8. Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Roman
“What, Lance? Didn’t you just fucking leave here?
“ I ask as I run my fingers through my damp hair. I’ve barely managed to finish my morning routine since he already showed up here once and threw my entire schedule out of whack.
I would normally be delighted to do anything other than the same boring shit that I’m always doing, but when it’s because of a pretty boy with a perfect body that I didn’t even get to touch— Well, you get the point.
Lance showing up over and over is the last thing I need when I already can’t get him out of my head.
“Well, I— This is… the app,” he stutters out nervously as he pushes a paper sack and a cup of coffee into my hands. “There’s something wrong with the app.”
I roll my eyes as I move back, gesturing for him to come in. He steps inside and walks over to the couch, pointing down at it in question.
“Don’t act like you haven’t made yourself at home here for the last few weeks. Just because you sucked my dick, that doesn’t mean you have to act like I kicked your puppy anytime we’re around each other.”
He clears his throat as he sits down on the couch. “Right… so when I send messages, sometimes there’s like empty chat boxes popping up between them. The guy I’m talking to, his messages do it sometimes too.”
“I know,” I say as I plop down in my chair and turn around to my computer screen. I pull up the code from where I spent all night digging through it to find the problem. “I’ve been looking for the issue. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to have it fixed soon. It’s been bugging the shit out of me.”
“Oh...“ he pauses, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “So, you are using the app?”
I turn back around to him. “Yeah? Is that a problem, pretty boy?” I taunt. It’s not like he has room to talk, he flirts with everyone in this damn prison, and he’s obviously been using the app, too.
He holds his hands up defensively as he looks down at the ground. “Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not call me that.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Oh, don’t act like you give a fuck, Lance. It’s unbecoming of even the best liars.”
He scoots his ass forward on the couch and points down to his crotch. “Does this look like a lie?”
The bulge that’s visible through his tight pants is hard to miss when he’s sitting that way.
It’s a stark reminder that I didn’t get to touch him last night.
In fact, I didn’t even get to see him. Thoughts of him have been bombarding me all morning, keeping me on edge.
Now, he’s back here. In the flesh. Craving me?
Well, fuck. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve tried to convince myself that I would never make the mistake of touching him again, because I definitely am.
Right fucking now. Self-preservation be damned.
“Come here,” I demand as my eyes trail over his body. Lance looks delicious in anything he wears on his body, but what I really want is to get underneath those clothes. I want to see every inch of him until he doesn’t have anywhere left to hide from me.
His pupils start dilating, but he seems to pause and consider whether he wants to follow my order or not. Ultimately, he chooses to stand up and starts hesitantly walking toward me. It seems like Lance might have a bit of a submissive streak in him.
Once he’s close enough, I grab onto his shirt and pull him closer until he’s basically straddling my legs. “Sit, pretty boy.”
He immediately does as I tell him, dropping his weight atop my thighs.
He’s light compared to the guys I used to mess around with.
He’s so fucking dainty. There’s this feminine edge to his masculine features, and it’s so damn hot.
The way his lashes curl out, long and dark, contrasting his pale white hair in a way that draws attention to his face.
His body language and the way he moves, it’s almost cat-like and seductive.
I’ve been watching him so much lately that I’ve started to notice how it’s even more exaggerated when he isn’t paying attention, when he’s not trying to throttle it.
It’s almost like he tries to hold back the softer parts of himself, and I don’t want him to.
I want him to be the best version of himself with me. Only me.
My hands inch up his thighs greedily until they’re resting on his hips. “If you’re going to keep coming here, Lance, then you aren’t going to be fucking around with other guys. I don’t share well.”
“Trust me, I’ve noticed.“ He says breathily as I trail my fingers up his chest until I’m tracing the pulse point in his neck. I press my thumb against it harder, feeling his heartbeat thrum faster and faster beneath it.
I lock my eyes with him. “I’m not fucking around. If I see you with anyone else, whatever is happening between us, it ends. Immediately.”
“I swear I’m not—” He pauses to swallow as my entire hand wraps around his throat, not adding pressure yet, just resting there. “I’m not seeing anyone else. I swear.”
An unnecessary wave of relief floods my system.
I don’t know why it matters if Lance was seeing someone else or not.
I’ve never been in any kind of exclusive relationship or situationship.
Again, paid escorts are about the only experience I’ve ever had, and while there were plenty that tried to win over my heart to get in on the money my family had, it was strictly forbidden for me to get emotionally involved with anyone.
Let alone someone with a bloodline that wasn’t considered pristine.
“So… what exactly is this?“ He whispers as his lashes flutter closed.
“Don’t try to tell me that you’ve never had friends with benefits, Lance.
” I reply abrasively before leaning forward to trail my tongue along his throat.
He’s so fucking soft that I want to sink my teeth into him, to leave black and purple marks across his flesh. I bet he tastes good. Too fucking good.
“No... I haven’t.” He tilts his head back and gasps as I skim my teeth across his neck.
My fingers tighten around his throat before I push him back, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “Rule number one: Don’t fucking lie to me.” I growl through my teeth.
“I’m not!” He blurts out in a panic. “I swear. I’ve never— I, um, I haven’t. None of that.“ He shakes his head in denial.
My skin crawls with a feeling I don’t exactly understand as I watch his face.
His words and movements are almost frantic, and it’s pretty obvious that he’s not lying, but he’s starting to shut down.
I can sense the way this conversation is hitting some kind of nerve within him, and before we do anything else, I need to figure out what’s causing this reaction.
I push against his chest until he scrambles to catch himself from falling on the floor.
“Lance...” I challenge in frustration.
“Mmm?“ He replies distractedly as he tries to straighten out his shirt.
“Look at me,” I demand.
His hands immediately stop moving as he stares up at me through his lashes. “Yeah?”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I gave you all the answers you asked for.” He states confidently as he stands up taller.
“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never had no-strings attached sex?”
“No. I haven’t. I don’t understand. What’s the big deal?” He puts a hand on his hips and scowls at me.
“So, you were in a relationship before you were here? How long was it?”
“Uhhh… no. Not exactly.“ He replies, shifting nervously as he looks down and starts picking at his fingernails.
So, no casual sex, and no relationships? What the fuck does that even—
Ohh. Oh, fuck.
No.
Absolutely not.
No fucking way.
I jump up from my chair and grab him by the face, forcing him to acknowledge me. “Are you a virgin, Lance?”
He rolls his eyes before closing them in annoyance. “That doesn’t matter.”
Doesn’t matter? Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter.
The room is fucking spinning right now, and he just thinks ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.
’ How the fuck did I get this all wrong?
I’m sifting through memories, all the days I spent watching him, and I’m trying to piece together the person I thought he was and the person that’s standing in front of me.
They don’t mesh. They’re too contrasting.
Complete opposites. The endless flirting that leads nowhere, the nervousness when guys get really forward about what they want, how he never follows through with anyone…
all the tells were right there in front of my face.
If I didn’t see it, this admission that feels glaringly obvious now, is it possible that I don’t actually know a single thing about the man I’ve been hopelessly fiending for?
His eyes soften as they bounce back and forth between mine.
I’m sure he can see it, the conflict warring inside of me.
I’m disgusted with myself and the way I’ve treated him.
He trusted me intimately. He gave me a fucking inch, and I ran with that shit.
I didn’t just take a fucking mile; I made out like a bandit in the middle of the night.
I scoff as I let go of him, running my hand through my hair.
“Doesn’t matter? Jesus fuck, Lance.” I say in exasperation as I point over at the entry way.
“I literally fucked your face and talked to you like complete shit the other night and you never thought to mention that you’d never done anything like that before? ”
“I’ve sucked dicks before,” he says with a nonchalant shrug.
I plop down on the couch and gesture to the other end. “Sit down. We aren’t doing anything until you’ve told me what experience you have. We need to get all this shit out in the open, Lance.”
“Ughh,“ he groans in exasperation, throwing his head back as he plops down on the couch. “This. This is exactly why I didn’t say anything.”
“Why? Because you didn’t want to talk about it?”