Page 145 of Elite Connections: an LGBTQ Romance Charity Anthology

I putmy phone down and take a deep breath.

My cock is hard and throbbing. I’ve been so touch-starved that even a fake sexting chain has me bursting at the seams.

Or maybe it’s Milo.

Sweet, gorgeous Milo, with his greedy smile and honest questions, who’s not afraid to say as it is. If it is, then that’s a whole other danger zone.

Falling for the guy I’m paying to be my fake boyfriend is bound to be a catastrophe.

Maybe it’s still a little too soon to tell if I’m falling for him. Lusting.

Lusting after him is going to end in disaster. Right?

Then again…

He’s an escort. That’s his job. To make others lust after him. To take that lust and turn it into pleasure.

My cock bounces in my pants, desperate to be freed, and you know what? I let it out.

What’s wrong with succumbing to my desires for a change? I’m not hurting anyone. If anything, it’d be an insult to Milo’s beauty to let my boner go to waste.

Huh.

I bet he’d like that.

I grab my phone and resist the temptation to snap a picture of my cock. I type a text message instead.

Keaton: To beat off or to not beat off…

Keaton: That is the question.

I let my phone fall, screen down, on my chest, and I wrap my hand around my length, choking down a moan.

My phone vibrates.

Milo: OMG. Is that even a question? To beat off, of course. Always to beat off.

I smile.

Why did I know this would be his reaction?

Keaton: So you wouldn’t mind if I beat off after our exchange on Cinderfella?

I can already imagine him smirking at me or bumping his shoulder to mine like he did when we were walking around Little Italy.

Milo: Mind? It’d be an honor.

Milo: You kinda left me hanging too, so guess what I’m doing?

My cock pulses, filling my fist even tighter, and I take another deep breath, trying to get my pooling desire under control.

Keaton: Really?

Keaton: Care to share?

I know I was just a tease with him, but that was on Cinderfella, where I casually share conversations on my social media for everyone to see.

I still don’t know if I’ll post our last chat though. It would make my followers nuts, for sure, but…it crosses a boundary I’m not sure I want to cross just yet.

This, however, texting him outside the app, feels like we’re all alone and no one is watching. And you know, since I’m paying such a generous price for him, I might as well get my money’s worth, right?

He said it himself.

He’s mine for a year.

My phone buzzes, and when I look at the screen, it’s filled with a long, veiny cock with a pink crown and a bubble of precum forming at the slit. Milo’s delicate hands are wrapped around the bushy base.

Hm…

I would have bet money he was hairless down there.

Milo: Look what you caused.

I swallow the knot in my throat and palm my own erection a few times before I reciprocate.

Keaton: We’ll suffer together.

Milo: Fuck! You’re big.

I don’t know why I’m surprised by his response—I know I’m big—but I am, and if anything, it makes me hungrier for release.

As if it means more now that he’s seen me and approves.

Keaton: You like what you see?

I don’t wait for his response. I stroke myself, slow at first, then faster.

Milo: Like? I can’t wait to take it for a ride.

Fuck!

My groan fills the room and the buzz it generates only urges me to continue with renewed vigor.

I was stupid to let him go. I should have gone up to his apartment. I should have taken his offer for a “nightcap.” If I had, I’d be with him right now, and he could be taking care of me instead of having to do it myself.

I could be looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes while feeding him my throbbing cock and watching him as he choked on it. Watching as his cheeks turn red as he attempts to take me to the root.

Keaton: I can’t wait to fuck you too!

As soon as I send it, my chest inflates and the rest of my body stills. I keep pumping my fist, though, and embrace the heat rising between my legs. It blasts out of me, painting my skin with my release.

Keaton: Wish you were here to lap it up.

I take a picture of the mess I’ve made. My pubes are also drenched in my cum.

When was the last time I came?

Fuck!

I try to get my breathing under control when his response arrives.

Milo: Oh, I’m gonna suck you clean. Until then…

His message is followed by a picture of a similar mess on his end.

Keaton: Damn.

I lie still, watching my phone—even though I can feel my cum trickling down my body and onto my sheets—and trying to get my bearings.

God.

I really needed that. There’s just something about jerking off when there’s someone else involved, even virtually, that solo sessions don’t quite fulfill.

Milo: You can say that again.

The longer I lie here, the more awake I feel until I realize what I’ve just done.

Keaton: Are we terrible people?

Milo: Why?

Keaton: Because of what we just did. Or, I should specify, am I a terrible person?

Milo: For enjoying your body and its needs?

Keaton: I feel sleazy. I’m paying you…

Milo: Exactly. You have my full consent for what just happened. So…

Milo: Shut up, get cleaned, and go to sleep.

How does he know I haven’t cleaned up yet? Is he lying in his bed, same as me, trying to come to grips with his orgasm?

Nah. I’m sure he isn’t.

He’s not pathetic like me.

Milo: Or you can get your ass over here, and we can have a real-life repeat.

My cock jerks at the idea, but I’m too old and too wiped to get hard again as much as I’d want to.

So I take Milo’s first suggestion while I contemplate his second one.

Should I go to him?

My cock makes another attempt to answer me, but I stare it down and return to bed.

My body clearly wants to go to him, but…

I’m paying this guy. I’m paying him to be my companion for the next year. How do I know he hasn’t just gone along with my delirious texting because it’s his job?

How do I know his pictures aren’t shots from his bank of sexy photos to share with his clients? How do I know he really means it?

Keaton: I should probably get some sleep.

Milo: Okay. But the offer is there whenever you need it.

Keaton: Thanks.

Keaton: Night.

Milo: Goodnight, Kit.

I lock my phone and rest it on the wireless charging port built into the bedside table before closing my eyes.

Kit.

He called me Kit. That’s the name he uses on Cinderfella. I’m right. I’m just a job for him. Of course I am.

I go to sleep convinced that I’ve made the right decision. I can’t lead with my dick. I need to use my head. Especially when I’m going to be stuck with him for the next year.

The last thing I need is to fall for my escort.