12. Rhys

CHAPTER TWELVE

Rhys

I’m exhausted.

Ladies’ Night is always a hit at the club, seeing as though we serve half-off specialty cocktails for singles, and it always leaves me dead on my feet. Considering that all the women came to me for their drinks tonight—which pissed off Skylar and Britt—I’ve worked overtime. Thankfully, they offered to close the bar without me so I could go home earlier than usual.

I trudge my way through the living room as soon as the elevator opens, heading straight for the fridge. After Everest stole the good shit, I’ve been buying crap beer on the off chance he got sticky fingers again. Cracking open the can of something you might find at a frat party, I take a nice long sip. I debate going out on the balcony for a smoke but think better of it. Instead, I climb up the stairs and head straight to my room.

“Fuck…”

I stop in my tracks. Since I didn’t turn on the lights, all I have to guide me is the reflection of the Miami skyline from the window at the end of the hall. I wait a beat, wondering if I just heard that correctly. It can’t be?—

“Oh, fuck, yes.”

My suspicions are confirmed at the second throaty moan that comes from Everest’s room. His door is directly across from mine, and I’m about halfway to it. I know I should just march into my room and tell Everest to not be such a noisy fucker, but something stops me.

The question of who is in there making him feel like that.

I think back to catching Knox Sanders in his bed a few weeks ago, and unbridled rage fills me. It better not be him making Everest sound like he’s about to come. Protectiveness, annoyance, and worry all dance through my brain as I don’t think, just act, and walk to his door. It’s slightly ajar, and that’s the only reason I don’t go bursting in.

The other is because Everest is alone.

He’s completely naked on top of his covers, one leg bent and pulled up against his chest in a move that seems far too uncomfortable. But judging by his face, discomfort is the last thing he feels as he?—

My eyes lock on the sight of it. The sight of a bright green dildo fucking in and out of his ass. Because of the way he’s spread out and the layout of his room, I can see everything . I think my eyes might have even developed night vision because nothing is left to the imagination. His tight rim seems stretched to the brim, his little hole too small for the dildo pounding into it. My eyes finally snap up when he reaches a hand down to grasp his hard cock, tip glistening, the head red and swollen with the need to come.

His face contorts in nothing but bliss as he throws his head back, panting breaths leaving his lips. “Fuck, so good. Fuck me harder. Fuck my ass.”

Jesus Christ, Everest is dirty.

I had a feeling Everest wasn’t straight, not by the way Knox was hanging all over him, but the proof in front of me is just… I’ve never imagined what he’s like during sex—I had no reason to—but now that I’m watching his solo session unfold, I’m shocked. I thought that maybe he’d be shy and timid, a little sweet, but no. Everest is dirty as all hell, slutty as he runs his free hand up and down his chest, filthy as he gives himself no mercy.

I’ve caught myself in a trance, mesmerized by the way strong, corded muscles flex as he strokes himself. Magnetized with something hot and unexpected as he fucks himself with the dildo—harder and faster—just like he keeps begging. Panic wells in me. Not because I’m being a creep, but I’m getting turned on.

Not just turned on. I’m on fire right now. Scorching with molten lava that drips heavily over my skin, wrapping warmly around me when it reaches my cock.

I must gasp at this realization or let out some sort of blubbering nonsense because Everest’s eyes snap open a second later and land straight on me.

His green eyes are wide, jaw dropped in surprise. His hand falters, stilling just a fraction. We’re trapped there, staring at each other, waiting for…

There’s indecision warring in his face, a split second when I think he’s going to stop, tell me to fuck off.

But he doesn’t stop.

And strangely enough, I don’t tell him to either. He continues his feverish pace, eyes locked on mine, all surprise gone, and in its place is a type of fuckery I should hate. He licks his lips, arching his back as his hooded eyes flutter shut.

I’m speechless. There are a lot of things I should do. The first one being to turn tail and leave, but my feet stay glued to the floor.

He groans, desperate and hoarse, and it almost drifts off into a sweet whine. The veins in his neck bulge, everything tight as he gives his cock one last pull and comes on his chest. He’s breathless as he floats down from his high, a sleepy smile on his face. He turns to look at me, smirking now, and I can see exactly what’s happened.

He’s fucking won .

I didn’t realize it while it was happening, mostly because it happened so quickly, but he initiated a challenge. Watch me. Want me. And I let it happen. Whatever the hell this was couldn’t have been purposeful, or maybe it was just to mess with my head, but either way, he’s come out the winner.

I don’t wait to hear what he has to say before I’m racing out of his room and into mine. Once I slam my door shut, I lean on it, my hand drifting to my hard cock as I give it a punishing squeeze. It’s not out of cowardice or embarrassment that I ran, but something much worse.

Everest coming might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.