Page 28 of Home Game

Harder than a fucking rock under my sheets.

I groaned, turning over my pillow to the cold side. Dim light came through the sheer curtains in my bedroom. I knew if I got up and looked out past my backyard, I’d still see the figures in Storm’s backyard, out there partying and having fun.

The second dream blurred with reality. I dozed again, this time dreaming that I was right here in my bedroom, with Storm lying down right next to me.

“You don’t even like men,” I told him, a now-familiar ache building in my chest. “Why are you doing this? Why are you here?”

“Why not?” he said back to me before leaning in and kissing me again, with alotmore tongue than he had in real life. “I just want to play.”

My cock throbbed.

My brain protested.

I’m not your toy,I thought, but I opened my mouth to his. Greedy and desperate. Pulling him up close against me in the bed, grinding up against his thigh, grasping for any inch of skinon skin I could get until my cock felt like it was going to explode—

I woke up again, sitting up in bed, this time.

“Christ,” I muttered softly. “I fucking hate you.”

Was I going to push my hard-on up against the mattress like some hormone-laden teenager, or was I just going to get it over with, already? I wrapped my hand around my cock and started to pump it in my fist.

I was almost angry with how good it felt. Finally relieving something that had been building up all night. Building up since I’d met Storm, maybe.

He’s just eye candy, and you’re only human.

I tried to think about anything else as I got myself off. The hottest porn videos I’d ever seen. Thoughts of stripping guys out of fancy suits. Fantasies about professors and students. Anything generically hot.

But the memories of my dreams were burnished into my mind like a bruise.

I gripped my cock, the image of Storm’s stupid naked photos flashing through my mind. I’d barely let myself look at them, butthatmemory was a permanent part of my mind now.

And the thought of what Storm had done to me earlier tonight—in real life—was on me forever now, too, like a fucking tattoo.

His possessive kiss.

The fact that he’d hadzerohesitation.

I hate you, I thought.

But on top of it was another, quieter thought, too:I want you to do it again.

I felt a wave crashing down on me and before I could stop myself, I was coming, thinking only of how Storm’s lips had felt in real life. Hating how much I’d liked it. Wishing I wasn’t so desperate, yet craving him like a drug.

“God,” I muttered under my breath as I breathed heavy, floating back down to reality.

I’d gotten it out of my system. I’d let myself think about the stereotypically hot muscular guy with the stereotypically hot body, and now I could regain some shred of sanity. I cleaned myself up and when I stopped to look out my back windows, there was no one outside on Storm’s lawn anymore.

Tomorrow, I was going to be back to myself.

Back to my priorities.

No more fucking around.

For a few days, it felt like my plans were working. I plunged deep into wrapping up a few former marketing clients in the Lux Marketing offices. I held a meeting with Walter Cutmore and a former client who was running a granola bar startup company, and it felt like a return to who I knew Icouldbe.

The meeting went smoothly. Everyone acted professional and businesslike. Veronica, the woman who owned the granola company, certainly hadn’t ever been a red flag or problematic in any way, and Cutmore approved of her.

“That’sthe kind of client I like to work with,” he said after she left that morning. “She’s a good family woman, too. Devoted to her husband. Three kids. Good churchgoing family.”

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