Page 20 of Rent: Paid in Full
No lifeline for me.
His eyes are vivid and wide. Sparkling with life and lust and righteous satisfaction. His lashes cast webbed shadows over his cheeks, and the overhead light catches the highlights in his hair and makes them glow gold. He smiles at my cock. A smile so perfect that angelic is the only word to describe it.
I admit it. Miller looks good on his knees. He looks pretty and good, maybe even sweet at a push.
He isn’t.
In the history of good, no one’s ever been further from it.
He pushes himself up off his heels, his face now mere inches from my cock.
“H-hey, Siri, how much time is left on the t-timer?” I splutter.
It makes him smile worse. Worse than before. His steel gaze cuts into me deeper. So deep that it hurts.
“There’s a timer with twenty-three seconds left,” chirps an overly clear, smarmy voice.
To my utter mortification, I feel the tell-tale warmth, the slow trickle, the subtle burn of blood rushing south.
No!
Surely not.
But yes. Oh yes. My dick, which has always had a mind of its own, starts to thicken, rising, lifting slowly away from my balls as I look down in complete horror.
No, no, no!!
This can’t be happening. Not now. For the love of God, not now!
It’s clear my dick hates me. Can’t stand me. Resents me with every fiber of its being for not finding it more warm, wet holes to call home. It’s had it up to here with me and has decided that now is the time for revenge. Sweat beads on my top lip and my hips squirm in discomfort.
“Hold still,” Miller warns, bracing himself with both hands on the edge of my desk, crowding me as he leans in even closer.
My body revolts. My heart punches my sternum with enough force to crack bone and my lungs rasp for air. Miller’s mouth is less than an inch away from me. Less than an inch. Way less. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth. I see teeth and tongue. Soft wetness and warmth.
He tilts his head back, opening his eyes and waiting expectantly until I make eye contact. Then he exhales. Blowing a long, steaming hot breath up the length of my shaft.
The timer sounds, a blaring sound that makes me jump even though it’s the very sound every cell in my body has been primed to hear for the last hundred and twenty seconds. Miller moves his hands, uncaging me, chuckling softly as I cover my dick and balls with both hands.
He gets to his feet, stepping back and considering me for a moment.
He cocks his head to the side, pressing his lips together lightly and nodding slowly. “Five stars,” he drawls. “Will buy again.”
An intense burst of fury catches on fire but splutters and changes to something worse as he brazenly rearranges himself. He makes no effort to hide how hard he is. If anything, he wants me to look. He wants me to know.
He flops onto the sofa, pressing the heel of his hand hard against his erection, then he unzips, holds his hand out near his mouth, and spits into it.
“Thefuckare you doing?” I demand.
Bev’s hearing about this. Don’t think she isn’t. I don’t give two shits if it paints me in a less than favorable light, I’m going down there first thing tomorrow, and I’m not leaving until she’s moved me. That’s what I’m doing.
“Well, Ryan,” he says matter-of-factly, “I’m jacking it. Fapping. Jerking the gherkin. Beating the bishop. Tugging the tiger.”
It occurs to me distantly that I’ve never seen Miller truly happy before. But I have now.
And holy shit, do I hate it.
I turn on my heel, floundering for a second as I try to decide what to do about my towel on the floor. God knows I’m loathe to give Miller more of an eyeful than he’s already had.