He leans back against the wall and sweeps his gaze over the room again, and I take that as my cue to leave.
Cutting through the couples and small groups around me, I grab my jacket and make a beeline for the main doors but stop when someone steps in front of me and blocks my path.
“Are you leaving?” Mia asks, looking up at me with naked desire in her eyes.
“Yeah, I have somewhere I need to be,” I lie.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” she asks in a sultry tone.
I shake my head. “I really can’t.
“Are you sure?” she repeats and runs her hand down the front of my jacket. “I think we can find something to do that will make it worth your while.”
I resist the urge to step out of her reach and give her one of my trademark smirk-smiles. “Tempting, but I really can’t.”
I try to sidestep her, but she shifts in front of me, once again blocking my path.
“What if I told you I’m not the only one asking?” She glances to her right.
I follow her gaze and find Kaylee, her best friend, standing a few feet away and giving me some serious bedroom eyes.
“I think the three of us could have some fun together, don’t you?” Mia asks, the implication clear as she lets that hang in the air.
“Tempting,” I say again, giving her a lazy grin. “But I can’t. I really do have somewhere I need to be.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do that will change your mind?” She leans closer and bends over slightly, giving me a better view of her ample cleavage.
“I really have to go,” I say, trying to sound regretful and not annoyed. “Frat business,” I add.
Her lip comes out in a pout, but she doesn’t protest when I step around her and stride outside.
The cool air is a welcome change after the stuffiness inside The Crypt, and I tuck my hands in the pockets of my jacket as I cut across the field and head away from the house.
Kaylee and Mia’s invitation to enjoy a little ménage à trois isn’t a new thing, and there was a time when I would have taken them up on it. But having girls who do everything they can to avoid me when we’re around campus throw themselves at me the moment they feel like taking a walk on the wild side is getting old.
My first few years here, it was like winning the lottery. I got all the action I wanted and never had to worry about drama or anyone wanting more than a night of meaningless sex. That was fun for a while, but like everything else that’s easy, it started to lose its appeal. Now I’d rather just take care of things myself than deal with everything that goes into hooking up with people who want nothing to do with me when the lights are back on.
A flash of a memory hits out of nowhere, and it’s like I’m transported to a different place and time for a few moments. Darkness and a low, masculine groan. Strong hands in my hair. A hard cock stretching my lips and sliding over my tongue. The musky taste of man and the smell of clean sweat and something spicy I can’t place.
Shaking my head like I’m trying to physically shake those thoughts away, I quicken my steps. The last thing I need to think about right now is Xave and what happened in the smash room at the rave. In fact, it would be great if I could stop thinking about it at all.
I haven’t seen him since the night in my hotel room a week ago, but that’s not unusual. We don’t have any classes together,and we don’t share any friends, mostly because I don’t have those. We’re in completely different worlds while still sharing a campus. I have zero reasons to think about him at all, but that doesn’t stop my brain from randomly reliving the few moments of our hookup that I remember at the most random times.
My neck and chest flush hot as my dick perks up. Xave is the only guy I’ve ever messed around with, and after years of wondering what it would be like, the little snippets of memories that I have from our encounter have been my prime spank bank material for the past week, and I’ve jerked off to thoughts of him more times than I care to count.
The novelty of it—and not being able to remember most of what happened between us—is why I’m so obsessed. It has to be. There’s no other reason I’m still thinking about him when I’ve never really spared any of my past partners a second thought after the deed was done.
And it’s not like Xave is the first person I’ve hooked up with and not remembered after. I’ve had drunk and high hookups, but none of those left any sort of lasting impression on me.
It has to be because he’s a guy, and being with him awakened a part of my sexuality that I’ve spent years actively suppressing and denying.
It has nothing to do with him or what we did. It’s just his biology that’s gotten me all worked up.
I huff out a sardonic laugh and quicken my steps. Xave having a dick doesn’t explain why the idea of hooking up with him in a completely dark room is so hot. Or why I can’t stop thinking about how having my main sense taken away like that heightened everything else and got me so hot that I jerked myself off and came when his taste filled my mouth.
And it sure as fuck doesn’t explain why the anonymity of what happened between us was as hot as going down on him.
Xave had no idea who I was when he went into the smash room with me, and while the drugs definitely influenced things, the freedom of being able to just be myself without having to think about how it would look or what would happen if people found out was as exhilarating as it was arousing. So was being out in the open like that, where anyone could have walked in on us, and being able to hear the rave going on just beyond the doors only amplified everything.
