know at what point everything for me changed or if it changed at all and this isn't what I wanted the whole time.

I get the confidence to run my fingers through his hair, and he leans into the touch. Like he's aching for it as much as I am. He probably is.

I've gotten my answer about whether Madden's any bigger hard, and the answer is yes. He's jutting upward, almost reaching his belly button, veins standing out angrily and tip deep red. It's glossy with precum, and my curiosity is strong as I imagine what he'd taste like. How it would feel. Picturing Madden's head tossed back in ecstasy almost makes my orgasm hit.

But I don't want his hand to go anywhere. I want it to stay on me, to keep sending me higher.

A cascade of all the moments I ever loved him pass through my head. Studying in college and the way he went through a glasses stage to try and be taken seriously. How bright red and stammering he was when he first brought up his need to shed his clothes. The way he gets so passionate talking about health and fitness and caring for your body. How he'll pass out sleeping on my leg, snuggled in like it's his favorite place on Earth.

And now, this. This moment where he's looking at me and everything else falls away. It's just Madden and his eyes and the way he's touching me like he can't restrain himself.

My hand slips to his chest, to his hard muscle and tight nipples, wishing I was brave enough for more.

Madden's hand tightens, moves faster. No more smooth, calculated tugs, he wants to get me off, and damn, that thought turns me on. That Madden wants this. Wants to be touching me. Wants to make me feel good.

He's succeeding too. My skin is burning up, the deep tingling in my gut is building, and his slick hand is getting too much. Too tight. Too fast. Too fucking addictive.

My toes curl over as I give in to the build, and I hit my peak. My orgasm hits in mind-melting waves, and I throb out rope after rope of cum, never wanting this to end.

Madden's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him so we're skin on skin, and then he ducks his head to rest against mine as a sic sic sic fills the kitchen.

I hold him close, wanting to help out as he jerks off and hoping like hell that I'll get another chance. His skin smells like sweat, feels so warm, and when he lets out a "Fuck, Penn ," his muscles go taut as he comes.

I'm not sure what rearranging is going on in my head, but I forget where we are entirely. Just exist with Madden flush against me, able to handle my world shifting so long as I can hold tight to him.

We're both still catching our breaths, slow recognition of what just happened creeping in, when Madden tears himself from my hold.

His whole face is a mask of shock as he looks at me like he can't figure out what happened. Then I watch, mute, as Madden tugs on his shorts, searches out his shirt, and all but stumbles out my front door.

The need to go after him is strong.

The need to cry is deeper though.

Because I'm suddenly terrified I just fucked everything up.