He clicks his tongue. “So you are drunk. And two, do you really want to watch, or do you want to help?”
I smile. “You used up your questions, Dylan. Now take off your clothes.”
“Is that a dare?” he asks, and I shrug. “Take them off for me,” he demands, and the tone in his voice sends a shiver down my spine.
“Fine,” I say, standing up. I walk to him and look up into his eyes. “Wanna know a truth?”
He swallows as I crawl my fingertips up his arms. “I’m a horny drunk. That’s why I don’t drink. I don’t like hooking up with randoms.”
“Am I a random?” he asks as I grab the hem of his shirt.
“No, you’re Dylan Etta. My best friend.” I tug his shirt off and glance down. He’s firm, stiff as a rock. Damn.
“Are you saying you’re a slut?” he asks, and the room drops to a dead silence.
I step to him. “Call me that again, and I will never talk to you.”
His eyes search my face as I reach for his pants. I unbutton them.
“I’m not one. I told you I’ve only hooked up with two guys.”
I pull his pants down and drop to my knees, staring at the bulge in his boxers. I glance up.
“Are we still playing?” I ask.
He nods. “Truth or dare.”
I start caressing his dick through his boxers, and his head rolls back.
“Truth,” I say, retreating to the bed.
“Have you secretly had a thing for me?” he asks, watching me lie on the bed.
I shake my head, giving a clear answer that it’s ano. “Sorry, Etta. My turn, truth or dare.”
“Truth,” he says, so I smile.
“Did you? Secretly have a thing for me?”
He shakes his head. “I have always thought of you as a friend.”
“And now?” I ask.
He looks at my chest, not answering. “Truth or dare.”
I sit up eagerly. “Dare.”
“I dare you to masturbate while I jerk off.”
I scoff. “What?”
He nods, reaching for my button on my jeans. He undoes it and pulls my pants down.
“I want to watch.”
He drops his boxers to the ground and tugs on his beautiful dick.
My god.
