11. Cooper

Cooper

Okay, this is so not wrong. What I’m doing is totally fine.

I mean, I’m only human, okay?I just spent two days with the world’s hottest man and two nights in the same bed with him. And last night . . . oh my God, last night . . . his big muscular arm wrapped around me.

I mean . . . phew. I’m only human.

Right?

It’s totally fine that I’m lying on my bed, a few moments after he dropped me off at my apartment—my bedroom door locked for good measure, even though my roommates are still out of town—and lying totally naked with my favorite dildo in my hand.

My other hand is lubed up and stroking my hard dick. I mean, it’s totally fine. It’s not like I named the dildo Maverick or anything.

Although it is bright blue, like the paint on his racing motorcycle.

“No.” I try to shake off thoughts that I’m doing anything wrong. Maverick and I are just friends, but that doesn’t mean masturbating in the middle of the day is wrong.

I’m a young guy with a strong sex drive. And it’s been forever since I’ve had real human dick inside me, so my trusty dildo will just have to do. So I try my best to clear my mind, letting my lubed fingers slide over my full balls and down to my eager hole.

Sliding one inside and then two, trying so damn hard not to think about Maverick’s deep voice and his clean, masculine scent. I stretch myself as I allow my mind to think about how it would feel if instead of just holding me last night, he would have kissed me.

How his lips would have felt against mine. How strong his hands would be as we kissed, maybe threading through my hair.

I give up not picturing his face and go with the fantasy as I lube up my toy and place it at my waiting, stretched hole, slowly pressing it inside. I love the burn and the stretch as I inch it inside of me.

I think about Maverick above me, his strong arms holding most of his weight off me, but still crushing me as he fills my hole over and over again. Leaving me breathless and needing more.

My free hand strokes over my hard cock, my thumb brushing over the pre-cum at the tip before sliding back down to the base. And when I come, my ass squeezing around the dildo and my cum spraying from the head of my deck coating my stomach and chest, it’s Maverick’s gray intense eyes I see.

It’s his deep voice rumbling in my ear as he comes while I come and come with him. More cum dribbles from my tip as I pant and nearly sob from how damn good it feels.

When I open my eyes, though, it’s just me in my bedroom. And okay, maybe a little bit of an icky feeling about jerking off to someone I consider one of my best friends now.

That’s a first for me.

I’m usually very good with boundaries, but damn, he’s so hot. He checks all my boxes, without question. He’s kind. He’s funny. Good-looking—which yeah, shouldn’t be on the list, but of course it is. But the first two are more important. He’s also career-driven and obviously cares about friends. His family is so great, I could have honestly cried yesterday with how accepting they are.

How kind and real.

But I guess he doesn’t check all the boxes because, you know . . . he’s not into men. That should probably be first on my boyfriend list, but I seem to always go for the unattainable.

I remove the dildo before going across the hall—carefully listening for any of my roommates—and when I don’t hear them, I head into the bathroom, rinsing the dildo off and putting it back in my top drawer.

I grab some clothes and go into the bathroom to shower, resisting jerking off again, despite my dick growing hard from thinking about doing it only minutes ago to the visions of Maverick.

I get dressed, forcing my still semihard cock into my jeans and pulling a t-shirt over my head—yay, for a casual workplace—and then head into the living room, where I find one of my cats and pet her for a bit as I scroll through TikTok on my phone.

Thankfully, the cat doesn’t seem too bothered about me being gone for a couple of days because I made sure she had plenty of food and water. Let’s face it, cats don’t really need us for much.

I stop petting her, though, when I stumble on a video of Pheobe—who appears to be walking out of an LA nightclub with a new man on her arm—an up-and-coming young actor who was just signed on to star in a brand-new series people everywhere are talking about.

My first thought is Maverick.

Will he be jealous? Does he know?

I’m not sure about either because he doesn’t talk much about his ex-fiancé, and he doesn’t seem to live on his phone like most humans these days—me included.

I wonder if I should maybe give him a heads-up, but what if he does want her back? What if it makes him so jealous, he flies to LA tonight to claim the love of his life?

My heart pinches in my chest, and yes, I know I’m slightly unhinged, but part of me just hopes he doesn’t know about it.

Or maybe he just won’t really be bothered if he finds out.

One thing is for sure, I can’t bring myself to be the one who tells him.

So yeah, twice today . . .

I’m a really bad friend.