“No,” I moan, and he chuckles.
“Hold on, dirty girl,” he says, standing and fisting himself above me.
I lie back and watch the show. His abs flex as he sucks in ragged breaths, pumping his cock in front of me, and it’s the sexiest sight I’ve ever seen.
“Rub your clit,” he says, staring down at me.
I reach between my legs, swirling my fingers through my wetness before landing on the sensitive nub. His pupils are huge, taking everything in. I cry out, and he jerks forward with a hiss.
“Fuck.”
“I’m so close,” I say as I continue to touch myself, rubbing my clit in circles, my eyes fastened on his hand stroking his cock back and forth.
I arch my hips as the fire starts in my arms and legs, working toward my core and back out again as I succumb to my orgasm. He stares at me, his hand moving faster, as I throw my head back and ride out my pleasure.
“Look at me. Watch me come all over you,” he commands, and I do. His cum coats me, dripping down my breasts and stomach. He smiles down at me, hand still wrapped around his cock as we stare at each other.
It’s never been like this before. I’ve never felt so satisfied or understood or known.
“Hold on,” he says, crossing to the bathroom and grabbing a towel from the rack.
He walks back over, rubbing it over my stomach and tits, cleaning me up, and I lie there, watching him. I can’t move; I’m so satisfied. I just want to turn over and sleep.
“Stay with me,” he says, mirroring my thoughts.
I smile and nod. I push with my foot still against the bedside table, trying to sit up, but I tip over the table instead. It crashes to the side, scattering items from the drawers as I rise onto my elbows.
“Oops. Sorry.” I grimace.
He shakes his head, handing me a large T-shirt. “You don’t know your strength.” He chuckles.
I swing my legs over, perching on the side of the bed. I grab the T-shirt and slip it over my head before bending down to help him put the drawers back together.
“No, you don’t have to do that.” He puts out an arm, and I frown, looking up at him.
“What? I knocked it over, so I’m helping.” I pick up a few items, depositing them in one of the drawers.
“It’s fine,” he says sharply, and I cut my eyes to his.
Why is he acting like this?
I pick up a few more things before my hand wraps around something familiar, and I gasp. I look up at him as he rakes a hand down his face.
“Landry, I can explain.”
“Please do. Explain why you have my phone,” I spit out, and he puts his hands on his hips, staring at me. “I’m waiting.” I stand up and face him, hand clenching my phone so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. At this point, I feel like you are always going to be ‘explaining’ things to me.”
“It was before,” he says, holding his hands out, and I glare at him.
“Put some pants on.” It’s hard to argue with a naked person.
He quickly grabs some shorts from his drawer and slips them on before advancing toward me. I throw up a hand to stop him, and he immediately does. I can’t have him close to me. I can’t let him touch me. It will weaken my resolve, and right now, I’m furious.
“I can’t believe you would stoop to that level. Stealing something is—” I stop myself, my eyes widening when I choke on the word I was going to say.
Horrible.
Stealing is horrible, and that’s what my mom was doing to the Montgomerys. I start to understand how they feel a little, and my gut churns, anger and loathing mixing inside me.
“You stole something from me because that’s what you and Brock and Bodhi thought I was doing. A little hypocritical, isn’t it?” I say the last sentence on a whisper, tears gathering in my eyes.
The wonderful moment we shared is ripped to shreds at this revelation, and all I want to do is escape.
“I need to be by myself.”
I throw the door open as Corbin reaches his hand out. He tries to say something, but I don’t wait to hear it. This might be a little self-destructive, but I’m tired of feeling like I’m a pawn in their game.
I freeze, standing outside the door as heads whip my way. A few catcalls break into my thoughts, and I bolt, registering phones in my face as I dart down the hallway, rapidly hitting the elevator button as if that would make it appear quicker.
When I remember I’m not wearing any panties, I pull down the hem of my T-shirt—Corbin’s T-shirt—to cover some more inches of my exposed thighs.
Fuck.
Finally, the elevator doors open, and I launch myself inside, turning in time to see Corbin staring at me from outside his room. He doesn’t bother to chase after me.
Shocker.
My back hits the wall, but this time, there isn’t a hard body pushing into me from the other side. There’s only my half-naked body with my cum still coating the inside of my thighs.
30
Corbin
“Come on. We’re getting your ass out of this room,” Bodhi says from the doorway.
He looks at me lying on my bed, throwing a ball at the ceiling and then catching it. Or sometimes, not catching it, but I relish in the feeling when it hits my face. I deserve it—the pain.
“Nah,” I groan, chucking the ball up again, but Brock swipes it from the air before it comes back down.
“We can’t watch you mope around in here anymore, asshole. You’ve been pathetic for the last week,” he says, pulling the covers from under me until I fall to the floor.
“What the hell?” I yell, and he smirks at me.
“Consider it your wake-up call.” He laughs and walks to the door.
I scramble to my feet as I massage my temples. I might have also been drinking a little. They glare at me from the doorway, and I stare back. Two can play at this game. I have every right to feel sorry for myself. It’s a human emotion. I don’t want them interfering with it.
“Change your clothes.”
I look down and eye the rumpled uniform I wore to class earlier. There are a few wet spots where I tried to drink while lying down and spilled liquor on myself.
“You smell like a bar.”
“Dick,” I say, no other retort in my muddled mind.
“Prick,” Bodhi says back.
I let one side of my mouth tilt up. “That rhymes,” I say.
Bodhi rolls his eyes. “You are further gone than we thought. She’s just a girl, man. You gotta let it go. There are other fish in the sea.”
“She’s the only fish I want.”
“God help us all,” he mutters.
I pin him with a glare. “You aren’t being very sympathetic. I remember how you were after Trixie,” I say.
His eyes widen. “I wasn’t that pathetic. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Dude, you were so—”
“Don’t say it,” Bodhi growls, and Brock shakes his head.
“I remember you singing sad songs in the shower and then toting around your dad’s expensive scotch, overturning it all over the carpet in the main hallway.”
“This isn’t about me, dipshit. This is about getting you back on your game.” Bodhi rolls his eyes, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.