His voice is rough, ruined. I did that.
I should feel shame for how rough I was, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just continues to kiss me, rubbing himself against me until his cock pulses against my skin, his release coating my stomach.
“I liked that. More than I thought I would. Was it good for you?”
He peers down at me, and I am momentarily stunned. Something in those eyes is vulnerable. He wants me to like it. I could proclaim that I hate it, that I hate him, but instead, I just shrug.
“Yeah, it was good.”
His lips twitch, and he falls to my side, stretching out, taking up the entire bed as he does before sitting up.
“Right. I know you liked it, Witkoff. I’ll get my deep-throating skills up to par. Some more practice is needed, I think.”
I just blink at him in confusion. He’s going to practice? With who?
“And before you get your panties all twisted—I see that little line in your forehead—I’ll be practicing on you. Don’t care much about anyone else’s dick but yours.”
He winks at me and then slides off the bed, searching for his clothes.
“I have to run. I didn’t mean to stay so long, but you distracted me.” His eyes drift up my naked body, and he gives a full-body shiver. “Yeah, you’re fucking distracting.”
He tugs his pants on, and I watch as he disappears from view, one bit of fabric at a time.
“See you soon?” I can’t help but ask, and he grins at me, pulling his shirt on.
“Yeah. I’ll see you soon. If you ask nicely.”
Then he walks over to me and leans down, giving me a filthy kiss before pulling away once more and striding out of the room.
Chapter Six
Idon’t see him for an entire two days after that. It feels like a week, a month even. I don’t quite know what to do with myself. I’m having a bit of an existential crisis. I’m into this guy. I don’t even like him particularly, but I like what he does to me, how he makes me feel when we’re together.
Okay, maybe I like him a little. Just a minute fraction of a little.
Fuck. It’s hard to be angry with him when he makes me come so hard I nearly pass out. It’s hard to hate someone who’s able to play with my body and make me see stars.
I never wanted to be an astronaut, but it seems I’m on my way to the moon.
Throughout the next two days, I find myself aimlessly walking to classes, eating meals, and working out to expel nerves and excess energy.
I work out so hard that I almost vomit all over the floor.
I also spend far too much time checking my phone.
Paulie keeps giving me knowing looks. I don’t discuss it with him.
I have nothing to say. I don’t understand it myself.
I’m in the gym showers after a brutal workout, letting the hot spray loosen my tense muscles, when he walks in.
Our eyes clash, and I suck in a loud breath. Water slips into my throat, and I choke, causing a few heads to turn my way.
My skin flames as I turn my gaze elsewhere, not wanting to look at him stripping down to nothing and standing directly across from me. He’s doing this on purpose. He wants me to look, to get hard just from the sight of him.
Fucking humiliating is what it would be.
So, I don’t look, just turn around and finish washing quickly.
