Page 11 of Just the tip

Maybe it was for the best, though.

Sweeping up my shoes from the floor, I slipped from his room and crept back to my own. The second I dove beneath my sheets, pants off, I grabbed my cock and stroked it hard and fast, eyes closed, chasing the sensation of Graham’s body moving against mine, those little pulses of his hips, and the warmth of his thighs and ass, until I coated my hand in jizz and collapsed into sleep again.

I wokeup suddenly from a weird-ass dream where Ophelia and Graham were standing across a field staring at me and laughing. I yanked the pillow from beneath my head, tossed it aside, and stared up at the ceiling. Last night I’d driven my drunk stepbrother home and almost busted a load on his ass. No, I basicallyhad. While he was asleep. Presumably.

Shame prickled up my spine and heated my cheeks and the back of my neck. What the hell had I been thinking? And what was more…what would happen now? Would Graham remember any of it? Shit,hadhe been aware of it? That part was still contentious, and my lust-addled brain hadn’t cared either way at the time. But now…fuck.Fuckshitdamn. Yet…even with that shame sandwich staring me in the face, a tiny part of me had to admit it’d been one of the hottest moments in my life. Not that it was ever going to happen again. No fucking way. And now I had to figure out how to look Graham in the face without being weird or awkward.

I growled a noise of frustration and kicked the covers off my legs. Might as well get it over with. After pulling on some pajama pants, I headed downstairs, both relief and disappointment flooding through me when I wandered into the kitchen and he wasn’t sitting there at the table shoveling cereal in his mouth—his very sexy mouth. Instead, my stepmom was cleaning out the fridge.

She cast a glance over her shoulder and smiled at me. “Heard you boys had fun at the party. Do I need to find another Gatorade for you? Graham might’ve taken the last one.”

I waved her off. “Nah, I’ll manage.”

“You look in better shape than he did.” She extended a bottled water in my direction, which I took, pressing the deliciously cold side to my burning cheek. “That was nice of you to bring him home. I’m glad to see the two of you getting along again.”

“He…yeah.” I raked a hand through my hair and then twisted the cap off the bottle. “Did he go somewhere already this morning?” That sounded eager, way too eager. I forced a smile, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“I think he’s around here somewhere. Maybe already back in the bed. Said he didn’t sleep well last night.”

The chill of the water flooded my entire body. “He did?”

She chuckled lightly. “I had the same reaction. Could smell the booze in the hallway this morning. I’m not sure how he’d know whether he slept one hour or ten. Here.” She shut the fridge and pressed a banana into my hand. “Potassium. It’s good for you.”

I peeled the banana and took it and the water with me upstairs in a daze. The door to Graham’s room had been open when I originally passed, so I’d just assumed he wasn’t in there because he usually only shut it when he was home. I’d climbed the stairs and passed it by a thousand fucking times, but this time, butterfly wings battered my insides as I reached the top step. I paused and closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then stepped into his doorway.

Graham sat at his desk with his back to me, still bare, and the blood rushed from my head south. He didn’t move at first, though I was certain he had to know I was there.

I shifted my weight, and just when I thought about backing out silently, he angled a look over his shoulder and met my gaze with an expression I couldn’t read. Was it accusing or conspiratorial?

“Sleep okay?” I asked. Then, like an idiot, I held out the banana. “Want some? Potassium?”

Jesus.

Graham arched a brow as he swiveled in his chair to face me. “Pass.” He’d found some pajama pants, regretfully, and I wondered if he still had on those briefs beneath or if he’d ditched them. I swallowed hard. Thank fuck I hadn’t blown my load in his bed. This was awkward enough.

“How about you? Did you sleep well?”

He knew. Hehadto know. The arousal that’d been stoked low in my groin evaporated instantly in a deluge of shame. I felt myself pale and my hands go clammy as a lump formed in my throat. How was I even going to explain what had gone through my head? There was absolutely no justification for what I’d done. I winced. “Graham—”

“I was so hammered,” he broke in evenly, gaze moving blankly to some spot on the wall over my shoulder. “I don’t remember jack. So thank you for the ride home. I appreciate it. But can you get the hell out now? Because I’m about to crash again.”

I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut and nodded. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

He was turning away even as I spoke and, with a dismal frown, I took a backward step, then got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

7

Graham

Ryan was back to avoiding me, not that that was unexpected, the way I’d given him the big fuck-off the morning after the party. But shit, the way his face had paled when I’d asked him how he’d slept, the shame I could read in it, like he’d committed the ultimate horror with me. It’d made me so irrationally angry that everything I’d felt the night before evaporated in rage.

I’d been hammered, that was for sure, but when I’d woken up to Ryan’s stiff dick pressed against me, my pulse had jumped in my throat, and my heart hammered at my ribcage. I didn’t fucking dare let him know I was awake, didn’t dare do anything that might make him pull his hands away. His dick sliding between my thighs and all over my ass had been the fulfillment of a fantasy I hadn’t even known I’d been dying for, and I’d been genuinely pissed when he’d stopped, gotten up, and crept out of the room. I second-guessed myself for the rest of the night, wondering if I should’ve rolled over, confronted him, kissed him, saidyes,fuck yes,you have no idea how badly I want this.

But the regret coming off of him in waves this morning had been enough for me, and I guessed that was that. At least I had a solid twenty minutes of ball-busting hotness to jack off to—which I had done the second Ryan left the room. I barely had to touch my dick before I was drenching the sheets wrapped around my fist in jizz.

Without the dailyroutine of school, I couldn’t count on seeing Ryan in the mornings anymore, even if it was just to ignore me as he walked past. Now he was variable, sometimes gone before I even got up, sometimes passing me in the kitchen, the hallway, the living room. Always on his way somewhere like he couldn’t bear to stay too long in the house. He’d gotten a job at a pizza place doing afternoon and evening deliveries, while I had my internship with a local art magazine. Seeing him less was what I’d wanted in the first place, so why had my stomach become a pit of leaden regret?

Over the next couple of weeks, summer parties had provided some distraction, but sometimes Ryan would be at those parties, too, and we’d lock eyes before he quickly looked away.