“Can you feel it? How much I really.”Push.“Really.”Push.“Want to touch you, baby?”
Something strange happens then.
Not strange—blasphemous—and it hits me so hard, my grip falters.
Marcus slips past me and scores.
I hear it happen, but I don’t look.
Ican’tlook.
I’ve already turned away, refusing to face him.
Because in that moment, when he was bracing me with every ounce of that unholy brute strength, telling me how much he wants—youknow—my dick fuckingtwitched.
And now, it’s getting uncomfortably hard in my shorts.
Fuck.
No.
Absolutelynot.
I’m going to need Dr. Duret and Dr. Fenwick to brew a whole new potion to fix this real quick. Because this cannot be fucking happening right now.
A taut arm wraps around my waist, a large, gloved hand settling on my hip.
I’m supposed to flinch.
Jump.
Punchhim.
My head is supposed to explode with static, stealing my breath and short-circuiting my brain.
But it…doesn’t.
Instead, sounds dull to a low hum as the feel of his warm hand goes straight to my dick.
Mywhoreof a dick, who lacks the ability to read the fucking room.
Or how much I hate that prick Marcus.
Wait.Since when did I start calling him Marcus in my head?
“Now.” His rough words spill into my ear, his hot breath grazing my skin. “Where do I beginwith you?”
9
PRESTON
I’m not gay.
I mean it. Serious.
Cross my heart and hope to be struck by lightning.
Like, not even kidding. I don’t look at men the way I look at girls.
