Nineteen

He climbs down from the couch, and I get into a sitting position. Does he really think I’m interested in Adam?

He moves to one of the chairs along the dressing table. There’s a bag lying there, and he rummages through it. When he turns back to me, my gaze zeroes in on the condom in his hand.

Wait.

Is that…

Is that what he meant?

“I don’t have lube,” he says, his hands going to his fly, “but we can improvise.”

He wants to fuck here?

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I say.

“Why not?” he asks, walking forward. He brings down his zipper and shoves his jeans down to his hips. My breath gets caught somewhere in my throat when I see the bulge in his boxers. “This is what you want, right?”

Yes I do, but I came here to talk, and I don’t like the fact that you’re doing this because of some baseless jealousy, and I also don’t really want to do it in some dressing room–

He pushes his boxers out of the way, and his semi-hard cock is suddenly in my face. “Cat got your tongue?” His hand sinks in