Page 2 of Into Ruin

There’s a girl on the desk, her legs open wide, and a guy between them. It takes a minute to realize it’s not my brother—thank fucking God—but then… I don’t know. I keep watching. Maybe I’m curious? Horrified?

Both at the same time?

This is the second fucking couple I’ve walked in on. I’m cursed. I must be. I mean—can’t a girl catch a break?

Deciding to follow Royal was one thing.

This…

This is just not cool.

The guy is fucking the girl like he hates her. I only saw a glimpse of my roommate and her boyfriend, but they weren’t going at it like this. The whole desk moves with every thrust. His bare ass is pointed right at me, muscles tensing and straining. His head is bowed, his gaze locked on her bare chest.

“We’ve got an audience,” the girl moans.

The guy slows and glances over his shoulder.

Definitely not my brother. His gaze rakes up and down my body, and I automatically tighten the grip on the strap of my bag. And my cup.

Do I play it cool?

Do I run away?

“Just a little voyeur,” the guy finally says. “I don’t mind, do you?”

I swallow hard.

The girl seems to crash back down to earth at that. Her glare spears me. “Get out, bitch.”

That just… rubs me the wrong way. I take a long sip of the drink and stay where I am. It’s a choice now, instead of being locked into place by fear or surprise. I backed down with my roommate—I fled like I was the one in trouble.

She didn’t evenwarnme. No sock on the doorknob, no text. No TEXT! We’re in the twenty-first century and I gotnothing.

Whatever.

I’m not bitter. She wasn’t doing it on my bed, at any rate.

Royal’s desk, however…

I wrinkle my nose.

“Stop her, baby.”

Also gross.

The guy sighs. He steps away and roughly drags his jeans back into place, and the girl freezes. Legs spread. It’s dark, so I’m spared the details, but she seems to be glitching in place.

“What are you doing?”

He shakes his head and motions for the door. “Your whining is making my cock soft. You should go.”

“But—”

“Out.” Jeans secure, he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s still wearing a shirt,andhe kept his pants on, which means he stripped her—or she stripped herself—and he didn’t reciprocate.

She slides off the desk and hunts for her clothes. Panties, dress. No bra, not that she retrieves anyway. She fluffs her hair, her scowl aimed first at him and then me. She snatches her phone off the edge of the desk.

When she passes me, she knocks her shoulder into mine.

---