Page 22 of The Roommate Situation

I step closer and take the panties from his hands gently. “I’ll just take these,” I say, and his cheeks turn bright red.

“Oh, right, yeah, of course. Sorry. I’ll uh, leave, I guess. You do, whatever you were doing.”

“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” I tell him. He nods, seemingly at a loss for words, and scurries off.

I bite my lip and shut the door behind me, resting my head against it, letting out a breath.

Parker said my panties were hot. And the way he looked at me, at them, fuck. I couldn’t help noticing the slight bulge in hisjeans when he left, and I reach inside my robe to squeeze my own cock that’s half hard. Shit, I don’t have time to jerk off. I have to get ready. I groan and will my cock to settle, before grabbing my clothes for the party and slipping them on. The black mini skirt with fake fur around the bottom and a tail attached to the back goes first. Next is a cropped long sleeved black shirt that has the same fake fur around the wrists. I sit on my bed to slide the black thigh high tights on, then secure the orange collar around my neck before slipping the cat ear headband on. I look at myself in the floor length mirror attached to my bedroom wall and grin. Damn, I look good. I just need the cat make up and my shoes, and I’m good to go. I slide the black heels on and then traipse down the hall to the bathroom.

I apply eyeliner around my eyes and the dark circle to my nose. I’m in the process of applying the cat whiskers when I hear, “Holy fuck,” and turn to see Parker standing there, open mouthed, staring at me. And holy fucking shit, I stare right back. I don’t know when I’ve seen a sexier cowboy. He’s got chaps on over his jeans, a leather vest, no shirt, so his gorgeous chest is on full display, and a bandana tied around his neck. The only thing he’s missing is the hat.

“You look amazing,” I say, making every effort possible not to reach out and touch his bare abdomen. Jesus, his abs have abs.

“Shit, freckles, I don’t hold a candle to you,” he says, and I see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Is he trying not to touch me, too?

“You like it?” I say, stepping back from the sink and gesturing to my outfit. He swallows and nods.

“God, you’re pretty.” His voice is a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine as he looks at me. My cock jerks in my panties and I have to hold back a squeak.

“You, too,” I reply and then wince at my choice of words. Parker isn’t pretty. He’s fucking sex on legs. He doesn’t seem to mind the compliment though, and grins at me.

“I’ll be ready in a second,” I say, holding up my eyeliner pencil, and he nods, moving away from the bathroom.

I emerge a few minutes later and see Parker now in his cowboy hat and boots, waiting by the door. He’s also got a jacket on over his vest and is holding mine in his hands.

He grins at me as I walk towards him in my heels, then opens the jacket and holds it out for me to slip into. Oh my god. Zach never did stuff like this for me. And Parker’s still looking at me like he wants to devour me.

I pop my earplugs into my ears and he grins wider. “I’ll probably only last an hour or so,” I tell him. “But you don’t have to come back with me.”

He nods and offers me his arm. I’m blushing like crazy when we head out the door.

PARKER

Hot damn, my roomie is the sexiest fucking kitty cat I’ve ever seen. The skirt, and the fucking tights, and that crop top showing off his slender tummy. Fuck, I want to nibble on every inch of him. I’ve never seen him in a skirt before, but he looks scrumptious. And I still can’t get over the sexy as fuck panties I saw in his room earlier. I can’t believe I actually picked them up, but my brain went out the window as soon as I thought of Rory’s cute little bottom in them, and I acted without thinking. Fortunately he didn’t seem to mind too much.

This little dude keeps surprising me in the best ways, and I feel proud to be with him tonight as we walk through the frontdoor of the frat house where the Halloween party is being held. There’s two different stories with a winding staircase leading up to the second floor. The ground floor is packed with sweaty bodies and loud upbeat music resounds throughout the house as people talk, make out, and grind up against each other on the makeshift dance floor, aka, the living room. Guests have taken up seats on the furniture that has been pushed to the side to make room. It smells like alcohol, sweat, and weed.

I grip Rory’s hand as we make our way through the crowd and to the kitchen to get a drink. I don’t plan on getting drunk, but I do want a little something.

We each grab a cider and move back through the throng of sweaty bodies, all wearing different costumes, as we make our way back to the living area. There’s witches, nurses, angels, athletes, rock stars, a couple more cowboys, and a few animals, though no one comes close to looking as amazing as Rory.

I spot my friend Preston talking to Jackson and motion in their direction. Jackson is dressed in nothing but a bright green speedo and iridescent fairy wings, his pale skin on display. He’s got glitter in his hair and around his eyes and he looks amazing. His tall, slender frame is perfect for the outfit. And it seems that Preston is quite taken with him, if the way he’s looking at the other man is anything to go by.

“Do they know each other?” I ask Rory over the roar of the music.

“Not that I know of,” Rory says, seeming just as surprised as me that they’re talking. “I didn’t know Preston was gay.”

“He isn’t,” I say. “Not that I know, anyway.” But hey, sometimes you don’t even know yourself until you meet the right person. “Maybe it’s not like that. Maybe they’re just talking.” We watch as Jackson laughs at something Preston whispered in his ear, and then Jackson is taking Preston’s hand and pulling him through the crowd towards the stairs.

We exchange looks but don’t get a chance to say anything before we hear, “Rory, fancy seeing you here. I thought you would be too ashamed to show your face in public from now on.”

We turn and I know who I’m looking at without being told. Douchenozzle Zach and whatever flavor of the month he has on his arm.

Rory’s eyes narrow. “Why would l be ashamed when I’m not the one who fucking cheated?”

Zach glares and steps closer. “Yeah, well, you’d cheat too if your partner was only putting out once a week and had a dick the size of a baby carrot. You’re lucky I wasn’t cheating sooner with what a lousy lay you were, you selfish little prick.”

Rory’s cheeks turn bright red and then he squeaks when Zach reaches out and grabs his crotch through his skirt. “Hey, back off,” I snarl, shoving him back. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

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