Two unread messages.
Greyson:
Is your owner around, or can u come out to play?
The other one, I contemplate not even opening, but something in the pit of my stomach tells me I should.
Pops:
Rent is due this week. I would also like to see my son.
I couldn’t help but grimace, my lips twisting into a snarl at the wordson. Wants to see hissonor his personal bank?Fuck him. I don’t write back to him, but quickly reply to Greyson, only because I know I can get some good information out of him. Nothing like a good blow job to get his mouth moving, and I’m sure it would get under Safra’s skin. Even if he doesn’t find out, this is my own personal move. I have to play it smart; I can no longer allow them to pull the strings.
Me:
How did u get my number?
The bubbles appear quickly.
Greyson:
When u have resources, information is always available.
“Ezra wants to see me tonight,” Nico’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I look over at him, my brows furrowing. His jaw is set, and the tightness in my chest returns. My head tilts to the side. Confusion clouds my mind. He wasn’t one to touch the guys. He’s a pussy only kind of man, but you never know the motives of these rich assholes.
“Ezra, why?”
Nico purses his lips as he looks down at his screen, and by the look on his face, he’s also unsure of the reason. It’s not that we didn’t hang with E, but he wasn’t like Wyatt or Thiago. Since he’s older than us, his jobs require more of him, which means he’s never around. And again, he prefers women; touching men isn’t his thing. And despite everything, he’s different from Safra and Wyatt. Ezra still holds a level of arrogance that reminds youof your place in the food chain. I didn’t like the sound of it, but it’s not like he can say no. My pulse quickens just as my muscles tighten along with the lines on Nico’s face as he frowns before typing into his phone.
“Did he tell you what for?” I ask nervously, using my elbow to prop myself up. He shakes his head and lets out a sigh.
“I just asked what for.”
We both knew what for; more than likely, he would be punished. How, who knows? He could be fucked and humiliated for hours. Or beaten, but that is Wyatt’s job and the crew he handles. Torturing is Wyatt's favorite punishment, so I'd assume the latter. Neither option is a walk in the park, and I hate this for him. I hate that I can’t do anything, or maybe I can.
Focusing back on my screen, I start to type.
Me:
When works for u?
Greyson types back rather quickly.
Greyson:
I can play tonight.
I swallow hard, not knowing if I should proceed. Alarms inside me sound like this may be a trap. But how else can I get close to him? How can I use him to get the information I need? Fuck, I don’t even know what exactly I’m looking for… I just have to try.
“I gotta go,” Nico says as he storms out of the dorm, closing the door behind him before I can reply. I let my body fall into Thiago’s bed, letting the smell of him invade my lungs—invade me just as he has so many times before.
My phone goes off, vibrating in the palm of my hand. I watch my Dad’s contact illuminating the screen and send him to voicemail with the press of a button. Following Nico’s lead,I head out and walk towards the other side of campus, where my dorm with Wyatt is. As always, it’s empty, but the smell of sex and weed lingers in the air, the only trace of his presence. I start to undress, whistling a random tune as my phone continues going off. My heart races inside my chest, no matter how much I try to distract my body from the need that poisons me.
I fail.
Each breath of air makes more blood rush into places it shouldn’t be. The bulge between my legs is impossible to ignore. It demands to be felt. To be stroked and released. My cock is hard, demanding attention. Lust came knocking, and fuck it, I’m answering.
The need to satisfy the void inside me grows by the second, and before I can think it through, my hand moves over the bulge. I groan, causing more heat to gather at the base of my spine, making me boil inside with each press of my palm. My dick twitches with more demand, creating a wet spot…
