10. Claire
Chapter ten
Claire
Eli looks like he’d much rather be back at my apartment fucking Rhea, but he was at least nice enough to take one for the team. I’ll have to tell her to reward him extra generously tonight, because he is gloriously discreet as he moves around the room, never letting me completely out of his sight, but also never crowding me out of my own skin.
I’ve been out all night, and I made good on my promise to Remy to drink. I’ve drank a lot… enough to warm my veins as much as they can be without physical touch. We tailgated but thankfully didn’t stick around to watch the game. That, we’re doing on a big screen set up on the side of the house with a projector pointed at it and surround sound blasting out the commentator’s remarks. It’s a nice setup, particularly because I’m on Austin’s shoulders in the pool, wearing nothing but the strings that hardly pass as panties and his button-down. I’m pretty sure the water floating around it has pushed the top out enough to offer a view of my ass to anyone looking up from the bottom of the pool, but I’m still somehow one of the most clothed girls here.
Rhea and I loved parties like this our freshman and sophomore year. It was outside of my comfort zone at first, but when I’d realized my life was actually kind of stable for the first time, I started to enjoy the chaos of a good party. When I dated a loser with an inferiority complex, I’d stopped coming to stuff like this, and Rhea realized she didn’t need a party to find someone willing to hook up with her .
Maybe it’s the drinks talking or the water that always seems to calm me, but I actually feel at peace in the middle of this chaos, pretending like I have any idea what’s happening on the screen and high fiving everyone in the immediate vicinity when something good happens. It’s why, when Austin grabs my thigh to demand my attention so he can tell me he’s going to get us some more drinks, I don’t even bother getting out of the pool. I sit on its edge with my legs dangling and maintain the conversation I’ve been having with a girl named Jess who is telling me all about her Physics professor. I feel stupid in her presence as she talks about laws of the universe and how she’s dying to graduate so that she can fuck her professor without anyone giving her shit for it.
“What about you, Claire?” She smiles brightly. “You going to hook up with any of your professors after graduation?”
“No,” I laugh. I’m not in a position to judge any of her kinks given what I’ve done, but I also have no interest in any of my professors like that. Maybe I would have at one point, but not now. I can’t imagine that hooking up with anyone will satisfy the need I feel, but I’m not opposed to trying. That’s why, when Austin comes back with two drinks and leans down to ask if I want to go dry off in his room, I don’t object. I’ve had him between my legs all night, and as I chug more of the latest concoction he brought me, I’m certain I want more than just his neck there.
The inside of the house is somehow louder than the outside. People crowd every bit of surface area the place has to offer. There’s a game of beer pong in the dining room, flip cup in the kitchen, and a keg stand happening on the stairs, which looks both sketchy and fun as we pass them on our way up. Nobody says anything about the water dripping from my hair and the flannel as I let Austin pull me with him.
It’s so loud I can’t even hear my laughter over the other laughs, the cries and cheers, the sound of the game blaring outside and echoing through the open windows, and the music thumping downstairs. Thankfully, the further up the stairs we get, the more I can hear myself think. Or, the more I would be able to, if I was thinking.
I’m not, though. Tonight, I’m not thinking. I’m doing .
When we get to the second floor, he pulls me to the left, into a hallway lined with doors, and down to the last one. There’s a shiny silver lock fitted on the outside, and for a split second, I think that maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t really know a ton about Austin. For all I know, he’s going to slit my neck and stuff me with newspaper so he can keep me in his room forever. And then, as quickly as that lovely thought was born, I laugh it off.
Of course they have locks on the outside of their doors. Frat houses are just like small dorms that smell more of corn chips and beer.
As he punches the code into the keypad, he doesn’t shift to hide it from view, and I make out the sequence, stashing it away in case I need it.
3167.
When Austin pulls me into his room, I kick the door shut behind me and fall into him, laughing louder as he catches me against his bare chest. I glance up at him without moving, finding him grinning down at me. “You okay?”
A shiver that only has a little to do with the cold passes through me, and I nod as he turns to open a drawer of his dresser. When he turns back, he’s passing me another shirt. “That one looks great on you, but I thought you may want a dry one now.”
“You know me so well,” I quip, taking the top and holding it out to appraise it. It’s just another button-up, but it’s even softer than the one currently plastered against my skin.
“I have a spare towel somewhere.” Austin says, glancing around the room like the towel will just materialize.
“It’s fine.” I motion with my finger for him to turn around, and he does it without complaint, turning to face the door as I strip the soaked garment off and quickly replace it with the dry one. “Almost done,” I assure him as I get to the last two buttons, which seem trickier to get in place than the four ahead of it. More likely, the vodka from that last drink is hitting hard, because I’m suddenly woozy, swaying on my feet.
I give up the fight and sit on the edge of his bed. “All good,” I tell him, giving him permission to join me. I didn’t realize he changed out of his swim trunks when he came to get us our drinks, but I notice as he approaches me that he’s wearing a dry pair of board shorts that hit right above his knee. I can see the faint outline of his cock, still nestled in wet briefs beneath them.
“Is the game over?” I ask, unable to take my eyes from him as he draws closer still, stepping right in front of me and trapping me between his knees. His stomach is all muscle and it’s lined up with my face. I look up at him through my lashes, blinking to try and settle the two versions of him back into one, and then reach out to pull him with me as I fall back to his bed.
Austin’s body falls over mine as he comes down with me, the both of us laughing when I squeal on impact. He catches himself before our heads can knock together, supporting his weight with an arm braced on my side. But even with that, we are chest to chest, his mouth inches from mine, his warm body blanketing mine.
“The game is over.” He confirms, “But the night isn’t.”
“No,” I agree. “It definitely isn’t.”
The hand that’s not holding himself up traipses the side of my stomach, chasing away the fabric of his shirt in slow, gentle strokes. My eyes flutter closed at the touch, so gentle and sweet, and I feel the warmth of his mouth over mine. He doesn’t kiss me as his hand skates along my arm, pushing it over my head, and then something cold brushes against my wrist.
It takes me a minute to place the metal clank—the cuff is already closed around me by the time I turn my eyes up to look at what just happened. It takes another minute to process that the cuff is attached to his bed post, and pulling on it does nothing.
I try to ask him what he’s doing, but my tongue doesn’t feel like it moves, and words don’t seem to make it out of my mouth. I don’t know Austin well enough to be chained to his bed, but I’m not horrified by the idea. In fact, part of me gets a wicked thrill at the idea that Austin may actually be able to give me what I need.
But he doesn’t give me anything, pulling away from me instead. I can’t focus on his eyes or his words as he moves away from me. I wouldn’t have seen the door open either if it weren’t for the shadow that bounces across the room.
I try to see who he just let in to join us, or if he’s just stepping out and leaving me alone up here for some strange reason. There’s a weird phantom breath on my spine that tells me I’m in trouble now. It’s like my instincts can’t break through whatever fog has been cast on me; I can’t even shiver all the way, can’t feel the depth of just how fucked I really am… or how badly I’m about to be.
And I’m actually kind of glad for that because when he moves into view, I know I’m in deep trouble.