Chapter 20

Anthony

“This probably wasn’t the best idea,” Dave says as he shovels another bite of chili into his mouth. How he doesn’t notice the glob on the front of his shirt is beyond me. “The guys may be in for a world of hurt if this shit sours my stomach.”

Pointing at the mess on his shirt and ignoring the bathroom talk, I finish chewing before speaking, a concept he hasn’t mastered yet. “Got a little on your clothes.”

“Fuck,” he grumbles when he sees it. Swiping at it with a paper napkin, he makes the stain grow to twice its original size.

“How do you survive?”

“This is my favorite shirt,” he complains momentarily before giving up on the fabric and diving back into his chili.

“You said that last week when you rubbed guacamole and salsa on your shirt.”

“Same shirt, dude.”

“So you can’t eat without making a mess, but you’re an expert at stain removal?” Must save him thousands of dollars a year on ruined clothes.

He chuckles, causing more chili to spill from his lips. “I don’t do my own laundry.”

Rolling my eyes, I go back to my club sandwich. I forgot he still lives with his mother.

“So are you going to fake sick after lunch?”

“No. Why the hell would I fake sick?”

“So you can join us on the fishing trip.”

“I’m not going on the fishing trip,” I remind him. He’s asked me no less than five times, twice today alone. I wonder if he thinks if he continues to ask that my answer will eventually change. “I’m working this weekend.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head, rejecting my excuse.

“I need the money.” I don’t expect him to believe me, but I also don’t expect him to call me out on my lie.

“Dude.” He gives me a look that says he knows I’m full of shit. “I’ve seen that truck of yours. You don’t need the money.”

“It’s because of that truck that I need the money,” I explain.

Honestly, I made a huge down payment on it, and my payments are more than manageable.

“You don’t get paid extra,” he explains. “You only pick up comp time.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, I take another bite of my sandwich. The guy is an architect; he may be sloppy, but he’s definitely not an idiot.

“This is about the cruise isn’t it?” I don’t answer. “We leave for the cruise in like three days. If you haven’t bought your room yet, you may not be able to get on.”

“Are you saying I can’t crash with you?”

He eyes me for a minute before responding. “No fucking way. I bunked with Cooper last year, and he stole the chick I brought back to bone right out from under me, literally.”

Inhaling at the wrong time, I nearly choke on bacon and tomato.

“What?” I manage eventually with watery eyes.

“I was about to lay it down.” I cringe when he makes this fist pump motion with his entire arm. Immediately, I regret asking. “Cooper walks out of the bathroom naked and flashing that fucking snake of his, and this chick taps me on the shoulder and tells me she changed her mind.”

“Wow,” I mutter after a long swig of my bottled water. “Tough break.”

“That’s not all of it.” Oh, Lord. “I drop her back off at her room, and hit the bar for a few more drinks before going back to our cabin, but when I get there, Cooper is plowing into this chick. She looks over her shoulder at me, and asks me to give them a few minutes to finish up.”

Speechless, I just stare at him for a long moment. Somehow getting involved with Joey is an unforgivable sin, but shit like this is allowed? “And you and Cooper stayed friends?”

He shrugs. “Of course. I was half drunk before I dropped her off at her room. My whiskey dick would’ve probably kept me from sealing the deal anyway.”

Working through what he just told me in my head, I turn in his direction. “So how did she end up in there?”

His grin is big. “She circled back after I dropped her off.”

“Classy,” I mutter before wadding up my paper trash.

“No rules on the cruise,” he says around another spoon of chili. “Except we all have our own rooms from now on. Joey and Andi aren’t even sharing.”

“Good to know,” I mumble.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Frozen by his questioning gaze, I try to think of something quick. “It’s good that no one is sharing rooms. I can’t even imagine the awkwardness between you and Cooper after that mess.”

Shrugging again, he licks chili off of his spoon. “Wasn’t really awkward. I mean not the most awkward thing Cooper has done to me.”

My mind wanders back to the one rule I broke last night.

“Damn, Anthony. Your penis is beautiful.”

“Don’t,” I warn Joey as he strokes a rough hand down the length of me. “Never call a man’s dick beautiful. Don’t even call it a penis. It emasculates him.”

He should know this.

With his mouth against my chin, he whispers, “what should I call him?”

I’m damn near left speechless by the coolness of his hands on my heated skin.

“Thick, girthy, huge, even handsome.” I groan when he applies more pressure to his grip. “Just never—”

I can’t even finish my sentence when he swipes his thumb through the pre-ejaculate leaking from the tip and massages it into that glorious spot just under the head.

When I come back to my senses, chastising myself for zoning out for the millionth time today, I see Dave with his chili bowl tilted up, slurping echoing around us as he sucks down the last vestiges of his lunch.

“You sure about the fishing trip?” He asks one last time as we throw our trash away. “I know Jon was looking forward to having an even number for horseshoes.”

“Definitely next year,” I say just to appease him. After Jon finds out what I’ve been doing with his brother, I imagine there won’t be an invite for me next year. “I just can’t swing it this time around.”

“So long as you make room for the cruise next week.” He claps me on the back before pointing down the long corridor. “I’m gonna hit the head before going back to the office.”

I suspect he has no plans on walking back through the doors of GMQ for the next week.

Cell phone chiming a text as I climb into the elevator, I press the button for my floor and pull it from my pocket.

Jon: Dave says you can’t make the trip this weekend.

Me: Sorry, man. I’ve signed up to work some extra hours this weekend.

I should’ve expected Dave to send Jon after me when he couldn’t get me to waver on my weekend plans.

Jon: No worries. Since you’ll be in town, can you check in on Joey and Andi once or twice?

“Fuck no,” I grumble drawing the attention of the three businessmen on the other side of the elevator. I hold my phone up, back still facing them. “A friend favors the Twins over the Red Sox.”

All three cringe and mumble their descent as I stare down at the request. Joey is more than capable of keeping Andi safe. I have a gut feeling that Jon wants me to keep an eye on Andi specifically, and I don’t know how I feel about being a pawn in this damn back and forth they’ve got going on.

“Is this your floor?” One of the guys asks, catching my attention since I’m hyper-focused on my phone and trying to come up with a way to refuse going to Jon’s house while he’s hours away and his fuckable brother is home alone.

“Thanks,” I murmur as I climb off of the elevator.

“Come back to my room. I bet I can make you feel even better.” I squeeze my eyes against the offer Joey made last night even though we were both spent from our mutual orgasms.

Me: There’s no fucking way I can manage that.

Delete.

Me: If I fuck him while I’m there, promise you won’t be mad?

Delete.

Me: Sure thing.

Jon: Thanks, man. You’re the best.

I sure as fuck hope he remembers that sentiment when all of this shit with Joey comes to blows because resisting him while standing in his doorway, while he’s alone, will be damn near impossible.

With another groan, I weave my way through the drafting tables to my area in the center of the room. Maybe texting him tomorrow instead of showing up at his house would be best, but then I realize I still don’t have Joey’s phone number.

Doing my best to focus on work, I try to keep my mind off of last night, but my subconscious and my dick have alternate plans for me. The tingling sensations I woke up with this morning reawakens when my mind changes from remembering last night, to picturing what Joey and I could do with unlimited time and no chance of an audience.

I should’ve called in sick the last half of today, because not a damn thing gets done at my drafting table after lunch. I’m frustrated, annoyed, and certain I’ll have a permanent impression of my zipper along the length of my cock from an erection lasting so long at my thoughts I almost call an ambulance, fearful of circulation issues.

I conclude by quitting time that resisting him is pointless. We’ve kept things quiet this long. Maybe hooking up in secret is something he’d be down for. It’s not like he’s running to tell his brother what’s been going on. I’m not usually one for deception, but if I can’t work or function normally without sleeping with him, there’s only one way to remedy those problems.