“Uh, it’s a snake wrapped around a dagger,” I manage. “Got it freshman year. No real story behind it. Just thought it looked cool.”
“Suits you.” His thumb swipes over my slit, and I brace a hand against the stall wall to keep from buckling. “A little reckless.”
“Yeah? You think I’m reckless?”
“You’re here, aren’t you? With a guy you met twenty minutes ago, while your coworker’s out there busting her ass.” He speeds up, and I bite down on my lip to keep from moaning. “Pretty reckless to me.”
“Fair enough.” I gasp as his other hand cups my balls, rolling them in his palm. “Fuck, man. You’re good at this.”
“I know.”
“To be honest, I didn’t expect you to be, uh—” I pant, struggling for words as he works me faster, “you know.”
“Gay?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not.” His breath puffs against my ear. “I like what I like. And right now, I like you. Labels don’t matter much to me.”
“Oh.” My brain is too foggy to process anything, so I just close my eyes and give in. My forehead drops to his shoulder. “Fuuuck.”
The scent of his sweat shouldn’t affect me, but it makes my dick throb even harder. What the hell is happening to me? Since when does my body react to another guy’s sweaty armpits?
Then his thumb brushes a spot on the underside of my shaft, right below the head, and every thought disappears. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Every nerve ending lights up at once. All I can do is feel.
The bulge in Brock’s jeans presses against my hip, and I realize this isn’t one-sided. He’s hard as fuck.Should I…?My free hand hovers over his fly for a second before I pull it back. That feels like a line I’m not ready to cross. Letting a dude jerk me off is one thing. Touching another guy’s dick is something else. Instead, my fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt, my knuckles turning white.
Right then, the men’s room door swings open and someone walks in, whistling off-key. My whole body tenses. Brock doesn’t stop. He keeps stroking, keeps working my balls, his lips brushing my ear.
“Better stay quiet,” he whispers, squeezing hard at the base. “Before we get caught.”
A moan rises in my throat, and I slap a hand over my mouth to keep it in. The guy at the urinal starts talking to someone else who just came in.
“—that ref was completely blind?—”
“—should’ve been a flag?—”
Brock’s teammates. My stomach drops. If they knew what was happening three feet away from them right now, they’d lose their fucking minds.
I look up at Brock, spooked, but he’s completely focused. Dark eyes locked on mine, pupils blown wide, a small smile on his lips. He’s enjoying this. The thrill. The risk.
This guy is even more reckless than I am.
Then, to my complete shock, he sinks to his knees. Right there on the grimy floor. My jeans are tangled around my thighs, and this massive football player is looking up at me, tongue out, slowly licking the precum beading at my tip.
I should shove him away. Zip up and walk out. Pretend this never happened. But the problem is, I don’t want to. I want to push forward, slide into that wet heat, and fuck that smug look right off his face. And that scares the shit out of me.
His teammates are still at the urinals, deep voices bouncing off the walls, slightly slurred. So close. I can’t wrap my head around how I ended up here, in this dirty stall, with my dick out and a guy on his knees in front of me. But my body stopped listening to my brain about ten minutes ago.
Whatever’s left of my resistance lasts about two seconds before my hips push forward.
Brock takes me into his warm, wet mouth, and my brain goes offline completely. Nothing else exists. Not the bar. Not the guys on the other side of the door. Not the bet with Roxy. Just the mind-numbing pleasure of Brock’s lips wrapped around my cock.
He’s good. He’s really, really good. Better than any girl has ever been. He knows exactly where to put pressure, where to use his tongue, how to take me deep without gagging. He looks up at me while he does it, and the sight of him on his knees, my cock in his mouth, my hands tangled in his dark hair, messes with my head in a way I can’t explain. Hot as fuck and confusing as hell all at once.
The voices move toward the sinks. Running water. Paper towels. The door swinging open and shut.
Then silence.
