I bite back a moan, and my teeth hit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood with my canines. I pause for a moment to lick away the blood before I resume the task at hand.
He smiled at me.
He smiles at everyone, sure, he's always smiling, but today—he smiled just at me, with that special smile he usually reserved for Carolina. I don't know what he meant by it, but I'll take it.
My fingers tighten around my shaft, squeeze lightly, just enough to make me gasp as they slide upwards, my thumb brushing over the slit, catching a bead of precome. I sigh and continue stroking myself, lazily move my other hand up my chest, pinch my nipple, roll it between my thumb and forefinger. Another moan escapes my hungry lips.
I need to make this last.
Images are drifting past my vision as I lay my head back against the wall. I find sitting up to be more…conducive to this activity. I picture entering him, letting him ride me, his head tilted back in ecstasy. My hand moves more quickly, pumps my cock roughly. I see him. I see his lips, parting slightly, moaning my name.
I let go of my nipple; it's almost too sore to feel good, I was too rough just now. He wouldn't be. I just know it.
I reluctantly let go of my aching cock and hold my hand up, spitting in it for lubrication. I wrap my fingers around it again and stroke lightly. A moan echoes in the small room—that's what I needed. I keep fisting it as I lick my other forefinger, get it wet and quickly reach down, penetrate myself with a sharp groan. I imagine him doing that to me and my eyes roll back in my head. I'm close, I can feel it.
With a stroke of my finger and a tight squeeze on my cock, my vision goes white as I come, covering my abdomen with warm streaks. I roll my head back and hit steel, remind myself that I'm in my room, alone. Not with him.
A knock on the door. "Hey, Wash. You in there?"
"Just a second!" I curse and grab my shirt, wipe myself off. Another shirt is hanging in the closet next to my bed and I grab it, pull it on with pants. "Coming." I wince at the word and stomp over to the door to unlock it.
"Interrupt something?" York asks, and I shake my head. Have to ignore how beautiful that scar is. Have to focus on that smirk…which is also a bad idea.
"Nope. What's up?"
"Movie?" He holds up a disc and I crack a smile. It's romantic comedy. My weakness.
"Sure."
"Meet me in my room." York nods and walks down the hall. "Your shirt is backwards," he calls back.
I look down and scowl, pull my arms in the sleeves to fix the shirt. I can't help but stare at his ass when he walks. My cock twitches beneath the thick fabric of the pants but I bite the inside of my cheek. My mind is already filling with thoughts as I shut the door and follow after him.