A Guy for Christmas - K.C. Wells Page 0,32

him. “How much stuff have you got to put up?”

Dean glanced at his bare torso. “I think you should be more worried about how you’re going to explain that to your parents.” He pointed to Robin’s sweater.

Robin glanced down and froze at the sight of the spots of come. “Aw fuck.” He scrambled off the couch, pulling up his jeans and underwear.

Talk about killing the mood stone dead.

A couple of minutes later, he was at Dean’s front door, buttoning his coat. With any luck, he could get to his room and changed into another sweater before they noticed it wasn’t the same one he’d left the house in.

“Hey.” Dean laid his hand on Robin’s shoulder, and Robin stilled. Dean’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you.” Then he kissed Robin, as if they had all the time in the world.

Okay, he hadn’t expected that. What made it even better was the natural way Dean did it, as though he was saying goodnight to someone he cared for.

When Dean drew back, Robin smiled. “Thank you.” Then he was out into the cold night air, his breath condensing as he exhaled, and his heart as light as a feather.

His first sexual experience had been awesome. Amazing. Hotter than he’d ever imagined.

And there was more to come.

The best part? It would be with Dean.

Chapter Ten

Robin let himself into the house as quietly as he could to avoid drawing attention to himself. From the living room came his parents’ laughter, so he crept past, still bundled up in his coat. Once inside his bedroom, he shucked off his sweater and stuffed it into the hamper, making a mental note to do his own laundry the following morning.

Yeah, right. Like that’s not gonna make Mom suspicious.

“Robin? When did you get in?” Mom called out.

“Just now,” he hollered back as he grabbed another sweater from his closet. He got his head stuck in his hurry to put it on, and the sleeves were playing hard to get too. A last glance in the mirror assured him he didn’t appear any different.

What was I expecting? A sign on my forehead saying, ‘I got blown’?

He went into the living room. Dad was laughing hard at some old movie that seemed vaguely familiar. Mom was crocheting… something.

She glanced up as he entered, a frown creasing her forehead. “Have you changed sweaters?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have a good time at Ben’s?” she inquired.

“Yeah.”

“Is he a good player?” Dad asked.

“S’okay.”

Mom chuckled. “I am overwhelmed by your enthusiasm.”

The thing was, Robin didn’t trust himself to speak right then, because he was pretty sure yelling ‘I had my first blowjob’ was not what his parents needed to hear. He was still bubbling inside, and he wanted to return to the haven of his room so he could relive it blow by blow—literally.

“I’ll be in my room.” And before they could ask him any more questions he couldn’t answer, Robin left them to their movie. As he closed the door behind him, he strained to listen for any comments about his lack of conversation.

“I have a theory.” That was Mom.

“Hm?” It sounded like Dad was concentrating on watching TV.

“This Ben…”

“Stop it. You don’t know there’s anything going on between them.”

“You don’t think it’s odd? He’s never mentioned this Ben, he’s never gone over to his house, and all of a sudden—”

“Petra.” Even Robin recognized the note of warning in his dad’s voice. “Leave it.”

Oh fuck. What have I started?

Then Robin reasoned this was maybe a good thing. If Dad was all for guarding Robin’s privacy, then he had an excuse to go out more often. His mom running into Ben was about as likely as Ryan declaring he’d decided to become celibate.

Robin went into his room and closed the door. He flopped onto his bed and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Only, he wasn’t seeing the white painted surface and the cream light shade. Instead, he was watching Dean swallowing his cock, holding it steady while he went down on it. He was hearing their breathing, harsh and loud, as Dean licked up and down his shaft. He was feeling Dean’s lips on his as they kissed.

Robin was going to replay the evening in his head over and over again.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out. Three texts and one missed call, all from Ryan. How did I miss these? Then he laughed out loud. I was kinda occupied. He pulled up the texts.

What’s up?

You busy?

Why aren’t you answering?

Robin quickly typed a