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My mind is filled with Rachel surrounded by Hunter, Seth, and Lucas. I add myself in the mix, imagining her reaching for me, arching against me. What would it be like if she asked me to join them? Would it be a sausage fest? Or would it be the most amazing sex of my life?
I imagine Seth thrusting in from behind. Her gasp hitches my breath and I quicken my hand, feeling precum slick my movements. My cock throbs in my hand, pulsing with heat as I continue thinking of Rachel. In my head, she slides her leg up mine and I seize it, draping it around my hip while I enter her. I moan. My tongue darts out to moisten my bottom lip. Would she be so tight? Would I be able to feel Seth pumping into her from behind? Would she gaze up at me, her eyes lulling into the back of her head, drunk with desire?
My hips thrust into my hand, and I bite my bottom lip, imagining hands stroking up and down my body. I think of Lucas kissing her neck, Hunter shoving his dick into her hand. I think of her writhing and squirming, enjoying being the center of our desire. I gasp. My eyes open and my mouth hangs open as I continue staring up at the ceiling. My imagination shifts, and I think of her straddling me, taking me deep and hard with her bent over my body. Her breasts are in my face while she sucks on Lucas’s cock. I think of Hunter riding Rachel from behind while her hand grips Seth’s cock.
I clench my jaw, thrusting harder into my hand, unable to stop my movements as my sex dream takes me over the edge. Cum leaks from my head, spilling over, but I still can’t stop moving. I want her. I want her so bad, even if I have to share her with three others. I want to see her so filled up she’s begging for sweet release.
I thrust several times into my hand until my orgasm weakens me, leaving my muscles in a gooey mess while my body relaxes into the bed. My jaw clenches, trying to contain my moans. I have no clue how thin the walls are in this hotel. My whole body shakes as my hand slips from my cock, leaving me feeling that ache once again.
I feel so stupid for still wanting her. If she has three boyfriends, why would she want a fourth? And do I even want to share her with the others? Am I so desperate for friends and a relationship that I would sacrifice my pride in order to be a part of their group?
I have no clue how to answer that question, and honestly, I refuse to. My eyes drift closed and I decide these questions can be handled by future Alex. This Alex is too tired and drained to figure everything out now.
*****
I hate Mondays. Not because I have to wake up early. I wake up at six in the morning every day to go running. I look forward to it— look forward to the silence on the street and the sun rising in the distance. At 6am, it feels as if the world is alive only for me. And the run always clears my head, always gives me some sort of perspective on how to face the day.
Nope. Waking up is never the problem.
And it’s not the schoolwork. I usually do my homework on Fridays so I can enjoy the weekends. Then after my Sunday run, I do some review work, so I’m prepared for lectures. Some may call me crazy, and quite frankly, I would agree with them. Who spends their Friday nights reading a physics book and researching mathematic theology? Me, that’s who. I enjoy having something to do, besides thinking of Rachel and how Seth is going to make my life living hell.
No, I hate Mondays because on Mondays I not only have morning practice, but also afternoon practice. Which means I get to put up with more Seth than I need to. And not to mention that on Mondays I have French class, where I will inevitably run into Rachel. And though seeing Rachel has always been quite the treat, I unfortunately have no clue what to say to her after seeing her being pleasured by my rival, my best friend, and their roommate.
So, what is a guy like me to do?
Skip it all.
I grimace while sitting on the bench, mauling over my terrible decision-making skills for the hundredth time. It’s already four in the afternoon. Morning practice and French have gone and passed well over five hours ago. But I can’t help feeling guilty. I don’t skip practice or class. That’s not me. I think the only time I’ve missed track or class have been when I was terribly ill, and that is tremendously rare.
I stare down at the track field, playing with the idea of skipping afternoon practice and returning to my room, where I can get a head start on researching whether or not it’s too late for me to leave Aurora. I gave it a try and I failed. I don’t have any friends. The school isn’t offering me anything that I wouldn’t get at my university on the east coast.
I made a mistake. Maybe now’s a good time to fix it.
And if I don’t want to see Rachel, then I definitely don’t want to see Seth.
I don’t think I can handle his verbal abuse today.
“Goode?”
I flinch and slowly turn around, finding Coach towering over me. He gives me a deep frown and crosses his arms, tilting his head to the side as if to ask, “What are you doing here?”
Smiling awkwardly, I jump from the bench and grab my bag, throwing it over my shoulder. “Hey, Coach.”
His eyes narrow into a deep scowl. “Don’t ‘hey’ me. What the hell are you doing here?”
I chuckle awkwardly and rub the back of my neck. “Oh, you know. Thinking.”
“No, I don’t know.”
My mouth opens and promptly closes. He’s pissed. He has every right to be angry with me. I skipped out on practice this morning without a text, an email, nothing. “Sorry, Coach,” I murmur, my gaze drifting to the grass at my feet.
“Sorry’s not going to cut it.”
I wince and keep my gaze glued to the ground, wondering how I should start.I’m going to quit. I need to think about my career and this school isn’t cutting it.I wrinkle my nose in distaste. That won’t work, not to mention, it sounds really rude. Maybe I should have practiced this, but I had no clue Coach was going to show up so suddenly.
“I was worried about you, Goode.”
My gaze lifts at that, and I watch as Coach’s hands drop and his gaze softens. “You were?”
