Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Uncle Damon stares at me. “Is it Torey?”
I take out my phone, and there in my notifications is a photo of Prescott and Kit shirtless and smiling at the camera with the text message underneath it saying, What should we get up to while you’re not here? Have time for a video call?
Fuck. It’s been a little over six months since we met up in Florida, but it feels like three years. I’m ready to see them again. In person. This is so not fair.
As quickly as I can, I hide the screen from my uncle, but I’m not fast enough. He at least sees the pic because he says, “Who are the guys in the photo?”
Here would be a good time to come up with a lie, but all I can think to say as I put my phone back in my pocket is, “Porn alert. My favorite couple posted a new video.”
Because telling your uncle you watch porn isn’t as embarrassing as saying, “The guys who love to rail me any chance they get.”
Which in the past six months has been zero times. I’ve been begging them for the past three, at least, but their schedules never aligned, and the one time we might have been able to manage it, I had exams.
Prescott suggested Kit and I catch up to, in his words, “Scratch Brady’s itch,” but apparently, people who work for the Pentagon can’t just disappear to have a fuckfest.
Kit was apologetic and called National Security stupid.
I had to agree. How dare the government want to protect us all.
But now they’re together, and I’m not there. Does it hurt? A little, but only because of FOMO, not because I’m jealous. And a part of me is even happy that if I’m not getting it from them, at least they can be together.
“That’s an overshare,” Uncle Damon says. “I don’t need to know what you’re into. To me, you’re still six years old and running around with Peyton and daydreaming about being in the NFL together.”
“Ah, six-year-old me had no idea how much he’d grow up to resent football.” My phone tries to burn a hole in my leg. I want to reply. I want to video call. But I can’t. Not here.
“Do you really resent it?” Uncle Damon asks. “Would you rather not represent football players?”
“No, I love football, you know I do, but I resented the pressure of living in my dads’ shadows. I like being behind the scenes. I like being invisible.”
“Except when I ask you to be?” Uncle Damon asks, and I laugh.
“Something like that.”
“I’m going to hit the restroom. Don’t burn down anything while I’m gone.” He walks away, but I call after him.
“I haven’t set a fire since I was six. You have to realize I’m grown-up now.”
He shakes his head but keeps walking, and the minute he’s out of sight, I pull out my phone and text:
I hate you guys. I’m at work and can’t video call. Please, please, please send me photos though. Make them hot.
And for the rest of the day, every time my phone vibrates, I don’t dare take it out of my pocket.
I’ll save that for when I’m home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
kit
He’s all over me. His hands, his mouth. I’m lost somewhere in a world between euphoria and heartache. Because this is the first time Prescott and I have ever been with each other. Alone.
It’s better and worse than I ever thought it would be.
He’s on his back, splayed out for me while I move inside him, and even though he’s got his phone in his hand, taking photos of my cock inside his tight hole, I don’t care. Because for some reason, and completely unexpectedly, I’m excited to include Brady in on this.
It’s hard to believe Prescott and I had never fooled around solo before, but it makes sense. Before, we had to find loopholes to fuck because of our positions at work, but now that’s not a factor. We don’t have that restriction anymore.
All Prescott has to do is breathe in my vicinity, and I drown in my feelings for him. No matter how long goes by between seeing Prescott, no matter how many first dates I have in Virginia without wanting a second, nothing can break this hold he has over me. Except for maybe Brady. I thought if this ever happened—if I had the opening to be with Prescott and only Prescott, the only thing I’d be able to focus on is him, but Brady’s at the forefront of my mind.
I might have made the excuse to call him so I’d have a reason to pounce on Prescott, but when he said he was unavailable, I was genuinely disappointed. Just like the one time he tried to catch up with me and I was too busy with work.