Page 8 of Nothing to Fear (Wicked Games #1)

“Parker Kingsford!” a beautiful girl calls out, her voice light and perky as she grabs my friend’s attention.

She’s a curvy girl with straight auburn hair that dances around her shoulders.

Her lips are painted a deep red, and she gives Parker a look that says she’s happy to see him here.

A smile pulls at my lips as I watch Parker eye her appreciatively.

She’s exactly his type and hopefully can take his mind off Mia and Leo.

My eyes scan the crowd to see who’s here with us. There’s a bunch of us that are out openly, and I’ve had my fair share of hookups with several of them. But if none of them are down here, I may not be participating at all, unless a straight man is open to getting off anonymously by me.

“Fuck, I hope I get paired with her,” Parker whispers, his eyes raking up and down her body. A resulting chuckle escapes under my breath.

“She looks about ready to climb you like a tree, man. Have fun with that.”

I scan the small crowd, my eyes finding a pretty blond slacker with piercing blue eyes.

My head cocks to the side, observing as Silas laughs at something his asshat buddy says, slapping him on the back of his shoulder as he brings a beer bottle to his lips.

He’s wearing a pair of denim jeans and a Corvus College Rugby hoodie with a pair of black Converse.

It’s casual and somehow really fucking cute.

I pull out my phone for no reason other than wanting to see his reaction.

We traded numbers to be able to text if he had any questions about assignments, and this will be the first message between us.

Me: You really going through with this?

I roll my eyes as Silas pulls his phone from his pocket, watching as his shoulders deflate, his eyebrows pinching together as his lips purse.

His confusion is felt in waves as his eyes slowly lift from the phone, and based on his reaction to my text, you’d think he just received a death sentence.

My heart sinks, and I can’t explain why.

Silas’ eyes meet mine through the crowd, and hell, if looks could kill, I would burst into flames right now.

I’ve never understood Silas’ hate for me, and seeing how we’re working together to get his bullshit grades up, you’d think he’d get over whatever it is and treat me like a human rather than shit on his shoe.

Once he relaxed last night, it was comfortable.

It felt like two old friends studying together.

I saw a different side of him and thought for a split second that maybe everything I’ve known about him over the last three years was bullshit, but now that his eyes are burning holes into the back of my skull, I know I was wrong.

That’s somehow more disappointing than him just being a dick all the time.

“Who you lookin’ at, Silas?” his buddy asks, his voice loud through the crowd as he looks over Silas’ shoulder and sees my text. “Asher Ambrose! Ha! Sucks to be you, dude! Have fun with the ass-kisser.”

I try not to let the fire rise in me, but it licks at my feet anyway, my body heating as Silas groans, letting his head drop back. I should leave. Walk away right now and spend the night alone in my dorm room. Or, hell, even head to the archives to study for Professor Thorne’s class.

We can’t possibly be friends. We’re from two different worlds; we may attend the same college and share the same courses, but we’re still living separate realities.

The jock doesn’t hang with the book nerd.

It was stupid of me to think it could be anything but exactly what it is, an arrangement made out of our control.

Silas meets my eyes again, the crystal blues swirling with something that looks a whole helluva lot like disappointment. I’m not wanted here. I quickly scan the small group again, looking for a familiar face that isn’t Parker, who’s left my side and is chatting up the pretty girl eye fucking him.

My eyes meet Silas’ again, realizing that I’m alone down here.

The look on Silas’ face is making me want to run for the hills.

I give him a subtle nod and turn to leave, no longer feeling the desire to party.

I’m fairly popular at Corvus and don’t have issues with the majority of the student body, minus the group of dumbasses Silas hangs with.

But something about flying solo right before I enter a glory hole competition just doesn’t feel right.

Especially when Silas is looking at me like he’d rather I be anywhere but here.

I guess our unspoken truce was short-lived.

My boots hit the first step of the basement, ready to walk away from Grimsley Hall with no destination in sight.

EDM gets louder and louder as I ascend the steps, joining the wild party upstairs.

People dance, and couples are already hooking up in corners of every room as fog licks around my calves, my feet taking me toward the entrance, disappointment clawing at me.

Leaves crunch under my boots as I hit the cobblestone walkway directly in front of the residence hall, the crisp air filling my lungs, a piercing sting that’s a welcome reprieve from the stifling air inside the building.

“Asher!” Silas’ deep voice practically growls from behind me.

I turn to face him just as his thick fingers comb through his blond locks, pushing them back, only for the hair to fall back in his face.

He really is handsome. “Where ya headed?” he asks, stuffing his hands awkwardly into his front pockets and rocking back on his heels.

His eyes quickly peruse up and down my body, making my skin heat.

I’ve had my suspicions about Silas’ sexuality, but never had the opportunity to ask, given he’s spent the last three years hurling insults at me.

“Eh. Kinda puts me in a weird position, slacker. Being gay and all. Not sure if I’m wanted there and didn’t want to make it weird.” Not to mention the way you were looking at me.

Silas shifts on his feet, carding those thick fingers through his blond hair again.

“You’re wanted.” His voice is barely a whisper, and if it weren’t for the silence around us, I would have missed it. My eyes connect with his, a flash of something I can’t quite place reflected in them. He looks almost dejected, uncertain . . . desperate .

If I thought his whispered “thank you” was intriguing, this just lit a fuse that could potentially burn us both to the ground.

It’s the first time I’ve seen an ounce of vulnerability or real kindness from him since we met freshman year.

I wonder what life must be like for him if dishing out reassurance or a compliment is a challenge.

I should be reeling from whiplash, but instead, even though I can’t explain it, my heart pangs against my ribcage, a rapid thump that aches, and even though Silas doesn’t deserve any sympathy from me, I give it freely.

“You want me to go back inside, Silas?”

“Yeah,” he answers quickly, and based on the expression on his face, he didn’t mean to. “I mean, you should. There are plenty of people who would want to get stuck in a glory hole situation with you.”

My lips pull up on one side, a sly smirk filling my face as I watch how uncomfortable he looks shifting on his feet, fingers threading through his thick hair over and over.

“Okay.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, even if my insides are screaming at me.

His shoulders relax almost immediately, and my heart beats wildly, a feeling of pleasure flowing through my veins as I watch his discomfort ebb. Okay, maybe I was right the first time. Maybe Silas is more complex than I thought.

Another pass of his hand over his golden locks, and those crystal-blue eyes are boring into me in such a way that makes me feel laid bare in front of him. Tension hums between us, a hard gust of wind slamming into my back, forcing me to stumble several steps in Silas’ direction.

“We, uh, we should go inside.” He fumbles with his hands in front of him, clearly feeling the electricity sparking between us as much as I am.

Taking several steps until we’re toe-to-toe, my curiosity winning out, I lightly grip his fingers, my skin brushing over the rough skin of his hands, wanting to do something to calm and center him.

Thunder claps loudly overhead as a hum of electricity vibrates from the point of contact with Silas throughout my entire body.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I’m seeing Silas Blackwood as an entirely different person.

The icy exterior has melted away, leaving a storm of vulnerability in its wake.

Is Silas who I thought he was all this time?

Or is he hiding who he really is to protect himself from something?

The thought makes my heart flip over in my chest, and that side of me that hyperfixates, hyperfocuses . . . obsesses , just found a clue to something I won’t be able to let go of. I want to peel back every layer that he’s hiding under until there’s nothing left to discover.

“You okay?” I ask, my eyes darting back and forth between his, trying to find the code to unlock all his deep, dark secrets. Silas clears his throat, dropping his hands to his sides and taking a large step back, successfully breaking whatever spell we were under.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Let’s get back to the game.”

I nod slowly, taking my time to look him over.

“Okay, yeah, let’s go back in. Some game, huh?”

As Silas and I walk back through the house, it hits me that a stranger is about to get him off, and something about that image makes me feel sick. I can’t explain why.

By the time we re-enter the basement, groups are already inside. Two students walk up to a group of us, blindfolding several students we’re standing with, including myself and Silas. Confident hands grab my forearms, leading me through the basement and turning me around.

“When you hear the bell chime, take two steps forward, and push open the door. If you are receiving, there will be a red light in your room; givers, your light is green.”

Easy enough.

The bell chimes, and I do as she said, taking two solid steps forward and pushing open a door. Once I’m inside, I remove my blindfold, rubbing my eyes and taking stock of the room. Red. I’m receiving.

It’s what I would expect from a makeshift glory hole in the basement of a college residence hall. The walls are painted black, red light gleaming from a small lamp in the corner. To my left is a hole, waist high, with thick leather padding circling the inside of it.

At least I won’t have to worry about getting splinters on my dick. Jesus Christ, am I really about to stick my dick through a glory hole? Even as I stare down at the opening in the makeshift wall, my cock hardens and a thrill races down my spine.

With shaky fingers, I unbuckle my jeans, shimmying them down over my hips until they pool at my feet.

I hear the click of a door in front of me, and I know it’s now or never.

After a quick stroke of my cock, I feed my length and my balls into the hole of the wall, my pelvis resting flat against the painted board.

I wait with my breath caught in my lungs, nerves and excitement rolling together, arousal thick in the air. But then fingertips ghost along my length from root to tip, a whisper of a touch rimming around my thick head. Pleasure scatters outward, and I audibly sigh.

Firm hands explore me with no rush, and I wonder if they’ve forgotten the point of the game is to get their partner off as quickly as possible. But I’m not going to turn down this hand job, not if they want to explore and play.

I slip my hand between the wall and my chest, rubbing my fingers over my nipple, pinching and twisting, arousal pulsing through me.

Fingers deftly circle my length, stroking me from root to tip.

I gasp, my breathing coming in heavy pants.

Jesus Christ, I can’t believe this is happening right now.

The hand twists once it nears my head, a thumb swiping over my slit on every pass.

And there’s no doubt about it in my mind now, it’s definitely a man.

His hand is large, fully encompassing my girth with sure, firm strokes that are much too confident to be from a chick.

My knees shake as my hips start to thrust against his perfect onslaught.

I expect his hand.

I expect the cool, stringy guts of the pumpkin.

I don’t expect a warm tongue.

My fist slams against the wall between us, and a guttural moan releases from my lips. Holy fuck. This is wildly against the rules, not to mention an extreme gamble with fate here. But right now? I don’t give a fuck about chance, or what’s right or wrong, I’m taking what I’m being given.

Lips wrap around my head, and I nearly shoot my load right then and there. It feels so damn good. My mind reels with who could be behind the wall, an image of Silas on his knees, lapping up the precum I’m leaking for him.

But that’s impossible. He would have only volunteered to be a receiver.

I groan again as he picks up the pace, stroking me expertly from root to tip just as my balls are lifted into a warm hand. He rolls them together, fingers working me up and down. My balls draw up, my orgasm barreling forward.

Maybe it’s the environment, the situation.

Maybe it’s the way he works me over like he’s done it a thousand times before, but when I come, I come hard.

My hips stutter against the wall between us, my cock throbbing and jerking as I unload ropes of cum with no idea where it’s landing.

Moans flow freely from my lips, my fist pounding once more against the wall.

When I’m spent, he releases my length with a swipe over my slit, clearly cleaning up the last bead of cum. I pull myself back through the hole and turn, nearly collapsing against the wall, my knees barely able to hold me up.

Holy fuck.

Did I just get off through a glory hole?