Chapter
One
LUCA
So,I’m pretty sure my roomie is into dudes.
Or… well… I’m pretty sure a dude is into him.
In Zandy? Yeah,inZandy. Like… right now.
I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s having sex on the other side of the door, and I can hear him loud and clear from the bathroom where I’m standing with my forehead pressed against the wooden frame like a total creeper.
A creeper who has never been interested in sex, but now my cock is standing at attention and I don’t even have a towel to hide it because I accidentally left it on my bed.
“Stop that,” I mouth at my dick, like that will somehow help the situation.
I’m not shocked when it doesn’t wilt on command, but I still glare down the line of my body like it will make a difference.
Outside the door, I can hear the low grunts tearing out of Zandy’s chest while the scary blond guy who barged into our room before is muttering absolute filth under his breath.
The wordswhoreandslutcome out of his mouth like pet names, and Zander seems to love it.
It’s just weird that I do too.
There’s something about them together. I couldn’t put my finger on it before, but it made my entire body tingle. And now…
Well, now I can’t help but wonder how good it must feel to be in that position… to be so mindless with want that the world falls away except for the feeling of someone taking you apart.
My head drops to the door and I swallow down the groan trying to tear its way up my throat. I’ve never wanted to be taken apart before—in fact, I’ve made it a point to keep myself so tightly wound up and in control that no one has ever touched me.
At least… no one I asked…
My fingers feather over my stomach, the soft sensation of the pads tickling against my skin distracting me from the dark thoughts that try to crawl up my chest. That was the past, and thatwasn’tmy decision. And…
And it’s hard to think about anything but the low, whining sound coming from the other side of the door, the distinct and unmistakable slapping of skin against skin. My fingers clench, nails dragging bluntly across my nipple and making my cock jump again.
Gosh, this is really,reallywrong. Like… “I might have to apologize to Zandy later” wrong. But it’s happening now, and a part of me is pretty sure that if I open the door and interrupt them, my roomie’s scary boyfriend will either kick my ass or make me watch.
I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t survive either option.
When another low groan of “You sound so pretty when you beg, Dimples” comes from the other side of the door, I can’t help it anymore. My hand drops from my chest and squeezes the base of my cock, and I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood so I don’t make a sound.
It’s not like I haven’t touched myself before—I was the only one whodidtouch me. But that was perfunctory, almost a thing Idid because it was something youdid. Only every now and then, and only when I was really stressed.
This was different. This was wrong, and weird and…
I’d never really put thought into what I liked, what I wanted, because I’d spent most of my life pretty sure I didn’t want anything but to keep to myself, to get my degree, to dogood… and…
Well, dang it.
Apparently guys getting held down and railed hard did it for me?
It wasn’t a possibility I’d considered before, but it’s one I can’t really ignore now as my fingers squeeze the base of my cock again before stroking upward in a slow pull that tingles like sin against my skin. It’s wrong and weird and it feels like I’m violating Zander’s trust, but I can’t help it.
It’s survival, self-preservation. It’s… heat burning beneath my skin that feels like I’m going to implode if I don’t do something soon.
So I start stroking myself in earnest. I take exactly twenty seconds to realize I’m keeping up with the rhythmic sounds of the bed creaking on the other side of the door, that I’m making the same little punched out “uh uh uh”groans under my breath that Zander is while ScaryMcBlondface rails him. It’s like I’m possessed; I can’t stop myself. I don’t evenwantto stop myself.
