Perfect Score (Easton U Pirates 3)

“S-sorry,” I stuttered as I shut the door behind me and fully stepped inside the room. “Was sent home early because it was dead. And I…I forgot.”

Stupid me, I should’ve texted, and Elliot might’ve messaged our code word back. Except he was clearly distracted, so it might not have helped anyway.

“No worries.” Elliot sat up, his hands covering his crotch, where it was apparent his very stiff cock had barely waned. “We’ll take it to—”

“Don’t bother.” I forced my legs to move. “Going to my room anyway.”

“Maybe you’d like to join us?” Cool Hair Guy smirked. “Or do you prefer to watch?”

My cheeks flashed hot, and I felt a prick of pleasure deep in my belly, which didn’t make sense. I should’ve been mortified, which I definitely was, but his proposition also turned me on.

Elliot’s expression changed from wholly uncertain to something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on—hope? Curiosity?

“What do you say, Morgan?” Elliot sounded cautious, likely worried about even making the suggestion, though evidently not worried enough.

“I do love giving head,” the guy chimed in.

My heart was thundering in my chest as I tried looking anywhere but at them. “I don’t think that’s a good…I shouldn’t.”

“You’re right,” Elliot said, but I could hear the regret in his tone. “I just thought since the last guy… Never mind, that was stupid.”

“It’s okay. I’ve, um, got stuff to do.” Okay, now I just sounded dumb. I had nothing to do except sleep or maybe surf the web, especially on a weekend night.

“Ooh, do I feel some tension?” asked Cool Hair Guy, who I’d momentarily forgotten even existed. “Maybe I should be watching the two of you?”

“There’s no tension,” I threw back at him. “We’re best friends, so this is awkward, if anything.”

Cool Hair Guy motioned toward my crotch. “Is that why you’ve got a boner?”

Holy fuck, my entire body felt scalding hot. I swallowed roughly, trying to think of a comeback or an explanation. “I mean, duh, there’s sex happening—or about to happen. Who could blame me?”

“So then watch.” He quirked an eyebrow. “It might be a good time.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to,” Elliot muttered, his cheeks scarlet. “It’s okay, Morgan.” When our eyes met, I could see the apology in his.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

Mind firmly made up, I strode toward my room but stopped at the door, glancing back for some reason—maybe because I heard Elliot groan—and that prickle of pleasure poked at my belly again.

And I wished I hadn’t looked. I really wished I hadn’t.

The guy had resumed jerking Elliot’s cock, and Elliot was looking straight at me. At first, I thought maybe I’d see pity or apology in his gaze, but I quickly realized there was none to be found. Elliot was being bold, reckless, pinning me with his stare while the guy pleasured him. My skin prickled all over, it was so shocking. And the guy must’ve had some good moves because Elliot threw his head back, closed his eyes on a moan, and I couldn’t make my feet move for anything.

I just stood there and watched.

Then the guy dipped his head, Elliot’s hand gripped his hair, and holy fucking hell, it was hot seeing him get sucked off.

For the first time, I wondered if I should’ve just agreed to watch or participate, since I was doing it anyway. Our friendship would’ve survived. Wouldn’t it?

My dick was so fucking hard, and I still couldn’t look away. My hand clutched the door handle in a deathly grip as Cool Hair Guy’s hands fumbled to undo his own fly, and then he was jacking himself while pleasuring Elliot.

And given the way Elliot’s thighs shook, and the staccato sounds coming from his mouth, I knew he was getting close to coming. That snapped me out of it. No way should I watch what that looked like. I might never recover. So I forced myself to push open the door and step inside my room.

I could still hear faint groaning as I paced the length of my bed, unable to settle down. I was panting, my hand on my zipper, my dick painfully hard, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled out my cock and began jerking myself. I couldn’t hear anything now beyond my pulse roaring in my ears, and I just kept thinking about how Elliot looked a moment before, with his lips parted, the guy’s head bobbing up and down.

I kept telling myself this was about being hard up and needing a release, so I went with it, imagining that boldness in Elliot’s eyes as I jizzed all over my fist.

I grabbed the towel I’d discarded on the end of the bed that morning and wiped myself off as shame descended. My heart was pounding as I stripped out of my sneakers, braces, and jeans and slipped under the cool sheets.