by Neve Wilder
“Yes,” I admitted on a moan, digging my nails into my own palms.
He reached for my hand, uncurling my fingers, only to wrap them around his cock, then kept his grip on my knuckles as he squeezed, pressing my sweaty palm into his hot skin. His face was so close that when he licked his lips, I felt the tip of his tongue tease over me. I let out a shaky breath, close to coming just like that.
“But you’re right. Trick question.” His words fell over my lower lip on an exhale, and I could tell by his eyes that he was smiling that enigmatic smile. It was a moot point. He’d just proven that he didn’t even have to open his mouth and I’d do whatever the fuck he wanted.
It irritated the shit out of me.
It also got me hotter than hell.
I scowled as his grin broke wider and he squeezed my hand again, in turn squeezing himself so hard another bead of precome dripped from his slit. I sucked in a shaky breath as it ran down my knuckles.
And then he pulled his hand away and said, “I’ve got shit to do.”
Dismissed in a span of seconds. Typical fucking Eric. It was frustrating to no end, but I couldn’t deny the exhilaration that accompanied it.
He planted his palm in the center of my chest and shoved himself upright, then stood, picking up my pants from the floor and tossing them toward me.
I caught them one-handed, stuck my feet in, and arched my hips to pull them up. “You’re such a dick sometimes, you know that?”
“I know you like it. I know it gets you hard. That’s what I know.”
I rolled my eyes at his back, stood up as I fastened my pants, then headed for the door. “I’ll be around,” I tossed out, as nonchalantly as I could while still sporting a giant, throbbing erection.
“Nate.”
I turned back to see him fishing through his nightstand. He took out a folded piece of paper and frisbeed it in my direction. I missed and had to pick it up from the floor before I could open it and stare uncomprehendingly at the numbers. “What’s this?”
“Lab results. If you want to keep doing this, maybe you should get checked out, too.”
My mind immediately populated with filthy images of his bare dick plunging inside me. The blazing heat, the unrestrained surge of his come through me, filling me, dripping from my hole. Fucking Christ. The paper in my hands was going limp with how much my palms were sweating over the prospect. I tossed it back on the bed and squeezed my dick through my pants while he smirked.
“Did that after Ashley. All good. I’ve only been with you since.”
He perked a brow in what looked like surprise, then nodded. I don’t know why I hadn’t mentioned it before, except we moved so fast and unexpectedly that I guess I hadn’t really given it any thought. But fuck was it in my head now, knocking around like temptation on fire.
I opened the door and listened to the quiet before pulling it wider. “I’m heading to the gym in a little while, so if you want to tag along…” So much for playing it cool.
“Thought you said that’d be a danger to your health?” A muted smile quirked his lips that I couldn’t help but match.
“I was just fucking around. I do have some self-control.”
I expected some quip in return, but Eric only looked at me a second longer and turned away to shut the drawer. “I’ll probably pass. Got a shit ton of assignments that’ve piled up.”
Yeah, if I hadn’t gotten it before, that was definitely a dismissal. I flagged his back a peace sign.
“Hey,” he said, and I paused yet again in the doorway. “I like it, too.”
I wasn’t sure whether he meant this weird morning we were having, the weird power struggle, or just…everything we’d been doing, and it wasn’t until I got back in my room that I thought harder about what that piece of paper and his question meant. It wasn’t like he’d asked me to be his boyfriend or anything, but there was a tacit implication in it that meant he wasn’t sleeping around and I wasn’t either.
I sat down on the corner of my bed and gnawed my lower lip, staring dazedly through the window until my phone buzzed in my pants pocket and I pulled it out, finding a text from Mark stacked on top of a bunch of others.
And it was a good thing. Otherwise, I might’ve sat there a lot longer, going down some rogue emotional path that I had no business being on this early in the day.
Mark: Srsly dude
I groaned.
An hour and a half later, I jogged down the front steps of our house, my gym bag bouncing against my ass as I trotted across the dewy grass toward the U’s gym, which was about a half-mile walk. My breath frosted in the air, and I shoved my hands in the pockets of my track pants as I went. I wasn’t one to romanticize the seasons, but I did really like the fall—and not just because it meant football. The cooler temperatures and smoke-scented air got me a little nostalgic, and I found myself looking forward to going home for the holidays, hanging out with my parents and some of my high school friends. I wondered what it was like for Eric. He rarely mentioned going home, rarely talked about high school. Or maybe I just hadn’t been paying attention before, like he’d said. After all, I’d totally missed the whole bit about his dad and stepdad.
My phone vibrated in my hand.
Eric: Ass is looking good in those pants. Would look better in my hands.
I grinned down at the screen and didn’t even give him the pleasure of looking over my shoulder before I replied while still walking.
Nate: Perv
Nate: Terrible line, btw
Eric: Never claimed to be charming, just dirty
Couldn’t argue with that.
“Wait the fuck up!”
Damn, that voice lived under my skin. An obnoxious twitch of my cock followed, but I stopped and turned around, adjusting the strap on my bag as Eric trotted through the grass toward me while I tried to ignore the stupid thrill of happiness I got out of him deciding to join me after all.
“Decided maybe I should burn off last night,” he explained, falling in step beside me.
“Pounding me like you were trying to launch me into orbit wasn’t enough?”
“You’re still walking on solid ground, aren’t you?”
“Barely,” I muttered, and Eric stopped, grabbing my elbow to stop me, too, concern flitting through his eyes and making a firm line of his mouth as he angled toward me.
“Did I hurt you?”
I wanted to roll my eyes and laugh it off, but the sincerity in his expression held me back. I shook my head. “Nah, man. It’s good.”
“You can tell me to ease up, stop. At any time and I would.”
I laughed, a little uncomfortably. “What, like some kind of safe word or something?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, yeah.”
I did roll my eyes then. “Fine, my safe word is: fuck off. I told you it’s all good. Relax.” Because what I’d originally meant when I’d spoken had nothing to do with the physical. At all.
He studied me a moment longer, then released me and we started walking again.
“We’ll get you set up with a nice, light walking program on the treadmill,” I told him, trying to steer away from the sense of heaviness that seemed to move with us. “And they do have some two- and three-pound hand weights.” I gave him a smart-ass grin that he mirrored.
“Will I need to spot you with those, or you think you can manage on your own?”
Fucker. I broke into laughter, shaking my head, and yanked open the glass-fronted door, warm air and the tang of sweat and gym equipment rushing out to greet us.
Inside, I claimed a tread and dropped my gear off in the locker room while Eric got started, then rejoined him, punching the screen to start the belt. The long line of TVs in front of us blared newscasts, sports, interior design shows and cooking demos, and usually I just popped my earbuds in and got lost to the tempo of my running playlist, but today I was tuned into Eric beside me, the steady rhythm of his footfalls, his breathing as it sped up, resembling… I groaned internally and focused on a l
ady on the screen as she dumped a bowl of what looked like vegetables into some kind of batter. Gross.
“You run and I just never noticed it?” I asked, without looking over; he was moving at a pretty decent clip. I’d bumped up the speed on my belt and was starting to get nice and winded, that breathless feeling I loved tightening my chest, firing off dopamine and twitching through my muscles. In absence of a fuck, exercise was about as close as I could get to accomplishing the same sated, muscle-drowsy feeling afterward.
“Here and there. Not much. I played soccer in high school and a few other sports. Think I’ve got decent muscle memory.”
“What position? In soccer I mean.” I snuck a glance aside at him and glimpsed the faint curve of his lips. His neck glistened with a thin layer of sweat, the muscles of his calves popping with each stride.
“Forward.”
“Were you any good?”
He huffed out a breathy laugh. “Not good enough to try to pursue it. It was just for fun. I was homeschooled, so it wasn’t the same as a school team or anything. Didn’t you play football or something?”
“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “Same answer, though—not well enough to do anything with it.”
“Guess the habits lasted better in you than in me. You’re in stupid good shape.” Eric reached out, knocking down the speed on his treadmill. “I’m starting to fade already.”
“You did it wrong. Gotta start slow and ramp it up.” I wasn’t about to address his comment on my body with some return compliment, because even though I found his lean definition smoking fucking hot, there was no way I’d be able to say it without sounding like a total lech in the middle of the gym. Though shit, he’d probably like that.
“Yeah, that’s one way to do it.” He cut a sidelong look at me that lingered suggestively a couple of beats and sent an extra kick of heat dancing through me.
“You should know.”
We moved to the free weights next, running through a bicep-, tricep-, and back-focused set in front of the gym’s wall of mirrors. Without my earbuds, I was hyperaware of the other guys around us: the scrawny fella trying to lift too heavy, a rugby dude who was definitely slacking with those 25 pounders, and a guy I’d come to silently refer to as the Grunter who, no matter what he was lifting, always made noises like he was trying to pull a car off an old lady. I’d had him in a survey course once, and he’d been much the same. Grunting with every shift of his body.
After a particularly loud grunt, Eric caught my eye in the mirror, his mouth tight as he tried to hold back his laughter, and it was all I could do not to crack up, too.
As we moved on to the larger weights, Eric passed me by, lowering his voice. “Can you imagine what he sounds like when he comes? Gotta be like an elephant trumpeting. You need to step up your game.”
I did crack up then. “I can’t be anything close to him. Really?” Though, usually when I was in the heat of the moment, I was hardly even aware of what planet I was on, let alone what kind of sounds I was making. Was I really that noisy of a fucker, though?
Eric’s grin was sphinxlike and brief as he turned away to crouch down and select some weights for the chest press. I helped him slide them onto the bar and tried not to stare too long when he ducked his head inside his shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead with the collar, exposing a lean stretch of glistening abs to my hungry perusal.
Next, he positioned himself on the bench, and I stepped closer to his head, wrapping my hands around the bar and preparing to help him lift it out of the cradle.
He gave me a wicked twist of a smile. “I might be being ambitious. Don’t let me die.”
“Don’t piss me off.”
He winked at me, then lifted the bar. His nostrils flared as he exhaled, straining under the weight as he lowered the bar, paused, then pushed it back up. I kept my hands hovering at the ready, watching for any telltale wobble.
Veins at the sides of his temples popped into relief, but he kept his breaths measured and steady, chest puffing out with each inhale, shorts drawn tight over his tense thighs and crotch. Jesus, I could get down with him staying like this forever, stripping him right where he was like a goddamn sin buffet there for the taking. I blinked the imagery away and darted my hand out to help guide the bar back into its cradle as his biceps trembled. Somehow in the span of a month, I’d become deeply depraved.
After another set, we switched places.
“Don’t you need more weight?” he asked as I settled beneath the bar and found my grip.
“I’m doing an easy day today.” I cut him a grin as I lifted the bar, all too aware of the heat rolling off his body near my head.
“Braggart. You come every day?”
“Pretty much.” I paused with the weight close to my chest, then exhaled and pushed it up again in one smooth, solid contraction of muscle that felt good.
“Why?”
“Why?” I tilted my head back to look at him, and Eric flicked his hand out to steady the bar as it tilted to one side.
“I got it,” I assured him. “Clears the clutter, I guess. I dunno. Or it’s habit. Don’t think there’s some deeper motivation there, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Just curious what it takes to maintain.” Eric stepped closer, his shorts brushing the top of my head as I busted through another couple of reps. I slowed as I caught his gaze drifting over my body and going hazy and hungry. My dick responded immediately, and I pushed the weight up again, then fit the bar back in its home base. “Watch it.”
He gave me light, teasing crinkle of a smile. “I am.”
“Well, stop. Not like that when I’m spread out on a bench in shorts this goddamn thin. Do you know how fucking annoying the way I react to you is?”
He caught my wrist as I released the bar and sent it skimming along the fabric over his crotch. Quick, but enough for me to feel his semi. “What do you think?” he asked before letting me go.
Somehow we managed to finish working out without becoming completely obscene. I was drenched and Eric wasn’t much better off, and we stopped at the water fountain so he could grab a drink and I could refill my water bottle.
“Gonna shower and head to my chapter meeting.” I thumbed toward the locker room as he sucked at the stream of water.
He straightened, tipped his chin in a slight nod, and glanced over his shoulder before his gaze swerved back at me as he wiped his mouth.
I considered for a second, then added, “We could go get something to eat later. Shoot pool or something.”
Goddamn the smirk that spread over his face. It hit me like a flinch, but there was something in his eyes that belied the cocky expression, and that was the only reason I didn’t roll my eyes at him and tell him to forget it, because my stomach was already flip-flopping all over itself for asking in the first place.
“Just you and me?”
“Unless you want to invite your fan club of two, yeah.”
“And after that?”
I hesitated. I knew what I wanted. Still wasn’t keen on asking for it. But shit, I was pretty sure Eric wanted it, too. That’s why he was standing there, right? Why he’d kissed me back the way he did last night, like he didn’t care if he ever breathed again. “There’s that spot at the quarry.”
“We gonna cuddle up nice and cozy while we listen to the radio?” he teased.
I eyed his raised brows. “No, asshole. No radio. Just those noises you make when your dick’s in my mouth and maybe some of my own when you’re fucking me and I don’t have to worry about how goddamn loud I’m being.”
Heat shadowed his eyes, and he glanced over my shoulder as he slid a hand through his sweaty hair, then rubbed his jaw. There was something about the combination of gestures that struck me as unsettled. Good. And just when I was about to continue on my merry way to the locker room, unwilling to stick around for his limbo antics, Eric sucked a breath of air through his teeth and nodded. “You’re on.” Like we were setting up a wrestling match or something.
Once in the locker room, I stripped down next to one of the benches, then carried my clothes and gym bag into one of the shower stalls, dragging a towel from the cart after me before I yanked the curtain closed. The stalls used to be open, but a while back there’d been some campus-wide movement on body consciousness or something, so now the stalls all had shower curtains. Which was kind of nice, since it meant I could take as long as I wanted without someone eyeing me up and silently implying I needed to hurry the fuck up, as had happened a few times before.
I turned on the shower and stepped under it, enjoying the contrast of the cold tiles against my feet and the hot spray beating down on my shoulders. Tipping my head back, I let the water cascade over my face and whoosh through my ears, occasional conversation of guys coming and going, then silence. A deep, satisfied exhale rolled from me, and I ran my hand over my cock, thinking about Eric on that weight bench earlier—this time my mind providing the bonus version: him stripped naked, looking up at me with that sex-stoned gleam in his eyes as I lowered myself onto his cock. Fuck yeah, that was sexy. We hadn’t done anything like that before, and I was kinda curious if he’d even be down for that, given how he liked to take over and plow me.
Even better was imagining him in a darkened car, his hand on my head, forcing me down onto his big dick, invading my mouth and making me splutter. I gave a gentle tug to my balls, then a harder one like he would, and swallowed a groan. Eyes still closed and centered on that mind’s-eye image, I fumbled blindly for the shower gel dispenser screwed into the wall, ready to take care of what had been building up all morning.
A low, hushed chuckle rose as I knocked into the dispenser, and I jerked my hand away, eyes flying open to find Eric standing in the little changing area on the other side of the shower curb.
What the fuck? I mouthed.
He shrugged casually in return and lifted his index finger, circling it around. Voices filtered in from the other side of the curtain, rising in volume as what sounded like a crew of guys entered.
