Page 14 of The Games We Play (Balance of Power #3)

SEAMUS

“ S hit,” Mimi whispers, echoing my thoughts as the bottle lands on some random guy I’ve never seen before.

She looks over at him as he looks wide-eyed back at her. He glances around the room, a few hacklers and people hollering, while Nathan is running his hands through his hair, pissed it didn’t land on him.

I’ve only been around Nathan twice since camp started, and both times I want to choke him with his own tongue.

He’s a prick, an entitled rich kid who bullies others around him. This version of spin the bottle is the exact reason I hate other people and have hardly any friends. Because it’s stupid shit like this that leaves people with long lasting trauma.

“Shane, Shane, Shane,” a couple of guys chant. Shane’s face shifts into amusement as he stares back at Mimi. They both stand at the same time, still watching each other move, then Shane reaches out, grabs her hand, and leads her down the hallway.

My fists clench at my sides and I’m fucking burning inside. Fury rolls over my body like lava and my face heats as I go to stand and take a step in that direction, before forcefully stopping myself.

Mimi glances back over her shoulder at me, her lips in a tight, timid smile with eyes full of guilt.

I have no claim on her, no reason to feel the way I do. Still, I hate this. I hate this more for her than I do for myself.

They turn into the bathroom and a resounding click is all that’s left in the now empty hallway.

“That’s bullshit,” Wes says, flailing his arm in their direction.

He grabs the bottle and starts spinning it. It stops, and he repeats.

“What are you doing, man?” Nathan asks.

“Practicing. I’m going to time this fucking perfectly so it lands on Mimi when it’s my turn.”

“Knock it off.” I flick the bottle off the wooden slab as it falls onto the floor. Wes stands, instantly getting in my face.

“Fuck you, Semen. You shouldn’t even be here.” Spit mists over my face. I stand my ground, staring back at him, unmoving.

Do not swing. Do not punch him. You are not your father.

I repeat to myself as I find every inch of willpower to stop myself from killing him for being a dick, playing this stupid game, and putting Mimi in the position she’s in now.

I get that it’s her choice. She could just back out, but there’s too much peer pressure and people like Wes and Nathan make it impossible to say no. She would be at the forefront of bullying if she backed out now.

“Is this the only way you can get anything out of a girl?” I ask Wes, taunting him. “Spin the bottle?”

“Fuck you, sperm.” He palms my chest, pushing me back. But it’s all just a front for him. If he really wanted to fight, he would have just swung. Instead, he pushed me in an attempt to look like the bigger man. I’m well versed in the action, at least in taking them .

A click of the door captures both of our attention as we separate from each other.

Shane steps out of the bathroom first. His hair is a little more disheveled than when he went in there, and a light sheen of sweat coats his forehead.

Fuck.

He steps back into the circle saying absolutely nothing. As he sits down, he glances around the group with a smug as hell look on his face that I’d like to pour gasoline on and light on fire.

Mimi steps out a second later, and her cheeks are flushed pink.

She hangs her head in shame, staring at her feet as she walks back to the circle.

Her eyes glance up to me and I tilt my head so my eyes can connect with hers, but she looks back down too quickly before sitting on the opposite side of the table from me.

“Shaneeeee, come on, spill the beans. Was it good? Did she swallow?” Nathan’s way too inappropriate questions make Mimi cringe, and I’m seeing fucking red.

“A gentleman never tells,” he replies, picking up the bottle and handing it to the person that was sitting next to Mimi. “Your turn.”

I need to get the fuck out of here. But I refuse to leave Mimi here.

I squat down and take a seat, still trying to find her eyes, but she’s just staring down at the center of the table.

Some guy I don’t know pulls from the green jar, then the red, and the bottle spins landing on the girl I know to be Daphne, who he guides outside to the picnic table.

I was too focused on Mimi to hear what he pulled out of the red jar, but by the way he’s grinding on her, it was either some sort of dance or dry humping session.

Wes’ turn is up now. He places his hand over Mimi’s shoulder and says, “I hope you’re ready.”

I hope you’re ready for my fist in your face .

She rolls her eyes, pushing his hand off of her. He uses that same hand to pick out of the first canister.

On the couch.

Then he picks from the second.

He reads out loud, proudly. “Hand job.”

Everyone oohs and hollers.

A small shake of my head is my only display of annoyance.

Wes doesn’t waste any time as he spins the bottle with a calculation similar to how he did when he was practicing. He stares at Mimi with a bright smile, like he knows exactly where that bottle is stopping.

It begins to slow as it comes up on Mimi. Her eyes follow and I watch the entire scene play out in excruciatingly slow motion. Her jaw slacks and her brows pinch together, but her tense shoulders and held breath release as it slides an extra inch past her, pointing at Shane.

“What the hell?” Shane belts out.

Everyone falls silent. There is no getting out of this one. No making fun with it, doing a joke of a lap dance and being the class clown or just dry humping a leg.

Shane’s task is to make Wes come on the couch using only his hands.

In front of everyone.

Shane was an innocent bystander when it was Mimi’s turn, so a part of me feels a little bad. But then I remember that smug look when he came out of the bathroom and that guilt diminishes quickly.

Wes, though. Whose face is currently disgusted and drenched in irritation.

Well, let’s just say karma has a great sense of humor tonight.

“Fucking Christ,” he spits out.

They both get up slowly, making their way to the couch. And I’m honestly surprised he didn’t use every excuse to try and back out .

They sit in synchrony and everyone remains quiet. Shane goes to move, but Wes holds out his palm facing him.

“Just sit there for a second,” Wes says angrily. He looks around the room and shakes his head. Someone I don’t know, the one who had to dry hump Daphne reminds Wes this was his idea and he can’t back out. A few people burst out in agreement, talking over each other, putting immense pressure on him.

“Fuck you guys.” He flips the room off.

He huffs, throwing his head back, mutters something inaudible, then begins to toss his neck back and forth, giving himself a pep talk. While he attempts to hype himself up, Shane keeps stealing glances at Mimi, and it’s pissing me off.

“Okay, just sit there. And don’t do anything until I tell you,” Wes reminds Shane, who seems more at ease than I would expect, but maybe he’s like me and he hides his emotions well.

Wes unzips his pants and dips his hand into the front of the splayed denim as he begins palming himself. He rubs himself as his head falls back, resting on the top of the couch. His eyes are closed and he starts moving his hand back and forth.

Shane slowly reaches over, lifting Wes’s shirt, but his head pops up as he swats his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me. Just give me a fucking minute,” he spits out.

Shane pulls his hand back and holds it up in surrender.

Everyone in the room watches with stalled breath. The air in the room has grown thick and dense. Some are pretending to cover their eyes while peeking through the slits, others seem to be enjoying the anticipation of what’s going to happen.

Wes’s head falls back again, his eyes squeeze shut as he pulls out his cock and begins stroking it.

He’s big, so I’m not surprised that he’s confident being so exposed, but I can tell he’s nervous. His breath is choppy and he’s not fully hard yet. Most of his dick is hidden behind his fist that’s fully wrapped around it as he continues to stroke with shaky hands .

Another minute goes by and his cock grows beyond the size of his hand as he continues to stroke and rub himself.

One hand pulls the front of his pants down while the other rubs back and forth over the shaft.

His eyes still squeezed shut, but his chest is rising and falling heavier with the sensation he’s providing himself.

Shane watches. His eyes move between Wes’ cock and his face, but I don’t miss the shift in his seat and the quick lick of his bottom lip.

I don’t blame him. Watching anyone do this is stimulating, even if it is the prick Wes doing it. I think everyone in the room is feeling the same way right now, because I’m quite certain most of us have only seen ourselves do this.

“Okay, do it,” Wes breathes out.

Shane blinks quickly, frozen still, unsure of what he should actually do.

“Just do it,” Wes says again more forcefully, making Shane lurch forward. He reaches out, but pauses, and glances up at Wes, giving him a curious look.

“God, you’re such a pussy.” Wes grabs Shane’s hand and presses it to his cock. Shane’s hand wraps around the shaft and begins to pump.

“Ah, fucking Christ,” Wes whisper-grunts as his breath hitches, but he hides the initial pleasure by biting his lip and dipping his head back. His hands are at his sides, fisting the loose material of his pants.

Shane’s hand continues the stroking motion as his chest heaves and his lips part. His body shifts again, moving slightly closer to Wes as desire clears the fog in the air.

I don’t miss the whimper that leaves Wes’ mouth when Shane releases his cock, spits in his hand, then returns and wraps it back around the length of Wes’ cock.

“Oh fuck,” he hisses as his hips pump into Shane’s hand, and there’s an unspoken lust that fills the room .