Page 10 of Unexpectedly You (Boston Boys Bozok #1)

I’m starting to get louder and more desperate as I touch myself, so I step into the shower and let the warm water cascade over me as I start to work myself again.

I’ve always been able to produce a good amount of precum and it means I rarely need lube.

Fuck, a whimper leaves me as I circle the head of my cock and then slide down my shaft before gripping tighter and moving back up.

I shake as pleasure envelops me and I close my eyes, planting one hand on the tiled shower wall and shivering.

With each stroke I come more and more undone, and when I move my hand to my chest and pinch my nipple a cry leaves my throat that I have no control over.

“Oh, God,” I murmur. I haven’t felt this good in a long time, and when I shoot my release all over the shower wall seconds later, I tell myself that picturing Alex with his mouth on my nipple and his hand wrapped around my cock doesn’t mean a goddamn thing.

Alex

I have sweat sliding down the back of my neck and my heart is racing, and if I’m being honest with myself, only part of that is due to my workout.

I have never been more distracted in my life than I am right now watching Bentley.

I have no fucking clue what is going on with me.

And ogling him was not at all a part of my plan when I told him he was coming with me today.

I’ve never stared at another man while he exercised before, but something about the way Bentley moves, the way those powerful thighs bunch and flex underneath his gym shorts as he works his legs, and the corded muscles in his arms bulge when he’s working his upper body, has me hypnotized.

I’ve also never been one to get turned on be sweat, but holy fuck, he’s covered in it and I find myself wanting to know what it would be like to lick it off his gorgeous, hard body.

And that hair. Jesus Christ, that hair. He had it down again when he opened the door this morning and the way it tumbled around his shoulders, I was clenching my fists at my sides to keep my hands from just flying into it.

It looked so damn soft. Even now as I watch him he has a few loose strands of hair falling into his face and it looks so damn sexy.

Fuck, what is wrong with me? I’ve never wanted to touch another man before.

Not that way, anyway. And I’ve also never looked at another guy and thought “gorgeous” before, or “sexy”.

I’ve noticed guys I thought were good looking, I guess, on occasion, but none that made me want to lick them, for fuck’s sake.

What is it about Bentley that’s got me so… .sexually frustrated, I guess?

I’m so focused on him I’ve barely gotten any of my own workout in, and my arms are about to fall off because I’ve been doing the same reps with the same dumbbells fifty times by now as I stare through the full length mirror on the wall and watch him breathing in and out as he sits at the chest press machine, the sounds of the gym filling the space around me, people grunting and breathing, the belts of the treadmills moving, the “clank clank” of the weights, people’s murmured voices, and the music playing overhead.

It really isn’t helping that I am pretty sure he was jerking off this morning in the bathroom, and I’ve got the image of him with his hand on his dick, stroking and moaning, embedded in my brain.

And when have I ever thought about another guy’s dick? Never, that’s when. So why am I thinking about Bentley’s? He’s my friend and if he knew I was having these kind of thoughts about him he’d probably be freaked the fuck out, so I need to get it together.

“Hey,” he says, after making his way over to me.

I’m still standing here with dumbells in my hands, doing I don’t fucking know what, other than staring at him in the mirror as a bead of sweat slides down his face.

The strands of hair that have fallen out of his messy bun are slick with sweat, and more sweat glistens on his beard.

He has a towel in his hand and is using it to wipe his face and neck, and I almost groan when he lifts the hem of his shirt and uses it to fan himself.

Jesus God mother fucking fuck, Christ on a cracker the man is ripped.

Part of me is amazed that someone as built as him can be so gentle on his massage patients, and then a shiver goes through me at the thought of him having those big, strong, but gentle hands on me.

Okay, I have to snap out of it. This is ridiculous.

Maybe I need to go on a date with a pretty girl so I can get my very straight friend out of my messed up head.

I haven’t been back on Tinder since Stacy, and I’m probably just in need of some female companionship.

Not sex, at least not right away. I’m not a sex for the sake of sex kind of guy.

Fucking is a bigger deal to me than just finding a random stranger to stick my dick in.

Nothing wrong with that, and I know it works for a lot of people but it’s never been me.

I realized in high school, when all my friends were talking about the hook ups they were having, that that just didn’t appeal to me.

I need to get to know someone a bit before I’m going to feel comfortable getting into bed with them.

Sex for me is very much tied to my emotions, and the idea of being that vulnerable with someone, getting naked in front of them, letting them touch me, is something I could never do with a stranger.

The problem is I only have two evenings off a week, and I don’t really want to spend them with a girl. I want to spend them with Bentley, watching Supernatural and drinking beer, and making each other laugh, not worrying about the pressures of dating.

“Alex?” I hear and realize he’s been talking while I’ve been lost in my head again.

I make eye contact with him through the mirror and he grins.

“I’m gonna head to the showers,” he tells me. “You coming?”

Fortunately, before I blurt, No, but I bet you could make me, my brain catches up with my mouth and I nod.

“Yeah,” I squeak out, then clear my throat and try again.

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.” What the hell was that?

I’m a fucking mouse now? And why was I having thoughts of us showering together?

I know that’s not what he meant. God, this is ridiculous.

How do I get my fucking head screwed back on straight?

No pun intended. I haven’t watched porn in a while.

Maybe that’ll do the trick. A lot of porn doesn’t work for me, because once again, I need that emotional connection, to feel like the couple really care for each other, and not that they’re just having a steamy one night stand, and there’s a few couples that I follow that are pretty good at getting me off when I don’t have a woman to warm my bed and need some good spank bank material.

With a plan of action in mind for how to stop lusting after my friend, I breathe a little easier and make my way to the showers.