CHAPTER TWELVE: THE PLAN
Steve was a good time, but I have no interest in sleeping there. The thought of waking up in an unfamiliar bed, navigating awkward morning-after pleasantries, and scrambling to get ready for work doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest. I get back to the halfway house in short order, my mind already shifting gears from the evening’s escapades to the practical realities waiting for me tomorrow. As much as I wanted to go for round two—and believe me, part of me seriously considered it—I had to get to sleep. I have a shift at the dock in less than nine hours, and seeing as I was going to be on my feet for no less than ten hours, hauling crates and dealing with shipments in the elements, I wanted to get a good night’s sleep. My body was going to need every minute of rest it could get. Or at least that was the plan.
As soon as I walk into my room, Greg is sitting on my bed. He’s reading a book, the lamp light warm and cascading over his chest and torso, creating shadows that accentuate every curve of muscle. He’s butt-ass naked, completely unbothered by his state of undress, and I can just barely see his cock resting between his legs, relaxed and heavy.
Damn.
I stand there a moment and watch him, frozen in place like I’ve stumbled onto something I wasn’t supposed to see—except he clearly wants me to see it. He doesn’t immediately react to my opening the door, so I linger in the doorway, taking in the sight of him sprawled out so casually, so confidently. He looks up a moment later and gives me a small, knowing grin, relaxing his arms and letting the book rest on his stomach. He looks like he’d taken a shower, opted to air dry, and just hadn’t gotten around to putting on clothes. Or maybe he’d deliberately chosen not to.
“Sup,” he says, coolly, like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“Hey,” I say, trying to match his casual energy even though my heart rate has definitely picked up.
I’ve just had sex, yet seeing him like this turns me on all over again, my body responding immediately to the visual in front of me. My cock twitches in my pants, already stirring back to life despite how recently I’d gotten off.
“Good day?” he asks, his eyes flicking down to my crotch before meeting my gaze again.
It’s not a complete thought, but I get what he’s trying to say. He’s asking if my time with Steve was worth it, if I got what I needed.
“Not too bad,” I respond, understating things significantly.
“Cool,” he says, his voice low and easy.
And as soon as he says it, his cock twitches, thickening slightly against his thigh. He goes back to his book while I’m clearly sporting an erection and not doing anything to hide it, the outline visible through my pants. I grab my cock and stroke it through my pants, letting him see exactly what effect he’s having on me, making it obvious that I’m not ashamed or trying to hide my arousal.
Fuck.
I walk over to my side of the room, grab a towel from the pile on my dresser, and strip my pants and underwear off in one smooth motion. Greg looks at me, his eyes wandering up and down my body with deliberate slowness before coming to rest on my eyes, holding my gaze with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. I take off my shirt and socks and stand there naked, letting him look his fill, giving him the same show he’s been giving me.
“See ya later,” I say, grabbing the towel and leaving the room, though every fiber of my being wants to stay and see where this goes.
The bathroom resembles your typical residential bathroom, almost. There are two toilets, both behind stall doors that don’t quite reach the floor or ceiling, and a single shower on the far end of the room with a clear plastic curtain that does little for privacy. The space is larger than your average bathroom, considering it also doubles as a laundry room, with a washer and dryer stacked against one wall and a folding table pushed into the corner. I turn on the shower and warm up the water, adjusting the temperature until it’s just shy of scalding. Once it reaches temperature, I step inside, pulling the curtain closed behind me. Steam curls around me in large tufts, filling the small space and making it hard to see more than a few feet in front of me.
My mind drifts back to the events of the last few days as the water beats down on my shoulders. Sean, Ratchet, David—it’s all a mind fuck, a tangled web of manipulation and power plays that I’m still trying to navigate. I’ve purposefully not done anything to Sean aside from our first encounter, at least anything overt, in an attempt to lure him into a false sense of security. I want him to think maybe I’ve moved on, maybe I’ve decided it’s not worth the trouble. He knows I’m not going to drop the whole thing, so I know he’s having an internal meltdown while he waits for me to strike, probably lying awake at night wondering when the other shoe is going to drop. Except he doesn’t know when I plan to strike, and more importantly, he doesn’t know how. So getting him when he least expects it is going to be easier than I think. The anticipation is half the fun.
One would think I would be on high alert, constantly aware of my surroundings after everything that’s happened, but when Greg’s arms slip around my body from behind, I don’t flinch. The water cascades across my shoulders and chest, rivulets running down my stomach, and when his arms wrap around me, pulling me back against him, it’s almost warmer than the water itself. He claps his hands over my pecs, his palms flat and firm against my skin, and I feel his cock pressing against the crack of my ass, hot and insistent. He’s not fully hard yet, but he’s getting there, and I can feel him growing more solid with each passing second.
One hand stays on my pec, the other slides down my abs, his fingers dipping into each groove, tracing every ridge and contour like he’s memorizing the map of my body before trailing down to my pubic hair. He threads his fingers into my bush, tugging gently, testing my reaction.
Fuck.
He has no idea how fucking turned on I am right now. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure he can feel it against his palm.
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