The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,46
inside of me as I let him guide me to the bathroom.
Leading me through the house again, all eyes are on us, but now I care a little less about the questioning gazes, probably thanks to the alcohol.
We turn down a hallway, and Cage stops at a door that’s closed.
“Maybe knock just in case. You never know what or who someone is doing inside.”
A soft giggle passes my lips, and I wonder for half a second if Cage has ever had sex in a bathroom. At a party. Of course, he has, he’s Cage Wilder.
The thought makes me nauseated. I don’t want to think about Cage with anyone else, much less doing someone else.
Just as I lift a hand to knock on the door, it’s pulled open, and someone comes stumbling out, nearly running me over. Thankfully, Cage pulls me to the side at the last second, stopping me from being steamrolled into the carpet.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” he growls at the unknown guy as he stumbles away.
“It’s fine, he’s just drunk.” I try to calm him down. I don’t want to break up a fistfight right now. “I’ll be right back,” I say and disappear into the bathroom. I do my business quickly.
As I wash my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are a hue of pink, and my bright blue eyes are glassy. I’m definitely tipsy, and I won’t lie, I enjoy it very much. I feel lighter, calmer, and less worried about what everyone is saying or better yet not saying.
I’m well aware that the alcohol is not the only reason. Cage and Murphy are the other. They make it easy to have fun, to enjoy myself without being stressed out about getting hit on, or how I’m going to get home. I know Cage will take care of me. I trust him.
That realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I trust Cage.
A knock at the door interrupts my thought process. I open the door, expecting Cage to be on the other side. Instead, I find a girl in a red mini dress, squeezing her legs together like she is about to pee herself.
“Please, get out of the way,” she squeals, and I dart to the side.
As I step into the hallway, I realize Cage isn’t here at all. I look down both sides of the hall, but he’s nowhere to be found. That’s when I hear it. It’s a strange sound. Even with the music thumping, I can hear it. It sounds almost like... a moan.
Curious, I follow the sound. It leads me to a closed door. Well, a door that’s cracked open. Peeking inside, I see a set of stairs that go down. A basement?
Why is there moaning in the basement?
Like someone pulling on an invisible string tethered to my chest, my feet move forward. Brimming with curiosity, I can’t help but want to go down the stairs, but my foot only touches the first step before I’m pulled backward, and my body is shoved against the nearest wall.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Cage’s gruff voice filters into my ears while his large frame pins me to the wall.
I’m his prey, trapped in his big strong arms.
“I-I don’t know… I heard something.” I look up at him, his face only inches from mine. I’m tempted to lean forward and sniff him but resist the urge. That would be weird.
“They call that basement the sex cave. A little virgin like you is not ready for that.”
“Maybe I am,” I cockily reply.
“Is that right, little girl?” Cage taunts, his tone so low it hardly sounds like his voice anymore. He moves his body, pushing his groin against me, letting me feel his growing erection.
My lips part with a sharp intake of breath, and Cage uses that moment to kiss me. His lips press against mine with bruising force as his tongue slips inside my mouth.
Without thought, I grab the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer as I moan into his mouth. Cage groans in response, the sounds vibrating through me and igniting something deep inside of my gut.
When I feel his hand running over my hip and down to the hem of my dress, that feeling only intensifies. I don’t even realize I’m rubbing my body against his like a cat in heat until he breaks the kiss and releases a chuckle.
If I was sober, I would definitely be embarrassed, but I’m too far gone to care.