Circling a finger around my already wet clit, I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a moan. A light-headed dizziness comes on, but the pleasure is mixed with tension. I bring my hand away from my mouth and run it over my neck, where Carter touched me. My heart pounds and my eyes flutter.
Heat flashes through my body, and I can’t tell if it’s pent-up desire, or just plain ire. What does it say about me that I’m soaking wet for a man as cocky and dickish as Carter?
My eyes hood, and my thoughts melt away, muddling as I press my fingers down harder. I’m more turned on right now than I ever remember being.
I bet he’s right on the other side of that door.
I fight against this attraction. Somehow I feel as though if I touch myself after he gets me riled up, I’m letting him win.
I can’t help it.
In a fury of madness, I slip my shorts off, spread my legs, and rub my clit harder, arching my hips into my hand and letting go as warmth floods through me. It’s been too long since I’ve done this.
Maybe I just need to do it once, and I’ll get this ridiculous fantasy out of my system after I explore it. Then, I can go back to hating Carter for the asshole he is.
I slip two fingers inside and curl my abdomen.
“Oh yes,” I whisper, and cover my mouth. I put a pillow over my face so he can’t hear my moans.
The feeling crescendos as I let my mind drift off.
I desperately picture Carter on top of me. I can feel the weight of his body as he pushes inside me, as he overtakes me, needing me as badly as I need him.
The thought of Carter coming inside me is what does it.
I cry out into my pillow, my hips quivering as I come harder than I ever have before.
When it’s over, I’m still turned on, breathing hard.
The relief I thought would come over me never comes.
I hate him.
And I want him.
I wish I were lying.
But the truth is exposed as heat rushes through me, no matter how hard I try to pretend otherwise.
9
Carter
Well.
That cat is out of the bag.
So to speak.
And I’m not talking about Smokey. She’s always out of the bag.
Back to the serious stuff. I’m not going to lie, when it comes to showing my junk, I’m not on the insecure side. I do enjoy the speechlessness it can imbue in the lucky lady who is graced with my presence.
I wish I could frame the mental picture I took of Lacy’s shocked look when she saw me naked—and couldn’t stop staring.
This whole ‘no sex’ at my apartment thing is bugging me, though.
I know it’s barely been a day. Patience hasn’t been one of my virtues in years.
Sure, I could rent a hotel. Or go to someone else’s place. But why would I have bought a multi-million dollar penthouse just so I could tell girls, “sorry, can we actually go back to your place?”
It’s the principle of the matter. But I’m getting worked up, having Lacy around here. She fills the apartment with her fresh, feminine scent. It’s like cherries and citrus and fancy shampoo.
She has become even more attractive compared with the high school version of Lacy I remember. Wider hips, fuller lips.
But it’s more than that. I’m not used to living with women—I have a twenty-four hour rule, normally. I don’t spend more than twenty-four hours in the same building as a woman I am screwing.
Even though Lacy is hidden away in her room right now, her essence seems to have penetrated my entire penthouse.
I can’t even sit on the couch without smelling her. I flip through my phone lazily, glancing at the messages girls have sent me today. All booty call requests.
Hey Carter - you doing anything special today?
Special?
Oh yes honey, I’ve got some very special activities planned.
Or here’s a good one. A snapchat selfie with the words ‘miss u!’ written across her tits so I can’t see her nipples. I sigh, looking at myself in the mirror. With just basketball shorts on right now, I could easily snap a selfie back to them, and give them a little boost of that dopamine they want. But I’m not in the mood for putting up with bullshit today.
However, I am quite tense.
I stand up and roll my hips a little bit, a motion my physical trainer taught me. Yeah. I definitely feel tight. Probably from the heavy leg weights and plyometrics workout I did at practice yesterday. In addition to me and Chandler’s late night lift session.
I frown looking into the mirror.
Or, you know, it could be from the fact that I want to fuck my roommate.
There. I said it. I admit it.
The half-chubby I’ve been walking around with is her fault.
And no, that doesn’t mean I like her.
What, you’ve never wanted to fuck someone you hate?
I crinkle my nose.
Lacy is in her room alone. And Lance hasn’t been over since Wednesday.
She went back into her room awful fast after our little encounter. And she’s quiet. A little too quiet if you ask me. Maybe she’s awake.
My jaw drops a little at a possibility.
I picture Lacy in her room. On her back. Legs spread out as she pleasures herself.
Thinking of me, of course, I smirk.
She’d better be.
Heat surges through me and blood rushes to my cock.
Fuck a chubby. I’ve gone full mast. I’m pitching a tent standing up right now thinking about Lacy. How she’d feel. I bet she’s tight. Oh God yeah, she’s tight for sure.
Maybe that tension I was talking about isn’t all in my hips.
I need to get rid of this tension. I could rub one out on the couch? No, Lacy could come out of her room at any moment. That would be awkward.
Or...maybe she’ll catch me whacking it, and we’ll have some porno-like hook-up.
No. I push that possibility out of my mind. Even if I want Lacy, no way am I allowing myself to be with her. She doesn’t deserve how well I’ll be able to fuck her.
Lacy has no idea the things I could do to her body.
Although I’m sure after she saw me getting out of the shower, she’s got a few notions.
I’m about to head to my room and take care of business when I hear footsteps creeping down the hallway. She’s coming.
I glance down. Mother of hell, I still have an erection the size of a small arm sticking straight out at a right angle.
Without thinking, I drop down to the ground and start cranking out pushups in the living room on the carpet.
Hot tip, ladies: If you ever walk into a room and your roommate is randomly doing pushups, it might be because he was just thinking about rubbing one out to the thought of you.
I hear her laugh. “Do you ever stop working out? You’re so vain.”
“If you really want to help me out, you should sit on top of me and make this a little harder.”
“Really? Okay.”
My stomach tightens as Lacy takes a few steps toward me.
I didn’t anticipate her taking me up on my offer. And dear Mother of God, my erection is not going away.
“You know, you’re not going down all the way to the floor. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy.”
I grunt as I slowly try to go a little bit lower without jamming my penis into the floor.
Maybe I can’t go all the way down because my horse cock is blocking me. Ever thought of that?
“But if you insist, I’ll make this a little harder for you.”
I try to glance at her to gauge her expression. I can’t tell if she even knows what pun she just made, or if she is being totally innocent.
She’s got on yoga pants and a tight tank top, and she sits her ass right on my back.
I keep cranking out pushups. Slowly, so I don’t jam my cock into the floor.
“This is awkward,” she says. “It’s like I’m on a merry-go-round ride
going up and down. Here, I have another idea.”
I hold my arms straight, in plank position for a moment as she gets off. Then she does something that sends chills down my entire body.
She lays down on her stomach on me. Her boobs press right into my bare back.
Holy fuck. I can feel her nipples.
My heart hammers hard and my entire chest is flooded with warmth.
Her legs press against the tops of my legs. She wraps her delicate hands around my abs.
“Okay. I have better balance now. Try again.”
She slips her hands a few inches lower, from my upper abs to my hips.
Suddenly, a surge of anger hits me, and I guess at what she’s doing.
“Come on, Cartwheel. Take me for a ride. Let’s see what you got.”
My nostrils flare like an angry bull as she throws my childhood nickname out there.
For a brief moment, I remember when I picked up the name. I was a carefree kid once, that kid who did cartwheels and backflips at recess just for the hell of it.
I’ve come a long way since then, though. I press up and down and do a fury of pushups like Lacy weighs nothing.
She wiggles her hips into my ass every rep I do. Presses her boobs into me the same way. And lets out a soft little moan in my ear every time I push her up.
The hypocrisy is maddening.
She’s the one toying with me.
Trying to pretend it’s my fault we hate each other.
“Ohh. Oh boy! I better hang on tight,” she says as I hit my tenth pushup, and her hand slips even lower from my hips.
One odd finger swats my cock over the mesh of my shorts.
An accident?
“Lacy,” I growl, stopping at the top of my pushup, out of breath. “What. The fuck. Was that?”
“My bad,” she says, and she bites my ear a little bit.
That’s. Fucking. It.
I let myself down, and roll her off me so she lands on the rug, on her back. She lets out a yelp.
Once she’s on the ground, I straddle her waist, pinning her to the ground. She tries to sit up, but I grab her hands with mine.
My voice comes out, a low, gravelly growl. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Both of us are breathing hard.
She swallows. “You wanted me to help weigh you down for pushups. So I helped you.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Laces. I know your lying face when I see it.”
She tries to hold eye contact with me, but she can’t. Classic Lying Lacy tell.
“Let me go, Carter,” she seethes, although her tone is less than convincing.
I lick my lips, staring at her, and I feel her wiggle her hips up into me again.
“Carter . . .” she breathes.
“Tell me,” I growl, “What the fuck you think you were doing? Grabbing my cock like that.”
“I didn’t grab it. I barely touched it. And you made a weird, jerky motion. Your cock touched my hand!”
I scoff, and even almost crack a smile at the sheer ludicrousness of her claim.
“My cock slapped your hand. Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before. You were holding onto my hips three inches from my dick.”
She grips my hands hard as she twists her hips left and then right trying to jockey for some kind of position. I’m not sure where she thinks she’s going, seeing as I’m double her weight.
“Fuck you,” she breathes, her chest heaving. “I fucking hate you, Carter. You made everyone in high school hate me over a stupid little lie that wasn’t my fault. And for some stupid reason you’re the only person I know in this city right now. I hate the fact that I actually have to be dependent on you. And sure, I was having a little fun running my hands over your body. Like you haven’t had a million girls do that. I know I’m not special. But I’m different. You know why?”
I press her hands down into the rug, still straddling her.
My voice is hoarse, like something is caught in it as I try to speak. “Why?” I growl through gritted teeth.
“Because I know you, Carter Flynn I know where you came from. I know how fucked up you had it growing up. But I also know that there were plenty of kids who had it harder than you. But did you forgive me for something stupid I should have told you when I was sixteen years old? No. That’s why your heart is black. And that’s why you’ll never, ever, have a girl like me. Who knows you? I mean who knows the real Carter? I’ll just answer that for you: no one.You and your revolving door policy with women aren’t because you’re some big shot. It’s because you—”
“Shut up!” I yell, closing my eyes, my voice quaking. When I reopen my eyes, Lacy’s lips are parted, her breath bursting in and out as she keeps silent. I can feel her hands shaking slighty as I pin them down to the rug.
“Stop. Just fucking stop,” I say, gnashing my teeth. “We’re done here. Done talking about this.”
“Good,” she spews. “I’m glad. One more thing though.”
“What’s that?”
“Your cock is resting on my stomach, and it’s hard. Looks like you have some tension. You better do something about that. Maybe call one of the insta-whores in your rolodex to give you a happy ending.”
I bite my lower lip, loosening my grip so Lacy can slide out from beneath me.
When she stands up, she grabs her keys off the landing. “I’m going out to take a tour of the city with Lance. So you’ve got enough time to call over one of your whores. See you later, Douchebag.”
She shuts the door with a thud.
I turn to my cat. She saw the whole thing. Smokey’s really been a witness to a lot.
Standing up, I rub my face with my hands.
I want to call Lacy out for shitty behavior. For what shitty behavior, though?
Flirting with me a little?
Fucking with me and rubbing her body into me?
I heave heavy breaths as a realization sets in.
I text Chandler.
Carter: Dude I am tense as fuck today man. Any remedies?
Chandler: Yeah, stop having so much pent-up rage. Therapy?
Carter: Good one
Chandler: Also, yoga. I’m going tomorrow night after practice. Amy’s taking me.
Carter: Yoga’s for pussies.”
Chandler: Yeah? Well Amy looks hot as fuck while she’s doing it. So it’s basically partial foreplay with stretching. Also, I swear to God those hip openers do wonders. You want to be playing ball when you’re forty, don’t you?
Carter: I’ll go.
Chandler: Amy says feel free to bring your roommate if you want. See you tomorrow
10
Lacy
“So I’m insane, right?”
As we head out of dance, I finish giving Lance the rundown about what happened yesterday with Carter, and how ridiculous pushup dialogue turned into me writhing on top of him.
Lance puts his hands on my shoulder, stops me, and blinks a few times.
“Did you . . . ya know? While you were wiggling your hips on top of him?”
“Ya know? What do you mean?” I narrow my eyes.
Leaning in, he looks around to see if anyone else is within earshot before speaking. “Did you have an orgasm?” he whispers.
I roll my eyes and scoff like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world.
“No. Of course not.”
“Well, you were tempted. I bet you at least got a little turned on.”
I bite my lip and look down. As down to Earth as Lance is, I think I’ll just not mention the little solo session I had after I saw Carter naked.
Which was, ironically, before the pushup incident.
When he baited me to weigh him down for pushups I couldn’t help but call his bluff. And if I was going to call it, why not have a little fun with him and mess with him, since he’d been doing the same with me?
He raises an eyebrow. “Lacy. Don’t lie to me. You looked down. You can tell me if you’re getting turned on by Carte
r. Even if you do hate him, love is not the opposite of hate.”
“You don’t think it is?”
“Oh God no. Joseph and I have the best sex when we hate each other. Indifference is the opposite of love. Not hate. Hate is a different shade of the same emotion.”
I cross my arms. “Not with Carter, it’s not.”
“I don’t understand what he could have done that was so bad.”
I sigh, and look around to make sure no one else from dance is in the lobby. Davina hustles toward us, her long blond hair bouncing with every stride.
She flashes a smile as she passes us in the lobby, and I can’t tell if it’s fake or not. She’s grew up in New York City with parents from a mom from Italy and a dad from Russia, and she’s got this high falootin’ ‘I’m a little bit better than everyone else’ attitude about her.
“Hey guys!” she says in a super bubbly voice.
Maybe I’m also a little jealous of her because she’s the number one. She’s two years younger than me, and she’s a lock to be selected to Blue Illusion.
Me, on the other hand? I feel like it’s an uphill battle to get a spot. And a long shot.
“Hey you,” Lance says with a wink, and I’m not going to lie. My heart warms that apparently the ‘sexy bitch’ part of that phrase is reserved just for me.
“Hey,” I say, trying to be good-natured. “You nailed that opening routine today.”
She waves my compliment away. “It was nothing. I just need to thank this guy for being such a big strong man.” She grabs Lance’s bare bicep.
A wash of jealousy comes over me, and suddenly I have a stark realization. I am a little jealous of the attention another girl is giving my very gay, sometimes-fake-boyfriend. This is not a good sign for my personal mental health.
“Anyways, I’ve gotta run. See you,” she says.
Lance bites his lip. “Adios.”
She throws her head back in laughter as she continues out the revolving door.
Lance and I follow, then pause on the sidewalk. It’s rush hour, and the hustle and bustle of the city is palpable. Cars are at a standstill in rush hour traffic. Lance lives up on the north side of the city, and I’m lucky because I live close by.
The Lying Game Page 6
