Chapter 4

Avery's pov

The condom sat between us and every eye in the circle was on me. 

Ethan’s especially. 

I could feel the weight of his stare from across the room, waiting for me to fold, to laugh it off or do something foolish.

“Not tonight, asshole.” I murmured softly.

I stood up slowly but not steadily at all.

My legs already felt like they’d been replaced with warm water, but I locked my knees and bit my lower lip the way I’d seen girls do in movies. Then I reached down, curled my fingers around Luca’s wrist, and pulled him to his feet.

The room exploded.

Cheers, whistles, someone screaming “MARATHON!” like it was a national holiday. 

Luca’s hand settled at the small of my back, steadying me when I swayed. We walked upstairs through a tunnel of phones and hungry grins. The second the bedroom door clicked shut behind us, the noise dulled to a distant roar.

I started peeling my top over my head, excitement crashing over me in waves for reasons I do not even know.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Luca asked, his voice raising a bit.

I blinked at him, shirt half-off. “What? We’ve got to have sex, remember? Dare’s a dare.”

“No.” He shook his head once, his face contracting into a frown. “Definitely not. We’re not having sex. We can fake it instead.”

I dropped the shirt and raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be more enthusiastic about this. You’re a hockey player. You guys like to fuck.”

A short, incredulous breath left him. “Yes, but—I mean no.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Point is, I’m not having sex with you.”

I tilted my head, letting the alcohol loosen my tongue. “Ethan says I have a good pussy. Don’t you want to find out?”

Luca’s eyes flicked away from mine. “I’m good.” He dropped onto the edge of the bed like the conversation had physically exhausted him.

I flopped down beside him, the mattress dipping. “You know… you’re a really good person.” I said softly.

He glanced at me sideways. “i know kitten"

The soft moment lasted exactly three seconds.

“Are you two gonna have sex already?” a voice yelled through the door.

Luca’s head snapped up. “What the fuck? Get off our door!”

Laughter followed, along with multiple voices. 

Someone shouted back, viciously cheerful, “We will when you start doing the dare!”

I met Luca’s eyes, shrugged, and let out the most theatrical moan I could manage.

“Ohhh—fuck—”

He stared at me for half a beat, then joined in, voice rougher, deeper.

“Yeah—just like that—”

Outside, the peanut gallery was not impressed.

“Cut the bullshit, guys!”

“That’s like the fakest moans I’ve ever heard!”

“I wish I was the one in there—I’d have fucked the shit out of Luca!”

The commentary kept coming, overlapping, relentlessly.

My cheeks burned.

Luca rubbed a hand over his face, then leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. “I have an idea.”

I looked at him, eyes raising suspiciously.

“Instead of having sex,” he said, “how about we do something a little more… personal.”

“What is it?” I asked softly. 

“Sit on the bed.” He dragged the desk chair around to face me and sat. “I’ll stay here.”

Then he reached down and shoved his pants and boxers low on his hips.

I forgot how to breathe for a second.

Holy shit.

His cock was thick, heavy, already half-hard, and getting harder under my stare. 

My mouth went dry.

“Touch yourself,” he rasped. “While I touch myself.”

My hands moved before my brain caught up. 

I unhooked my bra, tossed it aside, and slid my palm down my stomach. The first brush of my fingers made my breath hitch for real this time.

Across from me Luca’s hand wrapped around himself, slow strokes that made the muscles in his forearm flex.

The room filled with the sounds of skin on skin.

I bit my lip hard, hips rolling against my own hand. A real moan slipped out—lower, needier. Luca’s eyes stayed locked on me as his pace picked up. His breathing turned ragged and mine matched it.

“Fuck—” I gasped, head tipping back as my eyes widened, the pleasure pulling me under.

I watched him and my own pace turned desperate. Two fingers, then three, curling, chasing the pressure building low in my stomach. 

My free hand gripped the sheets so hard my knuckles ached.

“Oh yeah—” The word ripped out of me as my eyes flew wide. The pleasure slammed into me without warning. My thighs clamped around my hand. A broken, high sound escaped my throat as I came, body shaking, wetness coating my fingers.

Across from me Luca’s rhythm turned brutal. 

His head dropped back against the chair, a rough, guttural groan punched out of him as he spilled over his fist, thick ropes landing on his stomach and the floor. His hips jerked once, twice, then stilled, chest heaving.

I collapsed sideways onto the mattress, completely spent, the alcohol and the orgasm and the entire night finally winning, dragging me to sleep immediately. 

******

Morning light came in through the curtains like it held some kind of petty personal grudge.

My head throbbed so bad I thought there was a metal band throwing a party up there.

I was still in last night’s clothes—well, most of them—when the sound of a voice pulled me halfway into consciousness.

“…Dad, I’ve told you I have no intentions of being with her, talk less of marrying her.”

Luca stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear, shoulders rigid.

A deeper voice crackled through the speaker, cold and final. “You do not dictate things like this to this family.”

“It’s my life,” Luca snapped. “And the girl is a fucking cheat. I can’t spend the rest of my life with a cheat.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment. 

“Then bring home someone, goddammit. Bring home anyone better than her by the end of the week or you’ll be forced to push through with the engagement.”

The line clicked dead.

Luca lowered the phone. For a long moment he just stared at the blank screen. His eyes finally lifted and landed on me, the distress very obvious in it.

He exhaled, voice low and almost quiet. “This fake relationship… are you willing to continue it?”