Junction X Read Online Free PDF

part of the groin-churning excitement for me, too.
    I straightened up and leaned towards him, keeping half an eye on the door, but he turned his head away. “No time,” he whispered. “I’m hard, Eddie, so hard. I need it.”
    I was getting that way, too. I hardened to just hear him talk like that, and I loved it, for all my prudish denials. I’d never heard anyone say those things and I wondered if I would ever be able to demand the way he did. It made him dangerous and exotic to my stockbroker brain. I wanted to kiss him again, the way I had in France, to kiss him until he groaned into my mouth, but he was insistent. “Suck it,” he ordered, pushing my head down. “You can do it.”
    I could, and I found out I wanted to. It was terrible but wonderful. I actually gagged at first, not from his length, but because of what was in my mouth and what I was doing to it. But as soon as Phil’s fingers tightened in my hair and he made that same noise that he had in France, I forgot everything but doing what came so unnaturally-naturally, wanting to give him more, to make him make those sounds again and again.
    Out on the course, he switched back to Phil the best friend. I was always amazed how he could turn his sex drive on and off like he was two entirely different people. He played as well as ever, waved at the other golfers as they filtered onto the course and showed nothing in his face or his manner that said he’d been fucking his friend’s face an hour earlier.
    At first I found it difficult. I wasn’t, I found out, the sort of man who could switch from one thing to another like he could. I wanted more than my head in his lap, his fingers wrapped around my cock. I wanted to hold him, to kiss him. I wanted to talk to him about it and, after a few months, I plucked up the courage on the train.
    He was buried in the FT , his legs crossed. “Markerim will go through the roof this week,” he said. I was glaring angrily at the winter landscape, wishing it would snow in England sufficiently so we wouldn’t have to traipse to Switzerland with Valerie and her still-slightly-cool-to-Ed parents.
    “Eddie?” He hated it when I didn’t answer him immediately; perhaps he liked to think that I was hanging on his every word.
    I sighed and turned round. “Depends if they decide to make an offer on Arkinhol.” I didn’t get excited; we both knew the criteria needed for the stock to rise, and we both had clients that would want to buy if so.
    “What’s wrong?” He dumped his paper on the seat and leaned forward. “Valerie? Children all right?”
    I stared at him evenly. When he was like this, being the concerned friend, it was hard to believe that sometimes he was so horny he couldn’t take no for an answer. I hardly knew how to say what I wanted, but I needed to speak of it, to bring it out in the open between us. “It’s about…us.”
    The atmosphere changed immediately. He sat up ramrod-straight and a look came over his face, one I’d seen in meetings when his suggestions had been disparaged. It was a face wiped of all emotion. I stumbled on, regardless, feeling my cheeks grow hot as if I were a child again and caught out in some pettiness. “Not…us, exactly.”
    “Spit it out, Ed.” His voice was cold, as if I’d already insulted him.
    “What is it? I mean…what do you think it is?” I was so stupid back then. I didn’t even have the words, words I learned later from the unlikeliest of sources. “Are we queer? Are you?”
    He picked up the paper and snapped it into submission. Once again, I saw something in his face I didn’t recognise, something I didn’t like, and I wondered if Claire had seen that face—or whether his girlfriends had, those girls who’d been so desperate to keep him. “Of course not. Now shut up, Eddie, do. The gingerbread twins will be getting on soon, and they’d never understand what you were on about. God knows if I do, at times.” His voice was acerbic and I felt I’d