Page 4 of Filthy Little Secret

He kisses me powerfully, preventing any sound from escaping.

My cock needs the release, and though I’ve been keeping myself from jerking off, I can’t anymore. I reach for it, and just as quickly, Tim snatches my wrist and forces it back. He grabs my other and does the same. Being captured like this as he fills me with such an intense, powerful eruption of ecstasy is hot, arousing.

I’m not gonna need my hands to get off tonight.

My come moves through me, making its way up my shaft…inching its way there. It’s such a slow process—much slower than anything I’d allow on my own. Usually, this is the point where I’d rub one out and be done with it.

He drives in even harder.

The sensation of the drops of his sweat falling against my flesh is powerful…like they’re going to leave a permanent mark that will forever let everyone know what I’ve done tonight. Never let me take back this mistake. But who cares when it feels this fucking good?

“Fuuuuck,” I whine as I climax.

Tim growls like a fucking dog as his body jerks and twists.

He’s coming, too.

It feels so good.

So right.

And so wrong.

2

TIM

He makes his way down the hall with a couple of his snooty rich pals.

Mark thinks he’s better than me, but he sure wasn’t acting like that a week ago when he was writhing in the passion of our fucking at that house party.

He didn’t just want it. He needed it.

Of course, I knew the reason. Everyone does. His ex, Greg, had been hooking up with Mark’s best friend. Or I guess the guy he thought was his best friend.

I’d heard about it at the party, and when he glanced at me before sneaking off to the basement, I jumped at the opportunity. Considering the look he gave me, filled with one intent—to be fucked good—anyone would have taken advantage of that hot piece of ass.

I’m glad I did. Mark was incredible. I’ve never felt anything comparable to what we shared.

It was hot, frenzied…intense.

I’ll admit, my intentions weren’t noble going into the night, but I’ve fucked enough to know when the sex is just sex and when it’s a fucking stick of dynamite exploding, mixing physical pleasure and some inexplicable chemistry with the excitement of being with a guy who wanted me to dominate him. I keep trying to put my finger on what exactly about it was so exciting, but I’m assuming whatever pheromones he gives off are just what my body craves.

Biology. Something neither of us can control.

I’m curious to find out if he feels the same way.

While he heads to class, I see Ethan and Seth heading toward me down the hall, their eyes wide with enthusiasm as they approach.

“What you got for us?” Ethan asks. In a jacket, a pair of jeans, and a backward baseball cap, he wears a cocked smile—the sort I’m used to from the frat types.

“Hold up, now,” I say. “You owe me for last week too, and then another three hundred. Give me my goddamn money, and I’ll set you up.”

I rarely give people credit, and things aren’t going well for me as it is, but Emory kids are hardly strapped for cash, so I figure I can cut some guys a break to keep up good relations.

“Oh, that’s right. Forgot about last week,” he says with an innocent expression that I’m sure fools his teachers—maybe even his parents—but it doesn’t fly with me. I know these brats and their games, but I’m not their mother, so I’m not going to fall for their antics.

Ethan reaches into his back pocket and hands over a wad of cash. Probably what he got from his daddy for a couple of snacks for the week. His dad’s a high-powered tax attorney for some fairly big corporations in Atlanta. Ethan represents a lot of the sorts who attend Emory: children of privilege, like Mark, who enjoys all the luxuries of being part of an elite class—something I’ve been able to profit from, but something that I’ve always lived outside of. They let me infiltrate like this, though, because I have what they need, and I’ve earned the trust of this community. They’ve seen that I’m not going to ruin their reps. And they know I don’t judge them for the drugs…just for being dickheads.

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