Chapter 5

God was on my side this afternoon because Rooke’s office was empty. He wasn’t inside. I let out a sigh of relief as I hurriedly pulled my notepad from my bag, dropped it on the table with the other assignments, and dashed out the door without looking back. That went smoother than I expected. Thank goodness.

By the time I got home, the sun was setting, and I was so tired. I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my shoes, and headed to the kitchen for a quick snack, which was some leftover pizza, nothing fancy but schoolwork was waiting for me. I had a pile of assignments from other classes, readings on anatomy and ethics that I couldn't ignore anymore. So I sat at my small desk, with my laptop open, forcing myself to focus.

Hours ticked by and I typed notes and highlighted texts, my eyes burning from the screen. I was very exhausted but all that kept me going was the thought of my journal waiting for me before sleep. I had another journal that was already full with my writings so I always left it at home, my dirty little world. 

Once the last assignment was saved, I shut everything down, grabbed the journal, and flopped onto my bed. I opened it up, flipping to the pages I'd written about Wyatt. Rereading it all, from the way he bent me over, his thick cock sliding in, fucking me rough until I came hard. My cock stirred right away, pressing against my sweats.

Reading it got me so hard, my cock twitching so bad that I couldn't hold back anymore. I pushed my sweatpants down, freeing myself, my hands wrapping around the shaft. Stroking it slowly at first, matching the rhythm from the story. Up and down, my thumb on the head, imagining Wyatt's touch. My breaths came faster, my hips bucking into my fist. I flipped pages, reading more, the parts where Bryce joined in my fantasies. In one scene, Rooke had me in his office, his door locked and his scar brushing my thigh as he knelt and sucked my cock deep. His tongue swirling around it, taking me to the base, humming around it.

I jerked harder, moaning softly. The fantasy blurred with the real nervousness from earlier. What if Rooke had been in his office? Would he have done everything I had written down in my journal?

In my head, yeah, he'd grin at me, ask me some questions and then pull me close to him, his hand on my bulge, before he strips me and bend me over his desk like in my writings

My strokes sped up, my balls tightening. I thought of Bryce too, with his calm smile as he watched, stroking his own cock. The two of them, taking turns. Rooke in my ass first, with rough thrusts, his hands gripping my waist. Bryce in my mouth, feeding me his thick length, cum leaking down my chin. He would be gentle but deep, whispering how good I felt.

I came hard, ropes of cum hitting my chest, my body arching off the bed. Gasping, I rode it out, my hand milking every drop. It was intense and graceful in a way, like the release I'd been needing all day. I lay there after, sticky and spent, the journal open beside me. Sleep came easy to me, my dreams picking up where the writing left off.

I woke up the next morning with sunlight sneaking through my curtains, hitting my face just right to pull me out of sleep. My body felt heavy, like I'd run a marathon or something, but really it was just from all the stress and that wild session with myself last night. I stretched a bit, feeling the dried cum on my chest crack a little, sticky and gross. Shit, I hadn't cleaned up at all. I just shook my head, muttering to myself about being lazy, and rolled out of bed. The journal from home was still open on the mattress, pages flipped to those steamy parts and I snapped it shut quickly, like someone might walk in and see it, even though I lived alone.

First things first, I headed to the bathroom, stripping off my sweats that smelled like sweat and cum. The shower water hit me hot, steaming up the mirror as I scrubbed myself down. Soap lathered over my skin, washing away the mess from last night. I was done bathing in no time and dressed up. 

I ate a quick breakfast, just a bowl of cereal while I scrolled my phone. I was already  running late, but whatever.  I grabbed my backpack from the floor by the door, stuffing in my laptop, a couple notebooks for actual school notes, and my water bottle. That's when it hit me like a punch to the gut. My journal was missing. 

The one I'd taken to school yesterday, the one with all the fresh writing from the weekend. I froze, my backpack half-zipped as I started digging through it. I dumped everything inside the bag on the floor but it was just books, some snacks, keys, but no journal. 

My heart started pounding hard, like it wanted to jump out of my chest. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. 

I raced to my desk, flipping through the drawers and under the pile of assignments but I didn’t find it. I moved to the bed, lifting the sheets and checking under the pillows, nothing. 

I started to panic real bad, my stomach twisting into knots. The journal at home was the old one, full up with stories I'd written months ago but  the new one? That was the one with me yesterday. The one where I'd scribbled my dirty thoughts during breaks, in the library, even in class when my mind wandered. 

Where could it be?