“Ah, fucking hell, Jazz! Do you mind?”
I glance up at RJ’s outburst, finding him standing there with a hand clapped firmly over his eyes. I’m actually a little surprised to see him, because I could have sworn he just went to shower, like, two seconds ago. But now he’s here, all clean and sweat-free, with a pair of gray sweats on and one of the white standard-issue club towels hanging over his shoulders.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask him, completely baffled by his behavior. He’s usually a pretty easy-going guy—which is probably how he’s survived the last three years in a relationship with my sister—so this freak out is really weird.
“That,” he says, gesturing dramatically at the lower half of my body, while still making sure to keep his eyes covered with his other hand. “Jeez, we’re in a locker room. Put that thing away.”
I glance down and let out a soft chuckle as I realize I’ve totally chubbed out while reading through the text exchange I had with Damon last night. I knew I was turned on, obviously, and I could feel my cock twitching, but I didn’t realize I was sporting a fully hard, very obvious boner until right now.
I do think RJ might be overreacting just a bit, though. I mean, it’s not like I’m fully naked or anything; I’ve got boxer-briefs on.
I shrug and grab a pair of sweats from my locker. “Not like it’s the first hard-on I’ve gotten in here. Or even, like, the fifth.”
“Don’t say that so loud,” he warns me. “I don’t give a shit, but other guys might not like knowing you get all turned on seeing them getting changed.”
I roll my eyes. “I was talking about the guys I’ve fucked in here. Kind of hard to do that without a boner.”
RJ rolls his eyes. “You know, you don’t always have to give people the intimate details of your sex life.”
“But my sex life is so interesting,” I say with a smirk, tugging the sweats on.
“What were you so captivated with on your phone, anyway?” he asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Do I actually want to know?”
“Texts with a guy who’s trying to ignore me,” I tell him. “He won’t be able to, though.”
RJ arches a brow at me. “Do you realize how creepy you sound right now?”
“I’m simply stating a fact, Randall,” I say, giving him a casual slap on the shoulder. “Trust me, he won’t be able to resist for long.”
“You were born in the twenty-first century. Why do you sound like a douche from the eighties?” RJ asks with an exasperated shake of his head. “Playing hard to get isn’t actually a thing, Jazz. Either they want you, or they don’t. If he’s ignoring you then it’s a pretty clear sign that he doesn’t want you.”
“I never said he wanted me,” I say simply. That much is obvious; I might be able to prod and pry at the part of Damon that gets aroused by being humiliated and mocked, but it’s not actuallymehe wants. He doesn’t want to touch me, or kiss me, or even talk to me. He’s not going to get turned on by the sight of my naked body. But the torment, and the degradation, and the shame…yeah, that’s something I can give him.
“Then why the hell are you harassing him?” RJ demands, looking affronted on Damon’s behalf.
I can’t help flashing him a smirk. “Because there’s something he desperately needs and I’m the only one who can give it to him. He just hasn’t let himself admit how much he needs it yet. But he will, and I’ll have him eating out of my cum-filled hand.” Fuck, now I’m getting hard again.
“And we’re back to creep,” RJ says with an exasperated sigh.
“Yeah, but I’m the good kind of creep.”
“Jazz, there is no such thing as a good kind of creep.”
“Try telling Thom York that.”
He rolls his eyes and turns his back on me, shoving all his dirty workout gear into his gym bag and zipping it up.
I do the same with my own stuff, making sure I’ve got my phone and wallet before tugging a hoodie over my head and shoving my feet into my trainers.
“I don’t know if I can do Saturday morning racquetball anymore,” RJ says wearily as we make our way out of the gym and to the elevators that will take us down to the carpark.
“Why? Missed a dues payment or something?” I tease. RJ wasn’t born into money like Piper and I were, so he didn’t grow up coming to fancy facilities like this one, but he’s made up for it since entering the corporate world. I’ve got no idea how much he earns working as the director of my dad’s media corporation, but I can imagine it would be somewhere in the vicinity of truckloads.
“No, asshole.” He gives me a playful shove. “Because every time I hang out with you I feel like I need to go bathe in disinfectant after.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why do I feel like that’s supposed to be an insult?”
He lets out a soft huff of amusement, letting me know he’s not remotely serious; not that I really thought he was—hearing my awesome stories gives him a temporary reprieve from the never-ending monotony of life with my sister. I love Piper, but jeez—imagine being tied down like that.
