Pretty Sweet - Christina Lee Page 0,25

“His piano skills are wicked good. Have you ever heard him play?”

I shook my head. “No, but how do you—wait, at the Underground. Is that what it’s called?”

“Yep, he plays while Jesse sings on Saturday nights, and they’re great together,” he replied, leaning back on the swing. “They feed off each other’s energy, and the crowd loves it.”

I sipped my beer, trying to picture the scene. “Seth is pretty shy, so it would be cool to see him come out of his shell.”

Dane arched a brow. “You should come to the club sometime.”

“Maybe,” I replied, absently thinking about how much I despised clubs. I was much more comfortable at smaller establishments. “Or maybe not.” Wished I hadn’t said that out loud because I probably sounded pathetic.

“Suit yourself.” Dane shrugged, but I detected a bite in his tone.

I held up a hand as Bree swept onto the porch. “Not because it’s a—”

“Gay bar?” Dane asked, and now I just felt stupid. Christ. He added, “For what it’s worth, we’ve gotten our share of straight people too. They come to listen to the music.”

“Or in my case, it’s refreshing not getting hit on left and right,” Bree said, offering Dane a beer and then plopping down on Mark’s lap.

“I can totally appreciate that,” I said, then looked at Dane. “I don’t really have anyone to go with. The guys at the garage would be too…” I shook my head, the word homophobic hanging from my lips, but damn, I hated admitting that. It might’ve even been too harsh; sometimes people surprised you. Regardless, I’d bet Mia would be interested. Except she had a ten-month-old baby and usually went straight home after her shifts. She’d had it rough after her daughter’s dad fled town, but she had her mom there for support.

“Just come alone, sit at the bar, and talk to me,” Dane said, but he didn’t seem convinced I would ever dare venture there. It only made me determined to prove him wrong. Besides, it was a side of myself I’d never explored. If I never went to a gay bar, how would I know if I’d enjoy myself or not? What kind of chickenshit was I?

“I’ll go with you, just say the word,” Bree said as Mark wrapped her tighter in his arms. “I’d love to hear Jesse sing.”

“Might be a plan,” I replied, raising the bottle in her direction, then felt my phone buzz with a text.

When I fished it out of my pocket, I saw it was a message from Ashley, a woman I sometimes hooked up with. Feel like some company?

It’d been a while, so maybe a good fuck was exactly what I needed. To release some of this—whatever the hell it was—tension from my body. Lately, I’d felt so tightly wound.

Ashley was pretty and sexy, and we’d had some good times, but something about it wasn’t sitting right. I was afraid I’d be too distracted and she’d call me on it.

Maybe another night.

I shot the breeze with Mark and his family until I finished my beer, then made my exit.

Mom was already asleep as I wound my way around her packing boxes to the stairs.

But even though I was tired, I tossed and turned in the sheets, unable to get comfortable enough to drift off.

I reached for my laptop from the nightstand and absently checked my email and social media sites, trying to ignore that other urge.

Then, giving in, I clicked to a porn site I frequented. As a muscly man stripped a woman with large breasts of her clothing, my cock plumped up. Maybe a good orgasm would help me sleep.

Shoving my hand in my underwear, I encircled my cock, giving it a couple of weak strokes. But after watching the clip progress, I didn’t get any more aroused until the guy flipped the woman onto her stomach and began playing with her ass.

My hand tugged on my cock as I spread my legs wider, trying to pretend I didn’t want help visualizing something different to get me off. Fingers shifting to the laptop, I opened a new tab, and I typed in the other key phrase. Gay sex.

The first hardcore fucking scene between two men made my cock grow stiff as steel. But it wasn’t until I clicked around and found a bigger guy being sucked off by a smaller guy on his knees that I was propelled closer to the edge. Especially when the smaller guy looked up at the man he was blowing