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If I could think straight, I probably would’ve said something like, What the fuck am I doing? But all I could focus on was the fact that Elliot had his hands all over Noah, and no. Fuck. That. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Last time we’d been in a similar position, after he’d given me a blowjob, I’d been apprehensive and unsure, but the large bulge in his shorts didn’t deter me this time. It was the opposite. I wanted to look, to touch, to taste. Fuck, I just wanted to mess him up, to make him as wrecked as I was already feeling.
“I’m going to take you home and make you forget everyone else’s name but mine.”
You’re not straight. Fuck. How stupid could I be to not realise that?
