Page 23 of Benji

I reached around to my lower back. “Just here.”

He began rubbing it in. Harder this time, really rubbing it in, and oh boy... yeah, I was not going to last a week here without having sex.

Some kind, any kind of sex.

He was working the heat rub into my lower back in firm circles, and my god it felt so good. All of it. His touch, his body close to mine, the scent of liniment. I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me. “God, that feels good.”

I heard him swallow hard and his hand slowed to a stop. Then he cleared his throat and pulled my shirt back down. “There you go, all done,” he said, standing up.

Pretty sure he had a bulge in his pants, but he collected the bag, holding it in front of himself, and headed toward his bathroom. “Need to wash my hands,” he said as he disappeared.

Damn.

Yeah, okay, so that sure was something.

I lay back down, my back feeling much better, and my dick hard. And I was sure of one thing. This week of staying with Nolan, if he wasn’t going to rail me, was going to kill me. Either that or I had to do my best to convince him to fuck me.

He was paying me, after all.

He really should get his money’s worth.

FIVE

NOLAN

I shutthe door to the bathroom and leaned my back against it, trying to catch my breath.

Jesus Christ.

I needed to jerk off or something. It wasn’t right that I was having such a physical reaction to Benji. He was exactly my type, yes. Gorgeous, with younger, boyish charms. Was a twenty-one-year-old too young?

Yes.

No.

Yes . . . No. God fucking dammit.

He was an adult. He was very familiar with sex, and he knew exactly what he was doing when he moaned like that and looked at me over his shoulder with those fuck-me eyes.

Christ.

But he was here because he needed to recuperate and hide out for a week. He was injured. I was looking after him, not preying on him.

Or was he preying on me?

That sound he made... damn. It sparked fire in my bones.

I had to remind myself that he was a sex worker. A rent boy. He knew exactly what sounds to make, how to play it up. How to play me.

Did he think I expected sex?

Was that what that act was?

Maybe I hadn’t been clear enough from the beginning.

I didn’t expect anything like that . . .

Except now I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What other sounds he’d make, what he’d feel like when I buried myself inside him, him underneath me, riding me.