I walked through an empty main floor to the stairs. I didn’t feel like gaming. Not even blowing shit up would help lift my spirits.
I stomped upstairs, my bad mood returning. My conversation with Eli had been a nice reprieve from my anger, but it was back now that I was alone with my thoughts.
When I was in my room, I dropped my bag on the floor and yanked off my hoodie. At least I didn’t have to worry about hearing my roommates fucking for the next few hours. I flopped onto my bed and grabbed my burner phone.
I had a text from Kai. What did that asshole want? I put in my passcode and opened my texts.
Asshole: wed evening work for you?
I glared at my phone and contemplated not answering. The screen went dark, and I woke it back up, then typed out a quick answer.
Alex: yeah after 6 does
I tossed my phone aside, but the damn thing beeped less than five seconds later.
Asshole: library?
Alex: fine
At least he wanted to meet in public. Being among people would stop me from punching him. Hopefully.
Asshole: third floor, travis room. 630
I gripped my phone so hard my fingers cracked. Of course he’d be bossy. I nearly told him a different location just to be a dick, but it wasn’t worth it.
Alex: fine
He sent back a smirking emoji.
Asshole: see you then
“Ugh.”
I went to toss my phone aside but paused. My muscles were so tight they felt like they were about to snap. Hell, I was about to snap, and I’d most likely take my anger out on someone who didn’t deserve it. Like one of my roommates.
With a defeated sigh, I opened Kinksters. Maybe an orgasm would help, get some endorphins and whatnot. I hesitated as I looked at the message icon. It wouldn’t hurt to check if Wrong was online, right?
His bio said he wasn’t looking for anything, but a second sexting session wasn’t serious. Especially if he hadn’t unmatched me.
“Fuck it.”
I tapped the icon. Not only had he not umatched me, but he was online. Before I could talk myself out of it, I opened our message thread.
FunTimes: hey
His answer came only seconds later.
MrWrong: hey yourself
MrWrong: didn’t think I’d hear from you again
FunTimes: didn’t think I’d message again, but here we are
MrWrong: here we are
MrWrong: any reason you did?
FunTimes: why? Should I not have?
MrWrong: didn’t say that. Just wondered since you were pretty eager to bail when we were done last time
My face flushed hot. I’d been out of sorts and feeling vulnerable when I’d finally started thinking clearly again. I’d also been embarrassed as fuck, and I’d needed some space to get my balance back.
That hadn’t happened, and considering the crap I’d had to deal with today, I was beyond caring about how he could reduce me into a needy mess with only his voice and some dirty talk. I wanted to get back to that place where the only things I had to think about were obeying his commands and how good he made me feel.
FunTimes: had some shit I needed to deal with
MrWrong: want a repeat?
FunTimes: yeah
MrWrong: voice?
Instead of answering, I tapped the phone icon and started the call.
“Someone’s eager.”
His familiar voice came over my speaker. “Just let me get my headphones.”
I grabbed them off my bedside table, then connected them through Bluetooth. “There.”
“You alone?” he asked.
How he managed to sound like sex personified was beyond me, but I was grateful.
“Yeah. One of my roommates is home, but he’s two floors up.”
“Do you need to be quiet?”
“A little, but not like last time.”
“Mmmmmm.” He let out a pleased rumble. “Good. I liked hearing you.”
“What about you? Do you need to be quiet?”
“I live alone. The old guy in the apartment next to me probably wouldn’t appreciate it if I started screaming, but he can deal.”
“You often scream?”
“Well, I don’t.”
I swallowed at the implication. “My roommates are like that.”
“Screamers?”
“Yeah.”
Why was I telling him this? I’d gone on the app to get off, but the words tumbled out of me like water out of a broken faucet. I needed to vent to someone, and he was safe, since he didn’t know me or my roommates.
“They forget other people live in the house.”
“Bet that can be annoying as fuck and also pretty fucking hot.”
I chuckled. “They do it in the room above me, and they’re… enthusiastic. I swear one of these days, the bed is going to come crashing through the ceiling and crush me.”
He laughed, the low sound sent shivers down my spine. “Death by fucking. Too bad it’s not you getting laid.”
“And they remind me of that every time they get their freak on.”
“Freak? How so?”
“One of them likes dirty talk, and the other is loud. Not a screamer, but it’s a bit awkward to hang out with him when I know exactly how he sounds when he comes.”
He laughed again, the sound way too sexy. “But it’s gotta be hot to hear them sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” I admitted. “I spend a lot of time with a stiffy.”
“You don’t take care of it while they’re having their fun?”
“No. One of the guys is like a brother to me. And his boyfriend isn’t my type. It’s more the sounds that get me hot, not picturing them.”
“And what is your type?”
“Tall, dark and handsome.”
He chuckled. “I fit that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup.”
His confidence should have been a turn-off, but my fucked-up brain loved arrogance. Confidence got me off, and Wrong oozed confidence, even over the phone. “What’s your type?”
“Pretty boys who like to be corrupted.”
“Not sure I fit.”
“Not pretty, or don’t like to be corrupted?”
“Neither. I’m pretty as fuck, but I’ve already been corrupted, so…”
He laughed, the sound loud and genuine. Warmth filled my chest. I liked that I’d made him laugh and break his sexting persona.
“Even better. Corrupting is fun, but so is pushing a guy who’s already taken a few walks on the wild side.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He paused. “I might not answer but ask away.”
“You don’t have a sexuality on your profile.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Are you…?”
“I don’t like labels. I’m into people.”
“Like, you’re pan? Or bi?”
“By other people’s standards, yeah, probably. But to me it’s about connection, not body parts.”
“So you need to like the person to find them attractive?”
“More like I find lots of people attractive, and I don’t care what’s between their legs.”
“Huh.”
“What about you? Your profile says you’re straight, yet you swiped on me. I’m definitely not a chick.”
My cheeks heated as I bit my lip. It was only fair I tell him, since he’d told me. “I’m bi, but haven’t had much interest in guys.”
“Like, you just don’t find a lot of them attractive, or don’t want to get off with them?”
“Both. My type is pretty specific. I’d say I’m about ninety percent female, and ten percent male when it comes to attraction. And even then, just thinking a guy is hot isn’t enough for me to want to hook up with them.”
“How many guys have you met up with off this app?”
“None.”
“How many have you spoken to?”
“You.”
I could have lied, but what was the point? I didn’t have to keep up pretenses with Wrong. It was fucking liberating to just be myself and not have to worry about what I said or how I reacted.
“Well, I’m honored you swiped on my profile. Can I ask why?”
“Your tats and your bio. You were exactly what I was looking for.”
“Were? Past tense?”
“Were, are.” I swallowed. “I guess I’m in a ten percent mood today.”
He laughed, another genuine sounding one. “I’m glad. Because I’ve had a shit day and could use some fun.”
“Really? Me too.”
“Then how about we make our days better?” His tone slipped from conversational to that liquid gold one that made my pulse race.
“Yeah. Let’s.” I licked my dry lips.
“Are you on your bed?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Jeans and a T-shirt.”
“Take off your T-shirt. Are you wearing your shoes?”
“Yeah.”
“Take those off too, and your socks.”
I sat up and did as he said, tossing my clothes aside. “Done.”
“Good.”
“What are you wearing?” I asked, my voice already breathy with anticipation.
“Sweats and nothing else.”
“Gray?”
“Black. Now lie back for me. Get nice and comfortable.”
I did, flutters of nerves exploded in my stomach.
“Now, I want you to tell me when you last jerked off.”
“This morning.”
“Where?”
“In the shower.”
“Did you come hard?”
“Not really. I was in a rush to get to school.”
“What did you think about?”
“Honestly, not much. It was to take care of my morning wood.”
“Hmmmm. What about the time before that?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“In my bed.”
“Was it a good one?”
“Pretty good.”
“What were you thinking about?”
I’d thought about him. About our call.
“You still with me?” he asked, his voice taking on a soothing tone.
“Yeah. Um. I thought about you.”
“Really,” he purred. “What about me?”
“Our call.”
“You liked it?”
“Obviously.”
He chuckled. “I did too.”
“Yeah?”
A part of me had worried I’d been the only one who’d been into it. He’d come, but that didn’t mean anything.
“Oh yeah.” A pause. “Same limits? Or will you touch your hole for me?”
I swallowed. “I’ll touch it.”
“Nothing more?”
“No.”
“I can work with that. As a reward, you may undo your jeans.”
I pulled them open, a thrill of excitement shooting up my spine.
“Now, tell me about last night. What were you thinking about when you stroked yourself?”
“I thought about our call.”
“Yeah? And what about it?”
“How hot it made me. How much I liked listening to you.”
“Hmmmm, I liked listening to you too. Did you picture me jerking off for you?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you think about me on my knees for you?”
“I-I thought about being on my knees for you.”
“You may pull your dick out, but no touching. Not yet.”
I reached into my underwear and freed my cock. I was hard and leaking, the head a dusky red, and precum slid down my shaft.
“You want to know what I thought about when I jerked off this morning?” he asked.
“What?”
“I thought about you bent over my desk. How I’d hold you down, fuck you hard and not let you jerk off.”
I gasped, my dick pulsing with want.
“You’d beg me, scream for me. But I wouldn’t let you come. You know why?”
“Why?” I asked breathlessly.
“Because I’d want to fuck you all over my room. On my bed. Against the wall. I’d even make you ride me while I was sitting in my chair.”
I swallowed hard, fisting the sheets so I didn’t grab my dick. I was aching and so fucking turned on just from his words.
“Would you like that? Would you like me to fuck you against the wall?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Would you ride me?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.”
I cleared my throat. “Yes.”
“Good. You may stroke yourself, but only ten times.”
A grumble escaped my throat as I grabbed my dick. I counted to ten, then paused. Nothing was stopping me from disobeying, but I didn’t want to. I liked listening to him. Something about letting go and giving myself over to someone else pushed all my buttons. It let me shut down my mind and just feel.
“Did you stop?”
“Yes.”
“Take off your jeans.”
I sat up, pushed them down my legs, and kicked them onto the floor. “They’re off.”
“Now your underwear. I want you naked for me.”
I shucked off my boxers, another thrill rushing through me. “They’re off.”
“Good. As a reward, you may play with your balls while you talk to me. Only your balls. Don’t touch your dick.”
“Okay.”
I cupped my balls. A low groan tore from my throat as I gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft skin warm against my palm.
“So hot,” he purred. “Now, I want you to tell me another fantasy you’ve had. Something you’ve never told anyone else. Something extreme and dirty.”
“Um…”
“You can be real with me, Fun. It’s only you and me here. And trust me, I’m the last person to judge.”
Could I tell him how fucked up I was? I’d never told anyone how depraved my fantasies could get. Mostly because I knew they’d judge me hard but also because they weren’t normal. People didn’t daydream about the kinds of things I did.
“It can be about a woman if you’d like,” he said.
My fantasies involving women weren’t exactly vanilla but were the kind of thing I could share without fear of being judged.
But I didn’t want to think about women right now. I’d been telling the truth when I’d said I was in a ten percent mood. Hell, I’d been in a loop of male-oriented thoughts and fantasies since our last convo.
“I’m in my room.” My voice cracked.
“Go on.”
“I’m asleep. I forgot to lock the door.”
“What else?” he prompted, his voice gentle.
“Someone comes in.”
“Do you know who?”
“No. He’s wearing a mask.”
“Then what?”
I swallowed, my eyes on the ceiling as warmth spread through my chest. “I wake up, and he’s standing over me. I don’t know who he is. He looks like a burglar.”
“Is he there to rob you?”
“No.” My voice cracked again, and I cleared my throat. “He’s not there to rob me.”
“What happens next?”
“He… he starts talking to me.”
“And what is he saying?”
“All sorts of filthy stuff. About how he’s been watching me. How he’s been thinking about me. He… he wants to fuck me.”
“And do you want to fuck him?”
“No.”
“What happens next?”
“I try to escape, but he grabs me and pins me down. I’m in my boxers, and he’s fully clothed.”
“Do you like that? Feeling his clothes against your skin?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to.”
“Keep going.”
“He climbs onto my chest. He’s so strong I can’t get away. He opens his pants and pulls out his dick.”
“Is he hard?”
“Yeah.” I closed my eyes as my fantasy played in my mind.
“What happens next?”
“He forces me to suck him off.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Do you fight him?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what happens next.”
“He flips me over. He’s bigger than me. He pulls down my boxers.”
“What next?”
“He… he fingers me.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes.”
“Are you fighting him?”
“Yes.”
“Is fighting part of what turns you on?”
I nodded.
“I need words, Fun,” he said gently.
“Yes. I like fighting back.”
“Tell me what he does to you. All of it. You can jerk off as long as you’re talking. If you stop, you have to let go of your dick.”
I circled my shaft and stroked, my grip tight. The shuddering sigh I let out made him groan.
“Talk to me, Fun. Tell me what happens next.”
“He’s fingering me. Saying all sorts of filthy things about how much I like it, how tight I am. He’s so strong. He forces me on my knees, but my chest is still on my bed. He puts his foot on my neck. Not hard, just enough that I can’t move.”
I sped up my hand, the memories of my fantasy flashing in my mind. My dick pulsed, and my body grew tight.
“He’s hitting my prostate, and I’m so hard. He’s talking. Telling me how he’s going to fuck me. How I’m going to like it.”
Pleasure coiled deep in my body, and I jerked, my muscles contracting. My breathing was harsh, my voice wrecked. I should’ve been mortified, but talking to Wrong, telling him the truth, was liberating in a way that wasn’t just sexual. It made me feel safe, and the thought that he might be jerking off as he listened to me sent a rush of need through me.
“He’s getting me close. I’m moaning. I don’t want it, but I do. He’s taunting me. Telling me how I’m going to come all over his cock. How he can’t wait to fuck me, but he won’t until I beg him.”
“Shit,” Wrong muttered. “That’s fucking hot.”
Confidence bloomed in my chest, and I licked my lips. “He won’t stop. I keep waiting for him to pull his fingers out. To fuck me, but he keeps going. It feels good. So fucking good. I want to come so bad, but he won’t let me.”
My shaft was slick with precum, and I stroked faster, twisting my hand at the head in that way that drove me crazy. In my mind, it wasn’t my hand. It was Wrong’s. He was jerking me off as he listened to me.
“I can’t take it anymore, and I tell him to fuck me. He laughs and flips me over. He pulls me off the bed and puts me on my knees. He shoves his cock down my throat. He wants me to get him wet.”
“Holy fuck.” Wrong groaned. “Can you hear it? I’m jerking off with you.”
“Yeah. I can hear it.”
His breathing was unsteady. The little grunts coming over the line were so damn sexy I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold out.
“Keep talking. Tell me what happens next. If you get too close, stop. It’s not time to come yet.”
“Okay.” I gripped my cock by the base and pulled my balls away from my body. “Fuck, I’m close.”
“Touch your taint for me. Just press on it.”
I spread my legs and reached between them. “Oh.” I sighed and pressed against the tender spot. A bolt of pleasure shot up my spine, and goosebumps erupted on my skin.
I hadn’t done any sort of ass play in years, and knowing my finger was so close to my hole sent a ripple of awareness through me that made me gasp.
“Keep talking, Fun. Tell me what happens next.” His voice was strained, his breathing harsh.
I loved that he was getting off on listening to me. “He makes me suck him. He’s fucking my face. I love it, but I don’t want to. All I can see through the mask are his eyes. He’s staring at me. He’s not even talking anymore. He’s just holding my head and fucking my mouth.
“I think he’s going to come, but he pulls out and bends me over the bed. I’m so hard, so ready for him. He pushes in. His cock is huge. It hurts but in the best way. He’s talking again. Telling me how hot I look spread out for him. How tight my ass is. How he’s going to come in me. How he’s going to make me come on his cock.”
“Touch your hole for me. Pretend it’s me doing it. Massage it, tease it. Be gentle. I want it to feel good.”
I bit back a cry as I circled my hole with the tip of my finger. Spreading my legs wider, I hitched my knees up, opening myself even further.
“He’s fucking me,” I continued without him prompting me.
I let go of my cock, giving myself a bit of a break, and focused on Wrong’s breathing and the sexy-as-hell sounds he was making. “He’s fucking me so good. I love it. I’m moaning for him and so fucking hard. I want to come, and I’m so close. But he won’t let me jerk. My hands are trapped behind me. He’s holding them so tight. I’m leaking and begging, but he just laughs and keeps going.
“I’m going crazy, desperate. He shifts and hits my spot exactly how I need him to.” I pressed my finger against my hole, shuddering as the sensitive skin reacted. Nerves deep in my body crackled to life, and a low buzz, like a hum, filled me.
“I come hard. All over the floor. He’s still fucking me, telling me how much of a slut I am. How tight and how hot I feel. It’s so much, too much, but he won’t stop.”
Needing more, I lifted my finger and sucked it into my mouth, getting it wet. Before Wrong could tell me to keep going, I pulled it out of my mouth and returned it to my hole.
“It’s like I can’t stop coming. He’s laughing as I scream. It hurts so good. I don’t want it to stop.”
Groaning, I slipped the tip of my finger into my hole, breaching my outer ring of muscles. “It feels so good. I want him to come so I can feel it. I’m begging him to fill me up. Just when I think I’m going to lose it, he slams into me and comes. I feel it, and I love it. He’s marked me.”
“Fuck.” Wrong panted. “Is that it?”
“Yeah. That’s where I usually stop.” I groaned.
“Are you stroking?”
“No. Too close.”
“Are you playing with yourself?”
“I’m fingering my hole.”
A cry came over the line, followed by a loud grunt. Holy shit. Did he just come?
“Fuck your hole and stroke your dick,” he commanded, his voice gravelly and deep. “I want you to picture him. He’s standing over you. He reaches up and pulls off his mask. You look up, and you see that it’s me. I made you come. I’m the one who filled you up. Branded you from the inside and made you mine.”
A strangled scream tore from my lips as my orgasm slammed into me. My hole clenched around my finger, my dick pulsed, and I was shooting ropes of cum onto my chest. Wrong kept talking. Telling me how hot I’d been. How hard I’d made him come. How he didn’t want anyone else but me.
That last line was my undoing, and I let myself float away on a cloud of pleasure, wrapped in his voice and the knowledge he wanted me.
“Fun?”
“Hmmmm?”
I blinked. The room was hazy. Why was I shivering?
“Listen to my voice, Fun,” he said, his voice coming from far away. “Pull your blankets over yourself. Get nice and comfortable for me.”
Dazedly, I rolled over and grabbed my comforter. My hands were too big, my fingers clumsy.
“You’re okay, Fun. I’m here. Focus on my voice and know you’re safe. I’ve got you.”
“You do?” I whispered. I flopped around and tried to yank the comforter down.
“I do. I’m right here with you. Are you comfortable?”
“My hands aren’t working,” I said stupidly.
“Breathe in for me. Then hold it for a count of four. Can you do that?”
I nodded and sucked in a shallow breath.
“One, two, three, four. Now out.” His voice was calm and so tender it broke through some of my haze.
“Now one more time. Breathe in to a count of four. Ready?”
I pursed my lips and breathed in, filling my lungs as he counted for me.
“Hold it. Keep holding it. Don’t let it out until I tell you.”
I obeyed, my mind clearing a bit more.
“Now out to a count of six.”
He coached me through it, and when he finished counting, the feeling had come back to my hands.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Now get under your covers. You’ll feel better once you’re warm.”
Still not completely with it, I managed to slide under my comforter.
“Are you under them?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you feel?”
“Floaty and toasty.” I hummed softly as warmth enveloped me.
“Good. Now focus on my voice. I’m there with you. That warmth is me holding you.”
“I’m not a cuddler,” I mumbled.
“Neither am I, but I make an exception for aftercare.”
“Aftercare?” I closed my eyes and snuggled into my pillow.
“It’s something I do when a scene gets intense. Do you know what subspace is?”
“Kinda.” His voice was nice. I liked listening to him.
“After, there’s a crash called subdrop. It’s like an adrenaline crash. It’s temporary, but it can be disorienting.”
“Are you a Dom?”
“Not really. I’m bossy, and I like being in charge, but I’m not into everything a Dom does.”
“What kinds of things are you into?”
My head was clear, and my body felt like my own again. Last time we’d sexted, the urge to get as far away from him and his magic voice had been overwhelming, but today was different. I didn’t want to be alone, not after sharing something so personal, something no one else in the world knew. Hopefully he’d keep talking with me for a little bit.
“That’s a complicated question.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m into a lot of things on a theoretical level. I’ll fantasize about them, but I don’t think I’d do them in real life. Then there are things I enjoy and things I want to do.”
“What do you like doing?”
“I like edging my partners. Restraining them is always fun. Spanking and choking, but not flogging or whipping or anything like that. Sensory play, CNC—”
“CNC?”
“Consensual non-consent.”
I swallowed. “Like my fantasy?”
“Yes. I’d never assault someone. Even the thought turns my stomach. But if they’re into it and we set boundaries and limits, role-playing it would be fun.”
“Would be? You haven’t done it?”
“No. Never found a partner I wanted to do that kind of power exchange with.”
“Do you think it’s sick that I fantasize about being forced?”
I hated how small and vulnerable I sounded. One of my many coping skills was masking my emotions. People only saw what I wanted them to, but Wrong had busted through that wall during our first conversation. Maybe it was because I didn’t know him. The thought of telling this kind of stuff to someone I had to look in the eye was enough to send a rush of anxiety through me. But Wrong was just a guy on the line. Faceless and safe.
“No. It’s one of the most common kinks out there. Both men and women enjoy it.”
“Do you?”
“In the other role, yes. But being the victim”—he added an inflection to the word that sounded like the verbal equivalent of air quotes—“does nothing for me.”
“Are you a top?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever tried bottoming?”
“No. I don’t mind a little ass play for fun, but sticking things in my butt isn’t my thing.”
“Oh.”
“What about you? Are you vers?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve only ever bottomed.”
“Do you like the idea of topping?”
“No,” I said softly, pulling my comforter up so it was under my chin. “I don’t like being in charge.”
“There’s nothing wrong with having preferences.”
“I guess not.”
The conversation stilled. I was about to tell him I needed to go when he spoke up. “What kinds of things are you into? What would you like doing with someone?”
“CNC is right up there. And not just like a stranger forcing me. But fighting. I like pretending I don’t want it.”
“And do you want your partner to let you fight or fight back?”
“Fight back.”
“What else?”
“I like being taken care of. I’m not sure how to say it. But I guess I like it when they make me like it.”
“Like forced pleasure? You want them to make you feel good while you let yourself believe you don’t want it?”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t believe I was telling him this, but the words just tumbled out of me. “It’s the fantasy I like. I want them to be in charge. To make the decisions.”
“Do you like them to force you to pleasure them, or do you prefer the focus be on you?”
“On me.” I closed my eyes. I was such a selfish asshole for admitting this. “I’ve done JOIs with girls, and it’s always the same. They tell me what they’d want me to do to them. It’s always about them and their pleasure. I don’t hate that, but it’s not what I truly want.”
“Would you want a girl to do this kind of thing to you? Edge you, maybe fuck you while you’re helpless?”
“Yeah.” I drew in a shaky breath. “I’ve always wanted to be pegged.”
“That would be hot. Watching a guy getting pegged.”
“You’re into watching?”
“I am. Sharing, watching, swapping, I’m open to all that.”
“You’ve never done it?”
“Kind of. I have friends I’ve joined as a third, and they like it when I watch them. I know they’d be open to swapping or sharing, but I’d only do that with someone I had some sort of agreement with. That’s not something you can do with strangers.”
“I kinda had an experience like that.”
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“My friend, the one banging our roommate. He’s pretty open-minded. I brought him to a few parties, hoping he’d want to share a girl with me, but he’s more of a watch-and-enjoy type.”
“Have you ever done a threesome?”
“No. I’ve wanted to, but like you said, that’s not something you can do with strangers. And the few girls I’ve had a casual thing with would have slapped me if I’d asked to bring another girl into bed with us.”
“What about a guy? A lot of chicks like the idea of being with two guys or just watching.”
“I would have.” I bit my lip. “I asked one girl, and she was into it. But it never happened.”
“Cold feet?”
“No. She dumped me for some asshole who could give her what she needed. Her words.”
I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice as Elissa’s words echoed in my head.
“Then she wasn’t the right girl for you.”
Wrong’s simple, calm answer broke through my spiraling thoughts before they could get ugly.
“What do you mean?”
“It sucks that she was such a bitch to you, but she did you a favor. Not being sexually compatible with someone isn’t a reflection on you or your abilities. It just means you weren’t a match. Attraction doesn’t automatically mean compatibility. We’re pretty damn compatible. And there’s a fuck ton of people like me out there.”
“I never thought of it like that.”
“Did you like her?”
“A lot.”
“That sucks. And it’ll take time to get over the hurt. But don’t beat yourself up over something you have no control over.”
“You’re scarily insightful. You know that, right?”
He chuckled, the sound low and deep. Warmth rippled through me. “So I’ve been told.”
My phone vibrated on my night table. I wanted to ignore it and keep chatting with Wrong, but I picked it up instead.
Beck: be home in 20
“I have to go. I’m meeting with a friend to study.”
“Happy studying. And feel free to watch this later when you’re relieving some tension.”
What did he mean? The line went dead. Seconds later, a chime came over my headphones. He’d sent me something? I grabbed my burner phone off the bed, sat up, and checked our message thread.
A video was loading. Trying not to read into the thrill of excitement that shot through me, I waited for it to finish buffering. As soon as it loaded, I clicked on it.
A mouth-watering dick filled the screen. He’d taken it while standing, his camera angled down. He was fully clothed. Black dress pants and a light purple dress shirt covered his body, except for his cock, which was hard and jutting out.
I watched, transfixed, as he stroked it with a big hand. The video was only ten seconds long, which was about as big a file as the app could handle. Just before the video cut out, he pulled his cock down so it pressed against his leg. He let it go, and it bounced up, hard and proud and so damn sexy.
I wanted it. I wanted to suck it. Wanted it pushed down my throat.
But more than that, I wanted it inside me.
The video ended, and the rush of memories that hit nearly stole my breath. I closed my eyes and waited for the moment to pass. Fantasizing about it was one thing. Actually doing it? No. Never again.
The memory of Wrong’s soft voice as he’d helped me through my fog after I’d come broke through the fear squeezing my chest. Maybe Wrong was different.
Shaking my head, I pushed the comforter off myself and grimaced as I looked down at my cum-covered chest. I needed to take a shower before Beck got home. Pushing all thoughts of Wrong out of my head, I stood and grabbed a towel and my shower kit.
Now wasn’t the time to get all introspective and reflect on my traumas. I needed to shove them to the back of my mind and forget about them. Maybe this time it would actually work.
