Chapter 9: Late-Night Bedroom Sneak – Round Two

The upstairs landing feels different the second my bare feet hit the carpet after leaving the last cluster of guys downstairs—quieter, heavier, like the whole house has finally exhaled after hours of noise. It’s past two now, most of the twelve voices reduced to soft snores drifting up from couches and air mattresses in the living room. Only a faint nightlight glow leaks from the spare bedroom door, and there he is, Alex, silhouetted just inside, shirt already stripped off, jeans slung low enough on his hips that the sharp cut of muscle below his navel catches the dim light. My pulse kicks hard against my ribs because this isn’t teasing anymore. This is the moment the joke stops pretending.

I step inside without speaking, letting the door click shut behind me but leaving that same dangerous inch cracked open. The hallway light slices across the bed like a thin blade of warning. Anyone could wander up those stairs right now—Jake included—and the thought sends a fresh bloom of heat straight between my legs, soaking the already ruined lace even more. Alex doesn’t waste time on words. His hands find me instantly, peeling the crop top off slow and deliberate so the dried streaks and fresh smears of his earlier release catch the low light across my breasts. The fabric drags over my nipples, leaving them tight and glistening, and he keeps the black lace mask right where it is, the delicate edges framing my eyes like the last veil between who I was supposed to be tonight and who I actually am.

He presses me back onto the bed, climbing over me with that solid weight that pins me without crushing. “Emily,” he murmurs against my mouth, thumb brushing my lower lip like he’s claiming the name itself. “My Emily tonight.” The words sink in deep, filthy and tender at once, and I feel them low in my belly like a spark catching. He spreads my legs wide, knees hooked over his elbows, and slides into me bare—slow enough that I feel every thick inch part my swollen folds, stretching me open until he’s seated to the hilt, his balls pressed warm and heavy against me. My walls flutter around him, greedy and slick from everything that’s already happened, and the stretch is different now, deeper, more deliberate than the frantic bathroom quickie. He holds there a moment, letting me adjust, letting me feel how completely he fills me in a way that makes my breath hitch sharp.