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Hot Hands Copyright © 2012 Erica Pike

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Acknowledgements

I want to thank my beta readers and critique partners: Savannah Chase, Thorny, and

Matthew Darringer. You all helped me improve this story on various levels. I’d also like to

thank Barbara Sheridan for editing the first time around – thanks for making me change that

awful beginning. I don’t know how appropriate it is to thank ones children in an adult novel,

but you boys are my life and I thank you for the almost-always-welcome distraction. Love

you guys!

Erica Pike

Hot Hands

The corridors in my college have countless nooks and corners. It’s as if they were built

for people who like groping each other, or for quiet people like me who get groped a lot, but

haven’t been able to catch the culprit. It’s not that I dislike being groped – I love it. It’s just

that I’m going nuts with curiosity about the owner of the big hot hands, or Hot-Hands, as I’ve

come to call him.

Since the beginning of the semester, Hot-Hands has been taunting me, growing more

aggressive every time. At first it was a feather-light brush against my behind during

orientation. Although the touch was subtle, it was unmistakable. I spun around to catch the

assailant, but the elusive bastard was too quick. It’s been the same every time after that, a

touch, but no luck catching him.

I grew suspicious over the days, noting every guy as a possible perpetrator. Every

glance my way was silently questioned and weighed.

It wasn’t until the first college movie night I felt a definite grope. Big hands on my ass

cheeks, squeezing and rubbing as I patiently waited to get to my seat. Again, it was as if Hot-

Hands sensed when I was about to turn. Perhaps he felt a muscle tighten or saw a slight

movement of my head. The cinema was too dark for me to see him and when the big screen

cast blue light over the crowded audience, it was impossible to guess who the hands belonged

to. There were a number of people around me filing into the rows of seats, but for all I knew,

my mystery groper had already left. No one paid me special attention during the movie. No

one looked my way at all, except for my curly-haired buddy, Joey, who sat next to me and

elbowed me once in a while to point out some special effect or another.

Joey raved about the sci-fi afterwards, but I couldn’t remember a single scene. I had

spent the whole time trying to remember the feel of the hands: big, warm, and gentle in their

fondling.

Over the next few days I became an expert on hands. I immediately ruled out girls, and

guys with small hands. The college, however, is big and there are countless guys with hands

large enough to be ‘possible’. I tried to focus on guys with large hands who looked at me, but

most looks I got were, as far as I could tell, innocent with no hidden desires or plots to cop a

feel.

“Casper, catch!” someone shouts from around my hidey-hole, but of course I’m way

too slow and get a gym bag tossed into my shoulder.

“Jerk,” I mutter to a smiling Joey who plops himself on the floor next to me.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asks, looking at the journal in my lap.

I immediately snap it shut to hide from him what has become my obsession, namely,

the information I have gathered to catch Hot-Hands once and for all. I have every little detail

of our encounters listed: time, places, level of gropage, and what people were around that I

can remember. Perhaps, if I take special notice of the people, I will be able to see who’s there

every time. So far I haven’t had any luck, but then it’s only been a week since I started

keeping the journal.

“Nothing,” I reply, stuffing the book into my backpack. “What are you up to?”

“Heading to class,” says Joey as we stand up and start walking. “You done for the

day?”

“Yup,” I say, tossing my backpack over a shoulder.

“Man, you’re lucky you got to skip over STAT 201.”

With a snort, I give Joey a shoulder-punch. “It wasn’t luck, dumbass. I studied all

summer and took the evaluation exam. You were just too lazy to do it.”

“Hey, someone had to make money for all the booze we’re gonna drink this semester,”

he says with a grin.

I give him a light shove, to which he grabs me by the head and runs his knuckles into

my scalp.

“I’ll see you later, dork,” he says with a snicker and walks back the way he came.

I fix my hair the best I can without my hair products.

“Hey, we’re grabbing a sub later, right?” I call after him.

He spins around with a wink before disappearing through a set of doors. My stomach

is already growling for food, but since I don’t have any on me, I quench the worst of it with a

gulp of water from a nearby water fountain.

Joey has been my friend ever since our last two years of high school. He immediately

took me in when I transferred after years of humiliation and bullying back in my old school.

With Joey being a regular guy, I was able to blend in, which was something I hadn’t been able

to do after I got outed in front of a crowd of kids by my best friend. The experience taught me

not to trust anyone with my secret, but Joey figured out my sexuality and never treated me

any differently. I love him for that, but for the last two weeks, I’ve been worrying about Joey

being my mystery groper. He’s fuckable and all, but we’re roommates. If things would turn

sour, I’d have to find a new one, plus a new best friend.

I have good reason to worry; Joey’s been near me every time I’ve been groped. It’s not

all that surprising; we’re always together and share classes. Still, two weeks ago, when I was

squashed against a group of people fighting to see their test results off a bulletin board, I was

firmly groped by familiar hands. Instead of twisting around to catch him red handed, I kept

still and let the groping and kneading continue as I gathered whatever evidence I could. I

managed to rule out the guys in front of me and my nose sorted through the various scents to

identify a distinct smell of sweet cologne from behind me. When I finally turned around to

catch my groper, there stood Joey with only a couple of guys between us. He looked innocent,

if not a little flushed, as he plowed his way toward me. There was no way for me to be sure. I

wasn’t about to ask my best friend ‘hey, have you been fondling my ass lately?’

I started thinking maybe I had been wrong about the cologne, because Joey doesn’t

normally wear one. It could have come from any guy standing near me. Just in case, for two

whole days, I shamefully rummaged through Joey’s things trying to find the cologne. Then I

made an idiot of myself as I discretely sniffed various guys in my path. So much so that Joey

was beginning to cast me funny looks.

With a sigh, I rest my back against the wall next to the water fountain.

I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do if it’s Joey. Tell him no? That would ruin our

friendship for sure. He often plays pranks on me, but they’re all good-natured. He’d never be

cruel enough to taunt me sexually for weeks without meaning it. This wouldn’t be a joke on

his part if it was him.

As I unpeel myself from the wall and start walking, I hear the squeak of a sneaker

behind me. Turning around, I don’t see anyone. With a smile, I continue walking.

This could very well be Joey. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s him. It won’t be the first time

he jumps me when he’s sure I’m distracted with my thoughts.

I try to act casual as I walk down the empty hallway, plotting a way to counter Joey’s

attack. But when I stop by a small dark space ready to twist around and tackle back, I get

pushed into the darkness with speed I didn’t know Joey possessed. My school bag drops to

the floor with a thud.

“Joey!” I yelp in surprise as my face is pressed against a wall.

“Joey?” a deep voice vibrates from the back of my neck.

I gasp out loud. This isn’t Joey. Joey’s voice is much higher.

“What do you want?” I ask through rattling breaths and a heart that’s ready to pop.

“What do you think I want?” he growls into my ear.

Oh God, when he says it like that, it’s pretty clear. I can’t believe this is happening

right here in school. With my mind going numb, I try to escape, but he’s a good six inches

taller than me and he’s strong. He pins my wrists to my back and pushes me into a dark room.

I’m about to scream for help, when I feel his big hand on my ass. Hot and gentle.

Hot-Hands.

I take a few calming breaths as he pushes me against another wall, his front firm to my

back. All I can smell is detergent and his tantalizing cologne mixed with his own unique man-

smell. The combination has my mind reeling.

When I try to twist around, he covers my eyes with his big hand.

“I want to see you,” I complain, still panting after my initial shock with the cold wall

pressed against my cheek.

“I’m not ready to be seen,” he says in that drool-worthy voice of his, so deep and

sensual. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No,” I nearly shout. “Please, I need to know who you are.”

He doesn’t answer, but instead pulls a strip of cloth over my eyes, obscuring the little I could

make out in the dark.

“Do you mind?”

His whisper in my ear makes me shudder.

“No,” I try to say firmly, but the insecurities make my voice tremble.

Hot-Hands ties the strip behind my head and brushes his soft lips against my bare

neck.

“I’ll need to tie your hands too,” he whispers.

I don’t struggle while my wrists are being secured with the soft fabric.

As he runs his finger from the top of my spine to the small of my back, my body

convulses in shudders. Instinctively, I try to free my wrists. I hear his deep chuckle, but

there’s no way I can get free.

Hot hell, what have I done? I’ve given a complete stranger permission to tie me up and

now I’m at his mercy. I have no way of defending myself. Although the thought sends winged

beasts of terror fluttering in the pit of my stomach, my heart is hammering with an odd thrill

as well.

“Please, tell me your name,” I venture again as he begins his familiar kneading of my

denim-clad ass.

He pushes against my back with a low groan as he rubs his erection against me,

coaxing a soft moan out of my throat. His body mass is much bigger than mine – strong and

muscular.

“You don’t need to know my name,” he whispers.

“Why not?”

God, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard my own voice so hoarse with need. My cock

throbs and twitches in my jeans, but there’s no way I can adjust it with my hands tied back.

It’s bordering on painful.

“Because I have everything to lose,” he whispers before yanking me around to take my

chin between his fingers.

“Y-you think I’ll tell people you’re gay?” I ask.

My breath catches as a hot thumb grazes my lips. His other hand trails around my

waist and gropes my ass like so many times before.

“Are you a teacher?” I ask before I release a held-back groan.

The warm chuckle sends shudders through my frame, intensifying the throbbing in my

pants.

“I’m a student,” he says, his face so very close to mine.

There. A hint. At least I can rule out Mr. Corrigan, the Macroeconomics teacher, and

Mr. Jackson, who teaches Accounting – both owners of big hands, both frequently calling me

out in class to answer questions.

My next question comes out in a whisper when his fingers toy with the button on my

jeans, ‘accidentally’ brushing against my tight erection.

“Do we share classes?”

Hot-Hands chuckles again as he traces my jaw and presses his full lips to mine. His

wet tongue runs the length of my sealed lips, urging me to part them. A hot, slippery tongue

collides with mine, sending volts through my body and releases a weak moan from deep

within me. He tastes of sweet raspberry, like blue Gatorade.

He swirls, nips, and suckles my lips. While he massages my ass, he kisses me to the

point I can barely form a coherent thought. His deep voice lets out a rasping growl as he slides

his finger between the cheeks, tracing the seam on my jeans downwards. He pushes extra hard

when the seam leads his finger over my hole and I whimper with need as he repeats the

gesture over and over while grinding his hard cock against mine.

When we break apart for air, his lips and teeth trail down my chin, to the hollow of my

throat. My head drops backwards as he kisses and licks. He pulls my t-shirt over my head but

can’t get it past my wrist restraints, so he leaves it hanging. I hold my breath when he undoes

my top button and zips down my jeans, freeing my cock at last.

A single hand grabs my hardness along with his and I whimper and shudder when he

starts sliding his fist up and down our aligned lengths. The sensation of having another man’s

cock on mine is new and nearly pushes me over the edge. Between shallow breaths, we moan

and groan as Hot-Hands jerks us off with a finger playing down my naked crack, taunting my

hole every now and then. When the finger gently pushes inside, there’s no way I can hold it

in. I buck against him with a cry as I burst so hard, I feel it hit my chin. Hot-Hands shortly

follows, grunting deeply into my neck, splashing my bare chest with goo.

I can barely stay standing as he lowers himself to lick me clean, then comes back up to

lock his lips with mine, allowing me to taste my seed mixed with his.

When he gently removes my wrist-restraints, I realize that it’s over. His gentle, lingering

kisses feel like ‘good bye’, but I don’t want him to go. I want to take him to my room and curl

up with him under the covers. I want to see his face and talk to him, hoping that physical

hunger isn’t all that’s between us.

As I reach out my arms to touch his face, Hot-Hands grabs my wrists firmly.

“Sorry. You might figure out who I am if you touch me,” he says and turns me to face

the wall with just the right amount of force to make me groan.

“Please,” I whimper as he strokes his fingers over my bare ass once more before

yanking up my jeans. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He leans against my ear. “If you want me to find you again, you won’t turn around

after I remove the blindfold. Wait in here for a minute after I leave.”

“Okay,” I whisper, the desire to be with him again winning over my curiosity. “When

will you come again?”

“I will come again the next time I’m pressed against – or maybe into – your gorgeous

body,” he says with a smile in his voice.

The kiss he plants on my neck makes me shudder, and then I feel his fingers slowly

remove the blindfold. A big grin stretches over my face as I dutifully wait a whole minute

before I collect my bag and head back to the dorm.

I run the details through my mind while I walk back, trying to connect them to every

guy I know. My groper wears that cologne, so that rules out any foul-smelling guys, knocking

out at least half. I can also rule out guys with high voices.

Rustling with my bag as I walk, I pull out the journal to mark down my new details. If

I keep collecting evidence, maybe I can figure out who Hot-Hands is without him knowing.

My heart lifts with relief when I cross out Joey’s name, but the mystery is killing me now that

I’ve had a decent sampling. The strange thing is, now that I think about it, I feel like I’ve

heard his voice before, but I can’t remember where.

The next day, I arrive early in marketing class, severely tousled after a sleepless night

of thinking. I look hard at every guy who enters the room. Surely the groper would at least

glance at me after our encounter yesterday, possibly even give himself up by looking away if

I’m staring directly at him.

I mentally rule out guys as they enter, noting down in my journal the names of the

ones who do look at me, while trying to shield my crazy action from the ever-prying Joey. I

need to get to the bottom of this for some peace of mind, and to quell my curiosity.

Most of the looks I get are innocent enough, though two pairs of eyes do linger on me.

It just so happens that two of my tormentors from my old high school, Jaime and Mike, are

not only attending the same college, but also the same program. What’s even worse? Bitchy

fate just had to give them good looks and gorgeous bodies. And enough intelligence to make

them among the best students in class. For all the grief they and their football buddies gave –

four whole years of taunting, ridiculing and beating me – they should be single-celled baldies

with protruding beer bellies.

Jaime, in particular, is drop dead gorgeous and I hate him extra for it. His black hair

looks stylishly messy and his blue eyes shine in the confinements of thick, long lashes and

honey-tanned skin. His muscles are easily visible through the tight white tee and I can well

envision nice strong thighs in those blue jeans. Like a sports model, he wears his shades

propped on the top of his head and has girls swooning left and right every single day. In fact,

there are three such girls talking to him as he walks with his buddy, Mike, toward the stairs to

sit where they always sit at the far back.

Mike is just brown all over: brown hair that droops into his brown eyes in his brown

face. He usually wears black clothes, and today is no exception. He’s handsome in a rugged

sort of way, but not beautiful like Jaime. Mike has always been Jaime’s wingman, whereas

Jaime was the leader of the rat-pack back in the day.

I have suspected Mike of being gay ever since I spotted him on the first day of

orientation. Both he and Jaime have grown and developed since I last saw them two years

ago, but Mike has this look of vulnerability about him, and his eyes tend to linger when he

looks at guys. But more importantly, he has the vibe.

Neither Mike nor Jaime has talked to me since college started, but Mike keeps casting

me these apologetic looks whenever our eyes meet. He’s probably sorry for giving me a hard

time and realizes how hard it must have been for me back then. I would probably forgive him

if he asked for it, but as long as he doesn’t speak to me, I’ll keep on shooting him my

resentful glares.

I’m just about to rule the two of them out as Hot-Hands, mainly because I don’t want

them to be him, but as they climb to the top, I catch a whiff of sweet cologne. My heart sinks

down to my toes. I’m positive this is the very same cologne. Turning in my seat, I watch the

two friends ascend, hoping to catch their voices, but they are quiet while the girls chatter and

giggle like hungry seagulls.

I strain my ears all through class to hear them. People talk a lot in marketing, but

Jaime and Mike sit too far away for me to hear anything to clear my suspicion.

By the end of class, I’m somewhat calm after a rational monologue in my head; surely there

are other guys who use this cologne. In a college this big, there have to be at least several.

Besides, I’m sure I would have sensed it last night if my groper was Jaime or Mike. Their

rotten aura would have cut through my blindfold, or my survival instincts would have kicked

in and told me to run, just like they did when I was a kid. Back then, I didn’t have to actually

see them to sense they were near. Still, it’s been over two years and, in the calm presence of

Joey, I learned to relax. I discovered I didn’t have to be on guard every school-minute.

When we arrive at the sandwich bar for an early dinner, Joey finally combusts,

snapping me back to reality.

“Okay Casper, what the hell’s up with you today?” he asks as we get in line.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking about high school,” I reply, getting a little peace from him

while we order sauce-slathered chicken sandwiches and large cups of soda.

Joey’s green gaze studies me from under his dark curls as we sit down. “We’re in

college now – we’re supposed to be unlearning and forgetting all about high school. We’re

supposed to be chatting up girls – or guys – having our first sexual experiences, and skipping

all the classes we can get away with now that attendance isn’t mandatory. I’m considering

skipping macroeconomics altogether. I fall asleep every time and I could be doing something

so much more entertaining elsewhere.”

“Like chatting up girls?” I say with a grin in my eyes, my voice muffled by my half-

full mouth. I take a long sip of my soda and swallow, seeing an opportunity to switch topics.

“But yeah, I was thinking the same. Half the class ends up dead on their desks while Mr.

Corrigan goes on and on. I sometimes think he’s a hologram on auto-speak.”

Joey giggles in that silly way that always makes me laugh, too.

“Are we watching Galactica tonight?” I ask around another bite.

Joey shakes his head and swallows. “Got a date with Chrissie and we’ll probably end

up in her bed afterwards.” He casts me a wink. “Isn’t it time you go out for a little man-

hunting? Like I said, college is time for first sexual experiences.”

“So I’m still a virgin. No biggie,” I reply with a shrug. “At least I’m not getting

pregnant this way.”

Joey’s scrunched up wrapper hits me on the nose, indicating that he’s not pleased at

being reminded of the near-pregnancy scare during high school involving a broken condom

and the late period of his ex. He swore he’d never have sex again, but that obviously didn’t

stick.

“Well, go back to your cave. I’ve got a hottie to fuck,” says Joey. He stuffs the rest of

his sandwich into his big mouth, nudging me playfully on the shoulder on his way out.

“Back to the Casper cave,” I repeat with a sigh before I finish my dinner and head

back to the dorm.

I’ll probably just end up jerking off to the image of Hot-Hands, but there’s a slight

hitch: Hot-Hands, who really didn’t have a face before, now either looks like Jaime or Mike

in my head. It’s no use reminding myself that Hot-Hands probably isn’t either one of those

guys. It could well be that Hot-Hands fucked Mike this morning and now Mike is wearing his

cologne. Not impossible, though the thought of Hot-Hands being with someone else tugs hard

at my heart strings.

Well, if Hot-Hands has to have one of those faces, then Jaime’s definitely more my

type. But whenever I see his face, I’m reminded of the humiliation I went through over the

years. Associating Hot-Hands with Jaime is not positive, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t

go back to a faceless Hot-Hands.

I grudgingly fish out my keys and am about to twist it in the lock when a black slip of

fabric is dropped over my eyes. There’s a definite tug when he ties the knot at the back.

“Miss me?” he whispers in my ear, pouring a cold shower’s worth of shudders down

my back.

Is this Mike? Is this a joke they’re playing on me? What if Jaime is videotaping this to

post on the internet? That would be so like them.

Hot-Hands ties my wrists, this time in front of me, and kisses the back of my neck.

And I’m just standing here, passively allowing him to tie me up. Inside I’m screaming

and yelling for him to untie me, but I can’t get my voice or my body to function.

Is this Mike? He doesn’t sound like Mike. I’m probably just being paranoid.

I relax into the hand that strokes my back in calming circles. It’s as if he can sense my

fear, like a predator just before he catches his prey. No, I have to stop thinking that way. He

was very gentle yesterday. There’s no way Mike or Jaime could be so tender.

His scent fills my nostrils when he bends his head to kiss the front of my neck. I try to

detect my childhood sense of danger, but there is nothing but the thrill of being tied up by this

guy. He strokes me all over, sliding his fingers over my ass and under my shirt. His fingertips

burn on my stomach.

“Won’t you let me in?” he whispers in my ear.

I get lost in a swirly haze for a minute as he pulls my chin to the side and kisses and

sucks my lips. His supple touch melts my insides so fast that my knees buckle.

A warm chuckle fills my ears as he holds me firmly against his body, just hugging me

and stroking me.

“You know, someone could come by any minute. Open the door, will you?”

With my eyes blindfolded, I feel my way toward the keys in the lock. They jingle against my

keychain as I’m about to unlock the door, but I hesitate. I can’t open it. Not if this is Mike.

The laughing faces as they called me names spins in my head. If this is Mike then there’s no

way I can let him in, especially since his intent seems pretty clear by the way he’s groping

me; I’m about to get fucked for the first time in my life.

Clearly seeing my hesitation, he slides his hands around my middle and hugs me close.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

The gentle tone throws me for a second. Neither Mike nor Jaime would talk like that,

right? But their bodies have developed, so why not their voices? Would I recognize them if I

heard them talking? I always refuse to look whenever someone speaks from behind me in

class. I don’t want to acknowledge my tormentors too much in fear they’ll put me through the

same kind of hell all over again. But man, I should have looked at least once to hear their

voices.

“I-Is this a prank?” I stutter, sounding all weak and fragile.

“Why would you think that?” he asks with his deep and calming voice.

“Look, if you’re Michael Warren, and you’re just taking your bullying to a whole new

level, then I want you to untie me right now. In fact, if you are Mike, then I don’t want you

near me ever again.”

“Mike?” he asks, his hands loosening around my waist. The surprise and tint of

jealousy in his voice lifts tons off my heart; he isn’t Mike. But have I ruined everything now?

“He, um, he’s a jerk who used to bully me when I was younger. I realize now that

you’re not him. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he whispers into my hair, rubbing his cheek against it. “I’m so sorry

you were bullied. Kids can be so cruel. But I’m very serious about you. I think about you so

much that I seek you out every day just to see you. You have no idea how badly I want you.”

I swallow hard and blink rapidly to keep my tears back. God damned Jaime and Mike

for ruining this for me. My breath rattles as I exhale and twist the key in the lock.

“I might have some idea,” I say in a low voice. “I’m an expert at killing moods.

There’s a reason I’m still a virgin, you know.”

Hot-Hands walks me into the room and closes the door behind us, locking it with a

low snick. “You’re a virgin? Does that mean I can’t go all the way with you tonight?”

“No,” I say slowly. “That’s not what I mean…”

I feel the heat from his body move from my back to my front. He’s standing right in

front of me and I can’t see him. When he lifts my bound arms to loop them around his neck, I

suck air at the ticklish feeling of soft hair brushing against the insides of my elbows. Another

clue. Hot-Hands has hair – not closely-cropped or a shaved head.

Mike and Jaime have longish hair that looks very soft. But this isn’t Mike or Jaime –

definitely not Mike; I could hear it in his voice earlier. Unless he was acting… Mike did take

drama classes. Jeez, I’m getting paranoid. There’s a hot guy in my room ready to give me the

experience I’ve dreamed of for years and I’m ruining it.

“Um,” I say, swallowing hard. “I mean, it’s just my way of asking you to go easy on

me.”

Hot-Hands bends down to lick my lips. We dive into a long, hot kiss as he pulls me even

tighter to his body, letting me feel his erection by rubbing it against mine.

“I want this. I want you,” I whisper against his mouth and earn myself another lusty

kiss and a groan.

He releases me to rustle with his clothes. I stand like an idiot with my linked arms

around his neck as he maneuvers. When he pushes his body to mine again his erection stands

free as he grinds it against the hard cock in my jeans.

“What can I call you?” I ask when we break from another kiss and he slides down to

slip off my shoes and socks. “I can’t call you ‘Hot-Hands’ all the time.”

“Hot-Hands?” My groper chuckles low.

“Yeah, you have big, very hot hands,” I say, feeling the heat invade my cheeks while

he works down my tight jeans, kissing my thighs as he goes. He works himself upward once

my legs are bare, planting long, soft kisses on my stomach, driving me wild and drawing out

low moans from my throat. His mouth finds my cock still confined in my briefs, and I gasp

when I feel hot air against it. He licks and sucks and groans through the material.

I try to imagine the scene in the room as he embraces my middle with his big hands all

over my ass, back, and thighs. It’s hot as hell until he breaks away and I picture the face of

Mike and then Jaime looking up at me.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please let me see your face. I keep picturing either Mike or

Jaime and that’s a major turn-off. It scares the hell out of me. You used to be faceless until I

discovered that one of them wears the same cologne as you… Please.”

He hesitates for a moment, holding still until he pushes himself off the carpet and

gives me a sweet, intimate kiss, not stopping until my rigid body turns to jelly in his arms.

“You’ll get to see my face soon enough. I promise you have nothing to be scared of.”

He cups my face and pulls me against his warm chest, which is a little awkward since

my hands are tied between us. But no, Jaime or Mike wouldn’t be this thoughtful. They’d

have me on my bed the minute they got through the door, using my body to quench their

selfish needs, going roughly just to hurt me. Then they’d laugh when I figured out who was

fucking me. And they wouldn’t stop, no matter how much I’d beg or cry. Hot-Hands isn’t

Mike or Jaime. He can’t be.

“Are you okay now?” he whispers into my ear, making my body shudder.

“Yeah,” I whisper back, moaning into a soft kiss.

He pushes down my briefs and pulls up my t-shirt. As I step out of the briefs, I realize

that my erection is receding. My mind is racing with a new thought. Yesterday, in the

cramped room, he said I couldn’t touch his face because I might recognize him. How the hell

did I miss that clue? It means that he’s not some random guy in the hallway; he’s someone I

see on a regular basis. Someone I know well enough to be able to recognize him by touching

his face. Someone like Jaime or Mike.

The t-shirt tugs at the restraints around my wrists.

“Hell. Guess I didn’t think this through – again,” he says with a laugh and leaves the t-

shirt hanging over my wrists.

My laugh sounds only half as nervous as I feel. My heart is beating so fast, I think it’ll

explode any second now.

Without voicing my internal protests, I allow him to push me down on the bed. A

warm, strong body looms over me, pressing down on my side. The feel of the hot skin and

muscles on mine feels so damn good.

Fuck. What to do?

“Laugh all you want, babe,” he murmurs with a smile in his voice. “By the end of the

night I’ll have you crying out in ecstasy.”

“If you’re planning on slipping me an E, I think you should know I always say no to

drugs,” I say with a lame attempt at a joke to ease my nerves. My lips quirk into a tight smile.

“No drugs,” he says with a laugh as he places my tied hands over my head. “Just this,”

he says and pushes his erection against mine.

I shudder when he inhales through his nose from my wrists all the way down to my

crotch. I feel more than a little self-conscious. I’ve been wearing my jeans all day and must

smell horrendous.

“Man, you smell so good,” he growls, running his palm over the naked length of my

cock. He places soft wet kisses over my body, making me writhe and pant. He stops by my

shoulder and inhales again, giving a satisfied groan.

I whimper. The smell of his sweat is driving me crazy as well. I want him so badly; I

wriggle under his weight to get some friction. Somehow the image of Jaime and Mike has

been pushed to the back of my mind, though they’re still vaguely there, as if watching and

biding their time.

“You want that?” he asks with that sexy smile in his voice, running his palm over my

cock.

I bite my lower lip and buck my hips, silently begging for a firmer grip. Getting the

hint, he clasps his fist around my cock and pumps twice before sinking the cut head into his

mouth. I arch back and yell out in surprise before I ease my body back down. Hot-Hands

sucks me deep, sliding and swirling his playful tongue with every move, bringing me fast

toward delirium. I whimper weakly when he pulls away.

“You’ve never been sucked off either?” he asks in surprise.

Instead of answering, I turn my head away from him to hide my blush as I try to catch

my breath.

Hot-Hands chuckles softly and caresses my body. The thick mattress wobbles as he

slides off the bed to rustle with his clothes and then indents again when he returns.

“Turn over, babe…” he whispers against my stomach before planting a wet kiss on my

super sensitive skin. “…if you’re sure about this. We can always stop, whenever you want.”

Shit, what do I do? He can’t be Jaime or Mike. This guy is so sweet and caring despite

the whole mystery of not wanting to be seen. Could it be something as simple as a badly

scarred face? Or maybe he’s the dean’s son and doesn’t want to be found out? I never thought

I’d ever allow myself to become as submissive as to let a guy tie me up – twice. But although

this guy is a stranger to me, I really feel like I can trust him. He seems familiar and foreign to

me at the same time; he doesn’t feel like Jaime or Mike at all.

With a hammering heart, I turn to lie on my stomach. Cold chills slither down my back

when it hits me. I’m going to allow this guy to take my body. I didn’t allow myself to get

close to anyone back home. I was afraid to get outed again. But now, at last, I’ll learn what it

feels like to have a real cock up my ass and not a cold toy that either feels too hard or too soft.

A real, hot, erect cock forced up by another person. The anticipation alone has me panting

hard.

Hot-Hands spreads my legs wide apart and slicks me with cold gel. The blindfold

prohibits any sight; I can’t even peek from below. Instead, I focus on the ticklish feeling every

time the warm fingers slide over the center of my hole with sticky sounds that do nothing but

infuse my lust. I suck air when a finger is gently pushed inside, farther and farther until the

whole finger is in.

“Does it hurt?” he asks in a thicker voice and follows his kiss on my ass-cheek with a

nip.

“No,” I moan out when the finger moves in and out with ease.

“You did say this was your first time, right?” he says while slipping a second finger in,

stretching the hole by scissoring.

“Toys,” I say, before I pull against my restraints when the fingers hit my prostate in a

way that I never could when experimenting on my own.

“Toys? Fuck that’s hot,” he whispers. “But then I don’t have to go as easy on you after

all.”

Hot-Hands lets out a satisfied groan against the small of my back when I gasp.

Shit, what is he saying? I’ve played around in my hole, but I’ve never pushed in too

deep. I don’t even know if Hot-Hands’ cock is big or thick. It feels big and thick on my thigh.

Oh God, what the hell have I gotten myself into? I’m never gonna walk the same.

He kisses his way to the nape of my neck and drowns out my worries, making me

moan each time he fondles my prostate.

“Are you ready?” he whispers into my ear, his voice tight with anticipation, nothing

like the sweet, caring voice he used before.

Fuck, am I really doing this? I am. I’m so horny; I’m ready to beg for it. In fact, I

whimper out a needy plea that earns me a groan and a kiss between my shoulder blades.

He pushes himself up from behind me, rips open a condom – or so I gather from the

sound – and positions the head of his cock against my hole. I try to relax my opening as much

as I can, pushing out my pucker to make the entry easier. But I clench down hard with a cry

and pull at my restraints when Hot-Hands thrusts the head of his cock inside.

“Sorry,” the deep, sexy voice says, a little out of breath over my whimpering body.

“Band-aid method. I probably should have asked if it was okay.”

Is it Mike or Jaime after all? No, I’ve decided that he’s not either one of them.

“I’m fine,” I say with bared teeth and wriggle around until I’m used to the cockhead in

my ass. “I’m okay now,” I say and relax around his thick length.

He slides it in, inch-by-inch, occasionally pulling back an inch before pushing farther.

I grind my teeth with my face buried in the pillow and try my best to relax my lower body.

This is so different from doing it on my own where I can stop anytime. I’ve always been too

much of a chicken to go too far in. He did say that we can stop whenever I want, but I’m not

having it. There’s no going back now.

“Let me know if you want me to go slower,” he says in a raspy voice, stopping every

time I clench, and pushing every time I relax, until his pelvis and balls hit my ass.

I force myself to breathe into the discomfort as he drapes his upper body over my back

with his arms tight around my waist and chest. I pant into my pillow and clench and relax

while I try to get used to the feeling of having that huge cock inside of me. Of course the

owner of those big hands is well hung, both in length and girth – I didn’t even think about that

in my countless fantasies where he was always moderately hung.

Hot-Hands kisses my shoulders with soft lips and runs his fingers and palms over my

body in soothing motions. His right hand finds my limp dick and pumps it erect. By the time

I’m rock-hard again, I’m not only ready, I’m aching for it.

As if silently communicating my need, he begins to move, just a little each time until

I’m gasping for him to go faster. The pain quickly turns into a thick cloud of pleasure as his

cock grazes my prostate with every move. We both gasp, pant, moan, and groan – though

mostly it’s me – as his fast rhythm slams his crotch against my ass with loud smacks. I push

myself up on my elbows and knees so he can go even deeper. My hips move on their own in

unison with his. I’m about to erupt when he leans over my body and whispers into my ear.

“Cass…”

Cass? Cass? I haven’t been called that since my old high school. ‘Cass wants a big, fat

cock up his ass’ the kids – specifically Jaime and Mike – used to call at me. I certainly have a

big, fat cock in my ass this very minute. I stay stock-still while he pumps in and out.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Cass. I’ve wanted you since forever,” he says and kisses my

neck.

He thrusts harder and I close my eyes. Although this horrible feeling is swirling in my

stomach, the thrusting and the sound of the deep voice in my ear feels so good.

“I love seeing that ass of yours in class. I get hard just by watching it…” He releases a

low grunt and clasps his hand over my chest and up on my shoulder, gripping me tightly

against him.

My breath comes out in whimpers as I try to let go of my thoughts and ride the

pleasure, but now that I know that I’ve been pulled into a sick joke, I can’t enjoy it like

before. A person I’ve hated with deep passion for the past six years is riding my hole.

“Which one are you?” I grunt out while he hits my prostate dead on. “Jaime or Mike?”

He stops abruptly, half way out. The hot air that bursts from his mouth hits my sweaty back. I

grunt when he pushes in, but then he stays still with his forehead against the back of my head.

“Which one would you prefer I was?”

I try to calm my breathing with his heavy weight on top of me. “What, can you morph

into the one of my choosing?” The swirly emotion of anger in my chest is clearly conveyed in

my voice and I’m proud. I’ve always dreamt of standing up to my bullies one day, and I’m

doing that now…though this wasn’t quite how I pictured the showdown.

I want to slap the daylights out of him when I hear the chuckle.

“I’m just curious.”

“Fine,” I say with a cut-back grunt when he adjusts his position on my back, his hard

length nudging me inside in the process. “If you’re asking me which one I hate less, I would

have to say Mike. Jaime was the worst. And since I’m pretty sure you’re Mike, I want you to

know that Jaime is so much hotter. Always has been, always will be. Is that what you wanted

to hear?”

The truth is that Jaime was my first crush, but then he was everyone’s first crush. The

thing with me, though, was that my crush didn’t really end until I moved away. I still had it

bad for him while he bullied me, which made the bullying all the more unbearable. Even

though he’d wrestle me to the ground and call me a fag, the fantasies were always there, and

because they were, I never had eyes for anyone else…like Mike.

“Well, that really didn’t answer my question,” he says, his breath hot on my neck.

“God, Cass, if I could go back and undo what I did, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“Save me the sentiments,” I mutter, breathing through my bared teeth, willing my

stomach to relax so my dinner won’t end up on the mattress.

He hovers above me with his cock buried in me as I talk.

“Jaime was the source of the pain in my ass,” I try to explain calmly. “And I loathe

him for that. But you, you were – and probably still are – his brainless puppet. You were

probably hot for him all through high school, just like I was.”

“You liked him even after everything he did to you?”

Was that surprise I heard in his voice, or hope? Hope that if I still liked Jaime, after all

he put me through; I might be able to forgive Mike?

Fat chance.

“I said I was hot for him, not that I liked him. Now stop with the talking and continue

before I lose my erection completely.”

“You don’t want me to pull out?”

What the hell? He was going to leave me high and dry?

“No, you stupid piece of shit,” I snap, my voice rising as the fury prickles in every

molecule. “You put me through hell for years. I even attempted suicide a couple of times

because of you guys. See the scars on my wrists?”

I take a few short breaths and chuckle miserably.

“No of course you don’t. You tied them up.”

“God, Cass…” Mike whispers, voice unsteady as he clutches me to him.

“The least you owe me is two seconds of orgasm,” I say after swallowing a few times.

My throat is clogging up, but I’ve been handling this like a trooper and don’t want to

ruin it with stupid tears. If he can get my mind off it for two seconds, I might be able to

compose myself before I kick him out of my room.

“Cass…” he whispers into my ear and buries his face in my neck. His gentle fingers

stroke my sides before they grab a hold of my hips.

The sexy grunt he makes as he starts pumping is enough to turn me on. With his palm

he pushes down on the small of my back, arching me to a point where I feel like I might snap

in two. But then he changes his angle so that he pegs my gland with every thrust.

I try to keep quiet. I don’t want him to know just how good he is, but my moans and

cries echo off the wall.

He picks up his earlier speed, ramming me hard toward my impending climax.

“Please, what can I do to make you forgive me?” he asks before letting loose a low

groan between his panting.

“There’s…absolutely…nothing,” I grunt out between bared teeth. My head is spinning

with the few intense moments of pre-release.

“God…I’m so close…I don’t want this to stop,” he whispers.

The desperation in his voice pokes my heart. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t

want this to stop either, but I don’t know if I can ever get over what he did to me. Even now,

when he’s asking me for forgiveness.

The cries that are coming out of my mouth make him go faster. When he grabs a hold

of my cock, I throw my head back with an ear-splitting cry. Every muscle in my body tenses

up and a soul-ripping climax hits me harder than ever before. The spasms in my groin cause

my muscles to clench around Mike’s cock and with cries of his own; he comes inside me

before slumping down on my sweaty back.

I lie still for a minute, reveling in the fog of post-orgasm, wondering how the guy who

dragged me through hell in high school was able to send me to heaven just now.

When I’ve calmed my breathing enough to talk, I try to wriggle Mike off me and pull

at my restraints for real.

“That was great, Mike, but now it’s time for you to get the fuck out of here and never

come back. Don’t even look my way again, you hear?”

“Cass-”

“I said get out, you bastard!” I yell and try to nudge off my blindfold. When I fail to

free myself, I give up. Tears of anger, frustration, and hurt wet the soft cloth over my eyes.

“Are you and Jaime still laughing at me for being gay? Why can’t you guys just leave

me alone?”

“Please, Cass, listen to me.”

He slides his big hands under my stomach and pulls me close. The sincerity in his

voice only increases my flow of tears as he nuzzles the nape of my sweaty neck.

“We’re not laughing at you. We’re both very sorry for what we did to you.”

“Right,” I say in a shaky voice and try to shrug him off, but he’s not letting go.

“It’s true. We’ve talked about it a lot, even before we started college.”

“Then why haven’t you talked to me about it?” I clamp my teeth shut at the tear-

streaked weakness in my voice. I was doing so well, but now he’s making me cry again.

Bastard.

Mike pulls me closer, holding me so tightly, burying his face in my hair. “Because we

were pretty sure you wouldn’t give us a second to hear us out.”

“So you fucked me to get my attention? That’s pretty low, even for you.”

“No, Cass… Believe it or not, I’ve had a crush on you since before I knew you were

gay, but I was confused and thought it was wrong because we were both guys. I’m so, so

sorry I took it out on you.

“It killed me every time I made you cry, but the more I put you down, the less people

would suspect I was gay. It’s stupid reasoning, but I was a kid and not very rational. You

don’t know how ashamed of myself I am.”

He sounds sincere, but I’m not ready to forgive anything this easily. If we’re going to

try to work through this, it’s going to take a whole lot of work. And, even then, it might not be

enough. Wait, what am I saying? I’m not going to have any sort of a relationship with Mike

Warren.

“When you were outed by that friend of yours in the cafeteria, I was convinced that

there was something abnormal about you and not me – that it was you who caused me to have

these feelings for you. I started teasing you and making your life miserable because I wanted

you, but wouldn’t be honest with myself.”

“So what are you saying? That ‘Cass wants a big, fat cock up his ass was a fantasy?”

My voice sounds oddly calm and hollow through my sniffling.

“Yeah,” he whispers, squeezing me for a few seconds. I thought he would laugh. It

does seem kinda funny now, given the circumstances, but he sounds almost sad. “Yeah, that

was my big, fat cock I wanted up your ass.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” I say, clenching my walls around his softening

cock.

He hesitates for a second before he lifts himself to pull out. I hear the sound of rubber

smacking as he ties a knot. Without giving me enough room to free myself, he lies back down

and inhales deeply, probably taking in my sweaty scent again. Is that weird? No, I’m also

attracted to his man-smell.

Man, I can’t believe I just got fucked by Mike Warren of all people.

“When I was mature enough to realize that it wasn’t your fault,” he continues with his

cheek on my shoulder blade, “I was too much of a chicken to stop and embrace who I was. I

thought about what you’d gone through and was afraid I’d get the same treatment, even from

my friends. I’m so sorry, Cass. I’m so, so sorry. Please, tell me what I can do to fix this.”

His hands loop around my torso with a squeeze. I close my eyes, fighting the nice

feeling of having him on top of me. His body is so warm and his words do nothing to stop my

quiet stream of tears.

Should I do it? I think I want to, but I can’t bring myself to say it out loud. It would be

like admitting defeat against an arch enemy. Do I really want to rip open old wounds and try

to work through them? The thought alone has my stomach in knots.

“I’ll do anything, Cass. Please, I’ll show up in class in my underwear. I’ll announce

that I’m gay and that I’m in love with you. People will laugh at me and my teammates will

give me hell if I come out, but I’m willing to do anything.”

My mind screeched to a stop somewhere in the middle of his talking. Love. Love?

“You hardly know me, how can you love me?” Stilling sounding a bit hollow, my

voice is unsteady from crying.

“I just do,” he says. Soft lips kiss my shoulder as he runs his palm over my chest.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about what I did to you and wish I could go

back in time and punch the hell out of myself. I also wonder what it would have been like if I

hadn’t treated you like that. Maybe I would have confessed my feelings for you at some point,

and maybe we would have become boyfriends. Maybe…” – he chuckles bitterly – “Maybe

my first fuck would have been nice and intimate with you instead of a stranger behind the run-

down factories at the harbor. You know, I never saw you hang out there. I always looked for

you, waiting with anticipation to see your face. I was always disappointed when you didn’t

show up.”

“Of course I didn’t,” I mutter, sniffling in the slimy stuff running out of my nose. His

words spread a slow heat through my chest. “You guys hung out there.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, kissing my shoulder as if still deep in the memories.

It’s weird to hear how giving me grief has haunted him. It’s what I’ve always wanted,

for my bullies to see how badly they treated me and feel rotten about it. I never truly expected

they would ever give it a second thought, though. But here Mike is, pouring his heart out to

me, holding me so closely, as if he’s trying to erase the past. I almost feel sorry for him.

We keep quiet for a long time and I’ve almost fallen asleep when he raises himself up.

He’s still keeping me pressed down with his feet and groin. I press my face into the pillow. I

feel him looking down at my tear-streaked face. Then I stop breathing for a second when I

realize that I’m not hiding it because I don’t want a bully to see my tears; I’m hiding it

because I don’t want Mike to think I look like a mess.

With gentle fingers, he wipes my tears away, pulling my face toward him and turning

me so that I’m lying on my back. My struggle against his kiss is weak. Not only are my

muscles already sore, but I’m so mentally drained that I don’t have much fight left in me.

I passively open my mouth for his skillful tongue as I try to hold onto a coherent

thought, but give up when I unconsciously echo his moan. We make out for a while: me all

numb and refusing to think things further, just trying to enjoy the feeling of being kissed, and

him with his gentle fingers running over my body, touching me so gently as if he’s trying to

kiss away my hurt.

We kiss and suck on each other’s lips until I start to yawn into the kisses and tell him I

need some sleep. I’m too tired to care if I end up sleeping cuddled in his arms. The idea

doesn’t sound half bad, but I’m conflicted about what to do from here on out.

He gets dressed, gives me a very deep kiss good night, and then unties the knot on my

wrist restraint. His hot kisses on my ugly wrist scars burn where his mouth lingers, sucking

and licking for a long time before he stands up and leaves. I don’t even bother with the

blindfold before I fall asleep.

The next day, I’m still blushing next to Joey as we wait for class to start. He came in

early this morning and found me sprawled on my bed, blindfolded and buck-naked. I tried to

convince him that I’d fallen asleep after a shower, and that I was using the blindfold as a

sleeping mask, but it was pretty evident by the smell of sex in the room that I was lying. The

condom wrapper at the foot of my bed didn’t help either. Nor did my bared-tooth growl when

I lifted myself from the sperm-splattered mattress that clung like dry cement to my body-hair.

I woke up so abruptly, and have been so preoccupied with my embarrassment, that I

haven’t had time to think about Mike. He’s been sneaking into my thoughts all morning, but I

push him aside every time. I don’t know what to do...

A relationship with Mike Warren? I never even had any sort of romantic interest in

him before. He was always just Jaime’s tag-along puppet. But the person who left my room

last night touched something within me. It’s not only that I was deeply attracted to Hot-

Hands, but more what he said and how he treated me the whole night, so passionately,

intimately, and above all else, gently. He seems like a really nice person now that he’s gained

a few years of maturity. Or maybe he was always nice whenever Jaime wasn’t around – I

don’t know.

Still, I don’t think I can do this. He’d have to blindfold me every time we’d be

together so that my mind wouldn’t clog up with memories. How am I supposed to look into

the face of my childhood tormentor and kiss him?

What if we do get together? Will I have to reconcile with Jaime as well? I don’t think I

can ever be friends with Jaime, no matter if what Mike said was true. Even if Jaime’s sorry

about what he did, there’s just too much hurt and disappointment behind that door. Seeing the

guy I liked turn into a monster isn’t easy to forget.

I look up when I hear the other students buzzing and giggling. Joey lets out a gasp and

starts laughing. It only takes me a second to locate the source of interest. My heart thuds when

Mike walks from the doorway, shaking his brown head. Then Jaime strolls in wearing nothing

but his black boxers-briefs and, for a second, all I can think is ‘God damn’. Tanned skin

stretched over tight muscles, nicely formed pecs, abs that aren’t really a six-pack but more

like an eight-pack, drawing attention to the V-shaped line at his hips that run into his boxers.

His feet are strong and peppered with black hair. A black backpack hangs casually over one

shoulder.

When his blue-eyed gaze finds mine, his already confident smile broadens on his

breathtaking face.

But I’m not smiling. That crap Mike fed me last night was a joke between the two of

them after all. Like a sucker, I believed every word. I’m such an idiot. By the look of things,

after fucking me last night, Mike went straight to Jaime and told him every detail. They must

have thought it would be funny to switch roles. I did tell Mike that I thought Jaime was hotter.

I glance at Mike as he climbs the steps to my left. He doesn’t even acknowledge me. I

can’t believe the hurt in my chest – not because I’m being mocked yet again, but because I’m

disappointed. I guess I wanted to believe what he told me last night was true. Subconsciously,

I wanted to give us a chance after all.

Jaime struts across the floor and walks up to his seat at the far back. I keep my eyes on

the desk in front of me the whole time, closing my eyes as my shoulders slump.

Damn it. Now my nose stings and I’m about to cry. I pinch the bridge of it to force

back the tears. I manage – just barely.

“You okay?” Joey asks. He puts his hand on my arm and gives it a squeeze.

“Yeah,” I say in a low voice and look toward the teacher’s podium, waiting for Mr.

Corrigan to start his monotone lesson on macroeconomics.

Mr. Corrigan, a handsome middle-aged man with big hands, thick-rimmed grandpa

glasses and old-looking clothes, walks in, clears his throat, and looks over the room. His big-

brown eyes stop at the top row, where Jaime sits near-naked.

“Warm, Mr. Gale?” he asks in his monotone voice.

“Actually, it’s a bit chilly,” Jaime answers and earns himself a few laughs. So typical.

People laugh with him, not at him.

“But I’m proving a point to one of your students. He’s someone I’ve been in love with

for years.”

I actually saw that coming. I figured Mike must have told him about his suggestion of

showing up in his underwear and voicing his love for me.

But wait. His voice sounds exactly like Hot-Hands’ voice. Exactly alike.

As roughly half of the students clap and cheer at his confession, the other half, mostly

boys, boo – some good-naturedly, some in earnest. I turn in my seat to face him. He catches

my gaze and the intensity in his eyes has my heart speeding. On his desk lies his course book

and a bottle of blue Gatorade. A clue from my journal flashes through my mind: First kiss –

tastes like blue Gatorade.

“Can we talk after class?” he asks me directly, proving to me that Hot-Hands’ voice

really is his.

I’m too stunned to say anything. Instead, I give him a short nod and turn to face an

equally stunned Mr. Corrigan. I guess nothing ever this unorthodox has ever happened in his

class before. It takes him a few minutes to get everyone quiet and start his lesson, but I can’t

hear a world of it.

Jaime and me? Jaime and me? Jaime’s had a thing for me since before he knew I was

gay?

The thoughts that swirl in my brain slip away whenever I try to cling to one. Jaime is

Hot-Hands. Hot-Hands is Jaime. Jaime is gay? Jaime loves me?

Of course it was Jaime who came up with most of the insults, including the one about

the big, fat cock up my ass. I knew that, but why didn’t I think of it yesterday?

Last night he said he had a crush on me at the same time I was crushing on him. It’s

like the kid in me is lighting up with old hopes, dreams, and fantasies of being with Jaime, but

the adult in me knows that we’re in for a whole lot of tears and hurt while we figure this thing

out.

And here I thought it was Mike.

For a very brief moment, I wonder if Mike and Jaime ever hooked up. The thought of

it rips me open with jealousy. I know I said I could never forgive Jaime, but in my fluttery

heart, I have greedily claimed him as mine.

I guess fate really isn’t such a hateful bitch after all.