Page 26 of The Substitute

Tomorrow? That means I have to shower again. When was the last time I actually gave a shit about what I looked like? Do I have anything that fits? Everything I’ve been wearing is baggy, and I haven’t been working out or eating…at all…so I’ve lost weight. Fuck. Does it even matter? This isn’t a real date. It’s just Savage trying to piss off Ambrose, and hopefully, it’ll work to get him to leave me alone. A pit forms in my stomach, because I don’t really want them to, but I can hardly admit that to myself.

Savage: Come on, you were doing so well with the conversation skills. We’ll practice more on our date.

Tobi: You’re a smart ass

Savage: Better than a dumb ass.

Tobi: IDK being dumb seems to work for some people. I bet it’s a lot less stressful.

Savage: Maybe, but we talked about this, brains are sexy.

Tobi: I can’t argue with you there

Savage: You shouldn’t argue with me anyway, it’s easier if you just agree with me.

Tobi: You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think I’m that kind of submissive

Savage: What kind of submissive are you?

Oh shit.I did not mean to say that. My stupid face heats again, and I’m so glad no one can see it.

My cock throbs at the very implication of being submissive to him. Of how his tattooed hands would look against my skin. I can’t hold back. I wrap my hand around myself and stroke.

A loud, ragged moan forces its way out of my throat, and in only a couple of pumps, I’m spilling cum onto Ambrose’s hoodie. I’m panting and sweating and shaking. What the actual fuck? That may have been the best orgasm of my life. Is that pathetic?

“Please tell me that was what I’m imagining it was.” Ambrose’s voice comes through the door, making me jump.

“You’re a fucking creeper!”

“I’m not the one being loud. You know how thin these walls are.”

My cheeks instantly heat, realizing he’s right. “You didn’t have to listen.”

“You didn’t have to put on a show,” Ambrose shoots back.

“It wasn’t a show!” I want to sink into the floor, unable to keep being human at the moment.

“But you just came, didn’t you?” His voice is deep again. How can he just say that so easily and not react?

I’m never going to recover from this embarrassment. “Umm.” I swallow hard. “Yes.”

“On my hoodie?”

“Yes.” Fuck. Why am I even answering? But a part of me likes it. Likes that he wants to know. It feels good to be wanted, even if I know it won’t last.

“Did you get cum on my hoodie? Can I see it?” The doorknob jingles like he’s gripped it, and I shove my dick back in my shorts.

“Why would you want to do that?” Arousal stirs in my gut against my will.

“Please,” he coaxes, still cocky, but there is a need in his voice that makes me want to show him.

“Okay.” I don’t know why I say it, but in the next second, he’s got the door pushed all the way open with his palm, keeping it flat against the wall.

His lungs are working so hard, the skin and muscles dip between his ribs with every breath, while his eyes are glued to the mess on his hoodie.

His teeth catch his lip as he exhales a groan. He lifts his hand like he’s going to reach out and grab me, and I don’t know if I’d stop him if he did.

It’s a long minute before he meets my gaze, then he grabs a shirt and disappears. A few seconds later, the front door slams.