Pinned their hands over their head and long-stroked them as he stared into their eyes and remembered the sounds Hank made when he came while rubbing one out over computer porn.
A sound that had tripped him over the edge, because he hadn’t been paying attention to the porn.
He’d always sit so he was watching Hank without him seeing him do it. Watching how Hank had stroked his cock, how he’d focused on the head, different than how Maddox stroked his own cock.
He’d never touched or tasted the man’s cock, but he’d memorized every tiniest detail he could, under the circumstances.
God, I miss him.
It was only five thirty, so he couldn’t text him yet. For starters, it was too damn early.
Secondly, it’d make him look needy and desperate.
Which, okay, hewas, but that was beside the point. That was his own cross to bear, not something he would put onto Hank.
The guy had a beautiful little girl who looked so much like him it drove a painful stake through Maddox’s heart.
I wish I’d been there for her birth.
To congratulate his friend, at least.
To maybe be Uncle Dox to her, proud to love his guy and his guy’s daughter from afar while trying his damned best to be civil to the mother of his guy’s child.
Which was another odd thing…
Hank didn’t list a partner on his profile. He had his relationship status listed as single, and he didn’t have any pictures of a woman on there, either. No mention in any of his few postings of a wife or girlfriend or baby momma.
Weird.
Maybe she had a sensitive job or something.
Or maybe he’s…divorced?
Did he dare hope for that, even though it probably made him a shitty person to hope that?
He let out a sigh and finished what he needed to do. He wanted to hit the gym before work this morning. Another method he’d used countless times over the years to distract himself, by working out. Dumping his frustration and loneliness and previously unnamed pain into machine reps, and miles on a treadmill or recumbent bike, or curls with weights.
He wasn’t exactly a gym rat, but he wasn’t in bad shape.
It was sort of his hobby now because he hadn’t had a romantic life since returning to Sarasota.
Hell, he’d sort of hoped to maybe meet someone at the gym—man or woman—but even in that respect he’d bombed.
Maybe Ishouldstart going to the dungeon on a regular basis.
Vanilla dating didn’t do it for him. Kelly hadn’t been as kinky as he’d wished, but he’d never force someone to do something they didn’t want to do. That held zero interest for him. She’d been into rope and a little playful slap and tickle, wearing a collar for play and made to kneel to give blow jobs, but she damn sure wasn’t a masochist, much less what he’d really consider a submissive.
His ego also still stung from the breach of his trust. That he’d been so thoroughly taken in by her he’d honestly had no clue she’d been stepping out on him.
At least the guy she’d cheated on him with had dumped her fucking ass. He’d felt a little satisfaction about that factoid.
Serves her right. Goddamned ho.
He’d be far more careful next time. But when he was in a relationship, he gave total trust and expected it in return. He never even considered cheating on her. It just wouldn’t happen. He never had a problem with her going out with friends without him, either, because he expected she’d be faithful.
Until it turned out she wasn’t.
He still wasn’t sure how to deal with that. No, it wasn’t his “fault” but he wondered what he’d missed, at the time.
