Page 49 of You, Again

Nolan lifted his legs higher and inclined his head.

Message received.

I pressed my lips to his and slowly…oh-so-fucking-slowly began to move.

Oh, my God. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt with a lover. Intense pressure and pleasure. Intense longing and lust. Every push and pull, every sigh and sharp intake of breath held meaning.

Soft kisses turned needy. We tongue-fucked as I pumped my hips…a little faster, a little harder. Nolan arched his back and spread his knees, his fingernails digging into my ass cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, yes. So good, Vin. So fucking good. More.”

More?

Damn, he was gonna kill me. I was pretty sure my cock had never been harder or more eager. I snapped my hips double time, driving deep inside, my arms wrapped tight around him. The bed creaked and groaned as we met thrust for thrust until he hiked his leg and threw me off stride. I took the hint and rolled over. And yeah, I nearly combusted when Nolan climbed on top and lowered himself on my pole.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered.

He smiled and licked his lips, jacking his dick as he rode me hard and fast. I didn’t know where to put my hands first, so I clutched his ass and bounced him up and down, up and down.

“Oh, shit. I’m gonna come.” He threw his head back, grunting as cum shot over his fist and onto his stomach and mine.

That was all it took. My release ripped through me a moment later.

I roared with the force of it, pulling him against my chest as wave after wave rippled through my system, sending me reeling into space.

We held each other, rocking slowly, and finally parting with matching dopey smiles.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” I rasped, striving for levity and failing, big-time. “Can we do it again?”

Nolan’s Cheshire-cat grin lit his face to perfection. “Definitely. Food first.”

We cleaned up, redressed, and reheated our dinner, then took it upstairs and had a picnic in bed.

We talked about MK’s book-palooza, compared notes on Pinecrest’s main drag versus ours. I thought ours was better, but they had nice gift shops. We laughed about even noticing that and veered toward our usual topics—sports in general and hockey in particular.

He asked about past teams I’d been on, my favorite coach, and players I considered good friends. He didn’t ask if I thought they’d still be my friends if they knew about us. In fact, we didn’t talk about “us” at all.

We weren’t ready to make any calls on this new thing between us. Who were we now? Something more, something different. I thought so, but I was too chickenshit to ask. And there was no need. Not now.

This was perfect. Just like this.

10

NOLAN

Once upon a time, I had a crush on my brother’s best friend—my friend too. I didn’t have words to describe the way I felt when Vinnie Kiminski walked into a room. Joy with a shot of anxiety? No one made me laugh like him. No one challenged me, made me think, made me angry, made me feel quite like he did.

Fast forward nineteen years, and the heady sense of déjà vu unnerved me. But I wasn’t afraid this time. I knew who I was…no guilt, no shame. We were adults, and we could do whatever the fuck we wanted. Vinnie probably needed time to sort through his bisexuality, but I had no intention of asking for more than he was ready to give. I knew him too well. And though I knew he wanted me, I was out and proud in a small town.

If we kept this up, our friends and family would begin to speculate about why we spent so much time together. They’d either feel sorry for me for mooning over a straight man or…they’d wonder if Vinnie wasn’t so straight after all. And I didn’t get the impression that he was ready to come out.

It was okay. He’d do so in his own time…or not at all. It was up to him. If this sexual experimentation phase only lasted this summer, I’d be sure to enjoy every second of it.

Discovery was the new name of the game.

I switched my schedule to free up my late mornings or early afternoons to be with Vinnie. Occasionally, we met up after practice at his house and spent the evening naked in his sheets. His place was safer than mine—more remote and private. There was little to no chance of my mother or brother banging on his front door at a random hour.

Funny enough, this wasn’t a nonstop sexathon. We talked a lot too. Hockey, baseball, music, places we’d traveled, items on our bucket lists…