“C’mon, let’s go home. You’re shaking,” some girl tells Crystal as they hurry off through the front door while I watch them from a chair in the lobby.
Interesting.
I tap my lighter against the table and fiddle with my cig until finally Ares appears from the kitchen.
“What did you do?” I ask.
He’s got his hands down his pants as he casually strolls to my table. “What needed to be done.”
A filthy smile forms on my lips as I look up at him. “You played with her, didn’t you?”
Without responding, he grabs a cig out of the package lying on the table, puts it in his mouth, and steals the lighter from my hand to light it up.
“We’re inside,” I say.
He just stares at me while he takes a whiff and blows it out in my face. I inhale the leftover smoke like it’s a gift. God, I love it when he’s his usual sadistic self.
“Let’s go.”
“What? Already?” I frown. “But we just got here.”
“I got what I was after,” he replies. “We’re done here.”
“But the party—”
He pushes his own cigarette into my mouth. “Stop moping around.”
I take a big drag, my dick twitching from the fact that this cig was just in his mouth.
He takes off his jacket and throws it over his shoulder. “This place is musty. Where’s Blaine?”
“Upstairs banging some randos, probably,” I say, snorting.
“Typical.” Ares pulls out his phone and texts him. Then he flicks his fingers at me and holds them out until I hand back the smoke so he can take another drag.
“Hey, you can’t smoke in here. Take it outside. There’s a designated smoking area.”
Some Phantom fucker with a white mask approaches us with folded arms. I don’t know who it is, and I don’t fucking care. And seeing as how Ares blows the smoke out in the dude’s face, neither does he.
“Okay, you’re done. Leave. Now.”
“Already planning on it,” I respond, walking off.
Ares follows me and throws the cigarette at the guy without even glancing at him.
Outside, I can still see Crystal and her friend.
“Should we follow her?”
“I’m good. Do what you want,” Ares replies, and he saunters off into the night, leaving me to myself.
But I can’t stop from turning in the other direction and following the girls as they cross the road. The pull is too strong to ignore. I want to know what kind of girl we’re dealing with and if she can really keep her mouth shut.
I don’t know what Ares did to her to get her to run from the party, but I can definitely deduce it was something filthy enough to make even my dick twitch.
And dammit, I want a taste of whatever he had too.
I follow them back to a recently renovated sorority, Alpha Psi, making sure they don’t see me. When they head inside, I smile.
Found you.
I look around to see if anyone is watching before I run to the back of the building and hide, waiting for some men to pass on the street. Don’t want anyone to see what I’m about to do.
When the coast is clear, I climb up the ladder on the back of the sorority. The whole thing is shoddy as hell, but I make it work. I head up to each window and peer inside to see if she’s there. There are girls in every room, but most of them are either sleeping or busy with their homework, so they don’t spot me taking a peek.
I head farther up and pause when I spot a door opening up in the back. I lean against the wall and listen through the open window.
“I’m fine, Kayla. Don’t worry.”
“Are you sure? Because you don’t look like it. Did Ares do something to you?”
Bingo.
“I just wanna take a shower.”
“All right. Well, I’m right next door, so yell if you need something.”
My heart thrums in my throat as I listen and wait until her door closes.
Kayla must be gone now, which means she’s all alone.
At least, that’s what I want her to think.
Crystal
I step under the shower, but I can’t even feel the droplets falling onto my numb body.
I lift my hands, but they’re shaking with vigor still, even minutes later.
Why can’t I shake this rage?
I slam my hand against the wall and focus on the sound of the water pitter-pattering down and disappearing into the drain, along with my sanity.
I should’ve stabbed him.
He was right there. I had my knife, and I had the opportunity.
Yet … I didn’t.
I close my eyes, trying to get the image out of my head, but no matter how hard I try, all I can see is my hands clutching the banister while his hand dives into my panties, coaxing out a dangerously lewd side of me I’ve never felt before.
Why did I let him touch me like that?
Anger coils around my heart, suffocating its happiness until my smile is replaced by a grimace. I grasp the faucet and turn up the heat, burning my skin with the scalding water. But the pain is nothing compared to the hatred I feel.
I’ve never felt anything like it before.
It’s not just because of the way he touched me, but that he actually made me want it.
I can still feel him down there, between my legs, circling around, almost making me combust. And then he stopped.
Leaving me wanting to finish the job right here, right now.
I grumble in frustration and turn the faucet to the other side, icing my back. The hot-to-cold change causes me to hiss, but I have to do something to get rid of this feeling, this need to both strangle a person and have their hands all over me.
God.
He called himself a god.
Who even does that?
And why did it arouse me?
I grab the soap and start scrubbing it into my body to rid myself of his marks, but no matter how hard I brush the soap into my skin, I can’t get rid of the marks he left on my mind.
Fuck him.
I rarely swear, but he makes me want to curse at the top of my lungs.
Because after all this, all this hot and cold water, this soap, all this time, I can still feel the pleasure I felt when his fingers were on me as though it’s still happening.
I turn off the faucet and step out to dry myself off, then put on a long-sleeved nightgown I brought with me.
I have to do something about this. Make it stop so I can focus on more important things.
Grumbling, I march to my window and close the curtains, then throw myself onto my bed and cover my face with my pillow, screaming into the void. I’m going insane.
Insane with anger.
Insane with a lust I don’t want.
Insane with the idea of bringing my own fingers down my body until I can feel the thrumming of my heart right down there between my legs.
Caleb
When I turn to look again, there she is, lying in her bed like a porcelain doll.
Her curtains are closed, but a small sliver remains open. Enough for me to peek through. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black nightgown, but her neck and legs are still exposed.
Her hands start to touch her breasts, and I’m completely mesmerized. My lips slowly part as she squeezes and tightens her own nipples right through the fabric.
I’m rarely affected by women, yet …
I instantly harden.
Her hand slips down her nightgown, all the way between her legs, and when she rubs herself, I suck in a breath.
She’s touching herself right in front of me, and she doesn’t even realize she’s being watched.
A slow, decrepit smirk spreads on my lips as my tongue darts out to wet them while my pants get tighter and tighter from the growing bulge. I don’t know why it gets me going, but it does, and I can’t get enough.
She keeps going, rubbing herself right through the fabric of her nightgown, and fuck me, I want nothing more than to open this window and crawl in to help her out.
But that would never happen without her squealing for help. And then I’d lose my chance at watching this sexy show.
Instead, I bring my hand down too and start rubbing myself straight through my pants. I get even harder at the thought of her watching me too.
But she doesn’t know I’m here. Doesn’t pay attention to anything except those fingers rolling around, faster and faster, her breaths coming out in short gasps. The sounds she makes are like music to my ears, and my shaft strains against my pants, so I unzip and pull it out.
She won’t see me here. Her eyes are closed, and she’s too busy pleasuring herself to even notice someone watching her. Yearning for her. Getting turned on by her.
God, I never imagined myself doing this, let alone because of a woman, but here I am, pleasuring myself all because of a honeydew-looking girl playing with herself.
I groan with excitement as I jerk off in the dark of night, my heart rate shooting up from the idea that someone could catch me here. The sliver I peek through is like taking a quick glance into heaven itself, and I can’t get enough of watching her squirm on her bed, of seeing her get closer and closer to the edge.
Small puffs of air leave her puckered lips, and her moans get louder and louder. My hand follows her movements, quickening the pace as my tip begins to drip with pre-cum.
If she looks this way, I’m screwed, but I don’t even care anymore.
I’m playing with fire, knowing full well what kind of inferno it could unleash, but I can’t stop.
Fuck, I need her to continue. Need to watch her writhe on that bed from her own damn hands, wishing she was writhing onto mine.
I jerk off faster and faster while she circles her slit right through the nightgown.
I wonder what she’s thinking of, if it’s Ares who got her so hot and bothered, if she’s imagining his hands all over her, almost like he’s touching me too through her.
Somehow, the thought only gets me harder, the veins in my shaft pumping with vigor.
I can’t hold it any longer.
Groaning, I release myself, cum shooting out against the window, covering every inch.
By the time I’m spent, she’s stopped wriggling her fingers, and I peer inside, panting heavily.
Why did she stop?
Crystal
Shit.
I can’t do it.
I tried. I tried so hard. Back, forth, left, circular motions, everything.
None of it worked to get me to a climax.
My breaths come in short gasps from the unkempt desire, yet I can’t get off.
Why?
Why can’t I do it?
I’m doing everything I always do, yet … all I can think of is how Ares touched me down there and how my fingers can’t even come close to what he did.
I should not be thinking about him, yet that’s exactly what I’m doing because I can’t come any more thanks to him.
I grab the pillow again and scream into the void.
CRACK!
A loud bang against metal pulls me from my thoughts, and I tear the pillow away.
What was that?
I get up from my bed and stare wide-eyed at the window.
Is there … someone out there?
Swallowing, I walk up to the window and shove it open wide, but I don’t see anyone out there in the dark. Only one streetlight is on, but I don’t see anyone walking around. Maybe it was the wind blowing off some twigs from the trees around the house. Yes, that must’ve been it.
My eyes travel down to the fire escape next to my window to find a few translucent droplets on the railing, and I rub it off, rubbing the droplets between my fingers.
I look up at the sky, searching for clouds, but there are none.
Weird.
I grab the window and shut it again, but my fingers are almost glued to the windowsill, my pupils dilating.
From the top edge of the window outside, a translucent whitish liquid slowly drips down.
I swallow as my hands begin to shake when I turn them around and look at the droplets on my fingers.
Sticky white glue.
I bring them to my nose and smell a familiar scent.
My eyes widen.
Oh God.
It’s cum.
