Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
A n hour turned into three. Amy wanted round two and rode me cowgirl to an episode of that popular show she loves so much, where they hunt supernaturals. It makes sense, I guess, that she wanted to look at the main characters while she was stuffed full of cock. Hey, I don’t judge. Sex is easier when I can disconnect. And if she’s thinking about someone else, I don’t have to worry about anything other than getting off. So that’s something.
When I finally return home, it is past midnight. The house is dark, and everyone is in bed.
It’s late and I don’t want to wake my parents, so I carefully avoid the creaky step on my way up. The third one from the top is the worst if you put your weight on it, which I learned the hard way a few years back when I tried to sneak out one night.
Vanessa, a girl in my art class with the sweetest rack I’ve ever seen, invited me to climb the trellis to her bedroom one night, and it was a good idea until it wasn’t. Let’s just say I was screwed when I accidentally put my weight on the third step in my eagerness to make a stealthy escape.
Needless to say, I didn’t get to touch Vanessa’s tits that night because Dad grounded me for a month.
As I enter my bedroom, Arkin’s bedside lamp illuminates the space with a muted yellow. Shutting the door behind me with a soft click, I ignore Arkin on his bed while I empty my pockets of my phone and keys. Why is he up anyway? It’s… I check the time on my digital clock. Shit, almost one. Later than I thought.Well, fuck.
I pull the back of my T-shirt over my head, discarding it on the floor before reaching for my buttons and removing my jeans. Arkin continues staring at me, so I drop my head back with a heavy, frustrated sigh. It’s not like I need to look behind me to know he’s watching, because my back is literally on fire.
I turn and bark, “What?” as I throw my hands out. “What’s your problem?”
The flash in Arkin’s eyes is the only warning I get before he shoots up and storms across the small space. Watching him advance like a thundercloud, my heart pounds like a motherfucker.
He shoves me against the wall, diving his nose into my neck and breathing me in with a growl that I feel in my damn underwear.
His hands clench into fists on either side of my head, pressed against the wall, and he lingers with his nose on the spot just below my jaw.
My chest heaves like I’ve run a marathon, and I can’t catch my breath.
Dizzy, I shut my eyes. What is this? What is he doing?
“You can smell her on me, can’t you?” My voice comes out in a choked whisper. “My girlfriend.”
Arkin huffs a warm breath against my skin, every muscle tense and hard where his chest almost touches mine.
“Is that what this is about?” I ask, opening my eyes.
Arkin lifts his head. We study each other in the tense silence. When the seconds stretch too long, I laugh harshly. “You don’t like it, do you? Smelling her on me?”
I move my head closer, his jaw ticking visibly as I smirk.
Something raw from deep within, something unfamiliar, eggs me to taunt him. This close, our noses almost brush.
I wet my lips and say, “She took what she wanted, alright. After we hung up, she fucked me again?—”
Arkin slams his hand into the wall, vibrating with rage.
Then, without another word, he spins around and starts tearing through my room, reaching for the nearest objects and tossing them at the walls.
Words fail me as he throws over my bedside table, sending the lamp and digital clock crashing to the floor. It’s fucking lucky my parents don’t come storming in.
He straightens up and takes in the destruction, his chest expanding with harsh pants. I stay silent… What can I possibly say? I’m so shocked and rattled that I can’t speak even if I want to. The most confusing of it all is that I’m racked with guilt, and I can’t wrap my head around it. Arkin is the one acting crazy. Why do I feel bad? Like I did something wrong tonight? Betrayed him somehow?
Eventually, when the silence becomes too much, I whisper, “What the hell, man?”
Dark strands, damp with sweat, fall over Arkin’s brow. He slowly lifts his head and looks at me sideways.
I’m not prepared for his pained expression or the tightening of my chest when he storms out of my room.
He leaves me there, shirtless and rattled, with my girlfriend’s perfume on my bare skin and the crushing load of guilt weighing me down.
“Fuck,” I choke out… then louder, “FUCK!”
I turn around and ram my fist into the wall, but the pain in my knuckles does little to stop this sinking feeling.
An hour later, Arkin still hasn’t returned. It’s a struggle to sleep and I toss and turn, debating if I should find him and apologize.
But for what? I didn’t do anything wrong… He knows I have a girlfriend. He fucking knows. So why is he upset?
Maybe I shouldn’t have picked up when he called earlier.
Okay, that was wrong of me. It was a dick move, but in my defense, he didn’t hang up. Besides, he has touched me before… he made me come in his hand.
Guilt-ridden, I kick off the quilt and stare up at the strip of light on the ceiling. My room is too quiet without Arkin here. Seems like I’m used to his breathing. And maybe I… miss it now that he’s not here.
Miss him? No, that’s ridiculous.
I roll over and hug the spare pillow close, wishing my chest would stop aching. It keeps throbbing, and moisture gathers in my eyes when a car drives past outside.
A beam of light slides over my posters and shelf of football trophies. Front and center is a framed photograph of me, Harrison, and Ryan. We’d just won our first football game together back when we were in primary school. God, I miss those simpler days. Sweaty, achy, and elated, we smiled like buffoons for the camera.
Back then, we were a far cry from the cocky teenage footballers we are now. Football was fun. Our future held so much potential.
I guess it still does, but it doesn’t feel like it because, if anything, I’m more confused than ever. Football doesn’t bring me the same joy it once did, but maybe I’m out of sorts.
If I can just get my head screwed together… maybe then I can figure my shit out.
I’m startled awake in the early morning hours when a heavy weight bears down on my back. “What the?—”
A big hand clamps over my mouth just as Arkin’s woodsy, masculine scent surrounds me, heady and warm and forbidden.
His hard chest and bare skin set me on fire, and when I realize he’s naked, my heart begins to pound almost shamelessly.
Fucking naked…
Stunned, I push into the mattress with my hands, but his weight feels like a solid concrete block.
I can’t shift him.
Arkin drags his fingers through my hair, fisting a handful, and my body comes alive in a way that’s terrifying and overwhelming.
Shoving my head into the pillow to muffle my protest, he yanks my briefs down with a huff of breath near my ear. The chill in the air hits my bare skin, followed by the smooth glide of his silky cock between my ass cheeks.
“Arkin?” I stop moving. “What the fuck?”
My muffled words must do something to him because he rolls his hips again in a slow, sensuous stroke, eliciting a groan, not only from him but me too.
I’m not fighting anymore. I should. If I were in my right mind, I’d roll over and punch him in the face, like the other day. But instead, I breathe hard into the pillow while Arkin reaches between our bodies and begins to masturbate.
His panting breaths hit the shell of my ear and he pushes one of his hands into the mattress beside my head, a moan rumbling in his chest.
I lie motionless with my head buried in the pillow and my heart thrashing madly while he jerks his dick over my ass, pleasuring himself.
My body trembles all over—nervous, excited, and turned on like an inexperienced virgin at second base. There’s even a damp patch beneath me where my cock leaks onto the sheets.
A desperate groan is torn from my chest, the sound muffled by the pillow. If only I could bury my dick deep in… something.
Arkin’s parted lips brush up against my ear as his breathing becomes more labored, and then he groans, long and deep, and I almost come. Arkin hasn’t even touched me and I’m already worked up like never before, attuned to every sound he makes, no matter how faint. He’s not holding me down anymore, which means I’m free to knock him off and escape from underneath him if I want to, but I stay where I am, barely breathing.
Another long moan drifts down the side of my neck, and I can’t help it when my hips stutter.
I’d kill for pressure on the head of my cock.
If only I could ram it inside him.
Arkin nuzzles my neck, and an erotic sound somewhere between a grunt and a moan erupts like a growl. His breath hits my skin, and I lose my mind. I’m pretty sure of it because I come, shuddering and moaning into the pillow as cum soaks the sheet.
Arkin rears up and grabs the back of my neck to hold me down. Seconds later, hot spurts of cum rain over my ass and back.
“Holy shit,” I groan, wishing I could look at him. Still, I’m secretly pleased that I can’t. While I like this more than I’d ever admit to anyone, even myself, I doubt I’m ready to accept that I enjoy a guy coming and marking me like this.
That’s what he’s doing now—marking me—running his hand through his release and smearing it over my skin.
He even trails his damp fingers through my hair before he leans down to breathe me in, huffing a pleased, satisfied sound. Like he’s glad he can’t smell Amy on me anymore.
Then he’s gone, climbing off the bed and disappearing to his side of the room.
Confused and humiliated, I roll over onto my back and push up onto my elbows. He’s facing away from me again, like the other night.
Sliding on my briefs with jerky movements, I seethe. “Ever heard of consensual sex, you dickhead? That shit you just pulled… that wasn’t it.”
Okay, it was. I could have fought him off if I didn’t want him to use me like that, but I didn’t because I enjoyed it—even if I’m not ready to accept the truth yet.
I bite down the surge of anger that bubbles beneath the surface every time he steals another slice of my sanity like he’s piecing together a puzzle. His puzzle. It’s infuriating how he rolls me up on a mat when he’s done and goes back to ignoring me until he’s ready to collect more pieces. Well, fuck that!
Flipping over, I yank the quilt, almost whacking myself in the chin because I’m that agitated.
Why don’t I get out of bed and teach him a fucking lesson? Yes, that’s what I should do. He deserves it… I mean, what the fuck was that? He trashed our room because I went to see my girlfriend? And then he thought he could waltz back in here and use me?
All these unfamiliar, strange emotions boil over, and the next thing I know, I’m throwing off the quilt and stomping across the floor, hauling him out of bed.
Arkin takes the quilt with him, a smug smile on his face as he crashes to the ground.
I straddle his hips and punch him square in the jaw, but his unreadable, intense expression makes me even more fucking irate.
Another hard punch shoots pain through my sore knuckles and I shake out my hand, standing up on trembling legs.
Outside, a car illuminates the cut on Arkin’s bottom lip as it drives past briefly. His chin is coated in slick blood, but it doesn’t make me feel better like I thought it would. If anything, I feel worse.
“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are.” My voice is eerily low, even to my own ears. “But you better stay the hell away from me.”
With a final long, disgusted look at him crumpled by my feet, I stride back to bed. “Come near me again, and I’ll make you regret it.” Avoiding the wet stain, I climb in and pull the quilt to my chin just as the sky begins to lighten outside.
Arkin’s sheets rustle as he gets comfortable, but then silence falls—an uncomfortable silence filled with tension and repressed emotions. But it doesn’t matter because I’m exhausted, and before I know it, I’m fast asleep.