around to face him, and that was what finally settled me. Because he’d
stopped laughing and was now looking at me with a mixture of
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amusement and concern that was too damn close to what’d happened
before outside with all the safe-word talk and weird consideration for
my well being—like he was fucking rethinking what he was doing.
And I definitely didn’t want that.
I gave him a pointed look, grabbed his dick, and tried to
awkwardly and ineffectively cram it back inside me until he took
over, nudging my shoulder and reaching behind my knee so I’d lift it
and plant it on the bench just outside the stall. I didn’t know how I felt
about revisiting face-to-face fucking, especially when the way he was
looking at me was so goddamn fervent, but apparently my body had
no qualms, because the second he coated his cock in spit and nudged
my hole again, I instinctively tried to spear myself on it.
He went slow, trailing his fingertips over my ribs, then grasping
my hips, sliding inside of me, then all the way out, letting his head
glide along my balls and my hole before he’d reach down and push
himself inside again. His gaze flicked between my stiff dick and my
eyes, and I got the sense he was gauging my reactions as he thrust.
Something about that made me feel more vulnerable than the first
time in my room when he’d had me on my back, more vulnerable
than at the fundraiser when I’d been standing in front of him. This
was usually the point where I’d shutter my eyes against it, mentally
check out, and let the sizzle of pleasure move through me as my
orgasm mounted.
This time I fought against it, kept my gaze on Eric as he fucked me,
and it was like he was everywhere. Inside me and outside, this acute
awareness of every point of contact between our bodies, his cock
owning my ass, his gaze enveloping me and drawing me into a
universe that existed solely of him and me. I knotted my fingers in the
wet ends of his hair and held on for dear life, expecting him to pick up
speed at any second and rail the hell out of me. But he just kept up
that steady glide, like he was rocking me in increments closer to
orgasm, and then he put his lips right to my ear so I could hear each
shallow inhale and exhale, the jumble of syllables that tried to become
words and failed. I caught the meaning anyway; it was the sound of
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desire, the sound of how fucking good we were making each
other feel.
Instead of hurtling toward ecstasy, I coasted on the sensations
moving through me, and the realization hit me square between the
eyes—always fucking inconvenient in timing, because it almost
floored me how much I liked him, how much I wanted him. Not just
the fucking, but everything that came along with it. The way he read
me, seeming to always know exactly what I needed and how to give it
to me. I wondered if I did the same for him.
Eric’s grip around my neck tightened and he shifted, sucking in a
deep breath. This time when he spoke, it was one hundred percent
coherent. “You’re gonna come for me again, and then I’m gonna pump
that tight hole full of my jizz so the rest of the day when you’re
walking around, you’ll feel me.”
I didn’t believe him. About the orgasm part at least. The latter part
had my hips rocking harder against his as he grazed my prostate,
because I wanted that, wanted to feel him shooting deep in me, drib‐
bling down my thighs when I walked.
My entire body was overly sensitized. Even his hands on me
burned as much as they soothed. Every caress bruised, and when he
fisted my cock, I tried to flinch away from the friction, but just as
before, he held on until irritation ceded to prickling pleasure that
took flight and soared through me unexpectedly.
I pulled the ends of his hair, chasing the reluctant orgasm until
suddenly it was right there and I came hard and fast, shooting over
both of us, breathing heavily through my nose. A split second grin of
satisfaction gave way to bared teeth as Eric grabbed my hips and
buried himself deep inside me. And fuck, I felt it, pulsing out of him
and into me, thick and hot, coating my channel as he dropped his
head to my shoulder and trapped his moan against my wet skin.
We slumped against each other, panting openmouthed until my legs
threatened to give out and I dropped onto the bench. Eric stepped
under the showerhead, then eased down next to me a few seconds later.
Resting our heads back against the wall in silence, we listened to
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NEVE WILDER
the sounds of the locker room. When I glanced over, his eyes were
shut, a peaceful slackness to his features as he dropped one hand to
my thigh heavily and swept his thumb over my quad in gentle arcs.
I wanted to talk like we usually did. Joke and banter and mess with
each other, but that was impossible, and after a few minutes, and with
one last squeeze to my thigh, Eric stood up, shook his arms and legs
out, then bent over and gathered up his clothes. Me? I was gonna need
a few more minutes to recover. He turned back around to face me,
tucking his clothes and shoes under one arm as he studied me, then
mouthed, “You good?”
I gestured lazily to my spent cock, the jizz scattered over my
stomach and thighs, and gave him the A-Ok sign along with a
sarcastic smile that made him grin. I was more than good; I was light-
headed with post-fuck euphoria.
Eric was still grinning when he snatched my fucking towel from
the hook and sauntered out with it.
Figured.
I RESTED my elbows on my knees and leaned to rummage through my
bag and pull out my phone to check the time. No surprise, I was forty-
five minutes late for the chapter meeting, totally screwed in more
ways than one.
I was also starving. So I decided fuck it. After I finished dressing, I
caught up to Eric outside the gym and we stopped in the student
center cafeteria and grabbed a bite.
We sat at one of the tables scarfing sandwiches and talking
randomly about classes and how we’d chosen the U in the first place
(me: scholarship, strong Greek presence. Him: the caliber of the struc‐
tural engineering program). It struck me as odd that we’d never really
hung out before, that I’d hardly paid him any attention at all when
he’d moved in and now I couldn’t stop seeing him. He wasn’t a huge
talker, and really neither was I, but he was cool. Laconic and funny in
a dry way that I found really fucking sexy. Most of the girls I’d dated
were cute. Like that was their trademark. Cute little nose wrinkles.
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Giggles. Sassy smacks. Of course there were other girls out there who
didn’t do those things, but I mostly seemed to gravitate toward and
attract cute. Eric was about as far from cute as a person could get.
“So did you, like, come out as bi? Do people do that?” I asked,
poking th
rough my chips.
Eric chuckled and set down his sandwich, then swiped his palms
over his thighs. “I told my mom and stepdad, yeah, when I was seven‐
teen, I think. My friends already knew.”
“How?”
“How?” He tilted his head at me, a smile ghosting over his lips.
“Probably because I was seeing both a guy and a girl at the time.”
“Like, all together?”
He shook his head. “Separate. They both knew about each other,
though. They were cool with it.”
“Jesus. Your friends must’ve been way kinkier than mine. That shit
wouldn’t have flown.”
“Lack of high school hallways cut down on the bullshit social poli‐
tics some. But the people who mattered didn’t give a shit, you know?”
I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I knew anyone who wouldn’t care about
that. But maybe I was wrong.
“How’d you know I was…” I paused. What the fuck was I? I was bi,
I guess, by default. “How’d you know I’d be down to…”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. Not for sure. I guess it was the way you
looked at me in the kitchen that morning after I busted in on you.”
“Like I was completely embarrassed?”
His gaze flickered up to meet mine. “No. Like you were curious
and didn’t want to be.”
“Seems kinda risky, though, doesn’t it?”
“With great risk comes great reward,” he teased. “Isn’t that the
saying?”
“So I’m something like a blue-ribbon prize, then, right? The jock
who switches teams. Or plays both fields?” I meant it as a joke, but his
expression became guarded.
“Maybe you’re still a risk.”
“Then maybe you should keep your eye on the prize.”
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“Maybe.” He balled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it on the
tray along with mine as I stood and picked it up.
Outside, I stuffed my hands in my hoodie as we trudged toward
home.
“You going home for Thanksgiving, I guess?”
“Yep.” I peered at him sidelong for the question. “You?”
“Not sure. Depends on where my mom will be. She doesn’t
know yet.”
“You could come home with me if you don’t have anywhere else to
go. It’s only an hour away.” I said it off the cuff, but damn how the idea
bloomed inside me: having days and days of just Eric outside of our
crowded house, outside of the frat and homework. I bit the inside of
my cheek, nearly drawing blood, because…what the fuck was I think‐
ing? This was dangerously close to a…I mean, hadn’t I just put the
total kibosh on going home with Ashley months before? And now I
was seriously inviting Eric home with me?
Eric turned his head to look me over. “Thanks, but I’m good. Also,
if you’re gonna give an invitation, it’s usually better received if you’re
not glaring when you give it. Pro tip for the future.” He laughed,
seeming unperturbed.
Was I glaring? Yeah, the tightness of my forehead said I was. “I
wasn’t meaning to, just thinking is all.”
“Overanalyzing. Don’t, though. Even if it’s sexy as hell watching
how it makes the muscles on your jaw flutter.”
He widened his eyes and waggled his brows at me suggestively.
I trailed up our front steps after him and sent a kick into his ass as
he flung the front door open. He tripped over the stoop and shot a
look back at me. When I gave him an innocent grin, he bared his teeth.
Jesse lifted his hand in a lazy wave from the couch as we entered.
Mark rose slowly from the lounger nearby, fixing us both with a look
that had my smile sliding from my face like sludge down a window.
I’d never seen him look so angry. My skin prickled, some kind of
prescient sensation making my stomach drop.
“You missed chapter,” he said. “Again.”
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“Got caught up at the gym.” I tried to keep it light, but Mark wasn’t
having it.
“We need to talk.”
“All right, so talk.” I dropped my bag by the couch and folded my
arms over my chest, instantly defensive.
Eric shot a quick look at me as Mark shook his head. “Not here.”
He thumbed over his shoulder toward the kitchen.
Jesse glanced up from his controller in surprise, looking between
the three of us curiously, but kept quiet. I shrugged one shoulder at
him as if to say, who knows?
“You too,” Mark said to Eric.
Oh fuck. Ohhhh fuck. I felt the color draining from my face, my
limbs growing heavy as Mark led the way through the kitchen and out
the back door, me trailing behind Eric, who twisted a hawk-eyed look
over his shoulder at me before catching the door in his hand and
holding it open for me.
Outside, Eric folded his arms over his chest, staring down Mark,
who waited for the door to close before turning to me and speaking.
“What you missed in chapter was that the director of Merriweather
Gardens called this morning, mad as hell about two guys sneaking
behind the ropes into their fucking executive offices. What the fuck,
dude? They got both of you on camera, and they want money for the
cleanup and damage to the office.”
I tried to speak and couldn’t. My heart had left my chest and was
see it throbbing there. I sucked in a breath and tried again. Fuck, I was
in no way ready for this, but what the hell else was I going to do? I’d
been a willing participant.
“It’s load of bullshit, the damage part. We were…we were—there
are cameras in the offices?”
Mark glared at me. “They saw you on the hallway cams, but it was
obviously you two. He shared the screencaps with us.”
Eric cut a swift look aside to me before taking over. “We were just
doing some blow, for fuck’s sake. And you can leave Nate out of it
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because it was my idea anyway. They want some money, what the
fuck ever. I’ll pay it.”
“‘Just doing some blow’ in the executive’s office? Jesus Christ,
couldn’t you have just gone to the fucking bathroom and snorted lines
in a stall like every-fucking-one else? Is this what the hell has been
wrong with you lately, dude?” Mark narrowed his eyes at me. “Please
don’t be another Cam Jeffers, man—I don’t want to see you kicked out
or in rehab.”
“I’m not a coke addict, you dick. I’ll pay the bill. It’s fine.” I dragged
my hands down my cheeks and chuckled, a little hysterical. It defi‐
nitely wasn’t funny but fuck, there was an absurdist catch-22 factor
involved. I’d just been standing there about to out myself. Completely
unready to do so since I had no idea what was going on with me and
Eric and still wasn’t entirely sure where I stood on the whole issue of
my sexuality. Mostly I felt like I was sliding around on some slippery
surface I’d spent years convinced was solid ground. But maybe it was
time to have that conversation w
ith Eric. And sooner rather
than later.
Mark glared at me. “Yeah? I’m glad you find this funny. The guy
who called? He was talking about pressing charges.”
“Stop.” Eric’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Nate…” I didn’t miss the
warning tone in the way he said my name, but he trailed off and
leveled his gaze back on Mark. “I already told you it was my idea. I’m
the one who went up there first. It was my coke. I’ll pay for the
damage, like I already said, and if they want to charge anyone, they’ll
charge me. Can we call this fucking done, now? I’ve got a paper due
tomorrow.”
Mark looked between us, his brows knit tightly, a scowl on his face
as he wet his lower lip. His gaze lingered on me the longest, and I felt
it like a hole in my chest. Guilt sprang up in me at the faint note of
sadness I thought I detected behind the anger in his eyes. Had we
really grown apart that fast?
“Yeah,” he said finally. “It’s done. Just make sure you get your
fucking story straight in case you need it, because both of you are
fucking standing in front of me lying, and I don’t know what you’re
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hiding, but Nate, if it’s…” He clenched his fists and shook his head.
“Just figure your shit out. And I swear to god if you’re becoming a
Cam, I will kick your ass.”
Cam had been in our pledge class, and he and Mark had been
really tight. But not tight enough that he’d known about the drug
habit Cam had formed. None of us had. He’d kept it completely under
wraps until Mark was the one to discover him OD’d in his room at
the frat house. It’d fucked with all of us, but Mark most of all. Cam’s
parents had come and whisked him away like he’d never been there at
all. No one had heard from him since. Not even Mark, I didn’t think.
Mark stormed back inside, letting the door slam behind him. Eric
pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned and brushed past me on
the way to the door before I caught him by the arm and yanked him
back. “What the fuck was that?”
“Me saving your ass? Or did that not come through clearly?”
I gritted my teeth. “Don’t ever fucking speak for me again. You
want to order me around while we’re messing around, fine, but don’t
mistake that for permission to act on my behalf. I don’t need a savior.”