Page 25 of Egg Me On
It was good, so good, but I wanted to show him everything gay sex could be, wanted to straddle his hips and grind my cock against his until we came together. Wanted to suck him so good he’d never get a blow job without thinking of me. But if this was all he wanted, I’d take it, because it was so damn sexy to have his big cock inside me.
My orgasm hit like a thunderclap, pleasure spiking through my body in waves that had me crying out, not caring who might hear. My cum painted the shower wall in thick streaks as Cash continued to fuck into me relentlessly, his rhythm faltering as my body clenched around him.
"Aiden," he groaned, the sound of my name on his lips sending a final aftershock through me. His hips stuttered, pressing deep as he came, his chin dropping to rest on the back of my head.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, joined and panting, the shower's spray washing over us. Then, with surprising gentleness, Cash eased out of me, turning me to face him. He removed the condom, tying it off and setting it aside before reaching for the soap again.
With the same careful attention he'd shown earlier, he washed me clean, paying special attention to the sensitive areas between my legs, his touch clinical yet somehow deeply intimate. Therewas something almost reverent in the way his hands moved over my body, a tenderness that contradicted the morning's distance.
When he finished, he pressed a quick, almost shy kiss to my shoulder before turning to wash himself. I wondered if he wanted me to touch him the way he had touched me, to skim my hands over the hard planes of muscle that made up his body and massage the soreness out.
Now that the heat of the moment was gone, I was too afraid to do much of anything, so I watched, water dripping from my lashes, wondering how a man could fuck me with such passion and then retreat behind walls so quickly. Wondering what any of this meant to him. Wondering if I was just a weekend experiment or something more.
But as Cash methodically washed himself, his expression unreadable once more, I realized I didn't have the courage to ask. Because what if he gave me the wrong answer? What if this was all he had to give?
Chapter 10
Aiden
I should have beenthrilled to be back home in my own bed, but I hadn't slept. Not really. Just tossed in sweat-damp sheets, replaying every touch, every kiss, every moment Cash's body had pressed against mine in the darkness of our tent. Three days of hot sex, riding motorcycles, and cooking food for his friends. And not much else. Certainly no talking.
No whispered confessions in the dark about how I made him feel, about how much he wanted me to be his.
I was so damn confused by the strangely possessive silent act he’d been giving me.
The ride home had been as beautiful as the ride up, but he’d been stiffer. Marcus had teased us, called us boyfriends, and maybe that was why. Maybe he didn’t want to be my boyfriend.
Cash hadn’t said anything as he’d dropped me off, either. He'd revved his engine and disappeared down my street without looking back.
I’d kind of expected that he wanted to crawl into my bed and fuck me again. Why hadn’t I asked? Maybe he would have if I’d asked.
Around 4am, I gave up on sleep entirely, showered away the phantom scent of his skin, and made coffee strong enough to burn through the hollow ache in my chest.
And I got ready early, determined to drive myself to work. I was on the road before six, dropping by a store to pick up some supplies before heading to Front Range Motorcycle Collective. The road was empty this early, and I missed arriving on his bike.
I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, forcing myself to loosen my death grip before I snapped the fucking wheel off.
"Just another day," I muttered to myself, the words ringing false even to my own ears. "Nothing happened."
But everything had happened. Cash's hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he pushed inside me. His voice, rough with desire, whispering filthy promises against my neck. The surprising tenderness of his fingers washing my body in the shower.
Then nothing. Radio silence. Not even a text checking if I'd had a good night’s sleep. Or if I wanted a ride to work today.
I waited for at least two minutes before I checked my phone again, disappointed to see that the screen was still blank, with no new notifications. Should I text him? Maybe he was waiting for me to beg him to come over and drill me hard. My sweaty palm left a smudge on the glass as I tossed it onto the passenger seat. Pathetic. I was twenty-six years old and pining like a goddamn teenager over a weekend hookup.
The parking lot at FRMC was deserted when I pulled in, my headlights sweeping across the empty asphalt. The morning breakfast rush didn’t usually hit until around eight, and I had more time than usual to prep.
I told myself it was because I needed to catch up after the campout, but if I was being honest with myself, I’d have admitted that it was because I was afraid Cash wasn’t going to show up to give me a ride on his motorcycle.
Afraid that his absence would crush me.
So I drove my own car. He’d fixed it, after all… and the engine had never run smoother.
The food truck sat in its usual spot, a familiar beacon in the dim morning light. I grabbed my prep list, supply bag, and phone, fumbling with the door handle before practically falling out of the car in my haste. The morning air bit through my thin jacket, raising goosebumps along my arms that had nothing to do with the temperature.
My hands shook as I unlocked the food truck, the key scratching against the metal before finding its mark. Inside, the familiar space calmed me slightly. There was the grill, the compact prep area, and all the other equipment I'd spent years saving for. This, at least, was within my control.
I started unpacking supplies, the routine movements soothing my frayed nerves. Until I dropped a carton of farm-fresh eggs, watching in horror as they splattered across the floor in an explosion of yellow and translucent white.
