He groans deeply as I bottom out inside him, pushing his ass into me as I start to thrust.
“Fuck,” he grits out, nails digging at the wall. “Faster. Go faster.”
“Stroke your dick for me.”
I grip his hips and fuck him faster and harder. He works his dick, clenching around my cock. The orgasm builds quickly. It’s been a while since I hooked up with someone. I never feel good afterwards, and sometimes that makes me take a break. After the last time, I said it was going to be the last, but I should have known better. There’s only one person who will ever be the last, and my chances with him are slim to none.
“I’m coming,” he grounds out.
“Almost there,” I tell him, going even harder. The orgasm hits suddenly, crashing over me. I rest my forehead against his back for just a second before pulling out of him and tearing the condom off, tossing it into the small wastebasket in the corner. I fix my pants, trying to catch my breath. When I look up, he’s doing the same.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be all clingy or anything,” he says, and that right there is a red flag. I feel like if you have to say it, it means you have to try not to be like that.
“Wasn’t worried,” I say, running a hand through my hair that’s sweatier than ever. I need a fucking shower.
“Nice to know your dick feels as good as it looks.”
I laugh. It’s also not the first time I’ve heard that.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I pull it out.
“Sorry, I gotta take this,” I say, answering it and keeping my eyes on Greyson. He walks past me, out of the stall and to the sink to wash his hands. I shake my head at his cum splattered all over the wall. The cleaners must get paid a shit ton to work here. It’s worth no less.
“What are you doing?” Austen asks.
“At the club, probably heading home soon. Why?”
“Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
I head to the sink to wash my hands, putting my phone between my shoulder and ear.
“I don’t know. You seemed off earlier.” From the sounds of it, he’s had a few drinks. The touch of concern mixes with his usual tone, making him slightly raspy.
“I just hate your football buddies. You know that.”
Austen sighs. “They aren’t so bad, Cam.” His heavy breath echoes before he continues. “Wish you were here though, so I could actually have some fun,” he murmurs. The haze in his voice is irrefutable. He always says shit like that, and I know he doesn’tmeanit the way I want him to.
“Catch you later?” Greyson says quietly, but not quietly enough.
Austen’s tone shifts. “Who is that?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you around,” I answer, shutting off the water.
Greyson walks out of the bathroom, leaving me alone to dry my hands and deal with Austen who seems jealous but definitely isn’t because why would he be?
“Cam?” Austen presses, his voice slightly darker. Pissed off, even.
“What?”
“Who was that?”
“Just a guy from class.”
Austen doesn’t say anything, and it’s shit like this that confuses the hell out of me. He does these small things that make me think he’s jealous, like he cares what I do, but then he does nothing about it. Instead, he goes on about his perfect life and how he’s marrying Savannah and his life is going to be so fucking perfect with their adorable blond babies and white picket fence bullshit. Makes me furious.
“Did you need something? ‘Cause I’m about to head home.” I can’t help the bitterness in my voice. I’ve had too many drinks of my own to be able to hide my annoyance with this entire situation. Not to mention hearing from him minutes after hooking up with a stranger has me feeling guilty, and I fucking hate feeling guilty because I have no reason to. I’m single. Very fucking single. So unlike Austen, who has a fiancée.
