Page 2 of Bedeviled By The Jock (Halloween Temptation #3)

I wouldn’t even know what to wear, anyway.

That’s the excuse I give myself once I’m back in my dorm room, frowning at the mess of clothes scattered across the bed.

I could throw on some old jeans, a black hoodie, slap on a pair of fangs and call it a day.

Bam. Vampire. But as a theater guy, showing up in something bland and generic feels even worse than not going at all.

Why am I even considering this? I thought I’d already decided not to go.

Is it really because of Josh with his stupidly handsome face and his damn pumpkins?

What is it about this guy that has me so hung up? So what if he complimented my jacket and touched my shoulder? That shouldn’t have made such an impact on me. It shouldn’t have affected me at all.

I grab a shirt from the pile, a faded green one with a turtleneck, and hold it up. If I smudge up my face, I could go as a zombie. Add some fake blood, tear the sleeve a little. Might work.

But then you’ll look absolutely ridiculous, and Josh is gonna be there, and you don’t want to look ridiculous in front of him, now do you? a little voice taunts me from the back of my head.

Why the hell not? Who gives a fuck what he thinks?

Great. Now I’ve got two voices arguing in my head. One’s trying to talk me into going, the other doing its damnedest to shut it down.

I flop face-first onto the pile of clothes and let out a muffled groan.

My plan was to order some pizza and watch horror movies all night. You know, the usual. But now it doesn’t sound as appealing.

I feel antsy, like tiny spiders are crawling under my skin. All I can think about is how crowded that party will be, how it’ll reek of sweat and cheap cologne, how loud the music will get, and how the football jocks will be running the place while I sit in the corner, feeling miserable.

But maybe Ana’s right. I have been acting more and more like a recluse lately. It’s not healthy. I need to get out, meet people, have some fun. I haven’t gotten laid in months, and that has to be part of the problem. My body is craving physical contact.

Ana mentioned Caroline would be there, and yeah, I’m not really into her, but maybe hooking up with her would be good for me. It could help release some tension. Just a one-night stand, no strings attached.

That’s what guys like Josh do, right? Fuck around and get it out of their systems.

Yeah. It wouldn’t kill me to be more like that. To get laid, have some fun, and not let things get in my head so much.

I close my eyes and think of Caroline in a skimpy cat costume, her blonde hair spilling down her back. Her blue eyes look up at me, lashes fluttering, glossy lips curling into a coy smile as she grinds her hips against mine.

I know she’s into me. Ana told me. So this isn’t some wild fantasy. I could actually make it happen tonight if I just work up the nerve to go to that party.

My hand snakes down into my jeans, and I rub the heel of my palm over my cock, picturing Caroline kneeling in front of me, her lips parting, tongue darting out.

I’d tangle my fingers in her silky hair and slide myself into her hot, wet mouth.

She’d take me eagerly, moaning, her pretty blue eyes watering, cheeks flushed red.

She’s got nice tits, too. Big and round, the perfect handful. I could squeeze them while she blows me, tug on her nipples, pinch them until they turn rosy.

The image doesn’t stir anything in me, but I keep rubbing anyway, pretending it does. Pretending her soft, pink lips are sliding up and down my cock, her warm tongue swirling around the head, desperate for me to come down her throat, and that?—

Nothing.

I open my eyes and glare at the ceiling, letting out an irritated huff. Not even a twitch. My dick’s still completely soft.

Why can’t I get hard thinking about her? She’s a pretty girl. It shouldn’t be so difficult. Most guys would cream their pants at the thought of getting a blowjob from Caroline, but I can’t even get it up.

I’m trying again, but in my fantasy, Caroline’s suddenly behind a pumpkin stand, carving a jack-o’-lantern with orange guts dripping down her fingers. Then her hand is on my shoulder, squeezing gently. Her eyes are brown, not blue, and her voice is way deeper than it should be?—

I shoot up into a sitting position, blinking, my dick throbbing in my hand.

What the fuck.

Suddenly, I’m painfully hard. Just a few seconds of letting my mind wander into territory it shouldn’t, and bam, instant boner.

This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.

But I can’t stop the images from spreading like spilled ink in my brain.

It’s like the train has left the station, and I can’t bring it to a halt.

The worst part is, I’m not even sure I want to.

Now that I’ve got a boner hard as granite, my whole body’s aching to do something about it, and my head’s full of thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

Caroline and her big tits are long gone, replaced by something way more masculine—a tall, solid frame with broad shoulders, thick muscular arms, and a deep, husky voice saying, No one's gonna bite you, Sebastian. Except maybe the vampires.

And that’s exactly what Josh does in my mind.

He bites me.

His teeth clamping down on my skin, sinking into my flesh, leaving a mark. He sucks the spot, licking it, soothing the sting, and when he pulls back, his eyes are dark and intense, his lips curved in a wicked smile.

“Too much?” he whispers.

I shake my head. “Not enough.”

Then he flashes a devilish grin and takes my hard cock into his mouth, sucking the breath right out of my lungs.

He’s messy about it, sloppy and eager, like a zombie tearing into warm flesh.

I thread my fingers through his hair and push, urging him to go deeper, faster, harder. And he does. Oh, fuck, he does.

It’s only a fantasy, but it feels so real. I can almost feel his stubble scraping my thighs, his pumpkin-stained hands holding me down as I writhe and buck and moan his name.

Josh… Josh… Fuck, Josh.

I squeeze my dick and pump with everything I’ve got, moaning and writhing, panting and squirming. It feels so good, so fucking good. It has no right to feel this good.

“You know what I wanna do to you, Sebas?” Josh says when he comes up for air.

“No,” I answer, even though I’m the one making this shit up.

His tongue glides up my cock, and he smirks. “I wanna pin you down and fuck you so hard you’ll still feel me inside you long after I’ve emptied my balls into your tight, greedy?—”

That does it.

I explode with a strangled cry, shooting hot white streaks over myself and the pile of clothes on my bed. Pleasure crashes through me in waves, leaving my thighs shaking and my breath short. I keep stroking, milking out every last drop until there’s nothing left.

The intensity borders on painful, and by the end of it, my cock is so sensitive that even the slightest brush makes me hiss.

It takes a few minutes before I can move at all. I just lie there with wet, sticky, cum all over myself, staring at the ceiling, waiting for my pulse to settle and my vision to clear.

Holy shit. It’s been a while since I came this hard.

When the fog finally lifts, the reality of what I did slams into me. I jerked off thinking about a dude. A jock. The sort of guy I despise and avoid like the plague.

Could it be that...

No, no, no. There is no way.

But the evidence is right here. Literally. It pools in my belly button and dribbles down my arm. It stains my clothes, and the scent hangs heavy in the air.

I can’t deny that Josh has awakened something in me, and now that it’s been released, I don’t know how to catch and cage it. And the truth is, I’m not sure I want to.

I need to figure out what the hell is happening, and there might be only one way to do it.

By going to that fucking party.