12. Chapter 12
I’m wishing I had told my masked stalker to reveal himself when he asked, because I want to ram my fist into his face and I am not a violent guy.
Last night I stayed sprawled on my bed for what felt like hours, completely naked, sated after the best orgasm of my entire life.
I’d never gotten a blow job like that before, in fact I barely wanted them from the women I’ve been with.
I’d always just focused on them, on their pleasure, so to be taken care of like that felt otherworldly.
Fuck, his mouth felt so heavenly I believed in afterlives, aliens and ghosts all at once.
He could have told me gremlins really did come alive after midnight and I’d of shouted it from the rooftops, as I came down his throat.
Fuck! That throat.
All of that disappeared though, the moment I opened instagram and saw the new post from Yourghostboy.
I’m both astonished and mortified. Posted close to midnight last night, I watch as a hand snakes up my tattooed skin, the feeling of his mouth on my cock returning as I watch my muscles bulge and tense.
The entire thing is on repeat in my mind, but that doesn’t matter because I need to find out who this guy is and put a stop to it all. It’s madness.
Scrolling down I see there are already hundreds of comments, everyone going feral for the simple caption; mine.
He’s even fucking tagged me, meaning my follower count has ramped up and we’re now both teetering at the sixty thousand mark.
Commenters scream for more content from us both, some even asking if we have private accounts or OnlyFans.
It’s insane and even with the feeling of being in too deep, I still set up the tripod after my morning work out, placed the lilac neon mask on my head and filmed a bunch of videos ready to schedule in the week.
None of my other videos matched the views of what he just posted, but now I felt eager as ever to win our bet and be done with this.
Would I delete the account? Maybe. I had admitted to myself that I loved strangers worshiping the body I worked hard for.
It's a huge distraction from the stress of university. Everything was getting muddled in my head and since I’d spent some of last night googling gay sex.
Even watching gay porn in the nature of research, made everything feel like it was going too fast.
Pulling my car into one of the parking spots close to town, Harris and Emery chat about our last rugby match, unaware of the life crisis I’m going through.
After sending him a flurry of angry private messages, I’d pocketed my phone and ignored everyone else.
It felt shitty of me and even though we weren’t dating, maybe I had to come clean with Miles.
I liked him, really liked him and this felt like the start of something meaningful.
So maybe the best thing would to not start fucking around, when it could affect us.
Chewing on the inside of my mouth, I turn the car off and we all get out, heading towards the new burger place we decided to hit up as a break from everything.
Lately it feels like I’m always studying, or Emery is locked away in his studio for hours on end, so Harris pulled us both out and implemented break time.
This is why he’s the leader of our threesome, he’s the rock we can rely on to keep us grounded.
“I’m so fucking hungry, I could eat a full cow.”
Harris and I both wince, staring at Emery who is rubbing his belly over his button down. “Man, how can you say such a thing and then go pet Winnie when we’re home?”
He shrugs, completely unbothered. “She can’t hear me. It’s not like I’m eager to get back to the farm. Ugh, I hate all the mud.”
This actually is the only tension in our friendship group, and I think it affects Harris more because that patch of mud he’s referring to, is his entire life.
It’s his dream. Mine too. The closer we get to finishing university, especially after my extra years and deferring until Emery came with us, the more I worry whether he’s actually going to come with us at all.
He was born to be an artist, but our home in Scotland was something he ran away from as quickly as he could.
Harris gets to the doors first and pulls them open for the two of us, his brows furrowed still over Emery’s comment, but when he throws them my way too, I realise he’s worrying over us both. I pat his arm, avoiding his eyes because how am I even meant to broach the mess I’ve gotten myself into?
A brunette with a tablet smiles welcomingly at us and the smell of cooking meat makes my stomach groan almost painfully. This place offers a variety of stacked burgers and every topping you can think of, as well as loaded fries with the same service. You build your burger; toppings galore.
“Hello gentlemen, table for three?”
I nod, thinking about how her soft features and warm smile would have done something to me before, but now my thoughts were plagued with wet lips, Miles’s blonde waves and a plastic ghost mask. The two were merging and it felt fucked up.
“Cassie?” As if my twisted thoughts had conjured him, with a chilly gust of air from the front door, Miles is here and of course he looks cute as hell.
With a knit beanie trying to contain his waves, he’s wearing a light green flannel over a white t-shirt, black jeans and thick boots.
Nervously patting myself down, I mentally checked over my own outfit, relieved that I’d showered and worn my nice burnt brown knit jumper, black cargo trousers, with my vans.
I’d really felt the autumn vibes when I woke, so his appraising gaze down my body makes me light up.
“Hey, fancy seeing you here.” As I say it, his friends from his English literature course come into the restaurant, including Grace.
I give a little wave to Teddy and the others, but turning to her last, she’s already staring.
The big difference between her staring and Miles is it’s unwanted from her, and unknowingly I’ve reached for him, pulling him closer by his fingers.
“Teddy! My man, we need to hit up that club again. Your dance moves were sick!” Emery bounces, knocking Harris with his shoulder who just smiles at the group. “You guys grabbing something to eat?”
Teddy’s cheeks have gone pink, to match his hair, but he nods. “Yeah, it was fun. We should all go out again soon. That's the plan,” He looks round at his friends, “We need a good meal after the writing session we all just did.”
I squeeze Miles fingers, figuring he doesn’t mind the contact when he slips his palm into mine and entwines them together. “I’m sorry I’ve not texted you today, my mind has been overturned with studying.”
“It’s barely evening, don’t worry about it. I’m not sitting by the phone like some war husband's wife.” He says, a little tightly but we both laugh all the same.
The member of staff returns and takes in the bigger group, counting heads. “Table for five?”
“Actually, how about a table for eight?” Miles raises his eyebrow at me, so I push past my turmoil.
I nod eagerly because maybe I need to spend some time with him to calm everything.
His presence already soothes my nerves, his spiced warm scent already washing over me.
Taking out the caramel, he smells like his hoodie I still have over my computer chair in my bedroom.
“Sounds good to me. Guys?”
Emery and Harris nod, the only person not saying a word is Grace. She’s still staring at me, but because I’ve turned my body fully into Miles, I just get the sense her eyes are lingering on us.
The hostess takes us over to a long table by the windows, smiling as she lays down the menus and grabs all of our drink orders before she leaves.
I slide into the chair next to Miles and we both at the same time move our chairs closer to one another, laughing, but I’m so happy at all the points of contact.
His knee brushes mine, I tap his foot with my own and once our jackets are off, our biceps brush.
I want to take his hand and keep hold of it, but Grace decides to sit directly opposite me and maybe that would be a little awkward for her to see.
I’m not that dense to know an ex-partner might not like seeing them move on, but she ended things and I honestly was absolutely fine with the decision.
Miles however is uncaring and he grasps my hand, pulling it into his lap as everyone discusses their day.
“So what were you guys all writing about?” Emery asks, already fidgeting in his seat, leaning back onto the back two feet until Harris absently pulls him back onto four legs.
“We’ve got an assignment in gothic literature. So we’ve had to select a novel and pull from the themes.”
“What did you choose?” I ask Miles and he smirks down at me, a little devilish.
“Wanna guess?”
I wiggle in my seat, “Dracula?”
He slaps his spare hand down on the table lightly. “Good guess, but no. I went with The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. It’s hauntingly epic. Wanna borrow it?”
Before I can say hell yes, Grace laughs, brushing her nails through her smooth curls. “Casper isn’t into books like that, it’d only bore him.”
Her comment catches me completely off guard and I feel heat immediately creep up my neck, making my jumper feel itchy and I don’t know where to look.
She’s wrong, completely wrong. “I-I’d,” my words are coming out choppy and I don’t understand why I have this reaction around her.
She still makes me feel out of my depth with these people, different and on the outs.
Miles has never made me feel like that and I think the only thing keeping me in this seat, is his firm grip on my hand.
He rubs soothing circles into my pressure point.