Cherry Pie by Samantha Kane Read Free Book Online Page B

boxers John had bought today. He took another deep drag that stung his tongue.
    They were having a conversation like it wasn’t three o’clock in the morning and John wasn’t being completely irrational. Maybe this was why he adored having Connor around. He made John feel normal for a change. He felt his dick getting hard. Oops . He made John feel normal that way too. And that was why John was sitting out here smoking.
    “When someone asked me to.” He stubbed out the cigarette and sat up straight. He rubbed his face. “Sorry I woke you.” He reached for the pack of cigarettes.
    Connor was quick considering his size and the late hour. He stopped John with a hand on his wrist before he reached the pack. “You didn’t.” Connor let go of his wrist and picked up the cigarettes and the lighter there. “Who?”
    “Who what?” John asked, confused.
    “Who asked you to quit?”
    John just stared at Connor. He didn’t want to say his name. He didn’t want him here with Connor. And that was wrong on so many levels.
    “Come on,” Connor said quietly. He took John’s hand and led him to the door, opening it and gently pushing John inside. It was as if John’s body had no mind of its own, just a desire to do what Connor made him do. It was so much easier to let someone else call the shots. Part of him wanted that again, and part of him never wanted that again. He was tempted to pull a James Dean and scream, “You’re tearing me apart!” into the night. But that might be a little over the top, even for him.
    Connor closed the front door behind them, and somehow the night got brighter. John glanced toward the kitchen. It was the microwave clock light. He’d never realized how bright that was. The green splashed over the hardwood floors and the glass on the pictures on the wall.
    Connor placed John’s cigarettes on the hall table, and suddenly John was backed against the wall, Connor close enough that John could feel the heat of him from nose to toes and smell the spicy soap John had bought them today.
    “Tell me what’s wrong, John,” Connor said quietly. He leaned his forearm against the wall beside John’s head, and John had the completely inappropriate urge to bury his nose in the sparse hair of Connor’s underarm and breathe the life of him in.
    He closed his eyes and felt Connor’s nose nudge the side of his head. When he spoke John nearly missed his words because his hot breath on John’s ear fried his brain circuits. “Tell me, Johnny,” he whispered.
    John let his hand roam. It was wrong, it was stupid, but Connor so close was irresistible. He slid his open palm along Connor’s side to the dip in his lower back, and Connor shivered. John liked that. He liked that he made Connor shiver. He slowly glided that palm lower, past the loose waistband of Connor’s jeans. He hesitated at the band of his boxers, but Connor’s back moved just slightly, just enough to make John think he wanted him in there. He gently worked his index finger under the band, and there was the slightest break in Connor’s breathing. He let his other fingers follow, until he cupped Connor’s bare ass cheek in his hand. It fit perfectly, soft, round, smooth. Connor moved closer, and the muscles bunched and flexed under John’s palm, and his dick got so hard he thought it might burst through his flimsy pants and right into Connor.
    “Johnny,” Connor whispered again, and suddenly it was wrong. Everything was wrong. He pulled his hand out and tried to push Connor away. Connor easily grabbed both of John’s hands and pinned them over his head. “Do you want me to make you feel better, John?” he asked in that low voice that caused the hairs on John’s arms to rise up deliciously. John made a feeble attempt to get free, but Connor just grabbed his wrists in one hand and slid the other down John’s chest, over both nipples through his soft T-shirt, and John’s body betrayed him as his hips jerked, seeking that big, rough