Three Page 2

  Calling him out on the fiction that he’d forgotten—something he’s insisted ever since he cut Santi out of his life—isn’t where I want to take the conversation, though.

  Matt takes a sip of his beer, raising an eyebrow at me. “You thought I didn’t what?”

  “Uh,” I say, scrambling for something to cover my tracks with. “Thought you didn’t… didn’t like, um, you know…”

  I make a vague gesture at the TV screen, mind coming up blank.

  Matty laughs, taking a seat in the recliner next to the couch. “You thought I didn’t like porn? Hate to break it to you, bro, but I do occasionally indulge.”

  I gasp, making sure to exaggerate it and get him laughing. “Mateo Alejandro Lopez,” I say, widening my eyes and putting a hand over my chest. “I’m shocked.”

  “My full name?” he says dryly, lips twitching. “We’re going there… Eugene?”

  I narrow my eyes, but no denying I brought that one on myself. “It’s Johnny to you,” I retort, trying to make my voice sound threatening.

  Matt just laughs. “Just be thankful your last name wasn’t something like Wierzbicki instead of Johnson.”

  I snort, but he’s right. We’d gone to school with a kid named Jason Wierzbicki. Jason’s a perfectly fine first name, right? But he was forever “Wierzbicki the Hickey.”

  I’m fine with being Eugene “Johnny” Johnson, when you put it in perspective like that.

  My parents had thought it would be cute to name their kids in alphabetical order, but they’d also figured that they’d stop at four. I’d been their “oops” baby, and I always figured they’d just stuck me with Eugene to punish me for making them deal with diapers nine years after they’d thought they were done with that part of parenting.

  Of course, as soon as I’d gotten out of those diapers, they really had been done for all intents and purposes. Not to say they didn’t love me, I guess, but they’d been constantly busy with my teenage siblings’ busy lives and I’d basically fended for myself until I met Matt. I’d never been sure if my parents had really been okay with me spending all my waking hours at the Lopez house, or if they’d just been too busy to notice that I was never around.

  Either way, no complaints from me. I’d been perfectly happy to claim Matty’s family as my own.

  Matt yawns again, still watching the screen, then sets his beer down and lets his hand drift down to rest over his cock. I jerk my eyes away, which just makes them land on the porn I’d sort of forgotten about for a minute. The woman’s nightgown has mysteriously gotten torn while I wasn’t paying attention, revealing most of her tits and what looks like a pretty tiny, incredibly sexy G-string. I spread my legs a little wider, needing the room as my body starts to respond.

  She says something else I don’t catch, then reaches down to pull the plumber’s cock out of his pants. It’s uncircumcised, just like I happen to know Matt’s is, and I scrub a hand over my face, really wishing my exhaustion would hurry up and kick in right about now and kill all this excess… energy.

  I cut my eyes over toward Matty. He’s got his head cocked to the side as he looks at the screen, hand still in his lap. After a minute, he laughs. “You think that’s real?” he asks.

  I snort, grinning. “It’s porn, bro, so I’m gonna go with no.” Then, in a high falsetto and really bad Spanish accent, I add, “You ask for a pipe wrench, no? Is this the tool you wanted, señor?”

  Matt gives me a mock-pitying look, even though I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

  “I know you know that’s not what I meant,” he says as the hot moaning and dirty words I can’t follow start to escalate in volume. He waves a hand back at the screen. “I’m just saying, look at that guy’s cock. There’s big, but that’s… that’s just obscene, amirite? What would you even do with a cock that big?”

  I blink, my brain sort of shutting down the minute Matt admits he’s looking at the guy’s cock… or maybe it’s shutting down because just the fact that he’d wonder something like that has got all my blood flowing south.

  What would you even do with a cock that big?

  I mean, of course I know he’s not actually wondering about it, but… what would I do with a cock that big? Well, I could think of a few things, actually. My cock starts to leak a little precum, making a wet spot on the front of my boxers, and I jerk my eyes back to the screen, covering my lap with a bright blue throw pillow to preserve a little dignity.

  Although okay, Matty’s right. Now that I’m really looking? There’s big… and then there’s run-the-other-way. Some things are definitely best left to fantasy.

  “He’s a… a freak of nature,” I say belatedly, clearing my throat.

  Matt laughs, but I hear a hitch in his breath that doesn’t help with what the pillow is covering. I mean, I know he’s gotta just be getting turned on by the idea of fucking the girl, but hearing his tells while talking about cock doesn’t help my problem.

  “She doesn’t seem to mind,” Matt says after a minute, and the telltale tone in his voice has me biting back another groan.

  “You sure about that?” I crack, trying to tone things down a little. “I’m not really following the storyline, buddy. She could be asking him to pack it away along with the rest of his tools.”

  Matty laughs like I hoped he would, eyes still glued to the screen when I glance over. I let my eyes dart down to his lap since he’s otherwise occupied, and yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh, he’s into this, isn’t he?

  “Has your Spanish really gotten that bad?” he jokes, like he’s suddenly too distracted to pretend he doesn’t understand it perfectly well himself. His hand is starting to flex and relax as it rests over his cock, so I can’t blame him for sounding distracted.

  And okay, the expression on the woman’s face is obviously pretty damn appreciative as she strokes the plumber’s monster cock reverently. It’s actually hot as fuck, but I only watch for another few seconds before I sneak another look over at Matty. I grin. Oh, he’s definitely distracted. He doesn’t have a throw pillow on hand, either. His eyes are stuck on the screen, one hand lazily moving over the words imprinted on top of what is now a truly impressive erection.

  I snicker. I can’t help it.

  “Feeling lucky?” I ask when he looks over, forgetting to worry about getting caught looking.

  Matt glances down at his dick encased in the green “Rub for Luck” underwear, then laughs as he gets my joke. “I’m too tired to take this to my room,” he says with an easy grin. Then he winks. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me get off before, but I mean, if you’re ready to head to bed, I’m pretty sure I can hold down the fort out here on my own.”

  Oh fucking God, I am one hundred percent thinking with my dick right now, because I stopped hearing anything after the ready to head to bed line.

  I so want to take it in a way he’ll never in a million years mean it.

  I rein myself in. It’s great that Matty’s not self-conscious. Why should he be? Did I mention those hotel rooms we’ve shared? Not to mention that ridiculously hot threesome with Cindy-from-New-Hampshire. Yeah, I’ve seen him get off before… and thank God he’ll never know how hot I find it. It definitely hadn’t been just the girls who were doing it for me.

  Although hell yeah, they did, too… which is what I need to concentrate on right now. The woman onscreen wraps her lips around that ridiculous foot-long cock, sinking slowly down the shaft, and I push thoughts of Matt aside and focus on that.

  “Pretty sure my Spanish is up to this,” I say, nudging the pillow off my lap and grinding the heel of my hand down against my cock as I watch her deep-throat the guy. It’s unreal, and hot as fuck.

  I hear Matt starting to breathe a little harder, and after a minute, he says, “That’s not Spanish, bro. We call that the universal language.”

  We both laugh, but it quickly fades away into thick silence as we watch her slide up and down the plumber’s shaft, pausing for only brief moments to wrap her fingers around and stroke him
.

  I shift in my seat, pushing my hips up so I can get a little more friction where I need it. The truth is, the woman onscreen is sexy as hell. Whether or not Matt and I head where I think we are—both taking care of our business right here and now—I can definitely get into this.

  She’s lost her nightgown and that little lace thong is getting me even hotter. The way she’s bending over the guy as she goes down on him gives him easy access to grab a double-handful of her lush breasts, and man, they truly are works of art.

  I groan, my cock starting to throb to the rhythm of the panting and moaning and wet, slurping sound of suction. The slick head of my dick pushes up out of the top of my boxers, and I can’t resist—I go from trying to be discreet and just pressing my hand against it to full-out stroking myself.

  The woman onscreen pops off the monster cock and says something that I can’t translate even a little bit.

  “She says it’s a tip for good work,” Matt translates, and I can hear more than a hint of huskiness rising in his voice.

  I flick my eyes over to peek at him. He has his beer in one hand, but his other hand is just as busy as mine.

  He catches me looking.

  “You… uh, you want me to get out of here?” I blurt, a sense of self-preservation suddenly kicking in.

  When we’d been younger, I’d always assumed Matt would be fine with me being bi since he’s generally pretty easygoing about everything, but the way he’d freaked when Santi had come out as gay? No matter how hard my dick is right now, nothing is worth Matt cutting me out of his life like he’s done with his dad.

  Matt doesn’t seem worried about catching me looking, though. He just grins and asks, “You suddenly feeling shy or something, Johnny?” He looks back to the screen and settles into his recliner further. “Because you can go if you want, but I’m thinking this is going to be the only way you’re going to unwind enough to let me get any sleep, yeah?”

  “Definitely,” I manage, my tongue feeling thick in my mouth.

  He wants me to stay.

  No, he doesn’t mind if I stay… those are two totally different things.

  There’s another long minute or two of heavy, electric silence while we watch the woman finish her blow job and slip her panties off, and when she finally lowers herself onto the guy’s cock—moaning like it’s the second coming—I hear Matt inhale sharply as that monster cock on the screen slowly disappears deep inside of her.

  I groan, squeezing my dick hard as it throbs in my hand. It really has been too damn long since I’ve gotten laid.

  “Look,” Matt finally says, the husky timbre of his voice making my cock jerk in response. “If you’re not… not into this, Johnny, no worries. I can be the one to take it into my room, but—”

  “No,” I cut him off. “I’m good, bro. Let’s just… just get this done.”

  “Right,” he says, his laugh stuttering out and then—

  Oh fucking God, I hear the slick sound of him stroking bare flesh. Slow… and then a little faster. His breath picks up and so does mine, mingling with the heavy moaning from the couple onscreen and covering up that distinct sound that can’t be mistaken for anything but what it is—hands moving faster and faster over hard cocks.

  I rub my thumb over my slit, smearing the precum around the sensitive head, then use it to lubricate the shaft as I thrust into my fist.

  Slow.

  Then faster.

  Matching Matty’s rhythm as I start to pant with the rising tide. I’m careful not to look directly over at him as I blank out my mind and just enjoy the sensation. Not gonna lie, the hard fucking onscreen would be enough to get me there—it’s hot—but knowing Matt’s right here with me?

  Everything is heightened.

  “Fuck,” Matt grunts softly. “That’s… that’s fucking hot. Damn, but I love it when a girl rides me.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, rubbing my free hand over my chest and sinking further into the moment.

  The plumber’s hands are roaming all over the woman’s curvy body. He cups her breasts… strokes her taut stomach… reaches around to squeeze her ass and rock her forward, taking charge even though she’s on top. It’s definitely hot enough to get my mind off where I can’t let it go. It really has been too long since I’ve had any action, and combined with the adrenaline from earlier, I’m already close.

  I let my eyelids start to drift down, pushing up into my hand and grazing my nails over my nipples as I get lost in the onscreen action. I’d love to get my mouth on those big tits of hers. Love to feel how tightly her body would squeeze my cock if it were me she was riding. Love to have my hands filled with that lush ass… my cock coated in her slick juices… have all those dirty, exotic-sounding words rain down around me as I drive up into her soft body, again and again and—

  “Fuck,” I gasp, my body jackknifing forward a little as my balls suddenly tighten.

  “Yeah,” Matt gasps. “Me, too. Fuck yeah.”

  I groan, almost losing it. Shit shit shit. I’m not looking, but now Matty’s back on my mind, and I’m still imagining the woman on-screen riding me… but now I’m imagining Matty walking in on us, too.

  I’m imagining his hands on her tits.

  I’m imagining watching as he positions himself behind her… nibbles at her neck… strokes her clit while I fuck her faster and faster.

  He’s sharing her with me, the way we did with that little firecracker of a redhead back in New Hampshire when we were kids, and even though I can’t see his cock, I can feel it—thick and hard and slick—as Matt lines up behind her.

  Rubbing.

  Thrusting.

  Accidentally bumping that gorgeous cock into me, too—

  I hiss, heat shooting down my spine like a bolt of lightning, and I cut myself off right there. No way am I going to let myself imagine more.

  I don’t have to.

  Matty groans next to me—long and low and so fucking sexy that the sound alone would have made me lose it, even if I hadn’t already been right there—and I throw my head back as the orgasm rips through me. I come hard, shooting onto my chest over and over, until I finally am worn out.

  “Holy shit,” I manage after a few, loosening my grip as a languid warmth starts to fill me and all that restless energy I live with 24/7 dissipates with the afterglow.

  “Good one, yeah?” Matt asks with a sleepy laugh.

  “Yeah,” I murmur, since that’s both true and safe enough, I figure.

  I see him get up out of my peripheral vision, but I don’t look over. The glimpses I caught while we were in the thick of it were one thing, but I’ve got no excuse now.

  “‘Night, Johnny,” he says, the words all but lost in the sound of another yawn.

  He sounds totally normal, and why wouldn’t he be? I’m the only one who turned it into something more than just two guys blowing off steam after a long day.

  Thank fuck it was only in the privacy of my own mind.

  “’Night, bro,” I say as he leaves the room.

  I groan quietly when I finally hear his bedroom door close a minute later, promising myself for sure that I’ll get laid at the very next possible opportunity.

  And that I’ll quit wanting what I’ll never have, once and for all.

  2

  Eden

  My foot lands in some spilled flour as I cross the kitchen, and I almost drop Auntie Maria as I flail about and try to avoid landing on my ass.

  “Shit,” I say, fumbling the clear drinking glass in my hand as I regain my balance. I manage to catch it, but drop my bucket list instead.

  So much for multitasking.

  “What happened, honey?” Maria asks, her voice sounding weirdly amplified as it comes out of my phone’s tiny speaker and bounces around inside the drinking glass. Since I’d already been halfway through making dinner when she’d called, I’d set the phone inside it so we could video chat while I cook.

  Or while I try to cook, anyway.

  Try to cook… again. />
  I stifle a sigh, shaking my head ruefully as I survey the disaster formerly known as my kitchen. I still have a few months to master this whole cooking thing, so no matter how bad things look at the moment, I remind myself that I’m not ready to give up on it.

  “Eden?” Maria says, pulling my attention back to her. “Have you burned the place down yet?”

  I raise the glass up so we’re eye-to-eye, so to speak, and grin at her. “Don’t be silly, Auntie,” I say. “Everything’s under control.”

  “Oh, is that what ‘shit’ means out there in Boston?” she teases, not letting me off the hook.

  I laugh. “No, shit means that someone spilled flour on my floor, and I swear, that stuff is more slippery than grease! Who knew?”

  “Not me,” Maria says, holding up her hands like she’s warding off cooties. “I still don’t know why you didn’t just buy pancake mix if you were going to insist on making breakfast for dinner instead of just ordering take-out like a normal person.”

  “Learning to cook is on The List,” I remind her, bending down to retrieve my fallen bucket-list notebook from the floor and then setting both it and Auntie Maria in her glass down on the counter next to the mixing bowl I’d been using.

  I turn back to take stock of the situation, biting my lip nervously.

  The situation is… a mess.

  I sigh, then straighten my shoulders. I can do this. I can.

  “You know, I’d be excited if I actually thought you did have someone there spilling flour on your floor on a Saturday night.” Maria’s voice sounds from behind me as I grab the broom and dustpan and make quick work of removing the latest safety hazard unleashed by my ongoing efforts to learn to cook. “Especially if that someone happened to be hot as sin, treated you like a queen, and had a huge—”

  “Okay, okay,” I cut her off, laughing as I sweep up the last of the flour. “Don’t make me pine for a guy that doesn’t exist.”

  “I’m sure he does exist,” Maria said. “And if you ask me, you should be out there finding him right now, preferably wearing a push-up bra and with a couple of condoms in your purse.”