My gym clothes from yesterday are still on the floor.
To most people, my room would look pristine. Neurotically clean. But having the small stack makes me feel like everything's fucked to hell.
I was so depressed when I got home from seeing my family that I didn’t even bother with it. Why should I? It represented what a mess my life is—or what sort of a mess they make me feel like my life is.
I grab my gym clothes and take them to the basket in my closet before laying out a button-up and dress pants that I plan on wearing today.
Even though I can do my job from home, I prefer to at least feel like a professional.
And act like one, which is why I wake up at seven in the morning every day, because I don’t want to slack off. I have the good fortune of doing something I love—graphic design. I’m going to take advantage of it and treat it like the job it is, even if Dad doesn’t think it counts as one.
My eyes keep closing as my body begs for me to go back to bed.
Damn you, Mr. Fucks-Like-a-Champ, Mr. Giant-Dick, Mr. Hot-as-Fuck-and-I-Wish-You-Would-Fuck-Me-Like-That-Too.
Who the fuck does Mikey think he is? He knew Jordan had a roommate and must’ve known I’d be home at some point.
So why the hell did he and that girl have to be shouting like that?
I can act like this is about the noise all I want, but I know why I’m pissed.
I’m jealous as fuck. I haven’t gotten laid in a while. Seven months now. And hearing Mikey calling out like that made me so envious. I wanted to be in there, taking it from him.
When I went out to talk to him about the noise, I got a view of that hot body, and it was hard to tell which looked better—the back or the front. I’d seen pics of him on Jordan’s Facebook page. I even told Jordan that if he was gay, I’d fuck him.
But in person, he’s even better. The image of his dark hair flashes through my thoughts—and those steel blue eyes. That light scruff that speckles across his face. And he’s built like the fucking Terminator—beefy arms and thick muscles in all the right places. I noticed a tat just under one of his pecs that ran across his side and beneath his arm, but I was so distracted by the rest of his body—particularly his dick—that I didn’t have a chance to read it.
Pissed as I was with him, I have to admit that the guy’s hot as hell, and that’s part of why I was so short with him. The moment my gaze got lost in those blue irises, I wanted to bail, but it actually made me even more on edge, more guarded and defensive. Like I wasn’t attracted as much as I wanted to fight him.
And then when I saw he was hard… What the fuck was that about?
To have that in my mouth.
God, I’ve never been so frustrated with someone and wanted to blow them at the same time.
I feel like a fucking crazy person.
I don’t like getting this way about my friend’s brother, but I can’t help it. It’s like when I get in the mood to watch porn where guys are all tied up and being taken by men with stockings over their faces. One part of me says,Fuck yes, while another part of me cries out,What the fuck is wrong with you, perv?
I slide into a pair of boxers and throw on a tee before heading to the kitchen for some breakfast.
Mikey’s on the other side of the kitchen bar turned partially away from me. He holds a ceramic bowl before his chin as he scoops Froot Loops into his mouth with a spoon, munching down like he hasn’t eaten in days.
The grooves in his back are so defined, they’re another reminder of how much he has to work that body out at the gym.
Act cool, Scott.
I walk through the entryway and around the bar until I see two tight cheeks.
He's naked.
Bare-ass naked.
And those are two of the firmest glutes I've ever seen in my life.
Saliva rushes into my mouth.
I'm fucking drooling over him. How pathetic.
