Page 42 of Our Secret to Keep

I swearpeople are staring at me. My paranoia has kicked up a few notches. Years of being in the spotlight have fucked with my head. So, I booked a private dance with Baby Face.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

If anyone recognizes me, the media will ruin me and my family. I can already see the headline:Ryan Rousseau’s Son Caught Paying for Sex at a Gay Club.

My dad would kill me.

A shirtless blond escorts me, shaking his tiny ass as he walks. “This is the Ruby Room,” he says, waving his hand at the red leather couches lining the space. “Baby Face will be with you shortly.”

The room is aptly named, with a red light glowing on the walls and carpet. Even the leather couches are red. A dance beat belts through the speakers, drowning out the rapid thumping of my heart.

He turns to look at me, hand extended, waiting for a tip. I reach into my pocket and flip open my wallet. I don’t have less than a twenty, so I place one in his palm.

“Thanks, sugar.” He blows a kiss at me, stuffing the money into his spandex shorts. “You’re in for a real treat. Have fun.”

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket as I sit on the closest couch. It’s Nate. I’m shocked he waited this long.

I open the message and see a video attachment.

Nate

Your loss, Riv.

Curious, I click on the short video of Samantha’s hands tied to the headboard, Nate claiming her ass like he’s possessed. He tips his head back, lips parted, blond hair falling onto his forehead. His thick cock pulls out and slams back into her. Over and over, he relentlessly takes her from behind.

His eyes lock onto the camera. He’s staring at me, hoping to gain a reaction. This video has nothing to do with Samantha.

Nate filmed this forme.

What is he doing?

Until recently, Nate hadn’t shown any signs of wanting more than friendship. The handjobs don’t count. He only uses my hand to get off, a way to satisfy his addiction.

When someone clears their throat, I stuff the phone into my pocket and look up. Baby Face stands in the entryway, dark makeup lining his big, blue eyes. Dressed as a sexy football player, he looks like a fucking wet dream. This is the man I know from OnlyFans.

Fuck. Me.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat. He’s ripped in the arms and chest. His spandex shorts are so tight they leave little to the imagination.

I have no idea what to do.

Baby Face leans forward and places his hands on my thighs, eyes pointed at me. He moves his body like a seasoned pro, as if he’s done this a thousand times. I practically drool as he works me into a frenzy, luring me in with his intoxicating scent.

Baby Face unclips the shoulder pads that crash to the floor. Kicking them away, he moves closer. His eyes haven’t left mine since he entered the room. The football player costume is fucking doing it for me. I love strong, muscular men.

Men like Nate.

My dick gets perks up thinking about my best friend and his sexy body. The way his ass tightens when he fucks. I shouldn’t be thinking about Nate when I have the attention of this beautiful man.

He’s a few inches shorter and less built than Nate, but he’s my type. His hands roam up and down his chest, continuing a slow exploration until the spandex shorts are halfway down his thighs.

“Fuck,” I bite out, breathing harder, desperate to touch him. “Take those off.”

With a cute smile, he bends forward and shoves the shorts to the ground. He steps out of them, standing before me in a black thong. His dick and balls are enormous. The fabric can’t contain him.

In person, he’s even bigger.

The screen does not do him justice.

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