Chapter 8
It was after midnight by the time we got home from the George, so we fell straight into bed.
“Did you have a good time?” Mark asked, letting out a face-splitting yawn.
“The best. Thank you.” I was still keyed up by it all. Mark, up on stage, singing to everyone, but it was me he came home with.
“Why’re you thanking me?”
I kissed the back of his head. “For being you.”
“Silly.”
About a minute later I said, “I’m glad you sang ‘Younger Than Springtime.’ Despite making me cry, it was good to hear it again.”
There was no reply.
“Mark. You awake?”
Still no answer.
I had a hard on and no boyfriend to help with it, so I rolled over and tried to will it down. After ten or fifteen minutes with no sign of my erection going away, I slid from under the covers and padded into the b
