I don’t know what to tell her. I feel trapped because no guy can tell a girl he doesn’t love her right after sex. That’s just fucking cruel, which is what she’s banking on. Amy isn’t stupid. No, she’s sly and cunning like a fox. I always liked that about her, but not anymore… not when the noose tightens around my neck.
Arkin unfolds his arms and walks out, leaving me with a weird yearning in the center of my chest.
I don’t like my cock inside Amy anymore, or the scratch of her nails on my scalp, or her tits in my face.
“Yes,” I whisper, not ready to face the truth yet. “I love you.”
I’ma mess on the ride back home. There’s no other word for it. I stink of sex and Amy’s vanilla perfume. And all I want is a fucking shower and sleep.
Arkin shifts his big body beside me. It’s subtle, but I stiffen everywhere, aware of his soft breaths and movements, no matter how slight.
When Amy and I returned downstairs, he stared at me from the shadows, where he sat on an armchair. I spent the rest of the night nursing a beer and fighting the urge to steal glances while my friends tried to balance half-full bottles on their heads.
Momentarily distracting me, Amy dragged me to the dance floor and rubbed up on me like a cat in heat, but I couldn’t appreciate her round ass against my groin or the view of her cleavage. I barely saw her because my attention was solely on Arkin, even when I wasn’t looking at him.
At one point, Amy stuck her hand in my jeans when I took a mouthful of beer, and Arkin’s eyes burned a hole where she was rubbing me over my boxer briefs. But I’d never admit out loud how hard I got because he was watching.
I’m recalling all these things, growing increasingly uncomfortable, when Arkin puts his big hand on my thigh.
And just like that, my thoughts come tumbling down like a house of cards, which is unexpected.
The car swerves on the road before I get my shit together and pull us back into our lane.
“Jesus fuck,” I curse, breathing harshly, but I don’t stop him from sliding his hand higher up my thigh.
He watches me closely out of the corner of his eye, and I keep my attention on the road, hyperaware of the heat of his hand and how dangerously close it is to my dick. He could grab me if he wanted to.
And on cue, my cock begins to throb with need.
Need only he can satiate.
I’m ready to fucking beg him to touch me, but I bite down on my tongue and grip the wheel tighter. Goddammit.
His hand slips higher, his pinkie grazing my bulge, and a sharp breath escapes me before I can stop it. I glance down at his big,veinyhand and long fingers.
There are more prominent veins in his arm.
Holy fucking shit…
He grabs me, and I almost fucking come in my underwear as my shoe slips on the accelerator.
“Fuck,” I pant, flicking my gaze between the road and his large hand on my straining bulge. When he squeezes me through my jeans, I throw my head against the headrest and let out a string of curses.
Why does he have to feel so damn good? I should stop this. I need to, for fuck’s sake. But then he rubs me again, and I wring the steering wheel so damn hard, the leather creaks beneath my fingers.
My chest rises and falls rapidly for some unknown reason as I wrestle with my emotions. I’ve never wanted anything more than this. Nothing has ever felt more right, and that’s why this is scaring the living fuck out of me. I have a girlfriend. And not just any girlfriend—I have Amy, for god’s sake. The one everyone wants to fuck. And I bagged her. I shouldn’t want this.
Arkin…
He squeezes again, but this time, I shove his hand away. “What the hell, man? I’m not gay.”
I grind my teeth and run a trembling hand through my hair, agitated as fuck. Arkin’s intense gaze makes me fidgety, and I slam my hand down on the steering wheel. “What the fuck are you looking at? Leave me the fuck alone.”
But when I glare at him, my cock twitches and my breath hitches because, damn, I want his hand back on me.
I want him to jack me until I make a mess of us both, which is why I need to keep him at arm’s length.
CHAPTER FIVE
