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“This doesn’t mean anything,” he says. He always does. The exact same words.
My head thumps against the wall, and I laugh and reply with my own line. “Stop seducing me. I can only get so hard.”
He waggles his brows, and his hands slide downward until his fingers reach the button of my jeans.
We do this from time to time. Because it’s easy. And uncomplicated. I don’t like hooking up with complete strangers, and Kelly doesn’t have time to even look for complete strangers.
We don’t really fit as anything other than friends, Kelly and I, so there’s no possibility of either of us doing something crazy like wanting more out of this straightforward arrangement of drunk hookups. I like him. Like him considerably more than most people. But there’s just no spark.
It’s all very methodical. The button flicks open. Hand goes inside my pants. Fingers wrap around my cock. He wiggles his own pants lower until he has us both in his hand.
Outside the hallway, the party is in full swing.
His head bows. Warm spit lands on the tip of my cock. His hand starts moving. My heart gives a few faster thumps.
It’s the sluggish kind of pleasure. His hand on my dick. The drunk kind of pleasure. It’s all a bit too hazy to feel good in a real, honest, raw way.
But it’ll do.
“Faster.” My voice is little more than a rasp.
Kelly sends me a cloudy look. His breathing picks up, and he comes with a low groan. His palm is slippery now.
It feels good. Good in a sort of sedate way.
Listless, drowsy, dull kind of good.
Like eating pizza when you’re already full.
Nice, but ultimately unnecessary.
And you could go without.
Until…
Somebody sucks in a breath.
At first, I think it’s Kelly.
But then I turn my head.
Ryker’s eyes are wide.
Kelly’s hand keeps moving.
My eyes stay locked with Ryker’s.
His lips part.
I come on that inhale.
Eyes on him the whole time.
Nothing listless or sedate or dull about this.
I turn my head away and close my eyes. A burst of laughter escapes. More disbelief than anything else.
When I look back, he’s gone.
