Chapter 15 Griffin
Griffin
We walk into the basketball team’s house and I am already regretting the decision to come.
Mack is grinning like the self appointed mayor of Hornyville with some soccer chick draped over his arm like she’s a human scarf, Terry is already wobbling around with that pleasantly wrecked swagger he gets after two too many drinks, and then there’s Sabrina tucked under my arm looking like a goddamn barbie.
She’s stunning, there’s no arguing that.
She has on a fuck-me dress that hugs her curves like it has been painted on and a pair of heels that excentuate her extremely long tan and tone legs.
Her makeup is done all dramatic and dark with her signature lipstick practically begging to be smeared over my cock.
Except tonight I am feeling absolutely no desire to see that red painted over my shaft like I usually do.
I didn’t even want to come.
We’ve got morning lift at 6:15 sharp and then another preseason game tomorrow afternoon. But I knew that telling her “no, I’m not going” was going to launch me into another three day cycle of the Sabrina Screeching about how I don’t appreciate her or respect her or possibly even love her.
So, like the complete fucking idiot that I am, I decided I would risk a hangover just to avoid dealing with her ballistic emotional state.
The second we step inside the noise nearly bowls me over. The music is cranked so loud that the fucking walls are vibrating and the smell of beer, body spray, and bad decisions is clinging to the fucking air.
Mack immediately grabs a beer out of one of the coolers and beelines it for the makeshift dance floor in the living room.
The girl he brought starts dancing with him in a way that is really fucking indecent.
She’s half grinding, half humping him and I have to turn away from the shit show before I get second hand embarrassment.
I look down at Sabrina again. She’s still tucked into my side with a smirk as she looks over the room. Her hips sway lightly to the music and she clings to my t-shirt as she presses herself into me.
I make my way over to a cooler and grab a beer, never once getting an inch of space from Sabrina. I pop it open and drain half in one go.
“I’ll be right back,” Sab whisper-yells in my ear before stalking across the room to her group of overdressed friends.
I let out a sigh and finish my beer before immediately grabbing another one. My eyes keep flicking back to Sabrina’s laughter and the way her body moves and the fact that I’m supposed to feel something that I absolutely do not feel.
Sabrina comes back to me a few minutes later with that look on her face.
The one that says she’s decided we’re dancing now and my opinion is decorative at best. Before I can even finish my new beer she’s pressing herself against me like we’re filming something that should absolutely require age verification and a release form.
“Dance with me baby,” she yells and giggles and I find the noise fucking insufferable. But like the good boyfriend that I am, I follow her through the throng of people dancing.
She grinds back against me hard and exaggeratedly slow. It’s the kind of movement that’s meant to turn heads and flip switches, and I do my best to get into it because that’s what I always do. I slide my hands to her hips as I sway behind her.
And still… nothing.
My body stays stubbornly uninterested, like it’s on strike and refusing to cross the picket line. I’m not repulsed or anything. I’m just bored, which somehow feels worse.
I watch her hair swing, feel her weight against me, and all I can think is how many times this exact scene has played out and how little it’s doing for me now.
I tell myself to relax and enjoy the music. I beg my body to just let loose and focus on the beautiful woman who is sliding her body against mine. This right here is supposed to be easy. This is supposed to be fun.
Unable to keep staring at the back Sabrina’s head with all my thoughts fucking me up, I look up across the room and everything just ceases to fucking exist.
Across the room, like the universe decided to personally fuck with me, Jacob is dancing with some guy in a backwards baseball hat. The sight hits me harder than any bodycheck I’ve taken this season.
Jacob is facing away from him, their bodies lined up almost perfectly even though they’re about the same height, and he’s moving in this loose, confident way I’ve never seen before.
The guy’s hands roam freely over Jacob’s hips, up his sides, thumbs brushing dangerously close to places that make my jaw tighten without permission.
He leans in and kisses Jacob’s neck, his tongue flicking out and tasting his skin in an obscene way, and I swear I stop breathing for a full second.
But Jacob doesn’t look back at him. Honestly he barely seems to notice the guys hands caressing his body or his lips traveling up his neck.
He looks at me.
His eyes are locked on mine from across the room, dark and heated.
The noise of the party fades into nothing but bass and blood rushing in my ears, and suddenly I’m hyper aware of everything.
The press of Sabrina against me, the beer going warm in my hand, the way my pulse spikes so hard it feels like I can hear my own goddamn heartbeat.
But the worst part is that my body reacts now.
Not to Sabrina and the way she is grinding against me.
To Jacob.
To the way his throat tilts when the guy kisses his neck. To the way his shoulders roll subtly with the music. To the fact that his eyes never leave mine, not even for a second, like he’s daring me to look away first.
I stand there frozen in the middle of a crowded house party, a beautiful girl grinding against me, and all I can think is how wrong this feels and how right something else suddenly, terrifyingly does.
My dick perks up.
Not just a little perk. Nope, that would be something I could handle. Instead all my blood rushes south and my cock thickens in my jeans at a rapid rate. I swear I almost feel dizzy with the way my entire body lights up and my dick throbs and begs for attention.
And then Sabrina makes this weird, low moaning sound and leans closer, breath hot on my neck with a direct, pointed, very intentional question. “Wanna go upstairs?”
I clear my throat, and my gaze involuntarily flicks back toward Jacob.
And suddenly, without explanation, I’m fucking furious.
Not at Sabrina. She’s just being Sabrina, doing exactly what she always does and expecting my compliance like usual. No, I’m fucking furious as how I’m reacting.
I don’t even think before I speak.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Sabrina in a clipped as fuck tone.
She huffs out this quick, annoyed exhale, but I don’t care.
I don’t fucking care.
I brush past her and start weaving through the crowd with this single mission: get outside. Fresh air. Now.
Because if I don’t get outside I am very likely to do something unreasonable.
Like punch a wall.
Or maybe some fucking dude in a goddamn backwards baseball cap.
I burst out onto the porch and I just stand there with my hands braced on the railing, trying to get my heartbeat to settle down from nuclear launch to slightly elevated but survivable.
Behind me there’s muffled party noise, music, and laughter. In front of me, quiet.
I inhale slow and deep. For a second it really help calm my nerves and my racing heartbeat.
Just a second.
“You okay? You rushed out of there.”
The voice cuts through the cold night air like a knife and before I even process it, I spin around so fast it feels like my head might snap off my shoulders.
Jacob stands there, flushed from the party heat, and eyes wide beneath that soft glow of porch light. Or maybe he’s flushed and sweaty from grinding his ass back against some other mans cock.
And I’m suddenly furious. I’m so fucking jealous and frantic and turned on it feels like I’m vibrating on the inside.
I stalk toward him, boots thudding on the deck boards like I’m a predator pacing its territory. My breath comes out in sharp bursts I can’t control. My jaw is set so tight it hurts. And my voice, when it comes, is low and rough and unfiltered.
“What are you fucking doing to me?” I hiss.
Jacob’s eyes go even wider and his cheeks flush that beautiful red I’m becoming obsessed with.
“I-” he starts, voice kind of caught in his chest. He cuts off his words and just stands there staring at me while his chest puffs up and down with shallow breaths. His wide eyes keep flicking between mine.
I don’t know whether his eyes are wide with concern for my weird as fuck outburst or whether they’re wide because he’s genuinely confused about what I’m saying.
I hate that my brain won’t shut up.
I hate that my pulse is still racing.
I hate that I care so much about how he looks at me right now.
I close the tiny bit of distance that’s left between us in slow, almost predatory steps.
Before he can react, I shove him back against the brick wall, hard enough that it knocks the air out of him a little. My hand grabs the back of his neck, tight, fingers digging in like I’m staking a claim.
I don’t give him a second to question it—I just crash my mouth onto his like I’ve been waiting all goddamn night.
Fuck me.
His lips are hot and wet and open. He kisses back like he means it with a messy, hungry, tongue sliding right against mine like we’re both already thinking about fucking.
The second our mouths touch, my dick goes from half ready to hard as fuck. It’s an instant full-body reaction that I have zero control over. One taste and I’m fucking gone.
I grind into him without thinking, hips locking to his, and I feel the pressure of him through his jeans. Fuck, he’s just as hard as I am.
My whole body’s buzzing as I slide my hands up under his shirt, and holy shit…his skin is slick with sweat and smooth as hell.
Every inch of him is muscle, hard and tense and fucking perfect. My hands can’t stop moving and tracing the cut lines of his abs. I want him pinned, panting, mine.
I press into him harder, pinning him with my whole body, grinding our hips together like I’m trying to crawl inside his skin. My teeth catch on his bottom lip, and I bite down softly which has him groaning into my mouth.
My tongue forces its way back into his mouth. My hands are everywhere, gripping his waist, dragging over his ribs, fingertips digging into muscle. Every time he presses back, every grind of his hips against mine, it’s like gasoline poured straight onto fire.
He lets out this low almost raw guttural sound and it fucking breaks me. My body jerks like that noise cracked something wide open inside me. My whole nervous system’s short-circuits under the weight of what the fuck I’m doing.
Reality slams in hard, like someone dumped ice water over my head and slapped me across the face at the same time.
I rip my mouth off his and I just stand there, panting and staring at him. It feels like I just tore a piece of myself away with him. My heart’s going so fast it’s hammering against my ribs. My head is spinning, like I can’t tell if I’m about to throw up or pass out.
Oh, fuck me. It all floods in.
I’m at a party. With Sabrina. Inside. With our friends. With the music. The lights. The normalcy. And I’m out here making out with a guy like I’ve lost every shred of sense I’ve ever had.
And Jacob’s just standing there with eyes wide and flushed cheeks and a massive hard cock straining in his pants.
My skin’s still burning from where we touched. My mouth’s still wet from his. My whole body feels like it’s still locked in that moment, while my brain scrambles to catch up, screaming a thousand things at once.
“Uh…” I choke out, voice raw. “I-I’m sorry.”
It’s weak. I can hear it in the way my voice wavers because I don’t even know what I’m fucking apologizing for.
I’m sorry I pushed you against a wall and made out with you?
I’m sorry I ground my hard dick against you?
I’m sorry I ran my hands all over your body?
Or maybe…maybe I’m sorry that I’m about to leave you here wanting with no intention of finishing what we started.
I don’t give him a chance to say anything. I can’t. I spin around and bolt back inside.