Page 7 of Riley

I’d been swiping right on matches for the last two years. On top of the fact I regularly shared my most intimate moments with half a million subscribers, I had a keen sense of gaydar.

In a nutshell, I knew when someone wanted to fuck me. At this point, it was like a sixth sense or something.

And the way Riley kept staring at me, it was more than obvious. Not to mention his conversation skills.

I would have bet the farm that he hadn’t had a good lay in while.

Something about that realization made me feel both guilty and intrigued.

My phone buzzed in my pants pocket, no doubt my comments going off still. They’d be going off all night.

Until I posted my next video, to appease my thirsty masses.

I took my shot, watching as the balls dispersed, clacking against each other as they came together. The eight ball slowly rolled, knocking another ball into the corner pocket, causing me to curse.

“Damn it!” I said, pressing my lips together. I’d been too distracted by khaki-covered groins and the ever present buzzing of my phone against my ass to make a proper shot.

I totally missed.

“Nice try,” Riley said tauntingly as he pushed off the wall, smirking at me. “Maybe you should aim for the ball you want to hit.”

The sight of his lips turning up in the corner, the way he cockily squared his shoulders as he sauntered to where I stood was a damn rush. Heat enveloped me as he nudged me aside with his hip.

How fucking dare he!

“Now, let me school you in how it’s really done,” he teased, positioning himself to take his shot.

I ran a hand through my sweaty hair. If he made this shot, that would be twice we’d lost. And I certainly didn’t want to lose. Anger flooded me as well as a fresh current of desire, because his words only made me want to put him in his place.

Bent over the fucking pool table.

I hate losing.

I took a pull of my beer as Julie settled beside me, crossing her arms. Sticky settled on the other side of me, and we watched long-limbed Riley angle himself, bending over the table. His arms were long, toned and trim and drew attention to his fingers. I watched as he curled his hand around the base of his stick, which was not helping the current erection in my pants or my competitive fantasy about teaching him how to fucking aim for the bullseye.

I shifted my weight as I focused on my drink.

“See something you like?” Julie teased.

“I’m not sure yet,” I said honestly.

Sticky nudged me. “What’s there to consider? The guy’s been staring at you all night.”

“Yeah, well, staring is creepy,” I nipped at Sticky. I wasn’t sure why I felt so on the spot, so vulnerable. Maybe it had to do with the beers I was pounding back. I’d lost track after the third...

Sticky and Jordan were the closest things I had to brothers. I’d met them at an adult entertainers expo a while back, shocked to hell and back that they were both Jasper Springs natives like me.

In this town of bake sales and cookie-cutter families, it was nice to have people who weren’t judgmental of what I did for living.

Because they were doing the same thing. Having friends who understood the ins and outs of the business, the work that actually went into being the object of so many people’s desires, made my job feel a lot less lonely.

Except Sticky and Jordan were more than just friends. They were a package deal. They both were on the platform too, producing similar content to mine, except they did it together.

More like they did each other.

For the fans, of course, despite the fact neither of them were gay.

Sticky was... well, Sticky. I didn’t think he had a preference for anyone as long as they had a hole and were willing to put up with his stupidity. We’d fucked around a few times over the years, but I always felt like shit afterward, which is why we’d stopped.

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