to scream it tonight?”
“Just call me ‘baby’,” she murmured, and her mouth was hot and wet against his throat. She danced in closer, pressing the tight-wrapped denim of her thigh against his dick. He wasn’t hard, but that was fine. He would be soon enough.
“Wanna get out of here, baby?”
She pulled back long enough to catch his eye, and then her mouth was on his. She tasted like lipstick and blueberry punch, and it was awful, but when she grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the stairs, he followed.
Up the stairs and past the pile of people smoking in the loft and down the hall. She must have known someone, because she slipped a key into a lock and opened a door.
She didn’t turn on the lights and neither did he. He slept with girls from time to time. They did it for him well enough, but as he ran his hands over her curves, he was thinking about sharper angles. About stubble and dick and thrusting hard into a nice, tight ass. Or giving in. Opening his legs for it and letting someone take him.
Just like Greg had promised, right after he’d given Marsh the rimming of his life. Marsh groaned into a different mouth, and in his head he was up against the wall, hands braced on plaster, soft tongue loosening him up while he bucked forward into Greg’s fist, drowning in all his filthy talk about how next time he’d open Marsh up and fuck him.
That was all Marsh needed. In the span of a breath he went dizzyingly, achingly hard, and he whirled Whatshername around to press her into a wall, because that was what he really wanted.
He wanted to go back in time and make Greg take it, but that wasn’t what their non-relationship was about.
Self-loathing burned his throat. Oh, no. His and Greg’s thing, it was about getting off and getting back to their rooms, and Marsh was just a stop-gap. Greg hadn’t said it, but Marsh could tell. Greg was the guy who was looking for forever, and Marsh was for just right now, and that was fine. Even if he wished…
Even if he wished someone wanted to keep him.
Tiny hands palmed his ass, big breasts pushed up against his chest, and fuck, this girl didn’t want him either. Not really. Marsh bit down on her lip and tried to blank it all out, but he couldn’t. He gave one more rough push against the wrong-shaped hips, and actually growled in frustration.
He couldn’t do this. He wrapped his hands around her wrists and pushed even as he was pulling away, licking his own bottom lip where it was raw. Arcing against his grip, she gave a little shimmy. She flexed her wrists inside his grip. “Oh, yeah,” she moaned, like she liked that kind of thing, and he was going to be sick.
Yanking his hands back, he took two fast steps away, dodging when she moved to reel him in again. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry.” He readjusted himself in his jeans and tugged the door open, throwing light from the hallway into the darkness.
“What the fuck?” she called after him, but all he could do was shake his head as he stumbled out and rushed toward the stairs.
Because maybe he couldn’t get what he really wanted, but he didn’t want this. This wasn’t helping him forget anything.
Deep inside, he burned. He knew where he could get at least a bit of what he wanted, and if it wasn’t real and wasn’t all of it, well… You took what you could get sometimes. And when your ass hit the curb, after, at least you got to remember it.
Marsh had a moment as he climbed the stairs. A bad moment. Sure, Greg’s car had been parked exactly where it was supposed to be, and the light in his room was on, but that didn’t mean anything on a Saturday night. He could be out, or he could have taken a cab, or he could have just forgotten to turn off the light. He could have someone in there with him right now.
The cup of punch Marsh had slammed back on his way out of the party was sitting in his gut all wrong, making his head feel like it sat half an inch off his neck, but whatever.
“Just call me ‘baby’,” she murmured, and her mouth was hot and wet against his throat. She danced in closer, pressing the tight-wrapped denim of her thigh against his dick. He wasn’t hard, but that was fine. He would be soon enough.
“Wanna get out of here, baby?”
She pulled back long enough to catch his eye, and then her mouth was on his. She tasted like lipstick and blueberry punch, and it was awful, but when she grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the stairs, he followed.
Up the stairs and past the pile of people smoking in the loft and down the hall. She must have known someone, because she slipped a key into a lock and opened a door.
She didn’t turn on the lights and neither did he. He slept with girls from time to time. They did it for him well enough, but as he ran his hands over her curves, he was thinking about sharper angles. About stubble and dick and thrusting hard into a nice, tight ass. Or giving in. Opening his legs for it and letting someone take him.
Just like Greg had promised, right after he’d given Marsh the rimming of his life. Marsh groaned into a different mouth, and in his head he was up against the wall, hands braced on plaster, soft tongue loosening him up while he bucked forward into Greg’s fist, drowning in all his filthy talk about how next time he’d open Marsh up and fuck him.
That was all Marsh needed. In the span of a breath he went dizzyingly, achingly hard, and he whirled Whatshername around to press her into a wall, because that was what he really wanted.
He wanted to go back in time and make Greg take it, but that wasn’t what their non-relationship was about.
Self-loathing burned his throat. Oh, no. His and Greg’s thing, it was about getting off and getting back to their rooms, and Marsh was just a stop-gap. Greg hadn’t said it, but Marsh could tell. Greg was the guy who was looking for forever, and Marsh was for just right now, and that was fine. Even if he wished…
Even if he wished someone wanted to keep him.
Tiny hands palmed his ass, big breasts pushed up against his chest, and fuck, this girl didn’t want him either. Not really. Marsh bit down on her lip and tried to blank it all out, but he couldn’t. He gave one more rough push against the wrong-shaped hips, and actually growled in frustration.
He couldn’t do this. He wrapped his hands around her wrists and pushed even as he was pulling away, licking his own bottom lip where it was raw. Arcing against his grip, she gave a little shimmy. She flexed her wrists inside his grip. “Oh, yeah,” she moaned, like she liked that kind of thing, and he was going to be sick.
Yanking his hands back, he took two fast steps away, dodging when she moved to reel him in again. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry.” He readjusted himself in his jeans and tugged the door open, throwing light from the hallway into the darkness.
“What the fuck?” she called after him, but all he could do was shake his head as he stumbled out and rushed toward the stairs.
Because maybe he couldn’t get what he really wanted, but he didn’t want this. This wasn’t helping him forget anything.
Deep inside, he burned. He knew where he could get at least a bit of what he wanted, and if it wasn’t real and wasn’t all of it, well… You took what you could get sometimes. And when your ass hit the curb, after, at least you got to remember it.
Marsh had a moment as he climbed the stairs. A bad moment. Sure, Greg’s car had been parked exactly where it was supposed to be, and the light in his room was on, but that didn’t mean anything on a Saturday night. He could be out, or he could have taken a cab, or he could have just forgotten to turn off the light. He could have someone in there with him right now.
The cup of punch Marsh had slammed back on his way out of the party was sitting in his gut all wrong, making his head feel like it sat half an inch off his neck, but whatever.
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