Page 60 of A Voice In Chains
“Sweet game today,” my teammate and left winger Leon says, handing me a beer and sitting down next to us. “That final goal was sick.”
It was a good goal, but I’m barely listening because I’m too wrapped up in the thickening tension between me and the 6'4 guy across the room.
Who knew Arkin could dance?
A sliver of skin is visible where his T-shirt meets his jeans, and I can’t seem to look away from that enticing spot.
Someone shouts Leon’s name, and he gets up off the couch to greet them. “See you later,” he says to me, already moving away.
“Later,” I respond with a tip of my chin. Then soft lips brush up against my ear and a small hand slides down my chest and stomach. I grab the girl’s wrist just as her fingers reach my belt. “Don’t.”
She gently bites my earlobe and whispers, “What’s wrong?”
Everything is wrong. The boy I can’t get out of my head is dancing with a pretty girl who wants to ride his dick, and I’m fighting the urge to mark my territory.
Arkin abandons the girl on the makeshift dancefloor and makes his way over to us, weaving through writhing bodies, his shoulder brushing up against drunk strangers.
The alcohol is going straight to my head, and it’s a nice buzz even though I know I shouldn’t have drank so much.
I drop my head back against the couch and close my eyes.
But before I fully process what’s happening, the girl straddles my lap and kisses my neck. The sensation feels good, so I pull her closer to me by her hips.
A shadow falls over us, and I open my eyes.
Arkin’s dark gaze sears into me, bluer than usual. Bluer than the glittering ocean at dawn.
Instead of pulling her off me like I expect him to, he surprises me by shifting her hair away from her neck and kissing her skin with his eyes on me. Kisses I feel between my legs.
The girl is down for a good time and reaches between us to stroke me through my jeans with her small hand.
Arkin observes my reaction before he snakes his hand between her legs from behind and rubs her until a raspy, needy moan sounds against my neck.
I grip her chin, pulled under by the heady current, and kiss her hard, tasting her desire as our tongues tangle.
This is madness.
As she grinds her sweet little cunt into Arkin’s hand, I want more.
It’s not so crazy to think I want to share a girl with him, though. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d had a threesome, but it would be the first time I’d done it with a guy I was fucking. A guy I have feelings for.
Thankfully, Arkin is on the same wavelength as me because he straightens and pulls her up by the arm.
Clarity returns as I stand up from the couch, swaying slightly, drunk on the alcohol, intoxicated by the sexual tension in the air.
Without another word, Arkin leads her away, expecting me to follow, and I stumble along, a lot less coordinated than him.
Up the stairs, down the quiet hallway, where moans filter through one of the bedrooms.
We enter a spare one and Arkin flips the lock before he saunters past, and I watch as he slowly strips the girl out of her clothes.
When they start to kiss, I find myself rooted to the spot.
It doesn’t take long before moans fill the room, and I wet my lips, aroused but cautious when Arkin’s belt clanks.
The girl reaches into his briefs to stroke his impressive erection, coaxing a deep grunt from his chest as she pulls on his length.
Still, I don’t move.
