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Cole slowly turns to face us, and his green eyes, which normally sparkle, are full of malice, his expression cold. “Pathetic?” he grinds out, his jaw so tight I’m surprised he hasn’t caused damage.
He steps forward, his whole demeanor screaming fury, but I refuse to back down. I know he won’t hurt me, and I wonder his intentions. Maybe that’s why I continue to goad him.
“Exactly that. Pathetic.” I lift my chin.
“Me, pathetic? You’re the ones eye-fucking him.”
Tia gasps, then I glance in her direction, and the hurt swimming in her eyes sends a tsunami of fury through my veins.
Without thinking, I surge toward him, slamming his head into the lockers. He doesn’t even try to fight me when my fingers dig into his face, holding him in place by his cheeks.
“Maybe he wasn’t the one we were eye-fucking,” I admit.
His body jolts. I feel my words sink into his soul as the room surrounding us becomes heightened with a budding tension, no longer filled with fury.
“Did you ever think of that?” I press his head back harder; the tips of my fingers whiten at the aggression in my touch.
“No,” he breathes out on a heavy exhale.
Yet his admittance does nothing to dampen my anger, it only fuels it.
How can he not see? How could he possibly think we could ever want anyone else? I could ever want anyone else but him.
I breathe through flared nostrils, enraged at the fact he fails to see how I feel.
How we feel.
My cock is stiff in my pants, and that only adds to my pissed-off state.
Is his cock hard from my proximity?
“Are you hard, Cole?”
His throat works, and I follow the motion as his Adam’s apple slides up and down slowly.
“Yeah,” he says through my hold.
“Take his cock out, Tia. Let’s see how hard he is.”
His chest rises rapidly, and his pulse picks up.
My gaze locks onto Tia as she lowers his shorts enough for his cock to spring free, and I lick my lips when her small hand pumps him without instruction. The piercing is wet and shiny, and her thumb spreads his precum over the tip, forcing Cole to thrust his hips toward her in encouragement.
“Good girl,” I praise, my focus now back on Cole. He watches me closely with hooded eyes, full of arousal and expectation. Full of need. “Take me out, Tia.”
Cole’s pupils widen, and he attempts to lick his lips through my fingers, grazing his barbell over my palm. That action alone sends a spurt of precum into my boxers, and I grit my teeth to deny myself the need to slam my mouth against his, punishing his tongue.
“Fuck,” he groans.
Tia’s hand works my belt buckle, then she quickly shoves my pants and boxers down enough to take my cock in her hand, and begins working us at the same time.
Her touch is delicate, soft, and controlled, but right now, I want different, I want him.
I want his rough hand, his feral need, and his dangerous obsession—I want him.
Shifting forward, I grit out into his ear, “Do it, Cole, fist my cock, show her how you like it.” I taunt.
He gulps, the tension between us mounting. It’s daring and filled with expectation, a taunt between us. Will he do it? Will he take what he offers?
