1. Chapter 1 #2
“Wow… you’re really something," he tells her. She blushes, letting out a breathy giggle, which only makes him double down. “Gorgeous, honestly. You’d fit in perfectly at our club,” he murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
He’s like a shark smelling blood, leaning casually on the bar beside me, his water-speckled skin glinting in the afternoon light.
My eyes drift over his toned stomach, then stupidly but unavoidably, lower to where his damp board shorts are clinging in all the right ways .
The outline of his dick is painfully obvious through the soaking fabric. Even without being hard, his size is still deliciously evident. My stomach tightens, heat coursing through my body until my cock begins to stir again. Ugh, you idiot, stop fucking looking.
I let my head slump towards the floor and exhale a long, sharp breath, tugging at my waistband and silently praying for the blood to stop rushing to my traitorous dick.
Camilla’s eyes light up as if she’s won the lottery. “Oh my gosh, really? You guys own a nightclub? I love nightclubs!”
Maddox tilts his head and lets out a slow laugh.
“That’s one way to put it,” he teases, ignoring the tiny crinkle of her brow before she nods enthusiastically to her friends, excitement all over her face.
He drags his gaze back to me, grinning. “Don’t you think she’d be perfect?
”His laugh is a cruel, irritating sound that hits somewhere deep in my chest.
“No. Anyway, we’re leaving now,” I growl, glaring at my friend. I don’t like when this side of him comes out. It’s the twisted part of him that’s usually reserved for people who have pissed him off. So why am I under fire?
“Leaving? Come on, love… don’t be boring .
Just invite her,” his voice drops to a level intended for only me to hear.
“Or should we bring her home first and finish off this little game you're playing?” he muses, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing the toxic fumes in my face.
I cough, nostrils scrunched up as we stare each other down.
I push against his chest, hard enough to make him stagger a little, not enough to hurt.
“No. We’re done here,” I reply more forcefully.
He grins as if I just said something hilarious.
The bartender returns, telling Maddox that he’s not permitted to smoke here and that he needs to put it out immediately.
His hands raise in mock surrender, making Camilla laugh as he holds his wrists out awaiting imaginary handcuffs.
My fists clench at my sides, and my tongue pushes against the back half of my jaw. “I said we’re leaving ,” I grind out.
“You’re no fun, Ry, seriously,” Maddox says sullenly, dropping his cigarette into my half-empty pint. His arm snakes around my shoulders before I can react, loose and weighty like he owns me, smirking at me more than at her. “Come on. Live a little.”
The girl watches us, a little confused but still giggling.
Maddox gives her a wink and tilts his chin at her like he’s signing her up for some imaginary adventure, but I grind my jaw, refusing to play along.
He finally lets go of me, and backs toward the exit, still unbothered by the tension between us—that chaotic energy practically vibrating in the air.
Camilla calls out to us as we leave, but neither of us bothers to respond.
The walk from the bar is thick with silence. Maddox keeps throwing me sideways grins, like he’s enjoying himself too much, and I’m one sharp comment away from snapping. Surprisingly, he manages to keep his mouth shut the whole walk.
By the time we hit the resort's bathroom block, I’m boiling over, not just with irritation, but with an ache far worse .
We split off into separate cubicles, the flimsy partitions between us barely muting the sound of water rushing from his shower. I lean against the tiled wall, forehead pressed to the cool surface, replaying the past hour in my mind like my own personal form of torture.
Still, I keep zoning in to listen to Maddox despite myself.
The hiss of water. The muted thump as he drops his board shorts to the floor.
I can picture it all too clearly; the sound of his hands dragging over his skin—his shoulders, chest, down his stomach, washing over his thick cock.
The ink on his arms, slick and dark under the spray as he wraps around himself, dragging soap up and down his length.
The way water would bead and run down his throat as his head fell back in pleasure.
I squeeze my eyes shut. My hand finds my aching cock before I can stop it, and I start to stroke myself.
It’s silent, shameful and frantic. I try to keep my breathing even, fist tight around my rock-hard shaft, as Maddox hums some stupid song under his breath.
I can see it all in my head; the slope of his back as he bends under the spray, the cut of muscle, the curve of his ass, the mouth that kissed my cheek like it was a joke.
My pace picks up, hips thrusting into my fist. My body burns with tension from the knowledge that I’m jerking myself off to thoughts of my best friend while he stands on the other side of the wall, completely unaware .
I bite down on a groan, trying to keep quiet.
This is so fucked up, but my body doesn’t even care.
Heat builds low in my stomach. My free hand digs into the wall between us for balance.
He’s right there, inches away from my reach.
If I went in there, would he stop me? Or would he drop to his knees and choke down my cock while I fucked his face?
Would he like it if I told him how pretty he looked as tears spilled down his cheeks?
Or with my cum smeared across his tongue, shooting down the back of his throat…
And great , now I’m coming to that image, spilling all over my hand, muffling the sound into my shoulder.
My body trembles as my cock twitches with the aftershocks of my orgasm, while on the other side of the partition, Maddox laughs at some private thought, carefree as ever.
My shoulders tense, hunching up to my ears.
Oh god. He heard me. Fuck. No, he doesn’t know.
Does he? No. He can’t know. I let out a tense breath, gradually lowering my shoulders inch by inch.
What the fuck was that? Disgusting, that’s what.
And fucked up. A disgusting, fucked up, pathetic thing to do.
God, I need to get laid—that’s obviously all it is.
It’s just been too long. It's nothing to do with Maddox at all.
I probably just have heat stroke, or something.
I can't be held accountable for my thoughts while I'm unwell.
When I finally step out of here, I know I’ll have to face him. And I have no idea how I’m supposed to look him in the eye now that I've done… what I just did.
I stay in the cubicle longer than I should, letting the spray cool down to lukewarm, forehead pressed to the tiles.
My chest is still heaving, body sluggish, and shame knots in my gut.
I can hear Maddox finishing up; the water cutting off, the scrape of the stall door, the slap of wet feet on the tiled floor.
I wait, counting slowly. One Mississippi, two Mississippi…
Maybe if I stall long enough, he’ll already be gone and then it’ll just be the car ride that’s filled with awkward tension.
Or maybe I can just leave him behind, change the locks?
Better yet, I should just move out of the apartment before he finds a way home.
Anything sounds better than having to deal with these feelings.
Relenting, I shut off the water, tie a towel around my hips and drag the curtain aside.
Steam spills out around me, floating off my skin as I walk.
Maddox is right there, sitting on the wooden bench opposite the stalls, wearing a dry pair of shorts and an oversized button-down shirt covered in lemons of all things.
A towel is hanging loose in his grip, using it to rub through his blanched hair. He looks up as I step out.
“Jesus, what took you so long?” he questions, eyebrows arched. “Having a public wank, you little perv?” The words punch the air out of me. My stomach flips, throat dry. He laughs before I can even think of an answer, like it’s the most obvious throwaway joke in the world.
“Relax,” he grins, smacking the back of his hand against my stomach before standing “Lighten up, love. I’m just teasing."
My body jolts, heat crawling over my skin where he touched me. I force out a laugh that sounds all wrong, clutching my towel too tightly in my fists.
Maddox slings his towel over his shoulder, humming as he pushes out the door like it’s just another day.
My brain is screaming to act normal while every part of me is anything but.
I get dressed and follow a moment later, chest still tight, wondering how much longer I can survive being his best friend without giving myself away.