Page 7 of The No Repeat Policy

My eyes flutter open to a soft touch on my waist. It gently slides around and caresses my stomach as skin presses against my back.

“Morning, handsome,”

a youthful voice sings next to my ear, breath touching my skin before their cheek rests on my neck.

Before I can have a panic attack, last night comes flooding back. Soft lips and skin. Their dark, straight hair disheveled from rough sex. The passionate moans of a boy lost in euphoria. His whiskey-brown eyes peering lustfully up at me while his mouth and tongue do the Lord’s work. My hands all over his golden skin. Cum everywhere.

“Morning,”

I grunt, stretching my shoulders back.

He—Thành, I think that’s right, like the color tan—doesn’t let it deter him. Instead, he squeezes tighter, and damn, I can’t stop him. I grab his hand and move it just enough so I can turn over to face him. My hand finds his waist, smooth skin sliding under my palm. Instinctively my hand moves down over his hip. Oh. He’s still naked. So I do what any self-respecting top would. I rub my palm over his hip and grab his ass.

“Someone’s horny early.”

Thành grins, sliding closer, bringing our bodies together as he moves in to kiss me. I lean in first and kiss him instead, tasting his lips. It’s sweet, like a strawberry you just want more of. “Really horny!”

I realize what he’s saying when he leans back a little and wraps his hand around my hard dick. Pleasure shivers up my skin and I pull his face back to mine. A minute later we part, but my senses are full of him—that feeling of his skin, the scent of expensive cologne, the way his hands explore.

Okay, Kolton, get a hold of yourself. Hell, why did I let him stay last night? I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even mean to know his name. It’s easier when you don’t, when you don’t know anything personal about them. As if touching and tasting the most intimate parts of his body isn’t personal, or fucking him until he screamed loud enough for my neighbors upstairs to bang on the floor isn’t. It’s such a weird thing when you think of it, and I honestly sort of hate it, but it’s easier than getting attached.

Keeping my no-repeat policy is a must. There is no getting attached. No seeing a guy more than once, and letting them stay overnight is a little too close to more than once. Getting attached is dangerous. It’s how your heart gets hurt. It’s how you let a guy into your life and then they invite every guy they meet at the club over to fuck them senseless in your bed while you aren’t there.

“Isn’t that twenty-four seven for guys?”

I smile jokingly. “Please tell me I’m not just hypersexual?”

“It’s definitely not just you,”

he says while he gently strokes my dick. “I want you inside me again.”

Don’t say that, I need you to leave.

It’s Saturday. I have all day, but the goal was to have a little fun last night and then go our separate ways. Never see each other again. He obviously didn’t get the memo. I probably should have caught on to that last night when he told me his name while I was thrusting inside him.

“Mhmm,”

I breathe but wiggle backward, hoping he’ll get the idea without me having to say something. It’s such a bittersweet thing, wanting nothing but having a heart. Even if its fragile shards are duct-taped back together.

He doesn’t. Instead, he grips tighter, and his mouth curves deviously.

“Someone’s being a tease.”

He leans down and kisses my chest. Oh fuck. “I think I need a taste.”

Fuck.

Thành’s mouth kisses down my stomach, eyes closed, breath tickling my skin. He throws the covers off, exposing our bodies to the room, and jumps to the bottom. His other hand latches onto my hard-on and his gaze jumps up to me. He holds eye contact as his tongue comes out and he licks up my shaft.

Shit. I lift up and throw his small body onto the bed.

“Turn over and give me that ass,”

I command.

The confusion on his face creases into excitement as he twists and shoves his face against the sheets and props his ass in the air.

“Oh yeah. You want to fuck me?” he asks.

How the fuck can I say no?