Page 36 of Our Secret to Keep

When I touch myself, I dream of his thick cock in my ass, his blonde stubble grazing my inner thighs. All the sexy sounds he makes. The cute dimple that pops in his cheek when he’s focused, seconds from coming.

Since boarding school, I have denied myself pleasure—a decade of wanting someone I can never have.

My chest aches.

My heart breaks.

That fucking whore is with my best friend, in my house, sleeping under my roof. In the morning, she’ll eatmyfood and kissmyfriend. Fuckmyfriend.

I hate her.

It’s not her fault, though.

Samantha has no idea why I freak out every time we fuck.

I crank up the music belting through the speakers. My dad got me this sick ride after I won last year’s Frozen Four for my team. An Aston Martin DB12 with all the bells and whistles, including premium speakers.

I blast heavy metal—my go-to when I’m pissed—and blow through a red light. “Master of Puppets” by Metallica fills the car, and I bob my head to the beat. Only the drunks are out this late. The frat houses are in full-blown party mode, the music audible from a mile away.

The small coastal town is a tourist attraction in the summer. But with winter almost here, a frosty chill blankets the city. My teeth chatter, so I crank up the heat and increase the temperature of the leather seat.

Whenever in doubt, I drive to the same place every time. My brain does it on autopilot. Glitter is the only gay nightclub within fifty miles of campus. I mostly come to watch men make out. Sometimes, I dance with guys.

But no sex.

Not yet, anyway.

I still haven’t worked up the nerve to go all the way. Until then, my tight ass will stay preserved for the right man.

I want it to be Nate.

I want to be hiseverything.

As I approach the club’s entrance, I pull down the Yankees cap to conceal my face. I can’t risk anyone spotting me. You never know where the paparazzi are hiding. My entire life has been filmed, photographed, and, at one point, televised.

A few months afterThe Hockey Lifeended and my dad shipped me off to boarding school, my life finally started—because I met Nate. Overnight, he became the brother I always wanted, my family when I had no one but him.

We bonded over our shitty parents and learned we were both awesome at hockey. I taught him puck-handling skills, and he showed me how to shoot a rifle and stand up for myself.

Nate is my person.

Mine.

And the witch took him.

I walk toward the door, dressed in gray joggers and a zip-up hoodie. Some men wear super bright colors. Others are shirtless, tight pants clinging to their asses.

The bouncer scans my driver’s license at the door and glances at my face. If he knows my name, he doesn’t say anything. I hand him the cover charge, get a shimmering gold bracelet slapped on my wrist, and enter the club.

I speak as little as possible when I come to Glitter. I’m so worried about someone remembering me from a TikTok video.

The club has two floors, a vaulted ceiling with suspended cages, and five bars. There’s a main stage and a few smaller ones where the dancers strip. Above my head, men grind against the cage bars. All the blood rushes straight to my dick, fueling my desires. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to quell the cravings.

I love it here.

It’s raining men.

What’s not to like?

---