Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men’s Club Book 1)

I’ve had the best week’s sleep of my life.

It was a stroke of genius, suggesting Beau use my tats, because now when I’m struggling to sleep like I have been since the divorce and I hear Beau up and pacing, all I have to do is poke my head out of my bedroom door, and he joins me in minutes.

It’s not awkward anymore either. At first, I could tell he was doing everything he could to keep his distance, but last night there was maybe a minute or two of him trying to get comfortable before he gave in and draped himself across my back. We don’t talk much when he’s there, and I don’t know if he feels the same way I do, but there’s something about the dim light, his breaths fanning over my skin, and the warmth seeping through his T-shirt that feels … intimate? Is that the right word? Like it’s something just for us.

I always fall asleep before he’s done, and by the time I wake, the only evidence I have that it happened is the bright colors staining my skin.

It’s also the only time I get to see him all week, so when I get home from another pointless day at the garage with arms full of groceries, I’m surprised to see him up and pacing.

“Question,” he says before I get out so much as a hey. “If I was a twenty-five-hundred-pound dragon and I jumped from the top of this building, would I have enough time to unfurl my wings and take flight, or am I likely to create a massive crater? And if it’s the crater, how large are we talking? Equivalent to dragon-size, or would the impact be larger?”

“Hold on, I’ve been playing errand boy all day and need to switch my brain back on.” I place the bags on the kitchen counter and turn to him. “Purely from a guesstimation perspective, my vote would be on the crater. And when you look at those huge ones left by meteors, they’re usually bigger than the rock. So even though they’re falling a lot faster than a dragon would, I’d still imagine a dragon crater would be bigger than the animal itself … right?”

He blinks, mouth open, then abruptly heads for his desk. “Good enough for me.” He scribbles out something on the paper in front of him, his forehead is bunched up with concentration.

I stand there for a moment, watching, content to just take him. “You working tonight?”

“I was going to try, but I already wrote a bunch.”

“On your book?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“Why not?”

He laughs, and I recognize the sort of glazed look he gets about him when he’s in another world. “I don’t know, that’s the problem. Our visit to the prison fixed the fortress issue I was having, but it’s like Jaciel doesn’t even want to save Klein.”

“And you can’t … make him?”

“People judge me when I say this, but when you get to know a character really well, they take on their own life in your head, so when you try to force them to do something they don’t want to, it doesn’t work out great.”

“Well, I don’t understand it, but I’m not going to judge.” I pull out a packet of microwave popcorn. “Want to watch a movie instead?”

He shifts his weight, and I think he’s about to say no when his expression shifts. “Yeah, sure.”

“You grab the drinks, and I’ll change and cook this.”

I duck in for a quick shower, then pull on some casual clothes and head back out. Beau is on a stool in his kitchen, grabbing a bottle of scotch from the top shelf, and when I round the corner, I come face to, ah, crotch with his gray sweatpants.

And I’m pretty fucking sure he’s freeballing.

I clear my throat and step away, scooping the popcorn from the counter before throwing it in the microwave. Given the thin sleep shorts I’m wearing, the last thing I want is to start chubbing up, so I will myself to focus on nothing but the smell of melting butter.

“This okay?” Beau asks, holding up the bottle as he climbs down. “We’re out of beer.”

“Yeah, sure. I think I need to kill a few more brain cells after the boring week at work.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Eh. Ford is a great boss, and he’s offered to put me through some courses if I’m interested, but cars aren’t for me. I want to get back to sports and working with kids.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh well, it’ll happen. I’m trying to be patient.”

The microwave beeps obnoxiously, so I check it’s ready, dump the popcorn in a bowl, and head for the living area, Beau just behind me. We settle for an action movie where the girl is kidnapped early on and the hero spends the movie trying to find her.

The movie doesn’t hold much of my interest though.

Not when every time Beau shifts, my attention is drawn back to his spread thighs. I hold in a groan at the inappropriate direction my thoughts are taking. It’s been too long since I got laid, which explains why, ever since I copped an eyeful of Beau’s cock, it’s been all I can think about.

Well done, Payne. You’re creeping on your little brother’s friend.

Only Beau isn’t the same guy he was when we were growing up. Sometime over the years, he got … hot. His features are finer than mine, and his hands are soft, but the light hair on his arms and chest has thickened, his shoulders have widened, and his body is perfectly solid. He’s completely different from Kyle, who hit the gym every day, and I think that’s what I like about him.

I’m not clueless though.

I know I can’t go there.

Not only would Marty be weirded out by me screwing his friend, but I don’t want to mess up our current arrangement.

And then Beau shifts again, crossing his legs at the ankles and jittering his legs up and down like he can’t help himself.

The problem with that is it makes the bulge under his pants move too, and I’m watching, shamelessly, as it comes to a rest with his soft sweats molding around it.

Jesus fucking Christ, do I see head?

Motherfucker, I need this movie to be over, like, now.

It’s my turn to shift nervously as I lift my leg to try and hide the situation that’s evolving down south.

“See? He has motivation,” Beau says. “I’m not feeling that in this book. My guy should be hell-bent on getting his man back—”

“Your romance is two dudes?”

“Of course.”

I arch my head back to where his books are lined up neatly on a shelf above his desk. “I want to read one.”

“Go right ahead.”

I make a mental note to grab one of them before I head to bed later. “Are there sex scenes?”

“Yes.” His cheeks redden. “And the rules are if you read one of my books, we both pretend like you aren’t. Don’t tell me if you like it or hate it—we just act like it’s not happening.”

“Deal.” But the sex scenes have me interested. “Are they filthy scenes?”

He gets redder.

“They are!”

“Well, no, they’re—”

“How filthy are we talking?” I cross my arms and lean back into the couch.

“Not … filthy. It’s part of their relationship. A way for them to show they care.”

“HJs? BJs? Anal?” I need to shut up, but thinking of Beau writing those things, of him doing them? I can’t stop my gaze from dipping down to his crotch again.

And when I glance back up, I’ve totally been busted.

Our eyes lock, and the air between us seems to crackle. Awareness of his body, inches away, prickles my skin. I want to move closer. I want to inspect that bulge myself. My own cock is thickening with the need to touch him.

There’s this little line between Beau’s eyebrows as he watches me, completely silent. His mouth opens, and a long, shaky inhale rattles the still air.

I’m about to make a joke of the whole situation, anything to ease the tension—

When Beau surges forward. His mouth is on mine before I can react.

Through parted lips and the swipe of his tongue, I taste scotch and popcorn, mixed with raw need. I have barely enough brain cells still firing to grab his shoulders and push him back. “What are you doing?” I gasp. My stare doesn’t leave his mouth.

When I lick my lips, I can still taste him. Even his shoulders feel good in my grip, and when Beau inhales loudly again, I can’t hold back. He moves, and I meet him halfway.

He pushes me against the backrest and straddles my thighs. His mouth is warm and insistent, and when he licks my bottom lip, I open my mouth to let him inside. His tongue slides against mine, and I let out the groan I’ve been holding in all night, because damn I swear kissing never felt this good.

Hot breath, needy moans, strong body pressed against mine.

I don’t have time to stop and consider what I’m doing, or maybe it’s just that I don’t want to think about it. Beau is here, and willing, and so sexy, I’m not going to say no. Whatever the fallout of our decision, we’ll deal with it tomorrow, hopefully the way we always do. With him being awkward and me cracking jokes.

The real problem will be facing Marty at his thing and not spilling to him that Beau and I crossed all sorts of lines.

My mouth breaks from his to taste his jaw. “You sure this is okay?”

“Please. Oh fuck, don’t stop.”

That’s what I want to hear. I lick his jawline and nip at the place where it meets his neck. “Shit, I need this,” I murmur.

“Me too.”

“Can I touch you?”

Beau whimpers before pushing his sweatpants down, and suddenly his hard, swollen cock is between us.

Fuck. I spit into my palm and wrap my hand around him.

Beau shudders, one hand tangling in my hair as he brings his forehead to mine. Even through his glasses, his eyes are so blue close up. “Make me come.”

Gladly. I ignore my aching cock as I close my free hand over his nape and hold him to me while I jerk him off. I love the feel of him in my hand. His skin is hot, as overheated as I am, and silky smooth. Every pass over the tip brings out more precum for me to smear over him, filling the air between us with the smell of sex. It goes to my head, makes me dizzy. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this desperate sort of urgency for another person that I want to draw it out and make it last as long as possible, but at the same time, there’s no pacing this need inside me.

“You’re right,” he says. “You are good with your hands.”

I squeeze tighter, stroke faster, and Beau’s breathing loses rhythm. I need him to touch me—my body is begging for it—but I ignore the urges as I focus on bringing him as close to the edge as I can.

I want to see that usual frenetic energy burst from him, leaving him boneless and still.

“Kiss me,” he begs.

I tilt my face up and catch his mouth with mine. Soft lips and needy gasps are all that’s between us. I still can’t get it out of my head that it’s Beau I’m doing this with. Beau, who I’ve known forever. Beau, who I caught jerking off and haven’t been able to think of anything else since.

Marty will fucking kill me.

But for tonight, I don’t care.

We’re both single. We both need this. And we’re both taking advantage of every second.

Beau thrusts into my fist, faster and faster, breathing ragged. He breaks from my mouth on a string of curses, and as his hips fall out of rhythm, he stiffens beneath my hold.

“Payne …”

His cock throbs as he comes, and I keep stroking him, working him through every drop. I end up with his cum all over me, but Beau doesn’t stop for a breather. He yanks my filthy shirt up over my head and tosses it to the floor, then leans down to nip my shoulder. He sucks a mark against my skin, then presses his lips to my ear.

“I want to taste you. Please.”

I growl and lift my hips to shove my sleep shorts down my thighs. Beau scrambles off my lap to kneel in front of me and tugs at my shorts until they’re around my calves. Then he leans forward and presses his face to my abs. “These are fucking divine. Damn, I wish I came on them instead.”

Yesss. That would have been hot. Maybe if we play our cards right, we might get to make another attempt at that.

But right now, it’s my cock that needs attention. “Beau.” His name comes out needier than I mean it to. “Suck on me.”

The second his hot, wet mouth wraps around my cock, it’s heaven. I moan, long and loud and completely unrestrained. There’s nothing hotter than seeing that glazed look take over his face when he works his mouth lower and tighter over my shaft. He doesn’t dive in and try to get it over with; he takes his time. Licking and tasting, he pulls back to suck on the tip, and his eyes flutter closed before he takes a deep breath, then slowly sucks me down, all the way into his throat.

I have to hold back from thrusting, he’s so tight. My cock is weeping, reveling in the attention, and there are zaps of pleasure racing from the base of my spine to my balls. I let Beau set the pace, let him take total control, and the way he’s humming and working me over is hot as fuck.

“Shit, you look like you love that.”

“You have no idea.” His voice comes out raspy, attention still locked on my dick. His lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, being a complete fucking cocktease every time that pink tongue darts out and licks along my slit.

“I’m close,” I breathe.

Beau dives on me. He bobs up and down with purpose, sucking hard, saliva running down to my balls. I can’t stop myself from reaching out and resting my hand on his head, coaxing him to a faster rhythm as I forcibly hold back from thrusting. Holy shit can Beau give good head.

My balls are drawing up tight even as I try to hold off, but I’m spiraling out of control. It feels amazing, tight, hot, slick … He cups my balls, tightens his hold, and fuuuck …

“I’m … I’m gonna …”

I finally give in and start to thrust, and the sound Beau makes when he gags on my cock is so fucking obscene, it’s all over. My orgasm smacks me in the face so hard my head drops back against the couch as I hold Beau in place, making sure he stays put until he’s caught every drop.

I wait until my cock stops throbbing, then loosen my hold to stroke my thumb along his cheek. “That was incredible.”

He reaches up to wipe his chin, then rests his head on my thigh. “Ah, so, there’s something I should probably tell you …”

I frown but stroke his cheek again and wait for him to go on.

“I have a teeny, tiny crush on you.”