Second Hand: A Tucker Springs Novel 2

swallows to get the lump down. “If that’s what you want.” When Paul tensed, El ached. “Or something else. Or nothing. Whatever you want.”
Paul’s breath shuddered out of him. “I— maybe? It’s— I can’t even say it to myself without panicking. I don’t even think I can say what I am—what this means—out loud.” He leaned his forehead against El. “I don’t think I’d be a good one just now.”
But maybe later. The idea terrified and thrilled El at once. He lifted his head to grin at Paul. “You take your time with that.”
“I can’t believe you want me,” Paul said, cheeks staining again.
If El could have purred, he would have. “Let me show you how much I do.”

chapter 21
    I

    was going to have sex.
    With a man.
With El.
The thought kept banging around in my head like a ball
    bearing as he pushed me backward into his bedroom, kissing me all the way there like he could only get air by molesting my mouth. I felt jumbled, wanting to give him whatever he wanted, desperate for it, but panicked too. This was it. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but I was at some kind of crossroads, a big X in the middle of my personal road, going left instead of right in a way I’d never gone before. I was fairly sure we were going to go further than I’d even thought about going with Dean. I wanted to go there. The theme to Star Trek played idiotically in my head: To boldly go where no Paul has gone before.
El might fuck me. El might put his dick in my ass.
    The very thought made my limbs shake with want and my insides curdle with fear.
His hands tugged at the hem of my shirt, making my belly cave and quiver. I gasped when his fingers skimmed my skin as he pulled the garment away, looking dizzily into his gaze and finding my own lust mirrored there.
He really wanted me. I reached out to touch his face, half afraid he’d vanish on contact.
Sharp barking broke the spell, and El looked down, laughing before pulling away to crouch and pet MoJo. “Hey, sweetheart. Let Daddy get a little loving, okay?”
MoJo continued to bark eagerly, and enough of my lust faded for logic to rise to the occasion. “Give her a toy she loves, something that will keep her busy.”
El grimaced, then went to his closet, fishing around on the floor. He came back with a beat-up sneaker that had MoJo all but doing cartwheels of joy. After tossing it into the living room and watching MoJo run after it, he shut the bedroom door. “I’m going to have to start buying shoes more often if I want to get laid on a regular basis, I can see that.”
The center of my chest felt funny at laid on a regular basis, but I squelched the joy, cautioning myself it wasn’t just me. “Find her a special toy and let her only have it when you want her to leave you alone.”
El took me back into his arms, sliding a hand over my naked chest while the other teased at the waistband of my jeans. “As often as I’d like to be alone with you, I’m going to need a full armory of special toys.”
I didn’t know what to do with that, so I moved in closer, brushing against his shirt. I wanted it gone, wanted nothing between us, and I tugged at his hem, frustrated to find it tucked into his jeans. Chuckling, he let go of me long enough to peel the shirt away.
Our flesh came together, his dark against my light. I had one moment to appreciate the contrast before lust took over, at which point he could have turned purple and I wouldn’t have cared. I was too busy attacking his mouth and moving us backward onto the bed.
I felt chaotic, swept up and consumed by what we were doing while fearing it at the same time. You’ll be gay if you do this, the chipmunk warned. If you let him fuck you, there’s no going back. You’ll be gay.
I wanted to argue with that assessment because I could see the logic holes from here, but logic had never won over the chipmunk, and the part of me that could have argued was too busy lifting my hips so El could more easily dispose of my jeans. I lay naked on the bed, breath coming hard and fast as I took in the beautiful sight of El hovering over me. He wasn’t hairy, not at all, except for the most delicious treasure trail leading down to his cock, which stood brown and erect and eager to meet me. I smelled him too, a sharp, slightly sweaty male scent that reminded me of locker rooms and sleepovers. I remembered my best friend complaining of the stink, remembered thinking it was actually pretty delicious but that I’d