Page 81 of Right Man, Right Time
“Oh . . . God.” I hear through the bathroom vent, causing my eyes to nearly pop open. Was that Ollie?
It had to be.
Is she, fuck, is she getting off too?
Just the thought of her touching herself in my apartment has me gripping my cock tighter and shooting right over the edge.
I bite down on my forearm as I come all over the shower tile.
My entire body shakes as I steady myself and push off the wall. I slip under the hot water and let it drip down my body as I think about how that was the first time I jacked off to Ollie. And how it won’t be the last.
ChapterEleven
OLLIE
Ollie:What are you up to?
Silas:Stretching my quads.
Ollie:So, riveting stuff, huh?
Silas:Very.
Ollie:Well, I have nothing going on, and I figured since you don’t have anything going on either, we could make some of our story a reality.
Silas:Why am I now scared?
Ollie:Don’t be. But if you’re up for it, come pick me up at my dorm in thirty.
Silas:So . . . I’m going to have to pick you up? How is that fair? Aren’t you the one asking me to do something?
Ollie:It’s not fair. See you in thirty, don’t be late.
Silas:Can I at least ask what the hell we’re doing?
Ollie:I’ll tell you when you pick me up. Now, move along.
* * *
“Hey,”I say as I hop in Silas’s car and shut the door. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, a white shirt, and a denim long-sleeved jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as well as a very Silas-like scowl. “What’s with the face?” I ask, pressing my fingers to the furrow in his brow.
“What’s with those shorts?”
I glance down at my shorts and back up at him. “Uh . . . nothing.”
“They look like underwear.”
“Could you imagine?” I laugh and buckle up. “God, that would be uncomfortable.” I tug on the sleeves of my cardigan and smile at him.
“Ollie,” he says in a dark, unamused tone.
“What?” I ask, and he gives me a look I don’t appreciate. “I can see that you’re trying to be a controlling asshole at the moment, so I’m going to give you a good ten seconds to change that attitude before I rip you a new one.”
“I’m not trying to be a controlling asshole. I just think those shorts are really short, and if we go somewhere in public, we will have pictures taken of us. Do you want those shorts plastered everywhere?”
“Sure, why not?” I say so nonchalantly that I know it’s killing him. “If people want to stare at my ass, that’s their prerogative. But this bodysuit is comfortable, these shorts are comfortable, and this cardigan gives me all the warmth from the breeze blowing through Vancouver today. Now, unless you have something nice to say, I think we should just forget we had this conversation and move forward.”
He grips the steering wheel tightly, the veins in the back of his hand bulging. “Fine, we can forget it.”
