Chapter 12
Clay
Big: Hi, I’d love to hear more about the bondage thing
I let out a sigh and delete the message from the very cleverly named Big. Beck tried to tell me I’d never find the right guy on Grindr or any other dating app, and I refused to accept that at first. But now I’m too tired to keep pushing for something that obviously isn’t there. I don’t know where the right guy is, but he’s not on Grindr.
I hear the front door open, and my heart flutters a little.
Max’s newfound interest in bondage hasn’t done anything to help the hopeless crush I have on him. Go figure.
Max appears with a smile and a strange look in his eyes.
“Hey, love, how’d your first tattoo go?”
“Fantastic. I should’ve gotten this done years ago,” Max says as he pulls off his shirt to show me his new ink.
I gulp at the sight of his hard abs and lickable happy trail.
He peels off the bandage, and I admire the precious replica of Gigi’s baby footprints right over his heart.
“It’s perfect,” I smile.
“Yeah,” he agrees, looking at me in a way that heats my face. “Hey, you want to hang out tonight? We could watch a movie or something?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. Why don’t I fix us up some dinner, and then we can watch some movies or pick a show on Netflix.”
“Sounds good, I’m just going to take a quick shower first.”
“Okay. Your tattoo will sting in the water so try to avoid getting it directly under the stream. Wash it very gently with unscented soap, and be sure to pat it dry after rather than rubbing it dry.”
“Got it. Thanks.” And then to my surprise, Max gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before disappearing down the hall.
What the hell has gotten into him?
Max
The feel of Clay’s body shifting beside mine sends little electric jolts up my spine and straight to my balls. My body drifts closer to Clay’s unconsciously. I want to feel his body heat, feel him in my personal space.
I don’t know what’s happening to me, but after talking to Nash today, I can’t stop wondering. It’s possible it’s the kink. Is it so crazy I’d be attracted to the idea of having total control over something, even for just a few minutes? Or maybe it’s Nash’s words getting to me about how he never realized he was into guys until he fell for Royal and Zade. Looking at those guys, so insanely in love, I can’t imagine them not finding each other in the way they have. What if Nash had been too afraid to take the risk to see where his unexpected feelings would lead?
I turn my head and let myself take him in. He is undeniably attractive. His eyes are captivating, his lips are full and enticing, and his small frame is just right to fold into my arms. But there’s nothing feminine about him. He’s all lines and edges and...hair. I swallow hard as my cock shifts against my thigh. I don’t understand why, and maybe I don’t have to understand. Maybe—for right now—this is what feels right.
Clay must feel my eyes on him because he turns and cocks his head.
“What?”
What?
Oh nothing, just imagining tying you to your bedframe and using my tongue on every inch of your body.
“What?” I ask back, feigning ignorance.
“Why are you looking at me like a weirdo?”
My tongue sweeps out to wet my lips as the words try to arrange themselves in my mind. How do I even broach this subject? What if it’s not what Clay is even looking for? Maybe I’m not his type, and I’m just here obsessing over something that’s never going to happen. So what if he thinks I’m hot? That doesn’t mean he wants me to do any of the things I’m suddenly imagining.
Testing the waters, I move one hand down to rest on the back of Clay’s neck. He stills, holding his breath and looking into my eyes like he’s searching for answers.
When he relaxes into my touch, I assume he found whatever he was looking for. I put the slightest bit of pressure on the back of his neck, and I lean in— slowly at first and then all at once.
Clay’s lips are soft and pliable against mine, and when his tongue sweeps out to meet mine, we both shudder.
Again, there’s no pretending I’m kissing a woman. His short hair tickles my hand, a little bit of rough stubble rubbing against my chin. And, to my surprise, I don’t want to pretend he’s a woman. I don’t want to pretend it’s anyone but Clay.
Our lips and tongues continue to duel as Clay leans back, taking me along with him until I’m covering his body.
Without a thought, I grab Clay’s wrists tightly in one hand and hold them above his head and trap his legs between mine. It’s not ropes or handcuffs, but it seems to work well enough as Clay stills beneath me and lets out a little whimper between panting breaths.
“Oh god, Max, please,” he rasps. I expect him to follow it up with something crude, like a request to jerk him off. But, instead… “Tell me what this is.”
“What?”
“Is this a like an experiment for you or are you suddenly into guys? And will this ruin our friendship?”
“If I promise it won’t ruin our friendship, can I tell you I don’t have an answer to the first part yet?”
Clay bites down on his bottom lip and squirms beneath me for a second before sighing. “I guess that’ll do for now.”
I attack his mouth again and tighten my grip on his wrists as he relaxes into my hold. Clay’s hard cock nudges against my stomach through his sweatpants and a groan escapes from deep in my chest.
I’ve always liked the way a woman fits against me all soft and warm. But there’s no denying how good a man’s body feels. Not just any man’s body—Clay’s body. I grind our bodies together, my own erection pressed against the inside of Clay’s thigh.
We moan and gasp against each other’s lips as the tension builds. I never thought that in my early thirties I’d be able to get off rubbing fully clothed up against another man. But it’s going to happen, and I’m not even sorry about it.
“Clay, Clay,” I grit out his name, and I feel him shudder beneath me before his whole body tenses, and his eyes flutter shut.
“God, Max.”
When I feel the wet spot through his pants, my body heats, and my balls draw tight.
I huff and grunt as I fuck myself against Clay, trapped beneath me and mine for the taking. My generous, confident best friend who just came, gasping my name.
I don’t stop until my own pants are sticky, and my balls are empty.
Clay shudders again when I release his wrists. His body starts to tremble a little, so I lay down next to him and pull him against my chest.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask gently.
“Yeah, sorry, that was intense.”
Intense is an understatement. That was earth shattering, life changing.
“We can do this again, right?” I ask.
Clay’s breath tickles my neck as he laughs.
“You’re the straight guy. If you’re not endlessly freaked out, I’m certainly not going to turn down the chance to be your quarter life crisis.”
“You’re not a crisis.”
“What am I?”
“You’re my best friend.”
◆◆◆
wake up feeling lighter than I have since...I honestly can’t even remember. Images of the night before with Clay on the couch flash through my mind and set my blood on fire.
I still don’t understand what this is. What I do know is something about it feels so right. How long have I loved Clay as a best friend? Years. Is it so strange that something else could develop?
If you ask guys like my brothers, I’m sure it would seem crazy. But it’s not like I’m suddenly gay...at least, I don’t think I am. I don’t understand much of what’s happening except to know that I want to explore it and see where it leads.
I hear the floorboards in the hallway creak, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my lips. Just the thought of Clay makes me a little giddy. Yeah, this is worth exploring.
I slip out of bed and tug on a pair of pants and run my fingers through my long hair to untangle it just enough to be presentable. And then I take a deep breath and venture out to find Clay.
When I reach the kitchen, I find Clay standing over the sink, washing the dishes from the night before, and another smile tugs at my lips. He’s kind of cute when he’s stressed, and now I know the secret to unraveling all the tension he carries around.
The thought sends heat spiking through me.
My eyes roam over his tight little ass in his yoga pants and over the beautiful wild flower sleeves inked on both his arms. How did I never notice before how sexy he is? Maybe it’s like Nash said; I wasn’t ready before now. Hell, I’m not sure I’m ready now. But maybe I can get there? Maybe we can try?
Clay shuts off the sink and turns around, startling when he sees me.
“Jeez, how long have you been standing there?” he asks putting a hand over his heart like I nearly gave him a heart attack.
“Only a second.”
“Oh.” Clay forces a smile and then shifts awkwardly on his feet before reaching for the coffee pot to start coffee.
“Let me get that,” I offer, taking a tentative step forward.
“Thanks.”
Clay continues to stand like he’s a stranger in our kitchen while I add the water and grounds to the machine.
“So, last night was fun,” I venture, hoping like hell he feels the same way.
I can hear the breath whoosh out of his lungs and see his shoulders relax out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, it was. If you, uh, ever want to do it again, you know where to find me.”
“I do,” I blurt and then cringe internally at how desperate I sound. Fuck it, I don’t want to leave this shit nebulous. “I want to do it again, as long as you want to. I’ve been watching some videos—bondage videos—and I’d like to try.”
“Yeah,” Clay agrees in a shaky voice. “Yeah, that would be good.”
“Okay,” I nod and bite down on my bottom lip to contain my enthusiasm. “I’d better shower and get to work, but I’ll see you tonight?”
“I live here, so yeah.”
I chuckle and then, without giving it any thought, I grab Clay by the waist and plant a brief kiss against his lips.
“Ha-have a good day,” he stutters when I release him.
“You too, petal.”