Filthy Rebound Secret

Chapter 1

MARK

He steps through the entry into the kitchen.

It’s over for me.

Folding his arms, he leans against the column across from the kitchen island I sit at, his dark eyes on me like some sort of predator.

That’s what he is. I saw how he was looking at me upstairs when I was chatting with my friends.

It’s why I slipped away, looking back at him just long enough to offer an inviting glance before I snuck down to the unfinished basement kitchen that’s supposed to be off-limits for party guests.

He must’ve seen how lonely I am…sensed my intense grief.

Now, here we are. Him—the notorious asshole who likes to fuck spoiled rich kids. And me—a sad, defeated, lonely kid who needs an escape from the pain.

The bass of the music upstairs makes me think of all the red Solo cups and dancing I witnessed a few minutes ago. The scent of wood and new paint fills the room.

I lean forward on the bar stool and rest my elbows on the island. I gaze into his eyes, wishing I were stronger. But if I were, then I could resist him, and I wouldn’t want to do that. I deserve a night with someone like Tim Halwell. I deserve to feel passion and to be as bad as Greg was to me.

“Seems awfully lonely down here,” Tim says as he steps away from the column, approaching me—moving slowly, taking his time. He doesn’t need to take his time, though.

“You’re some kind of demon, aren’t you?” I ask as he saunters around the corner of the island, trailing his finger along the marble countertop.

He smirks. “What do you mean?”

He must know I’ve figured out his game by now.

How he leads guys on. How he excites them.

Entices them and then leaves them hungry for something more…

something he can’t give them. I’ve heard the story so many times, and I’ve been intimidated by him ever since I first heard about him last year. But tonight, I’ve given up.

“You can sense weakness,” I say. “My fear.”

“Are you afraid?”

I shake my head. “I would be on a different night.”

“What about tonight?”

“Just sad.”

“I can make it better.”

“That’s not how it works, but I don’t mind making a mistake.”

“And I don’t mind being your mistake.”

Revenge sex is what I need right now. To get the fuck plowed out of me until I can forget about Greg and what he did to me. How much he hurt me.

Tim moves in closer, so that he’s right beside me, and I turn and gaze into his beautiful brown eyes, which seem to have some great secret behind them—something he keeps from all his fuck buddies.

His short dark hair combed to the side, he has a sharp jawline covered with a light scruff like he forgot to shave this morning. The specks of hair surround those thin pink lips—curved just right…the most kissable fucking lips I’ve ever seen.

A voice calls out within me, begging me to reconsider acting on my lust and vengeance, but I can’t deny how hard I’m getting just thinking about fucking him.

I rise from the bar stool so that we’re just standing there, looking into each other’s eyes.

“I’m not in the mood for games,” I say.

“Who needs ’em?”

I move toward him quickly and kiss him.

I imagine him getting together with his buddies, bragging about how exciting it was to fuck the shit out of the governor’s son. Telling them how easy I was. How I’m the biggest bottom he’s ever had. How he owned me. Controlled me. Humiliated me.

The warmth of his lips has a hypnotic effect, making me forget all the good reasons for being apprehensive. All the guys I know he’s hurt. All the guys he’s drawn in only to drop them the moment they started to feel something more.

In some ways, I think this is my opportunity to pay him back for what he did to Keith, one of my friends who fell victim to his tricks—wounded and crippled him. Lured him in only to release him.

Destroy me, if you can, Tim Halwell.

I dare him to try. My ex Greg hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt before, and I’m not about to crumble again. Not for a bastard like Tim.

I don’t know if I’ll feel that way tomorrow, but tonight I’m surrendering to my captor.

He slides his hand up the back of my shirt. When it reaches my neck, he grips my hair and yanks sharply.

It stings, but I don’t resist. Just stare into his eyes.

He leans into me, and as I try to kiss him, he pulls his head away and keeps his fingers locked in my hair so I can’t move any closer—so he can just stand there, enjoying how he has me frozen in this position. He must see that all I want is for him to take me.

He assesses my face, as though he’s trying to decide if I’m hot enough for him to fuck, but I know we wouldn’t be here, like this, if he wasn’t attracted to me.

And even if I’m not his type, I know his desire to be the one who fucked the son of Georgia’s first female governor will outweigh whatever apprehension he may have about following through with this.

A nervous sensation fills me. I can’t decide if it’s anxiousness or eager anticipation.

I rub the back of my hand over the crotch of his jeans. He’s hard. Incredibly hard.

Oh, he wants it, all right.

He releases my hair and grabs the hem of my shirt.

I raise my hands, and he pulls my polo over my head.

I kick my shoes off as he hurriedly unfastens my belt and slides my pants down to my ankles.

I figure he’ll give me an opportunity to get out of them, but before I can, he spins me around and pushes me up against the kitchen island.

Fuck.

I check over my shoulder. He retrieves a condom and packet of lube from his back pocket.

Always ready to play, I guess. Doesn’t surprise me considering how he makes his way around the gay guys on campus.

He undoes his pants and pulls them down, revealing that massive dick Keith told me all about.

He tears the edges of the lube packet and condom wrapper with his teeth and spits them out to his side like a fucking pro. Then he suits up and pours the lube onto his hard girth.

I turn back around and lean against the counter the way I did when Tim first entered the basement.

He positions his cock up against my hole.

No foreplay. No fucking around.

Just fucking.

I’m making a mistake. I know that.

But I deserve to make a mistake.

I’ve been a good boy all my life.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight, I can be bad. I can be dangerous. And Tim can help me forget about my cheating asshole ex.

I take a breath in preparation. My ex wasn’t this big, so I’m nervous.

Pressure pushes within me, but his cock hits my nerves just right. The sensation creeps through me, erupts from my pelvis and vibrates through my body. He works his way in carefully…very carefully for someone who seems like the sort who might plow right in to hear me cry out.

He inches his way in, and a rush of delight sweeps through me as he fills my hole with that fat dick.

It feels so good that I can’t help but curse.

I wonder if anyone upstairs heard me, but the thumping of the music assures me it’s unlikely.

He builds up until he’s able to thrust.

I grip the edge of the counter with one hand and reach back and set the other against his hip. As he drives within, it feels incredible. I’ve never had one this big slamming against my prostate, electrifying every nerve within me.

The sensations are so overwhelming I start to scream out my pleasure, but he cups his hand over my mouth, obscuring the sound.

Thank God.

My face fills with heat. His hot breath rushes behind my ear.

My nipples harden as my dick shifts back and forth.

Tim grabs my hip with one hand and allows his other hand to move up and down my torso as he caresses his fingers through every curve and dip in my abdomen.

Judging by how he’s fondling me, he must like what he feels, but I can’t be sure, considering this is probably what he does to all the other guys he’s fucked.

As his movements quicken, both his hands settle on my hips.

He holds on as though he needs to keep me from escaping.

He pounds into me, and my flesh pricks with tingling sensations, reminding me of how it felt the first time I masturbated.

The experience leaves me wondering what I was missing out on during all those wasted nights with Greg.

I can feel the hem of Tim’s shirt on my back and occasionally feel the zipper rub against my side.

I like knowing he’s still in his clothes, his pants dropped to his knees while I’m almost completely naked, with my jeans still around my ankles.

He’s owning my body, humiliating me. I’m just another notch in his headboard. Another trophy.

He slides out, offering me a moment of relief.

I use the opportunity to kick my shoes and jeans off. He turns me back around to him and kisses me. It’s a passionate kiss, not the sort I expect from him.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he instructs, and I obey.

He squats, and I follow his lead as he grips his arms around my thighs and hoists me into the air.

He carries me to the refrigerator across from the island and pins me up against it. He maneuvers his dick back inside me, and I curse because the surge of energy it stirs as he hits my prostate again is so delightful I can’t help myself.

He continues kissing me, my cock hard as a fucking rock, as I’m wedged between him and the fridge. I grab onto the top of the refrigerator door. He kisses down my face to my neck, where he sucks and licks like he’s trying to mark me.

Now I understand what guys see in him. His body stirs this twisted excitement within me, and every kiss is so wild and feral.

Even knowing that this means nothing to him, the passion—the intensity—makes me feel like I’m the most important thing in the world.

Like I’m the only guy he’s ever wanted to share this with.

He leans back, cringing as he fucks me, his groan revealing how much he’s enjoying having my hole massage his cock.

The expression on his face, tense as he stares, makes me feel like he’s trying to show me who my master is. Sweat rushes down his face, collecting in the scruff across his jaw.

My own sweat slides down my face, and my body heat, combined with Tim’s, feels so intense.

This doesn’t even seem wrong or naughty anymore. Just magical.

He pulls me away from the fridge and kneels, lowering me to the concrete floor.

Its cold surface contrasts starkly with our hot passion.

He lifts my legs as he takes me, forcing his cock back to that sweet spot within me.

It reminds me of the first time I ever felt a guy hit it.

Each push against my prostate sends waves of sensation through me—like my nerves are alerting every part of my body of the delicious experience we’re sharing.

Who knew it would feel this good?

He leans down as he continues his work and spits across my face.

I know he’s not just spitting on me, but on everything I represent. On my friends. My family. On the sorts of people who mock him. Who think that he’s a drug-dealing nobody.

I lick a bit of it that settled on my lip.

He eyes me with admiration, then kisses me again, his movements becoming even more intense. Keeping me in this heightened state of arousal that feels so good it’s nearly unbearable. So good I can’t help but scream out.

He kisses me powerfully, preventing any sound from escaping.

My cock needs the release, and though I’ve been keeping myself from jerking off, I can’t anymore.

I reach for it, and just as quickly, Tim snatches my wrist and forces it back.

He grabs my other and does the same. Being captured like this as he fills me with such an intense, powerful eruption of ecstasy is hot, arousing.

I’m not gonna need my hands to get off tonight.

My come moves through me, making its way up my shaft…inching its way there. It’s such a slow process—much slower than anything I’d allow on my own. Usually, this is the point where I’d rub one out and be done with it.

He drives in even harder.

The sensation of the drops of his sweat falling against my flesh is powerful…like they’re going to leave a permanent mark that will forever let everyone know what I’ve done tonight. Never let me take back this mistake. But who cares when it feels this fucking good?

“Fuuuuck,” I whine as I climax.

Tim growls like a fucking dog as his body jerks and twists.

He’s coming, too.

It feels so good.

So right.

And so wrong.