Chapter 4
Chapter Four
KERIAN
I’m sweaty as fuck from working out, and annoyed that the burn in my muscles and the exhaustion I’m feeling hasn’t done a damn bit of good when it comes to getting my mind off Zander.
Apples . Dimples. His hard, lean body shuddering and his pulse jumping beneath my fingers while I choke him.
He was fucking into it.
He was into me . He can lie about it all he wants, but I know the truth.
I’m quick in the shower. I want to head back to my apartment so I can get my roommate, Asher, to get on his knees for me. He’s so obsessed with me, I could probably crook my finger and he’d come running.
There’s no point chasing after Zander if I’m so horny that I bust the second I get his mouth on me.
I’m not the kind of guy who sticks with one person to begin with, no matter how much I want them.
I drive back to the shitty apartment I’m renting. My parents have money, plenty of money, but I’m not asking them for a dime, even though they keep pumping an allowance into an account I never touch. I get by on a modest inheritance my grandparents left me when they died, and that’s enough. I don’t need lavish. The most expensive thing I own is the car my parents bought me when I turned sixteen—it’s the only thing they’ve given me that I’ve ever kept. When I’m a fucking star and have more money than they could ever dream of, I’m going to make sure they know I got here without their help.
My dad doesn’t get to claim any of the credit for my fame. I’m positive the satisfaction of watching him regret every time he was ever shit to me is just as much a driving force as the way I love how it feels to play, to win.
Well, to usually win. Last night stings across my nerves and I groan, heading into the apartment and slamming the door behind me.
Asher is stretched across the couch, his dark roots peeking out of the bright pink he has his hair dyed. He’s lanky and tall, and honestly too pretty for his own good…
And he should be the perfect distraction. He looks up at me with an arched brow, and I raise a hand to wave him off as my eyes glance up at the television.
Why in the fuck is he watching reels from last night?
And why in the fuck does it have to be stuck on the second Zander yanked me to him?
I can see it in slow motion—his body reacting, leaning into me. The way he tensed before practically melting.
It’s more than that, though. For the first time, I see his expression as he walks off the field.
Dazed.
Confused.
Almost scared .
I’m not wrong . I know I’m not wrong. He wants me. And I’m too focused on the way his lips are just a little redder than usual on the screen to realize that Asher is talking to me, until he repeats himself.
“Kerian, do you want to get some lunch?”
Another few seconds pass before I actually process the words, and I snap my attention back to him.
“No.”
Shit, that came out a little too harsh. I’m not close with people, but if I was going to have someone I considered a friend, it would be Asher.
And besides, it’d be a fucking shame to make someone I have to live with hate me.
He glances from my face to the TV and arches a brow.
“Bad mood?” he says in a tease, and I’m debating whether I want to make him hate me after all. He can probably see it on my face, but he keeps on. “Did he have bad breath? I don’t think so, because you definitely kissed him back .”
I’m not imagining the slightest hint of jealousy in Asher’s voice, but he knows how things are. He’s always known. Just because we fuck around occasionally doesn’t mean he has a claim on me.
I’m not going to let anyone have a claim on me. I’m going to get to where I’m going alone, and it’s going to be great. No one to hold me back, no one to claim they got me there —just me.
Asher pushes off the couch and I can see his expression melt from teasing to soft. He’s a little caretaker at heart. At least with me.
“It’s fine, Asher. I just—” What? I can’t get the thought of putting Zander Braithe on his knees out of my head? I’m realizing there’s only one thing that’s going to settle the slowly catching wildfire in my chest. I need to fuck my way straight through him, so I can prove to him he wants it and get him out of my system in one fell swoop.
“You just?” Asher has zero tact when it comes to letting something go, and I realize that coming here was a mistake.
It isn’t what I want.
Fucking Asher isn’t going to do a damn thing for the rattling behind my ribs, the heartbeat banging angrily against its cage and demanding I give it freedom. Satisfaction.
“I forgot my wallet at the gym. I’ll be back later.” The excuse is bullshit, but it doesn’t matter. I’m already turning to leave, my mind twelve steps ahead of me and demanding I make this shit right before I drive myself crazy.
“Wait, Kerian. I didn’t mean?—”
The door closes behind me, cutting off whatever Asher was about to say. I’ll have to make it up to him later because honestly, he’s the best roommate I’ve had. I don’t want to fuck it up.
Which probably means I can’t fuck him anymore.
Whatever.
I try to tell myself that I’ll go back to the gym, that I’ll work my frustration out until my body is too tired to think about what my dick wants. What my mind seems to be fixated on.
I should go back to the gym.
Which… is why I’m confused when I turn my car left instead of right and head back to the wrong fucking campus.
Again.
It’s not like a part of me didn’t know exactly what I was going to do.
Fuck, I can’t get that wide-eyed expression on his face out of my mind. I can’t get the way he felt pressed against me off my skin.
Time to make more bad decisions.
I pull out my phone and glance down at it. The freshman who I met last night already sent me a text, but I notice Zander hasn’t, even though he has my number.
Fucker .
I should have told him to send me a picture of the mess he made of himself after I left. He probably wouldn’t have done it, but just the thought licks fire up my spine and makes me groan.
I’ll get pictures. I mentally put it on my list of shit I’m going to make Zander do before I’m finished with him .
Still, the freshman is extremely eager to answer their phone, and even more so to tell me they just saw Zander and his friend going to get lunch on campus.
Perfect .
A part of me should probably feel bad about using someone to get information with no intention of giving a shit about seeing them after… but maybe I wasn’t born with the guilt portion of my brain connected, because I don’t.
The only thing I care about is getting what I want.
And what I want is to fuck with Zander.
I haven’t been on this shitty campus before, other than last night, but it doesn’t take me long to figure out where all the jocks go to grab food. It’s even better because there’s a line of trees to the left and an entire row of buildings to the right. There are plenty of places for me to stand, so Zander won’t know I’m here.
It occurs to me I’m acting like a bit of a stalker… but I really don’t care, especially when I see Braithe coming out with one of the guys on his team that he’s constantly hanging out with off the field.
Russell Washington.
When the big bastard throws his arm around Zander’s shoulder, I feel a knot of irritation ripple through my chest.
I’d planned on finding him by himself, maybe waiting until he walked past me so I could pull him into a hall or an alley.
I wanted to watch the way his cheeks went pink when I asked him how things went after I left last night.
I wanted to get him alone, but he’s walking around with some giant asshole who is ruining all of my plans.
For a while, I just watch—I move when he moves, a shadow he can’t see, but I think he can tell that I’m there. His smile falters every now and then, and his eyes dart around like he can feel me just out of reach.
It shouldn’t set my skin on fire, knowing that he can sense me. It doesn’t mean shit. It really doesn’t.
But at the same time, I fall more and more into the idea of seeing exactly how often I can watch Zander when he doesn’t know I’m there.
After a bit, though, watching isn’t enough. I want to go out and fuck with him.
I want to put my hands on his throat again.
I settle on sending him a picture of himself, leaning into his absolute garbage of a defensive end. I don’t care that he’s close to him. Really, I don’t. I could give less than two shits that he’s practically hanging all over him with his stupid smile on his face, those fucking dimples on full display.
But I still send the picture and text beneath it.
Me: So you’re gay for any football player? Damn, Dimples, I thought I was special, but I guess not.
I wait until I’m on the other side of the quad before I send the text so he won’t know where I am, and when he pulls his phone out, the way the smile melts from his face and is replaced with a faint pink sting to his cheeks is delicious.
His dark brows snap together and my phone buzzes in my hand.
Zander: Where the fuck r u?
I could tell him. It’s not like he’d do anything about it here in the middle of everyone milling around. But… it’s more fun to fuck with him, isn’t it?
Me: Last night, when you were touching yourself after I left, were you imagining your lips around my cock or my fingers in your ass?
The pink turns into a brick red, and I’m shocked at the way the sight jumps straight to my dick, especially when he not-so-subtly puts his hands between his legs to adjust himself before he keeps walking.
Me: Come on, Dimples. You can’t tell me you didn’t fuck yourself into oblivion after I left. Should I give you a dildo next time so you can practice taking me? Is it not gay if it’s just a toy?
His jaw tics when the phone buzzes again, and he lasts exactly twenty-three seconds before he pulls it out and glares at my text.
Zander: Fuck off Slade I’m not n2 u
I have to be careful when I move now, tapping on the zoom of my phone until it’s aimed right at his crotch and his not-quite-hidden boner that he’s trying to keep at bay.
I send him the picture.
Me: Could have fooled me.
Zander’s head whips up, searching around for me.
I can see his friend mouthing something to him, concern plastered across his face, and the way it takes Zander every ounce of acting skills that he doesn’t have to try to blow it off. He says something and waves his hand, and the two part ways.
As soon as that motherfucker Washington is out of sight, Zander yanks his phone out again and stabs at it furiously.
Zander: It has nothing 2 do with u
I grin.
Me: Sure it doesn’t, Dimples. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and take a picture of your not gay dick then. Prove it.
Me: If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll come spit on it for you while you fuck yourself.
Me: Maybe I’ll even watch.
As soon as I send the text off, I let out a low groan. I’m the one teasing him—that should not have made my cock twitch the way it did. It shouldn’t have made me burn for him to say yes so I could fuck him in some dirty campus bathroom where anyone could hear.
But it did. It does. And that idea sounds hotter than it should.
Zander stares at his phone again, then his mouth ticks up in a defiant smile that I don’t like.
Zander: I’ll do u one better dipshit. I’ll get u a pic. 2night of me with some hot chick choking on my dick. then u can fuck off.
His smug smirk looks so satisfied , like he won our little game. I read the words again and feel something ugly spark in my chest, a heat I’m not used to.
My jaw clenches as I watch him walk off, and I realize something.
He’s completely fucked . I was playing today—I was going to take my time until he was begging for my dick.
But now?
Well, now he’s pissed me off. I’m going to make sure before the night is over that the only one choking on a cock is Zander.