Chapter 2

Cameron’s POV

The party was in full swing—loud music, flashing lights, and the overwhelming scent of sweat and alcohol. Frat parties weren’t really my thing, but tonight was different. Tonight, I had a plan.

Daniel nudged me as we stood near the back of the room. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the bass-thumping music.

I nodded, even though my hands felt clammy. “It’s the only way,” I muttered.

We’d set everything up. The camera was in position, tucked discreetly behind a stack of beer cases in the corner of the dimly lit room. All I had to do was slip the drug into Brandon’s drink, wait for things to get messy, and capture enough proof to ruin him.

Brandon was already surrounded by people, laughing like he owned the place. He always had that air about him—cool, untouchable, like nothing ever fazed him. I hated that. I hated the way he made everything look so easy. He’d taken everything from me—my fraternity presidency, my father’s approval, my place in the world.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to move forward.

Brandon barely acknowledged me as I approached. “Didn’t think this was your scene, Holloway,” he said, smirking as he took a sip from his drink.

I gave him a forced smile. “Figured I’d celebrate my loss properly.”

He chuckled. “Good to see you finally accepting it.”

God, he was insufferable. But I didn’t let it show. Instead, I casually lifted my own drink and tapped it against his. “To new beginnings,” I said, watching as he took another sip.

It didn’t take long for the drug to kick in.

Brandon’s expression shifted—his brows furrowed slightly, his confident smirk faltering. He lifted a hand to his forehead as if trying to shake off dizziness. “Ugh… what the hell?”

I expected him to stumble, maybe pass out or lose control like the plan intended. But something was wrong.

Because suddenly, I felt it too.

Heat spread through my body like wildfire, my skin tingling, my heart pounding too fast. My breath came in short, uneven bursts, and my vision blurred at the edges.

Daniel was supposed to be handling the camera, but his voice was distant, drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears.

Brandon swayed slightly, then turned his gaze toward me.

Something in his eyes had changed.

The usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something sharper, more intense. His pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he was struggling for air.

“What the hell did you do?” His voice was lower, rougher than usual.

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry. My body was betraying me, heat pooling in places it had no business being. I stumbled back a step, but Brandon grabbed my wrist, his grip burning through my skin.

And then, before I could stop it, before I could even think, his lips were on mine.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate, rough, wrong—and yet, I couldn’t pull away.

My back hit the wall as Brandon pushed closer, his body heat overwhelming. His hands gripped my arms, holding me in place like he was afraid I’d vanish. His mouth moved against mine with a confidence that made my head spin, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

I wasn’t supposed to like this.

I wasn’t supposed to want this.

But my body had other ideas.

Brandon pulled back just enough to look at me, his breathing ragged. “You drugged me,” he muttered, his voice edged with something I couldn’t place. Anger? Amusement? Something else entirely?

I swallowed hard, my mind scrambling for an excuse, a lie, anything—but all I could focus on was the way his fingers dug into my skin, grounding me in a moment I didn’t understand.

“I—” My voice cracked, and I hated how weak and pathetic I sounded.

Brandon placed one hand on my throat and the other against my chest. He stared at me, pissed off, angry, and a little bit of rage was in his eyes, but they were also turned on, apprehensive, and excited. 

Using his thumb, Brandon pressed under my chin so I couldn’t look down at the hand he was trailing down my chest, abs, and past my belt. 

I swallowed against his palm, but kept my eyes on him. When he rubbed my cock through my jeans, he licked his lips.

Brandon groaned, low in his throat, the sound bringing my stupid dick to life. Slowly, he massaged my cock through my pants, wanting me to get worked up, but hoping I was giving my head enough time to catch up with his libido.

 I was tense beneath Brandon's hand, my throat was bobbing but I wasn't really speaking. 

His chest was rising and falling with shallow breaths, and his eyes were still on mine as he processed everything.

I don't know what he saw in my confused face. He took a chance, and he started to undo my belt.

“What did you do to me?” I demanded, I felt my head spinning and I couldn't just breathe.

He glared, squeezing my neck. Shit, this was confusing and hot.

“Fucking say it, Brandon !” I shouted in his face, my throat pressing against his hold and his hand was still working my belt open.

“Fuck,” he hissed quietly, his hand loosening a bit on my neck. My eyes fluttered closed and my head fell back against the cabinets.

“Brandon please.” I pleaded.

“Fuck you,” he whispered.

Good enough. He pulled my cock from my pants, shoved them down just a little, and looked down. Of course, I had to have a nice dick. I have had girls compliment it.

Brandon didn’t say anything, but his breathing picked up and his cheeks flushed when he started jerking me off.

I opened my eyes to look at him, and I swear to fucking God, that look was enough to get me off. The Brandon I knew wasn't here, this Brandon was primal, aggressive and wild.

“Fuck, Brandon ,” I groaned.

He bit my lower lip, dragging another moan from my throat. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” he panted.

I was breaking all sorts of promises I made to myself by allowing my enemy to jerk me in a party but I didn't feel like fighting and I felt stuck in that spot.

He pushed his head back against the cabinet and I met his eyes. “Don’t freak out, Brandon and if you do I will make it worse.”

I watched Brandon sink to his knees.

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

Brandon was on his knees in front of me with my cock in his hand, and I wasn’t supposed to freak out?

I was freaking out!

“Brandon,” I pleaded, not sure if I wanted him to stop or start. Do something. Anything. Put me out of my misery. Make this less awkward and force me to forget to be ashamed.

“Just shut the fuck up, deep shit ,” he snapped at me.

Then his hand was running down my shaft from tip to base and his tongue was licking the precum from my slit.

“Holy fuck.” I straight up moaned. Couldn’t even deny it. Or hide it. My hands gripped the edge of the counter, holding myself up against this hot and completely unexpected turn of sexy events. I thought some making out might happen, but I never expected this.

I never even considered Brandon would suck my cock.

And it may sound absurd but it was the best feeling I’d ever felt. There was nothing monotonous or boring about it.

 His tongue swirled around the head of my cock before he opened wider and took me deeper. As hard as I was trying not to, I panted like a junkyard dog.

“Fuck. Fuck,” I cursed him and his skilled mouth. How’d he know how to suck a dick so good? Clearly he’d done it before.

Then I looked down, making the biggest mistake of my life. I stopped breathing, my lungs paused, holding air and forgetting to let it out. Not only was this the best feeling, but it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. Brandon on his knees with my cock down his throat was going in the spank bank, and my god, how did I not know I was into this before?

He looked up at me with his green eyes, my cock in his hand as he popped my dick from his mouth. There was an evil smirk on his lips that called forth my riotous side, but I kept my hands clamped to the counter instead of forcing his head. “Don’t worry, asshole,” he said, languidly jerking me off. “I’ll bring you to your fucking knees, too.”

Cocky bastard, it wasn't supposed to be like this.

The fact that he was being an asshole put me on edge. 

I gripped his hair in a power move and he laughed and smacked my hands away, doing it on his own.

 When he sucked me slowly, my knees shook, and when he looked up at me, swallowing my whole fucking cock, I damn near fell to my knees like he promised I would.

My hands ended up in his hair again, but this time, it was more to keep myself standing than anything. My arms moved with the bob of his head, synching my entire body to the rhythm he set. When my hips started moving on their own accord.

“Cameron , look at me,” Brandon commanded. I looked down at him, so close to losing control. His eyes were clear and open, not at all ashamed. “Cum you dirty whore.”

I couldn’t believe I was about to ask this, but, “You sure?” Because I’m so fucking close.

Brandon grinned. “Please,” he scoffed. “As if you could hold back..”

Of course, he had to make it into a challenge. And he was goddamn winning. As his lips wrapped around my shaft, my head hit the cabinets. When he found the perfect rhythm, my legs shook even harder. When he reached back and played with my balls, I cursed his fucking name and lost all control of myself.

“Fuck, Brandon,” I groaned, holding his hair and looking down at him as I came in his mouth. “Fuuuck.”

My stomach clenched, my body tensed, and my mind blanked. Pleasure wasn’t just running through me, it was being forced into every dark nook and cranny of my soul, damn near rendering me stupid. Pleasure from Brandon. Mother fucking Brandon!

He sucked me through the length of the orgasm, slowed his tongue, and worked me through the come-down phase. I was half mad and slightly insane, but I knew something just happened and it was bad.

Brandon’s grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he suddenly let go. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair,visibly trying to regain control.

I stood there, frozen, my lips tingling, my entire body still burning.

The plan had gone completely off the rails.