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Seventeen
Adam
“Damn, I look pretty fucking hot,” I say, watching the video on my phone.
Sage has done an impressive job of editing the short ten-second clip by adding a filter, cropping, and putting some soft music with a heavy beat in the background to match the action in the video.
She scoffs at my remark, rolling her eyes from across the room.
As soon as we filmed that scene, we both got dressed and I put in an order for some Chinese food to be delivered to her apartment. She’s curled up on the couch, eating lo mein out of the box, as I sit at the mismatched table in her kitchenette area with a box of fried rice.
“How many views does it have?” she asks.
“Four thousand already. Is that good?”
“Not bad,” she replies with a mouthful. “I’m sharing it on some burner accounts to get the buzz going. Let’s see if we can get this to go viral.”
Watching her from across the room, I replay the scene over in my mind. As hot as it looks on camera, it was even hotter in the moment. The way her body responded to my dominating her like that—it was more than I expected. Those sounds she made had my dick harder than it’s ever been.
Man, I really need to get laid more often. And if it wasn’t for rule number four, I would.
Rule #4: No sleeping with anyone else for the next three months.
The rule makes sense, but it’s going to make for a rough three months. I’ve never been rough with women in bed. Mostly because the women I usually sleep with don’t really seem like thechoke-me, spank-me, pull-my-hairtypes. And that’s not exactly the type of thing you assume without asking first.
Fuck, am I into that shit now? I’m notthatguy. I don’t want tohurtSage, so why the hell does my cock seem to love the sound of her whimpers?
Is she into that shit?
Judging by how soaked her panties were, she seemed pretty into it. My cock twitches in my pants at the memory of how good she felt on my lap, those pretty little thighs clenching around me, and her perky little tits bouncing as she pretended to ride my cock.
For the first time since that night, I actually consider fucking Sage again. I mean…why not? It’s not like we’d ever date for real, so we might as well just screw and get the authentic thing on camera, right?
Then I remember rule five.
Rule #5: Keep it fake.
It made sense when we proposed the rule. Three months of faking a relationship, never letting things get real to keep it from getting complicated. We have to keep the end goal in mind. Fuck with Truett and Brett a little, make things tense between them, and hopefully get the club away from my father in the process. With Truett’s son publicly fucking Brett’s ex, it should be easy.
“What do you think Brett will do when he sees it?” I ask.
Immediately, Sage fidgets and looks uncomfortable. “Umm…I don’t know. He’ll probably call me to tell me what a ho I am. Or find some way to make me feel like shit for what I choose to do with my own free will.”
“He won’t…hurt you, will he?”
Her brows pinch together as she stirs the noodles in the carton, not looking up at me as she shakes her head. “No. He wouldn’t.”
As worry starts to creep its way up, I’m about to say something to Sage when my phone rings on the table. I see my brother’s name on the screen, which is strange because Caleb never calls me.
Hesitantly, I pick it up and swipe the screen to answer it.
“Hey, Caleb—”
“Holy shit, Adam,” he barks into the phone. “Tell me this is some deep fake photoshopped bullshit.”
I drop the food carton on the table as my eyes widen. I’m not sure why, but I bolt out of my seat and stumble for a response to my brother’s accusation.
“Dude, answer me,” he yells.
