Page 1 of Just Watch Me

CHAPTER1

Are you still watching?

I glared at my laptop screen glowing in my dark apartment. “Yes, Netflix. I’m still watching. I don’t need your judgment on the state of my social life.” I pointedly used my middle finger to click to the next episode ofSchitt’s Creek.

Another Friday night spent alone in my studio apartment. An interchangeable Friday in a line of weeks, no,monthsof the same. Leaving work at 5:02 p.m. after eight hours of staring at my computer screen. Telling myself I would try a new restaurant but ending up going to Giovanni’s for a large all-meat pizza with green bell peppers. Thinking about checking out a new show someone at work had raved about but putting on a favorite show like a comfortable sweatshirt. The same end to a repetitive week at my boring job. I found comfort in the routine. Safety.Damn.My life was predictable and dull.

Usually, I at least had the comfort of a Friday game night with my online friends to give me a tenuous hold on the belief that I had a social life. That night, with my gamer pals having actual lives and other plans, I had been left alone to sulk.

I could call a friend to hang out, but that required having local friends I felt comfortable calling. I’d always preferred befriending people in a digital space—an introvert’s curse.

Or I could open an app and try to make a “friend” for the night. It had been ages since someone other than my right hand had touched my dick. Unfortunately, I lacked the social skills and confidence to pull off one-time casual sex. Plus, I never should’ve followed that Instagram account for gay dating horror stories in Portland. I was terrified that any experience I had would be horrible, like a humorous anecdote on a sarcastic social media account, or that I would end up the anecdote on that account.

Sometimes I wished I had a booty call, but my few prior fumbling attempts had made it obvious they wouldn’t be repeat performances. I shuddered at the memory of the geeky guy who’d hit on me at the arcade bar and taken me home. All had been going great until he’d asked me to talk dirty to him like I was Yoda. I didn’t want to put down anyone’s kink, but if I hadn’t been comfortable enough with my ex to shower with him, I certainly wouldn’t whisper “Your dick, suck it I will” to a guy I’d known for an hour. Not to mention the brainpower it would take to maintain that kind of talk while also trying to get off. Worse than pig Latin.

It would be another Friday with good ol’ righty to dull the ache in my gut for something more, for something like my gorgeous new neighbor. I looked out my window toward the dark studio apartment opposite mine across the narrow courtyard. Courtyard being a generous term for a space narrower than the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Our apartment building was one of Portland’s older, weird ones. The narrow U-shape was four stories high with three units on each side per floor. Hot Neighbor and I were on the second floor next to the base of the U, which acted as a hallway. It stunk like mold and regret.

My neighbor was probably out picking someone up. The guy had only lived there for three weeks, but I’d seen him bring three guys home already. Not that anything was wrong with that, but I was jealous he had the guts to make it happen regularly. I leaned back against my couch and adjusted myself as I imagined his technique.Does he have smooth pickup lines, or is he more direct? If we were at the same bar, would he hit on me?I wondered what kind of bar he would go to. Probably a sports bar or some swanky hipster place with fancy cocktails. If we lived in an alternate universe, I would have the nerve to hit on him.

So far, the opportunity to even consider hitting on him hadn’t come up. Aside from having to basically stare into each other’s apartments, I hadn’t seen him out of the building or in the crappy workout room on the bottom floor.

I bet people fell over themselves to sleep with him because the man was absolutely gorgeous. Likely in his early thirties, he was tall like me but far more muscular than my scrawny build. His skin was the color of light taupe and darker than my pale, sand-colored complexion. I tried not to pay much attention to him when we were both home, but it was hard not to. With studio apartments practically in each other’s laps, he was in my peripheral vision from nearly every angle except the bathroom.

I huffed out a breath, willed my hormones to cool it, and took my empty plate to the sink. I’d finished dinner hours ago and was tempted to have seconds, but I didn’t want to get a stomachache eating too close to bedtime. That would eat into my leftovers for tomorrow and Sunday’s dinner.

Give me a B. B! Give me an O. O! Give me a RING. RING! What does that spell? Jesse.

The temperature was warm for late spring, so I cracked open the one window in my studio apartment. At least it was a big window, taking up most of the wall facing the courtyard.

Movement in my hot neighbor’s unit caught my attention. He was home again with some tiny guy in tight jeans and a tighter short-sleeved button-up. My neighbor looked incredible in his snug dark jeans and tucked in maroon collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I’d never realized I had a forearm thing until him. His dark head of hair was styled into its usual swoop, and the snug shirt did some major favors for his biceps.Yum.

They stood in his kitchen drinking beer, likely either making small talk or my neighbor detailing everything he would do to make the other guy come. I reached for the blinds to give them privacy—or to give myself privacy to jerk off and ease the ache in my balls.

If I wasn’t underpaid and drowning in student loan debt, I would find a new place. It was impossible to even afford a one-bedroom in decent commuting distance to work with Portland’s housing prices. At least my place had a month-to-month lease and the rent hadn’t been raised in ages. I appreciated knowing I could leave with a month’s notice in case I finally got a promotion, fell into affordable housing, or found a magic lamp.

As I was about to tug the cord to close my blinds, my neighbor set his beer on the counter and trapped the other guy against the edge by placing his hands on either side of him. I audibly swallowed as my dick twitched in salute to the great move. He took the other man’s mouth as his hands slid under the other guy’s shirt, pushing it up and off. Without wasting a beat, he worked at the guy’s jeans.

I should close my blinds.

My neighbor’s shirt came off next, revealing a tattoo over his shoulder. I sucked in a breath at the curves of his muscles and tapered waist. He stripped off his jeans and underwear and grabbed his cock. His damn hand blocked my view. His arm moved in steady jerks as he kissed his way around his guest’s shoulders and neck.Is he jerking himself? The other guy?Oh, god. Or both?Both would be so hot.The way the guy tipped his head back against the cupboard door with his eyes closed and mouth open, I knew my neighbor was good. So damn good. I adjusted myself in my sweats.

Definitely time to close the blinds.

I wound the cord around my hand and watched as my neighbor pulled the guy toward the couch on the opposite side of the room. The guy dropped to his knees, and within moments, my neighbor’s tight ass flexed and shifted. I’d lost my clear view and was probably missing quite the live BJ, so I either needed to move to the other side of my place orclose the freaking blinds and stop acting like a creep.

My cock jerked in my pants. So people in the apartments across from me didn’t get a show, I stepped back from their line of sight. Only my neighbor could see me now, but he was clearly getting the life sucked out of him. I gripped my dick. Just a few seconds, then I would return to my boring Friday night.

Sexy Neighbor stepped back and walked over to grab something from the table next to his bed. The other guy stripped off his jeans and bent over the arm of the couch, facing my apartment. He wiggled his ass, and my neighbor grinned as he stalked toward his prey. His hard cock bounced with each step. The sight made my mouth water.

I stared, transfixed, stroking myself as my neighbor fucked the other guy. I couldn’t step away, couldn’t lower my blinds, couldn’t be a decent human being and give them privacy. I’d spent so much time fantasizing about him. He was presenting me, and probably a couple of my neighbors if they were paying attention, the opportunity to watch him in all his glory.How could I look away?My apartment was dark aside from the glow from my laptop, and I doubted they could see me. The next day, I would deal with the guilt and philosophical debate over how consent intertwined with having sex in plain view of other people’s apartments.

I rubbed my thumb over my cockhead and spread the precome as I imagined being the one bent over the couch. I wanted to trace his tattoo with my tongue, rub my cheek against the scruff on his jaw, run my hands through his dark hair.

The way the guy’s mouth dropped open and head tilted back as my neighbor pounded into him—damn. I clenched, wishing it was my hole getting stretched, and stroked myself in time with my neighbor’s thrusts. Orgasms were usually utilitarian for me—a way to pass the time or scratch a mild itch—but there was nothing utilitarian about how my skin felt like it was on fire as I hurtled toward an orgasm at the speed of light.

My neighbor pulled the guy’s arms behind his back and held on to the leverage as he thrust fast and furiously.

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