OUR SECRET TO KEEP

CAMPUS SECRETS

BOOK 1

JILLIAN FROST

ALSO BY JILLIAN FROST

CAMPUS SECRETS

Our Secret to Keep

Our Hearts to Break

GILDED EMPIRE

Gilded Gods

Gilded Goddess

PRINCES OF DEVIL’S CREEK

The Darkest Prince

Cruel Princes

Vicious Queen

Savage Knights

Battle King

Wicked Heiress

Dirty Heirs

Shattered Empire

BOARDWALK MAFIA

Boardwalk Kings

Boardwalk Queen

Boardwalk Reign

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Copyright © 2025 Jillian Frost

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, both living or deceased, establishments, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CHAPTER 1

NATE

I don’t know where I am. And sadly, this is not the first time. Looking up at the ceiling, I blink the sleep from my eyes. Everything blurs into a sea of whites until I focus on the crown molding. It has a Corinthian pattern that distorts slightly the more I stare.

Where the fuck am I?

Turning my head to the side, I see decorative pillows on the carpet beside a large bed. Like most of the open space, the walls are cream and adorned with expensive but tacky artwork.

It reminds me of home.

Clinical. Cold. No emotion.

Yet, this is not my house.

I hate that fucking place.

My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. It feels like a rock band has taken up residence in my head. Groggy from all the beer and drugs, I roll onto my side, and something rubbery is glued to my cheek.

A used condom.

Fuck.

I peel the cum-coated evidence of another wild night from my skin with a groan, tossing it behind me. At least a dozen foil packets litter the floor. Various shades of panties, skirts, dresses, and shirts are strewn across the carpet, along with heels and sandals.

I outdid myself this time.

Through the open bedroom doors, I see several naked women sleeping on the plush couches in the living room. Blondes, brunettes, raven-haired girls, and a redhead. Some are skinny, some average, and a few are thicker with fat asses and big tits.

I don’t have a preference.

I just love women.

And sex.

I sit up, taking in the scene before me, searching for the only person who matters to me.

River.

Three more women sleep on the king-size bed, one of which has her arm draped over River’s bare chest. Naked and hard, he sleeps soundly beside the blonde on his left. I wonder what he’s dreaming about to get that impressive boner.

I’m also hard… and ready for more.

It’s never enough.

I get onto the bed and move the girls away from my best friend. They whimper and try to fight me, but no one gets between River and me.

I lean against the headboard and settle his massive body between my legs. Feeling his chest rise and fall beneath my palm, I let out a relieved breath.

At least he’s alive.

If anything were to happen to him because of me…

No, don’t go there.

I slap his cheek. “Riv, wake up.”

He doesn’t rouse. Not even a flutter of his lashes. Although shallow, he’s breathing.

Like me, he’s muscular and heavy, all two hundred pounds of him crushing my chest. He’s two inches shorter than my six feet four inches.

“C’mon, Riv. Don’t do this to me.”

I slide his dark brown hair off his forehead. He’s tanned from us spending all summer on the beach. Even his biceps are thicker than at the end of our last hockey season. River takes pride in his appearance, something we have in common.

I shake River a few times before whacking his cheek harder. “Wake the fuck up!”

He’s starting to scare me.

Did I give him too much molly?

He seemed okay last night… I think.

Most of the night is still a blur. Whenever I take that shit, I trip so hard it feels like I’m sitting on the sidelines, watching my body perform the motions.

A few of the girls are studying River and me with concern, tits and pussies on display, not bothering to cover up. At least they’re not talking.

Last night, I got carried away celebrating River’s twenty-second birthday. Our final year at Kingston University starts in two weeks, so I surprised him with a buffet of women—all the pussy he could eat.

But as usual, I went too far. I had to throw drugs into the mix, and now this motherfucker won’t get up.

The blonde with double D’s says, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” I point at the table. “Go fill the ice bucket with water from the bathroom sink and bring it back here.”

She slides off the bed and rushes into the bathroom, shaking her sweet ass as she goes. And what a nice ass to admire. My mind instantly drifts to a snapshot of last night. A mini movie of her straddling River as I fucked her from behind.

Fuck, that was hot.

A sexy redhead crawls over to me on all fours, her nipples hard and begging for my mouth. “What can I do to help?”

You can suck my cock, I want to say, but instead I go with, “Get some towels.”

I can’t stop thinking about sex. With all these women naked and willing, my mind keeps going back to that dark place—the one where I get tunnel vision and can only think about chasing my next high.

The redhead swaps places with the blonde. For the life of me, I can’t recall their names, which is pretty pathetic, considering I fucked both of them last night.

The blonde hands me the bucket. I stick my finger inside to test the temperature. It’s nice and cold.

I dump the bucket on River’s head, soaking myself in the process, and he shoots up from my chest, gasping for air.

“What the fuck?” River shakes out his hair like a dog coming in from a storm.

I flash a cocky grin, drying my face with a bath towel the redhead hands me. “Morning, sunshine.”

He glares at me. “What was that for?”

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

His cheeks flush crimson. “Because I was fucking sleeping, dickhead!”

I start drying his hair and chest, but River yanks the towel from my hand and does it himself.

“I thought you overdosed.”

He kneels on the bed, glaring at me, and then he must realize we’re not alone because he glances around the room, lips parted.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “What did we do last night?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” I wave at all the girls surrounding us. “Do the math.”

“Did we…” He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “Did we fuck all of them?”

I wink. “It’s called stamina, Riv. Something neither of us lacks.”

A look of pure disgust mixed with the familiar sting of shame crosses over his face.

I feel it, too.

Every single day.

Most mornings, I wake up and wonder how I made it through the night. I’m on a downward spiral, taking my best friend with me. River won’t let me drown. He dives headfirst after me, swimming in water too deep for us to navigate.

Hence, why he agreed to another one of my sex parties. As fucked up as it might be, we never have sex without the other. It’s been this way since we turned fourteen and wanted to bone the same girl.

I survey the space, counting the women on the floor and couches, and see nine naked bodies. If I weren’t so annoyed with myself, I would be proud. How many of our teammates could go all night with this many puck bunnies?

“You both fucked me,” the blonde says, jiggling her big tits.

“And me,” the redhead says with a sexy smile. “At the same time.”

“Me too.” A girl with long, black hair lifts her head off the pillow. She bats her lashes at River. “You fucked my ass.”

“Ditto.” A brunette scrubs a hand at her eyes. “You filled all of my holes.”

“Jesus,” River hisses, eyes downcast and covering his face with his hands.

“You guys are fun,” the blonde says, pushing out her tits as an offering. “We should do this again.”

I tackle her to the mattress, already hard and ready to sink into her. “Yeah? You want this dick again.”

She wets her lips. “Fuck me with that big dick, Nate.”

My dick should have its own zip code. Its own post office. People would travel across the country just to see it. Some of these women did. They got on their knees the second I took off my pants, licking their lips like little cock sluts.

It only took a quick DM to the hottest girls who messaged River and me to get them on flights to New York. I hand-selected the finest girls this country has to offer so I could spoil my best friend rotten.

What’s better than birthday pussy?

A lot of birthday pussy.

I bend down and suck the blonde’s nipple into my mouth, tugging on it with my teeth. She whimpers and writhes beneath me, making my cock even harder.

River grabs my shoulder. “Nate, stop.”

I pause on top of her at the sound of his deep voice. My best friend is the only person who grounds me. If he says no, I usually listen. But what’s one more round with a girl we already fucked?

I tip my head at the nightstand. “Grab me a condom.”

River picks up the box and throws it at my forehead. “It’s empty, you fucking degenerate.”

“I don’t recall you complaining last night.”

Nostrils flared, he shakes his head. “Wait until we get in the car, Nate.”

Ooh, he’s giving me the mean daddy voice.

Maybe if I get him riled up, he’ll spank me. And why does that make my cock excited?

Weird.

I don’t like men.

But River?

Fuck, I don’t know.

My cock likes him.

River leans closer to me and whispers, “We need to leave. That girl down the hall saw me last night. The paparazzi could be waiting for us downstairs.”

River is famous. The paparazzi follow him around campus and to away games, never leaving him alone. He can’t wipe his ass without someone snapping a picture.

The son of hockey legend Ryan Rousseau, River grew up with a camera in his face. His family even had a reality TV show called The Hockey Life.

Every moment of his existence has been photographed and televised. Until we met at boarding school, he’d never had any privacy.

Of course, the girls signed non-disclosure agreements. I’m going to be a lawyer someday, and I’m not a fucking idiot.

“We need to go.” River slides off the mattress and grabs his boxer briefs from the floor. “It’s after eleven. We’re having lunch with our dads in Devil’s Creek.”

“Ooh, can I come?”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I wanna meet Ryan Rousseau.”

“I know, isn’t he so hot?”

A few of the girls mutter similar things.

“Uh, no,” River tells them, trying to hide his anger. “My dad is off-limits.”

He hates that women use him to get to his NHL player father. It’s not like any of them have a shot with Ryan. He married a supermodel who hasn’t aged much over the years. River’s mom is a certifiable MILF. I’ve even jerked off to pictures of her, which is extra fucked up and something I will never tell him.

The blonde beneath me sighs. “Wait, what? I thought you guys were spending the weekend with us.”

“Just the night.” I slide my thumb across her bottom lip, and she moans. “I made that clear in my messages.”

She frowns.

My gaze wanders around the room to make sure I have their attention. “I paid for all of you to stay at the hotel for the weekend. You have your own suites. Order whatever you want. Go shopping for all I care. It’s on me.”

That gets a squeal from several girls, a round of thank yous, and smiles of pure joy.

We keep this shit transactional for a reason. The girls have to show negative panels. I can’t be worrying about catching diseases. And I hate attachments to anyone but River.

He’s all I need. The only relationship I want in my life. I don’t need any women clinging to me, trying to force me into marrying them. Or, god forbid, they get pregnant.

Kids are like herpes.

You have them for life.

I peel myself from the hot blonde and search the floor for my clothes. “I don’t feel like seeing my dad today. Fuck him.”

“I don’t have a choice.” River pulls a black Henley over his head, tugging it down his ripped chest. “He wants to talk to me about something. In person. Says it’s important.”

“Yeah, well, whatever it is involves my dad… which means we’re equally fucked.”

In terms of wealth, River can’t top me. I come from Texas oil money and grew up knowing money can buy anything—including people’s silence and discretion.

As the girls dress, a cell phone dings.

River reaches into his pocket and stares at the screen, mouth hanging open. “Fuck, we’re so dead.”

He drags me into the bathroom and locks the door. Leaning against it, he shoves the phone at my chest.

“About those NDAs? You missed one.”

I glance at the screen and see an image of a blonde girl wearing a black lacy mask, her top half naked, with River and me bare-chested and sandwiching her between us.

“Riv, I’m⁠—”

“You’re sorry?” River snickers. “Yeah, you’re always sorry, Nate. That’s the fucking problem. Do you even remember her?”

Is this a trick question?

Can I phone a friend?

Get a lifeline?

He holds the screen to my face so I can get a better look. But with the mask, I can’t make out much more than her pretty, pink lips and big tits. Small nipples. Petite.

I swallow. “No, who is she?”

“The girl from the Delta Sig party,” he spits back, venom in his tone. “The Sinners and Saints masquerade. Ring any bells?”

I remember attending the party, but most of that night was fuzzy. Too much alcohol and pills to dull the nagging thoughts always running through my head on repeat.

“She hasn’t gone public yet. My dad’s lawyer just sent this.” He stuffs the phone into his pocket. “For the sake of our friendship, you better hope our parents can make this go away.”

CHAPTER 2

RIVER

As a child, I was shy and preferred to be alone. The producers of my dad’s hit TV show, The Hockey Life, struggled to break me out of my shell. They even threatened to cancel the show if I didn’t give them more. And by more, they meant personality—something for the viewers to love.

I couldn’t do it.

Imagine being a clueless eight-year-old with cameras following you to every room except the bathroom. Once I figured that out, I’d sit on the bathroom floor, read comic books, or play with action figures. That was my only saving grace.

It didn’t last long, though.

The producers didn’t want to see a mopey kid on camera. They decided Ryan’s son would follow in his footsteps, and I would become the next hockey great.

When they put me on the ice, I sparkled like a diamond. The fans loved me and begged for more. It was the only time I forgot about people watching me at home. After the show wrapped, I wanted to be like my dad—a professional hockey player.

So, when Nate asked me to have our first threesome, I was hesitant. Being the son of Ryan Rousseau has many disadvantages, such as keeping a secret life. Seven years ago, I made Nate promise our sex life would never go viral. That no one could ever use our sick and twisted actions against us.

Most boys dream of having a threesome at fourteen. It’s all the porn rotting our brains. However, those fantasies usually involve two women. Not your best friend.

Nate punches the gas as we get onto the highway, eyes on the busy road. “We’ll handle it. Don’t worry, Riv. Our dads will pay off that bitch and be done with it.”

“That’s not the point,” I fire back at him, clutching the door handle. “The video shouldn’t have gotten leaked, to begin with. You promised me⁠—”

“I know what I said,” he interjects, “and I meant it. This will all blow over by the end of lunch. My dad will take care of it.”

As he races down the highway, the road doubles before my eyes. Fuck, I hate the side effects of our wild nights. The pounding in my skull won’t let up. And despite drinking two bottles of water before leaving the hotel, I still feel like death.

“You have a problem, Nate. Why can’t you see that? It’s not normal to invite nine women to your penthouse suite to share them with your best friend.”

“Oh, no?” Nate lets out a sinister chuckle. “So, it’s okay when celebrities and pro athletes do it but not when it’s you and me? Yeah, that makes a lot of fucking sense.”

Addicts never think they have a problem. It’s all in your head. They live in the moment and only care about the next high.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“What?” Nate tightens his grip on the leather steering wheel. “No, you can’t do this to me. We have a deal.”

“And you broke it. You said all of the women signed NDAs.”

“We were both fucked up at that party. And it’s pretty clear she didn’t film the video. It was probably one of those douchey frat bros.”

“You don’t remember her at all?”

He shakes his head. “I was on the verge of a blackout that night.”

“My dad has her name. Does Layla Hightower ring a bell?”

Nate clenches his jaw.

“You know who she is, don’t you?”

“The president of Delta Sig’s girlfriend.”

“You fucking idiot,” I shoot back at him. “You told me she was on the tennis team.”

“What do you want from me? I couldn’t tell her apart from Riley Steele. So, fuck off. They look like doppelgangers.”

“I’m guessing her boyfriend caught us—or more like entrapped us—into having sex with his girlfriend for a payout.”

He rolls his broad shoulders against the seat. “Hey, it could be worse.”

“This is your old money entitlement talking. You grew up with a silver spoon shoved up your ass and your dad telling you money makes everything better. But that’s not true, Nate. Some things money can’t buy.”

“In this case, it does. How many sex tapes of my mother have people tried to leak? He will make it go away.”

Nate’s parents are the sole source of his addiction. For most of his life, they have thrown sex parties at his house. They’re swingers with an open marriage and questionable morals. I’m not judging their sex life. Not like I have any room to talk. It’s just they really are shitty parents.

“No more group sex,” I tell him as he exits the highway, getting closer to a small town on the water called Devil’s Creek. “I’m done with that shit. And no more random women.”

His gaze snaps to me. “Are you bailing on me?”

“No, I’m saying things need to change.”

“How so?”

Until my best friend asked me to have a threesome, my life was perfect. Now, my head is all fucked up. I think about him during practice and in the locker room shower. Even in class and when I’m in bed at night. Our lives start and end with each other.

There’s no escaping him.

No matter how hard I try, my thoughts drift back to Nate. He consumes me, chipping away at the pieces of my damaged soul. Ten years ago, I was lost. But so was Nate.

We stitched each other back together, only to discover there was more than familial love.

So, I do this for him.

Fuck women I don’t like.

Eat pussy when I hate the taste.

But this gets me to him.

“You can only have sex with one girl,” I tell him. “She signs an ironclad NDA. We have sex in places we can control. No more parties, bathrooms, or closets. Nothing on campus. Period. Unless it’s at our house.”

Every addict has an enabler. That’s me. I can’t quit Nate even if I tried. The bond of our friendship is too deep to sever. To do so would mean cutting out my own heart.

I am head over heels, knee-deep in the mud, in love with Nate Brooks.

I can’t say no.

My heart won’t allow it.

Also, Nate has no idea. He’s so damn clueless when it comes to us. For someone who seems so in sync with me, he misses the one thing right in front of his face.

“Okay,” he agrees after a solid minute of mulling over my proposal. “But I get to choose the girl.”

“We find her together.”

At that, he smiles. “Deal.”

I hate myself for letting this continue. Pretending I like women to maintain my image is exhausting. Looking at Nate while we have sex helps me get—and stay—hard. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even bother with random hookups.

“I don’t remember most of last night. Did you drug me?”

Nate turns his head back to the road and opens his window, letting in the salty breeze from the bay. “You asked me to put molly in your beer. I only gave you one pill. I took the other three.”

My jaw unhinges at his confession. “Are you fucking kidding me, Nate? Why did you listen to me when I was already drunk and not thinking clearly? We get regular drug testing, you moron. If the NCAA⁠—”

“They won’t find out,” he says with false confidence.

“Is your dad going to pay them off, too?”

I’m rich, but Nate is wealthy. There’s a big fucking difference. His dad could move literal mountains for us. He would use more than his money and status to squash a scandal.

“Money makes the world go round,” Nate jokes but stops laughing when he sees I’m not. “Fuck, Riv. Would you loosen up? It’s just a sex tape.”

My eyes bug out of my head at his comment. “There’s no such thing as just a sex tape when everyone in the country knows your name.”

“If this chick wanted to out you, she would have sent the video to The Kingston Spy. But she didn’t, which means she wants money more than fame.”

The Kingston Spy is the bane of my existence. Whoever runs the TikTok account has twelve million followers and dishes out juicy gossip about everyone at Kingston University. Lately, she’s focused more on athletes—me in particular.

Just my luck.

I have over seven million followers on TikTok from making hockey videos with my dad and the team. The puck bunnies love my dad… and Nate. Well, his ass specifically.

I can’t say I blame them.

Every time I see my best friend naked, I want to grab his bubble butt and squeeze it. I dream about bending him over, fucking him from behind. Licking his asshole. His shaft. Sucking his big cock into my mouth.

The same thoughts run through my brain whenever we fuck girls. It’s the only way to get through the encounter.

Nate turns up the radio and zones out, tapping his fingers on the shifter. There’s nothing left to say until we see our parents.

A silent notification pops up on my phone from OnlyFans telling me Baby Face has a new post.

Oh, fuck yeah.

Nate is busy driving and biting his lip, and since that simple act makes my cock perk up, I need a distraction. I click on the notification bubble, which opens the app. My eyes widen at the hot-as-hell image on my screen.

Baby Face is a camboy I subscribed to at the start of the summer. What began as watching gay porn turned into me seeking out creators. Now, I’m hooked on this man.

He’s my Nate replacement.

Toned in all the right places, Baby Face is shirtless and tanned, eye black smeared under his big, blue eyes. Those eyes. They practically jump off the screen. I could spot him out in the wild from those dreamy blues alone.

As usual, he wears only a pair of black spandex shorts that hug his big dick and balls. Shoulder pads sit on his broad shoulders, rounding out the hot football player look. He’s even wearing cleats, posing with his fingers shoved through his spiky black hair.

Live show tonight, he tells his adoring fans. He already has over two hundred comments in a matter of minutes. I know how it feels to be admired from afar. It’s both annoying and addicting.

“What are you reading?” Nate asks as he turns off the road.

“Nothing.” I click out of the app and stuff the phone into my pocket. “Just checking comments on my last TikTok video.”

“Yeah?” Nate smirks. “Those thirsty bitches begging for your dick?”

I force a laugh. “Always.”

Nate parks at Café Lacroix, a popular restaurant in Beacon Bay right at the edge of Devil’s Creek. It’s all glass from top to bottom, with a patio on the backside facing the bay. From the parking lot, I hear the water crashing on the shore and smell the saltiness of the sea in the air.

Nate turns off the ignition. We don’t attempt to exit the car, tension clinging to the air like gunpowder.

Being consumed by Nate Brooks is like a drug. After the first time I got high on him, I couldn’t walk away. I think he knows it, too. He uses sex as a weapon to disarm me. And the sad thing is I don’t mind.

I want him to use me.

Hell, I crave it.

“I really am sorry.” Nate gives me those sad golden-brown puppy eyes that weaken my defenses. “I went a little overboard with all the girls. But it was your birthday… and I wanted to make you feel good.”

Herein lies the problem with our relationship. Nate always makes me feel good… and I’m too addicted to him to quit.

CHAPTER 3

NATE

My mouth goes dry the second I see my father. Even after ten years of torment, I still can’t look at him and feel anything but hatred.

Old feelings come rushing to the surface as he pats my back. So, I shove them into the darkest part of my mind. It’s the only way to get through this lunch without losing my shit.

“There’s my boy,” Dad says with a thick Texan drawl and a fake smile to hide his true thoughts. “Did you miss me, kid?”

Kid? Has he looked at me?

I haven’t been a kid in years.

Of course, I didn’t miss him.

My dad leans into my arm, lips close to my ear, his accent thicker when angry. “One more screw-up like this, and you’ll be back home working on the ranch, shoveling horse shit until the day you die.”

I grew up on a massive ranch outside of Dallas. However, I lost my Southern accent within a few years of living at a boarding school in Massachusetts. Well, most of it, anyway.

When I say certain words like insurance or cement, River makes fun of me. Occasionally, I drop y’all or fixin’ into the mix, and he laughs because I haven’t been that person in years. I have done my best to remove myself from my Southern roots and create something new—someone untouched by my horrific past.

“I’m not going home,” I fire back at him. “I don’t care what you hold over my head.”

Home is not where the heart is. For me, home is where the horrors are—the place where I lost my innocence and sanity. I would rather die than go back there.

Dad pulls me into a one-arm hug and lowers his voice to a deep rumble. “Nathaniel, once again, you have dug yourself a grave and piled shit on top of shit. If you don’t get your act together, I will bury you in it.”

I cringe at my full name.

It reminds me of the She-Devil who ruined my life. Just thinking about the sorry excuse for a woman causes my stomach to knot like a pretzel. My skin suddenly feels too hot and itchy. I rub my hands down my arms and step away from my father.

“Don’t call me that. You know I prefer Nate.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Nathaniel is the name I gave you. It belonged to your grandfather.”

“I don’t care. Call me Nate or nothing at all.”

His jaw tightens as his eyes wander around the dining room. “This is not the time nor the place. Consider yourself lucky we’re not at home. After what you did with that girl…”

“Got it, sir.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve been a bad, bad boy. You gonna spank me?”

My dad grabs my collar, and I don’t do anything to stop him. This is how we hash shit out. A slew of mean words, a bottle of bourbon, and a few punches. That was how we settled things the last time I screwed up. But the old man is worn down with my antics. If I weren’t his only son, he would have disowned me years ago.

Dad clutches my collar, ready to rip me a new one, but Ryan Rousseau interrupts our staring contest.

“Spencer, we should order before it gets too late. I have a meeting with my agent this afternoon.”

Thank you, Ryan, for saving the day.

I glance at River and shake my head. There’s no point in beating a dead horse. My dad never hears me. He didn’t listen when I told him about her… and what she was doing to me. Not until he saw it for himself. Even then, he couldn’t handle the truth.

Just being near him dredges up bad memories. Sending me to boarding school after the worst year of my life was the kindest mercy he’d ever shown me.

For the past ten years, I have been free from my family—boarding school in Massachusetts, then college in Connecticut.

But college is almost over.

The closer I get to graduation, the more I act out. I can’t seem to sit still or pay attention in classes. Graduating means going to law school and starting over. It also means River will sign with an NHL team and leave me behind.

And it kills me.

I need River and would do anything to keep him, even if it means giving in to some of his desires. River doesn’t think I notice how he looks at me. But I do. He can’t peel his eyes off my naked body when we fuck girls.

After we sit, my dad says, “I took care of the girl and withdrew two million dollars from your trust.”

I don’t fight him. I sit here and grit my teeth. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says in a menacing tone. “If you continue down this path, I will cut you off completely. Your grandfather would roll over in his grave if he knew how much of his money you have squandered on whores.”

My grandfather was a religious man. A devout Christian. He would most definitely lose his shit about my dad using his hard-earned money to squash potential scandals. But he was also a pragmatist who wouldn’t want the family name destroyed over my dirty deeds.

“It won’t happen again,” I promise, even though it sounds like a lie.

It’s only a matter of time before I screw up and drag River down with me.

“You’ve already been accepted to Kingston Law,” my dad tells me.

“What?” I gape at him. “But I haven’t applied for early admission yet.”

“No need.” He waves a cloth napkin and places it on his lap. “I already dealt with the dean.”

I should be grateful. Most people would hug the shit out of him for going above and beyond to secure their future. But I feel cheated.

“I could have gotten into the school on my own… without your help.”

“Men of our power can’t afford to leave anything to chance, Nathaniel.”

There’s that name again.

How many people can say they hate the sound of their name when it rolls off another’s tongue? Whenever he calls me Nathaniel, it feels like a thousand tiny spiders are crawling up my arms. And for a split second, I think about the worst time of my life, memories of horrible nights I wish never happened.

I shake off the memory and force a smile that doesn’t touch my eyes. “Thank you, sir,” I say, since arguing is not an option. “Looking forward to attending Kingston Law next fall.”

“Yes, well, I can’t have you embarrassing me. Keep your grades up this year. No more funny business.” His eyes sweep over me and then to River. “No more sharing women. Neither of you can afford to have something like that leaked to the press.”

“No, they can’t,” Ryan chimes, running his fingers through his dark brown hair. “And River will not humiliate himself or me with any more sex tapes.” He turns his gaze to River. “Isn’t that right, son?”

River bobs his head as he chews an onion roll but looks at me. We made a deal in the car. No more group sex. Only one woman at a time. If we stick to the plan, we won’t have to explain ourselves again.

We can make this work.

You’re probably wondering why we don’t have sex alone. But to help you understand where this all began, I would have to take you down memory lane… and I hate going there. I would rather drink bleach than think about all the shit that led to this point in my life.

Maybe one day, I’ll have the balls to spill my guts. But until then, you’ll have to trust me. Not knowing is better for everyone. In this case, the truth will not set me free.

CHAPTER 4

RIVER

With one week left of summer vacation, I spend every second with Nate. He’s staying with me at my family’s summer home in The Hamptons. We do this every summer. Just the two of us getting into trouble and meeting girls until we start another grueling school year.

My mansion, which overlooks the sea, sits behind us at the dead center of the beach. We have the best view from here. Over the years, people have offered my dad twice its value, but he will never sell this place.

As we walk along the shore, our peaceful night ends when a girl screams.

Nate halts beside me. “Did you hear that?”

“Uh-huh.”

The sun has already set, and the sky is a mess of dark purple and blue hues. I search for the sound of someone whimpering and find the source.

Sitting on the sand, hunched over, a blonde woman grabs her foot.

I kneel beside her. “Are you okay?”

She snaps her head at me. “I stepped on a broken shell and cut my foot.”

Nate moves beside me and extends his hand, grinning. “I hate watching pretty girls suffer. Let me take a look.”

“Oh, no,” she bites out. “Don’t worry about me. It’s my dumb fault for not wearing sandals. I don’t want to intrude on your night.”

Nate lifts her leg onto his lap and inspects the small, bleeding cut. “We have a First Aid kit at the house. I can patch you up… if you want.”

She’s cute. Long blonde hair that brushes the tops of her huge tits that are spilling out of a red bikini top. Big, blue eyes that remind me of the ocean. Killer legs and a nice, thick ass, which I know Nate likes.

He prefers asses more than tits. But really, Nate loves everything about women. How they smell. How they taste. The sounds they make when they come. He could care less about hair color or any of the semantics.

Nate just likes women.

My best friend can turn on the charm whenever needed. He has that killer instinct. I can already see the wheels turning in his head.

He wants her.

And I want him.

So, yeah… we’re doing this.

She licks her lips. “What’s your name?”

“Nate.” He points at me. “That’s River.”

“Samantha,” she says, eyes drifting over our bare chests.

I wonder if she recognizes me.

Most women do.

Yet, even after Nate told her my name, she didn’t seem to make the connection. Maybe it’s my lucky night. For once, I would like to fuck a woman who doesn’t want my fame, money, or my dad.

Is that too much to ask?

Nate doesn’t miss a beat and scoops Samantha into his arms. “You can’t walk without getting sand in the cut. We’ll take good care of you.”

He winks at me.

She doesn’t argue and lets him stalk through the sand and onto my property. We pass by the outdoor shower, then the pool house, and eventually cut through the pool area.

In the kitchen, Nate sets Samantha on the granite island. I reach under the sink and hand Nate the First Aid kit since he wants to play doctor tonight, then focus on Samantha.

“Do you live here? Or just visiting?”

Most people can’t afford homes on the beach. At least ninety percent of all the girls we meet each summer are here for a week with their families. Everyone wants to see how the one percent lives.

“My aunt rented a house about a mile down the beach. I’m only here for a few more days before returning to school.”

Nate wipes the sand and dirt from her cut, and she winces. “Where do you go?”

“Kingston University. I’m about to start my senior year.”

“No way.” Nate applies a thin layer of Neosporin to the bottom of her foot and covers it with a Band-Aid. “Us too.”

“Wow,” she mouths. “Small world, huh? So, I guess I might see you guys around campus.”

Nate glances at me to confirm what I know he’s thinking. He wants Samantha to be our girl.

When I nod in agreement, he says, “You should hang out with us before you head back to campus.” He bends down, his lips inches from hers. “Spend the night if you want. We have plenty of room in this house.”

“Yeah?” Samantha smiles, leaning back on the counter on her palms. “With you and River?”

He washes his hands, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s just us here. You good with that?”

Samantha’s tongue juts out to wet her lips. “So good with that.”

I’m amazed by how easy this is for Nate. We met Samantha ten minutes ago, and she already wants to fuck him. Don’t get me wrong, I see the appeal. I would give anything to have one night with Nate.

But we just met her.

He’s the hottest guy I have ever known. Our connection runs so deep it would only make the sex better. But Nate is straight. He only has eyes for women, which he’s made crystal clear despite the few times he’s asked me to jerk him off.

“Do you like to party?” Nate waggles his eyebrows at Samantha, and he looks so damn cute when he does it. “I got some molly.”

“Nate,” I groan.

“River,” he fires back with the same annoyed tone. “Would you chill?”

Did he not learn his lesson last week?

All summer, his addictions have worsened. His need for sex, drugs, and alcohol is concerning. I don’t know how to save him from drowning this time.

Samantha shrugs. “I’m down. Might help me forget about my throbbing foot.”

Nate hauls her into his arms, ready to rock and roll. There’s no point in talking him out of this. When Nate makes up his mind, he follows through with his plan. And right now, he wants to lose himself inside her.

He thinks he needs to fuck and get high to forget about his past—to drown out the voices in his head. Lately, his nightmares are escalating. Most mornings, I find him in my bed, curled up beside me. Sometimes, he cries in his sleep. Other times, he yells.

“Nate, we need her to sign an NDA.”

He groans. “Fuck. We need you to sign a paper saying you won’t tell anyone about what we do tonight.”

Samantha blinks. “Why?”

“Because River is kind of famous. The non-disclosure agreement protects him from scandals and drama.”

Her eyes widen on me. “Famous?”

“You didn’t know?”

She shakes her head. “No, who are you?”

“River Rousseau.”

Samantha takes a second to ponder my name and then says, “Oh god. You’re the captain of our hockey team. That’s why you look so familiar.”

“I play on the team, too,” Nate adds, a little bitter as he shrugs.

She beams a smile at him. “Right. I’ve seen the videos of you guys on TikTok. The Kingston Spy has been posting about you lately.”

I cringe at the name of the mysterious TikTok creator. That stupid bitch has been fucking with my life for too long. My father has a private investigator looking into the account. So far, he hasn’t found anything concrete to trace it back to the owner.

The person is located in New York and never shows their face. Their profile picture is the school’s logo. Whoever it is lives close enough to Kingston University for it to make sense the account belongs to a student.

At first, I assumed she was a fangirl or an ex-hookup. But she also attacks other students. Lately, she’s been obsessed with athletes, which makes me think she has an axe to grind with someone who plays a sport for Kingston University.

“The Kingston Spy is obsessed with us,” Nate tells her.

She bats her long lashes at him. “I can totally see why.”

“So, about the NDA,” Nate says. “We need you to sign it… or this isn’t happening.”

Her entire face lights up as she stares at me. I can already see the dollar signs flashing across her eyes. Thank God the contract covers both of our asses. Sadly, I can’t even have sex with a woman without worrying about her screwing me over.

But this is my reality.

Some girls get angry when Nate tires of them, which often leads to retaliation. Our sexcapades have cost Nate a fortune.

“I’ll sign whatever you want.” Samantha flashes a smile that reaches her eyes. “I completely understand why you guys are careful. You never know who you’re letting into your bed.”

Whenever girls realize who I am, they all act the same. Like groupies. Fangirls. They either want to fuck me, my dad, or both of us. But if Nate wants her, I won’t say no.

I grab several beers from the fridge and walk up the back staircase behind them. The house is over ten thousand square feet and has plenty of empty bedrooms. We would typically fuck around in one of those, but Nate is acting like she’s a keeper. Knowing my friend, this will fizzle out as quickly as it started.

Once inside my bedroom, Nate hands Samantha a document and a pen. “Read through it. If you wanna go, we’ll understand.”

She sits on my bed, clutching the pen. “Not a chance.”

He turns his back to her and grabs a plastic baggie from my nightstand drawer. Holding it up, he smiles at the three oval pills.

Samantha flips through the document and initials each page before signing on the dotted line. Making women do this feels robotic and weird, but what choice do I have?

Nate moves in front of me. We’re almost the same height, so when he inches closer, our foreheads could touch. My lips part as he invades my space, filling it with his scent—bergamot and something fruity.

“Open up,” he demands.

I stick out my tongue, and Nate gives me a pill before gulping his down. His golden-brown eyes latch onto me for a second. The air thickens between us. Nate must feel it because he turns away and gets on the bed.

He climbs on top of Samantha, takes the document from her, and hands it to me. “We good?”

I check to see she initialed and signed on all the lines. “Yeah.”

Another potential scandal is the last thing we need. Nate’s dad will disown him if he messes up again.

And my career?

If anyone were to leak one of our sex tapes, the NHL would forget all about me. It wouldn’t matter that my dad’s name carries weight in the league. It wouldn’t matter that he’s the head coach of the New York Rangers and has the ear of management. Nope, my dreams of becoming a professional hockey player would be over.

Nate pins Samantha to the bed and gives her a pill. After she swallows, he kisses her. All tongue and a lot of moaning. Pretty soon, when the molly kicks in, we’ll be so tangled up in each other it won’t matter that we just met this girl.

I kneel beside him, wondering how it would feel to be claimed by Nate.

Fuck, I want him.

He doesn’t waste a second and starts tugging at the strings of her bikini bottoms. “You’re so hot. How did we not see you on campus before?”

Samantha giggles. “I don’t go to parties and commute every day.”

“You live in Beacon Bay?”

She bobs her head. “Yeah, on the south side.”

The poorest section of town. A red flag goes off in my brain, but Nate is too far gone for me to stop him. What if meeting her on the beach was not happenstance? What if she planned it?

I could be overthinking, but I have to take precautions when it comes to women. But then Nate says my name, and I practically forget my own. As our eyes meet, I can’t breathe.

Fuck, he’s killing me.

Now that he has my undivided attention, he peels away her bikini bottoms, revealing her waxed pussy. She’s already wet for us, her skin glistening from her arousal.

“Damn.” He scrubs a hand across his jaw and admires her sexy body. “You look so pretty right now. Mmm… Fuck, your pussy is perfect.”

Samantha clutches his wrist and yanks his hand lower. “Touch me. Please.”

Nate glances at me as he pushes a finger into her, letting me see how she stretches to accommodate him. I’m watching him more than her but getting off on all of it.

“She’s so tight,” he says, adding another finger.

He frees his hard cock from his board shorts, stroking himself with one hand while making her whimper with the other. I stare at his beautiful dick, only pulling my gaze away when he clears his throat.

Nate smirks.

He knows I watch him and enjoys it.

“River,” Samantha moans, reaching out for me.

I crawl up the bed and hover above her. She grabs my neck and slips her tongue inside my mouth as Nate tosses her legs over his shoulders and licks her pussy.

“Oh god,” she moans, yanking her lips from mine. “Yes, yes, yes… Keep doing that, Nate.”

He’s good with his tongue. It never takes Nate long to make women come.

I pretend I’m kissing Nate when I dive in for another kiss, ripping off her bikini top in the process. With Samantha fully bared to us, she looks like an offering from the gods. She mutters our names, one after the other, clinging to my bicep.

A series of tremors rock through her body, and Nate drops her legs to the bed after she settles down.

He licks her cum from his lips and looks at me. “You wanna go first?”

I nod since he usually takes the lead, forcing me to wait my turn. The pill’s effects are starting to creep in as the room slightly tilts on its axis. It’s too soon to get the full feeling, but I’m enjoying how much I don’t care about anything but being with them.

I never use drugs during the hockey season, but taking ecstasy helps me stop overthinking. And I only take it with Nate.

I trust him with my life.

Nate throws condoms on the bed. I strip off my board shorts and get onto my back, rolling on the condom before pulling Samantha on top of me.

“Ride my best friend.” Nate guides her onto my cock, and we both moan once she’s fully seated on top of me. “He likes it when you play with his nipples.”

Samantha inches her hand up my chest, the pad of her thumb sweeping over my left nipple.

“Fuck,” I hiss, the intense sensation going straight to my cock.

Nate licks her earlobe and sucks it into his mouth. Then his hand moves between us to play with Samantha’s clit.

“Make him happy.” Nate massages her in a circular motion, and I feel her clench around me. “Make him feel good.”

“I will.”

Nate is always concerned about how I feel and whether I enjoy myself when we’re together. Some would take his concern as feelings, but I know better. Nate loves me like a brother. This is just sex for him, a transaction to quench his desire.

Even when he gets carried away, I won’t let myself think we have any chance of something more than friendship.

“River.” Samantha bites her lip. “Nate. Oh god. This feels…”

“You look so hot riding my best friend.” Nate grips her hips and guides her up and down my length. “Good girl. You have no problem handling his big dick, do you?”

“No,” she whimpers. “I love it.”

After Samantha finds the perfect rhythm with me, Nate kneels beside me and grabs my hand. He spits in my palm and wraps it around his thick shaft, cursing under his breath. This is not the first time he used my hand to get off.

Our moans become one, with all three of us working in perfect harmony. My dick grows even harder inside her as she rocks her hips, timed with Nate’s thrusts upward into my hand. She’s soaked, so damn wet I have to squeeze her ass to keep her right where I want her.

For years, I have questioned how much I like women. It’s hard to tell when Nate has been at my side for every sexual encounter. Even the first time that I jerked off to completion. Whenever I’m not in the mood, I look at him. Listen to his moans. Watch him come unravel as he comes.

We do everything together, which mixes up my head because my world starts and ends with him.

Nate pinches my nipple, and my eyes snap shut, but I force them back open. I need to see the look of pleasure on his face. I need to watch my best friend cum all over my hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he bites out as his cum coats my skin.

Less than a minute later, I’m coming into the condom, and Samantha rides out the last of the shockwaves, muttering our names. My hand is sticky from Nate’s release. And as I raise it closer to my face, I see double. A rainbow of color swirls around me like a freaky kaleidoscope.

What the fuck?

Nate sinks to the mattress beside me, curled up on his side. “You feel it, don’t you?”

I stare at my hand, amazed by how strange it looks. “Yeah.”

Samantha collapses on my chest, my limp cock still inside her. “I feel a-maz-ing.”

Nate pulls her off me and moves her between us. “You’re our girl now.”

She turns her head to face him. “Okay.”

That’s the last thing I remember before the drugs kick in, and I’m floating to another place, lost in a fantasy world where I get Nate all to myself. And I never want to leave.

CHAPTER 5

RIVER

I wake up to a thump, thump, thump sound and can’t seem to lift my head off the pillow. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Something thick and hard is in my hand. I blink the sleep from my eyes. It takes me a second to realize I’m touching Nate’s dick and move my hand.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing? This is unfucking natural, River. Disgusting.”

Oh, shit.

Even half asleep, I know that voice.

My dad.

I sit up, cheeks flushed with heat, the room spinning around me. Most of last night is a blur. After I came, Nate moved Samantha between us, and the rest was a black hole. The pills just swallowed me up.

I have almost no memory.

“You haven’t learned your lesson.”

My dad approaches the bed dressed in a black suit, hands on his narrow waist. We look like twins with the same dark brown hair, green eyes, and muscular build.

“No matter how much trouble you two get into, it never seems to sink in that one day you will dig yourselves a hole so deep no amount of money will get you out of it.”

Samantha stirs at his voice, which I also inherited. A deep timbre that wakes her from a sound sleep. And when she sees him, she hides her naked body under the sheet, tucking it under her chin.

Nate rolls onto his side, his eyelids fluttering, naked as the day he was born and also hard. Morning wood. Without an ounce of shame, he peeks up at my dad.

He licks his chapped lips. “Don’t call my dad. It’s too early to hear his annoying voice.”

I can tell my dad wants to tear us a new one but won’t do it in front of an audience.

His deadly gaze turns to Samantha. “Young lady, you need to go. Now.”

“Dad,” I groan. “Let her get dressed. Stop being such a⁠—”

“Shut your mouth, River. I’m done with the games. You two are a bad combination.” Teeth gritted, he shakes his head. “Nate and his destructive behaviors will ruin your life and career.”

“Ryan—” Nate begins to interject before I cut him off.

“No, he’s not. Don’t talk about Nate like you know him. You barely know me.”

My dad sent me to boarding school the second I was no longer useful to his aspirations of being a reality TV star. Being the best player in the NHL wasn’t good enough for him. Because of his high standards, I will never be worthy of his praise.

But I’m enough for Nate.

“Dad, please,” I say, shielding Samantha as much as I can with my body. “Give us ten minutes, and I’ll come talk to you. Just let her get dressed and say goodbye without you breathing down our necks.”

Arms folded over his chest, he clenches his jaw. “Ten minutes. In my office. No more bullshit.”

With that, he slams the door, and I let out a relieved breath. “Fuck, he’s gonna kill me.”

“I thought you said no one was home?” Samantha tightens her grip on the sheet. “Was your dad here all night?”

I shake my head. “From the looks of it, he just got here. He must have a meeting nearby.”

“You’re so fucking screwed.” Nate tosses the sheet off his legs and collects his board shorts from the floor. “I’ve never seen him that mad.”

“He’s still pissed about last week.”

Nate slips into his shorts and gets on the bed, bending down to kiss Samantha. “We’re doing this again.”

She kisses him back. “I don’t live on campus, but yeah. I wanna see you guys again.”

“You can stay at our house on campus. We have plenty of room.”

Of course, Nate wants to see her again. Samantha is hot, and the sex was great, but there’s something about her that bugs me. It’s probably my paranoia. The last sex tape scandal made me look deeper at what Nate and I are doing.

Nate lifts Samantha’s bikini bottoms off the bed and helps her into them. He bends down and kisses her stomach before tying the first knot with his teeth.

“Oh god,” she whispers as his mouth hovers over her pussy. “Nate.”

I quickly get dressed, knowing my dad might kick my ass after what he witnessed. Me holding Nate’s dick. The three of us naked and tangled up in each other. It would look bad to anyone, especially my homophobic father.

He’s probably in his office saying Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s to save my damaged soul. I can only imagine the thoughts swirling around in his head. He probably already has my conversion therapy all planned out.

I don’t know if I’m gay, but I like Nate. A whole fucking lot.

No, scratch that.

I am in love with Nate.

Nate gets Samantha’s number, and we lead her downstairs and out the side entrance. Far away from my dad’s office. He kisses her one last time. She puts her hand on my chest, staring up at me with hope in her eyes. So, I kiss her, even though I would rather jam my tongue down Nate’s throat.

After she’s gone, Nate follows me into my father’s office. He sits behind a massive oak desk with a glass of scotch.

“What kind of gay shit are you two into?”

Nate laughs. “We’re not gay.”

“No?” Dad rises from the chair, pointing at the two leather couches as he gets closer. “Then, what the fuck did I see this morning?”

We sit on the couch farthest from him, our legs almost touching. But when my dad’s gaze drops, I slide away from Nate. God forbid we have the appearance of impropriety around the fake Catholic.

“It didn’t mean anything,” I tell him. “I was asleep and… woke up like that.”

“It’s not normal to share women with your friend,” Dad continues, “and it’s not normal to sleep in the same bed. This has been going on for too many years now. I overlooked it in the past because you were boys, but now you’re men.”

He would need a crowbar to separate us. No way in hell Nate or I would ever let anyone come between us.

“Men can sleep in the same bed,” Nate says with disdain. “We’re not doing anything wrong. It doesn’t make us any less manly.”

Dad leans forward, a tumbler braced on his knee, nostrils flared. “If this were to get out, River wouldn’t get offers from the league. No team would want him. And I won’t let your deprave behavior interfere with my son’s career.”

Nate tips his head back and laughs. “Okay, Ryan. Whatever you say. I’m not gay. Neither is River. Case closed.”

My dad drinks the amber liquid in his glass and slams it on the coffee table. “One more slip up, and you will never see each other again.”

Nate rises from the couch, ready for a fight, fists clenched at his sides. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I already called Spencer,” my dad says to get under his skin. “He’s assured me you won’t see a single cent of your trust fund if you fuck this up for River.”

“I don’t give a shit about the money,” Nate growls.

“You will when you have nothing.” My dad gets in Nate’s face. “If you care about River, you will stop dragging him down with you.”

Nate’s eyes meet mine, and he lets out a deep breath. “Whatever,” he mutters before storming out of the office.

Seconds after he’s gone, my dad plops down beside me and pats my knee. “No more gay shit. This ends now.”

My dad has a way with words.

Asshole.

“Sure, Dad,” I say to get him off my back. “No more gay shit.”

If he only knew…

CHAPTER 6

NATE

I love moving day at Kingston University. Girls drag backpacks and boxes into houses, short shorts and skirts riding up their thighs. From my bedroom window, I have the best view of Greek Row—and all the hot sorority chicks.

Leaning back in my desk chair, I rest my legs on the bed and stare at two hot blondes at the Kappa Delta house. Spandex clings to their tight asses like plastic wrap. Tank tops, emblazoned with the letters of their sorority, inch up their stomachs and dip low to show off big tits.

“Fuck,” I grunt, shoving my hand beneath the waistband of my pants.

Fisting my hard cock, I watch them drop a box, the contents spilling onto the grass. On hands and knees, their backs to me, they scramble to put kitchen utensils into the box.

“That’s it,” I whisper as they bump foreheads and laugh, the one girl hugging the other, smashing their tits together. “Touch her. You know you wanna.”

Working my hand up and down my shaft, I spread my thighs and pray my dream comes true. Fuck, I’m so close. Ready to blow my load when my bedroom door creaks open.

I turn my head to the right, my hand frozen on my dick. But it’s just River.

My best friend enters my room, hands stuffed into his black track pants. His eyes dip down to the placement of my hand and my long length poking my pants.

River bites his lip.

He loves my dick.

I know he does.

So, I shove down my pants and let him see. His eyes widen, and he slams my door shut, leaning against it.

“Nate,” he mutters. “What are you…?”

I tip my head at the window. “Come see for yourself.”

While this might look weird to an outsider, getting off with River is normal. We do this all the time. Sometimes, I ask him to jerk me off so I can feel his hand on my cock. He strokes me like he wants to own me. It’s super fucking hot. I come so hard each time I see heaven.

Lately, I have noticed my best friend in not-so-friendly ways.

How he smells.

How he moves.

How he laughs.

How he smiles.

I wonder how he tastes.

No, too far.

I’m not gay.

River consumes my thoughts, invades every inch of my fucking life. I can’t breathe without him nearby, which makes me sound really damn needy. But I am. When it comes to River, I need to be near him constantly.

It’s a sickness.

An obsession.

He crosses the room, but not without taking a good look at my big dick. Whenever we fuck chicks, he watches me. And I can’t get enough of it. I’m addicted to River Rousseau. He makes me feel shit that screws with my head.

River stands beside my chair and glances out the window when I want him to look at me. “We had a deal, Nate. One girl. No more group sex. You wanted Samantha.”

“I’m not going to fuck them. Just let me look and shut up.”

He snickers. “I wish you would find someone who makes you happy and stop searching for the next woman to fill the void.”

I’m incapable of a serious relationship. Whenever a girl gets too close, I freak out and lose control. I won’t allow anyone to have power over me.

Never again.

Only River has any hold over me, and it’s because I let him have it. I can’t function properly without him by my side.

“I chose Samantha. For us.” No longer in the mood, I tuck my half-hard cock back into my pants. “She’s meeting us later.”

He sits on my bed, facing me, palms on his muscular thighs. “How long will this one last before you replace her with those sorority chicks?”

Why is he such a downer?

Since the last sex tape, River has been so uptight. Now, we have these stupid rules, which I promised to follow because sex without him doesn’t work. I can’t be with a woman unless River is there.

The fucker knows it, too.

He holds it over my head.

Dangles sex like a carrot.

“Samantha can stick around for as long as you want her,” I tell him, hoping to keep River happy.

He nods, his expression giving away nothing.

“I’m hungry.” I rise from the chair, hand extended to pull him up from the mattress. “Wings or pizza?”

He considers my question, lips pressed together. “I was thinking tacos.”

“Whatever.” I shrug and head toward the door. “I’m easy.”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “You are.”

I spin around to look at his smug face. If I were into men, River would be it for me. I’d be on my knees, worshiping all of his muscles. My hands and tongue would be on every inch of his killer body. I would spend extra time loving his monster cock. It’s nice. River has a—dare I say it—beautiful dick.

I mean, mine is awesome, too. But there’s something about seeing his that excites me. Or maybe it’s how he looks at me while he touches himself.

Fuck, what am I thinking?

I don’t like men.

But River…

With my back to the door, he inches closer, and I have nowhere to go. I could open the door, step into the hallway, and flee. Except I can’t move. I can hardly breathe with him sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

His gaze lowers to my cock. “You’re hard again.” He puts his hand on the door beside my head, invading my senses with his musky scent. “Do you want to take care of that before we go?”

Fucking hell.

He cages me against the door with his big body, almost like he’s challenging me to do something about these strange feelings. River gets me on a whole other level. No one understands me or my needs the way he does.

I whip out my leaking cock to see if he’ll back up and give me some space. Instead, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it onto the floor.

“Go ahead,” he says and licks his lips.

He puts his other hand on the door, and as he leans closer, I feel his dick harden.

Fuck.

I glance down at the bulge in his pants, fisting my cock but too stunned to do anything about it.

Does he want me to come on his stomach? Or does he expect me to reciprocate somehow? I never know with River. Not with how he eyes me up like a snack.

He’s so fucking hard. His dick tents his track pants, making it painfully obvious he wants to get off too.

Did I do this to him?

With his lips right there, his breath heating my skin, I consider kissing him. No, I want to kiss him, which makes no sense.

That’s way too gay.

I can’t.

I won’t.

Someone knocks on the door. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest at the sudden sound.

“Brooks, we’re going out for dinner,” Parker Hale yells. “You guys coming?”

“We’re going to Tony’s Tacos.”

“Sounds good,” Parker says. “I love their chips and guac. Meet us downstairs in five.”

I let out a grunt, unable to formulate a sentence with my dick hanging out and River still hard.

“Fuck,” River whispers and backs up toward my bed, sliding his fingers through his short hair.

“Yeah,” I mumble like a bumbling idiot.

I’m drunk on him.

“Let’s just go,” I say, finally getting my brain to start working again and pull up my pants.

River stands too far away for my comfort. I wish he would put his arms around me or do something other than stare. Whenever I have nightmares, which is more often than not, I end up sleeping with him. I love it when he curls his arms around me in bed, whispering that I’m safe and loved.

River loves me.

Unlike with my parents, his love is unconditional. I could murder half the campus, and he would still defend me. There’s nothing I could do to chase River away.

My eyes wander over his body for a second, and I open the door, suddenly light-headed.

“I don’t feel so hot,” I say as we walk toward the staircase. “I think I need to eat.”

“You wanna eat something, alright,” River says with a cocky attitude, following me downstairs with his fingers brushing my ass.

Cock, I thought he was going to say, and if he had, he would have been right.

Well, fuck me.

CHAPTER 7

RIVER

It’s only the first week of class, and Samantha has slept at our house three times. Nate has been ravenous since moving day. The day we almost… Well, I’m not sure what almost happened, but it was something, a shift in our relationship.

Is he into me?

I still can’t tell.

Nate is hot and cold. His moods fluctuate by the second. One minute, I think he likes me. The next, he has a mental breakdown and starts fucking any girl in sight. At least our deal prevents him from being reckless.

Nate has spent all his free time buried in Samantha. We don’t speak about that day. Nate wouldn’t acknowledge it even if I did.

As we walk into the Law and Ethics lecture hall, my eyes snap to the front of the room. Our new professor looks under thirty, with a face that could grace the cover of a magazine.

Nate slips into the last row and sits midway down the aisle. I occupy the space beside him and glance up at the ceiling, thanking God for creating the man standing at the podium.

Professor Oliver West.

His name is written on the whiteboard behind him. He even has nice handwriting.

Professor West wears a black suit and a gold tie that pairs well with his tanned skin. I bet he looks good on his knees and would look even better with the tie binding his wrists.

The more I gawk at him, the more I realize my Law and Ethics professor looks… familiar. But why? I can’t think of any reason we would have met. He’s an adjunct professor filling in for a tenured professor on leave for medical reasons.

Professor Addison normally teaches this class and has done so for over a decade. Yet, when I checked my class schedule online last week, it had changed to Professor West.

Maybe he’s a guest lecturer?

I have never seen him on campus. And with a face and body like his, I would have noticed him.

My thoughts drift to me on top of him, pressing down on the hard planes of his body. I grin like a fool as my dirty fantasy plays out in my mind. Nate is usually the star of all my dreams. But I have to forget about him. Obsessing over Nate will only lead to an early grave.

Nate taps my arm and whispers, “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing,” I lie and let the smile slip from my lips.

“Bullshit,” he mutters. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”

“No, I haven’t.”

We go back and forth, me telling Nate that everything is fine until a sexy voice interrupts our conversation.

“Is there a problem?”

I follow the voice and spot Professor West glaring at us. My dirty professor’s plump lips part in disapproval, and all I can think about is how they would feel wrapped around my cock.

Fuck, I need to be with a man. Just once. To see if I like it. Before I blow up my life, I need to know if it’s worth obsessing over men.

“Um, no problem, professor,” I choke out, cheeks flaming with heat as everyone stares. “Please continue.”

He reviews the syllabus and the list of cases we will cover during the semester. Some students interrupt to ask questions. Most people keep their heads down and take notes on laptops or tablets. I prefer pen and paper, so I write down the few cases Professor West scribbles on the whiteboard.

I have no intention of attending law school. Everything I learn in this class serves no purpose. I’m here to keep Nate on track and ensure he doesn’t fall behind in his classes. His mind tends to wander when left unattended.

Throughout the class, I will my dick to behave. Every time Professor West turns around to write something on the whiteboard, my cock jerks. I should have worn jeans and a longer shirt—something to hide my raging boner.

“You must post the first assignment by midnight on Sunday to get credit,” Professor West tells the class, hands on his narrow hips.

His voice.

His face.

Those legs.

Fuck. It’s him.

I know why he looks so familiar. But how can this be? He’s a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. Why on earth would Professor West need to sell his ass online for money?

Yet, as he shoves his shirtsleeves to his elbows, I can’t unsee the ink marring his muscular forearms. Professor West is Baby Face, my favorite camboy.

CHAPTER 8

NATE

We’ve been back at Kingston University for a month. And since then, River and I have fucked Samantha in almost every way possible.

Doggy style.

Anal.

Double penetration.

Cowgirl.

Reverse cowgirl.

No missionary, though. Too fucking boring and just not my thing. I could keep going, but you get the point. The only thing left is double vaginal penetration. She’s still considering it, which gives me hope. It also means this one is a keeper.

I lean against the headboard beside River, knees bent into my chest, and type a message to our girl.

Nate

My dick misses your pussy.

Samantha

She misses him, too. But I have to work tonight.

Nate

Lame. Are you coming over on Friday?

Samantha

In my birthday suit :)

Nate

Good girl. Send me a pic of your pussy.

Nate

And your tits. I miss those, too.

Samantha

Bad boy

Nate

You have no idea.

Samantha

I kinda do.

After that, she sends me a full nude so I can see everything. She even zoomed in on her pussy, which looks wet. Now, my cock is rock hard and tenting my sweats.

Nate

Fuck me.

Samantha

You can do that all weekend if you want. I don’t have to work.

Nate

Yes, I want. Your pussy is mine.

Samantha

No River this weekend?

Nate

Yeah, my bad. Riv will be here, too. We want to try DVP. Are you still down?

Samantha

Sure. I’m game.

Nate

That’s my girl.

Samantha

I have to go. So, I’ll leave you with this…

She sends me a close-up of her fingers stuffed into her tight, wet pussy, cum sticking to her skin.

“Jesus, fuck,” I mutter. “This girl is killing me.”

River sits on the bed beside me, leaning over my shoulder. “I don’t see the point in sexting.”

He doesn’t see the point in talking to the girls either. This is my job. River won’t give them his phone number, which is understandable. He also makes me deal with the NDAs and all the legal shit. It’s a small price to pay.

“What?” I laugh. “You don’t like sexting? How old are you, ninety?”

He blushes. “Shut up.”

“I bet you’d sext with me.”

His cheeks get even redder. “Nate, stop.”

I type a text to River to see how he’ll respond.

Nate

What are you wearing?

River slips his hand into his pocket and sighs when he sees the message. “Really, dude?”

“Come on,” I say to goad him. “Play along.”

He tilts his head to the side, a strand of hair falling onto his forehead. I get the urge to push it away but stop myself. Because that’s just fucking weird.

“Are you scared, Riv?” I get in his face and smirk. “Hmm? Are you afraid of the big, bad wolf?”

“God, you’re annoying,” River mutters, fingers flying across the keypad of his cell phone. “Remind me why we’re friends.”

River

Nothing. I hate clothes.

I laugh. “If a girl texted me this, I’d be on my way to her place.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Doubt that. You’re too fucking lazy.”

“Meh. Not lazy. I just prefer the pussy delivery service.”

River shakes his head. “Fucking idiot. I’m done playing this game.”

“Wanna see some of the pics Samantha sent me?”

He stuffs the phone into his pocket. “Nah, I’m good.”

“You don’t like her?”

He stares down at my navy blue sheets and shrugs. “She’s fine.”

I lock my phone and toss it on the mattress. “That sounded real convincing.”

River snaps his head to me, hugging his knees to his chest. “You miss her, don’t you? Are you going to ask her to be your girlfriend?”

“Fuck, no,” I fire back at him. “I don’t miss her. I miss fucking her. Big difference. I’m bound to our stupid one-woman rule. God, I’m so horny. I’d hump your leg to get off if you would let me.”

River laughs, and his shoulder bumps mine. The simple human contact sends a shiver down my arms and legs, straight to my aching cock. I really would hump his leg right now like a dog in heat. Hell, I might even fuck him with enough drugs in my system.

River’s expression turns grim, and then he says, “I can’t live not knowing when the next sex tape is going to pop up and ruin our lives.”

I nod. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m behaving myself for you.”

“I don’t care for her. There’s just something about Samantha that… I don’t know… I can’t place it. But something is off with her.”

“She signed an NDA, and we film everything,” I remind him. “If she ever tries to use it against us, she’ll look way worse than us.” I show him my phone. “Look at what she sent me in the past five minutes.”

River doesn’t even glance at her, which is crazy because she’s hot. “I don’t think we should trust her.”

“Why?”

He rolls his broad shoulders. “I wish I could tell you. It’s just a feeling.”

River can’t answer me because there’s nothing wrong with Samantha. She’s perfect for us. He knows this but won’t allow himself to get too involved.

“I need sex.” I hold out my hand so he can see how much I’m shaking. “It’s bad, Riv. Wanna jerk off with me?”

“No.”

Sighing, I lean against the wall and look at the ceiling. “Why am I like this?”

“You know why. I think it’s time for you to consider going to therapy again.”

When left to my own devices, I act out. My skin is ready to peel off my bones. The craving is back and rearing its ugly head. Sex is an obsession for me. I think about it constantly. All day on repeat, dirty thoughts race through my head.

I would find another girl to satisfy my needs, but River has a hard rule. One girl at a time. Without Samantha here, I have no choice but to seek other forms of relief.

“You can jerk off without me,” River suggests.

I shake my head.

Here’s the thing. Sex has nothing to do with River, yet it has everything to do with him. I can’t explain it. He healed me from the worst trauma of my life. River was there for me when I thought I would never recover.

My sex addiction and River go hand-in-hand. I fear what will happen when he’s not around, traveling the country with an NHL team… and I’m stuck here.

I give him my best sad face, batting my long lashes. “Will you do it for me?”

River’s hand feels incredible on my dick. He knows how much pressure to apply and does this twisty thing with his wrist. Unlike with women, I don’t have to give him instructions. My best friend knows my body as well as his own.

“Nate, stop it.” His eyebrows knit together. “You’re out of fucking control.”

“Fine. I’ll deal with this on my own.”

Done with this conversation, I slide off the bed and race downstairs. In the living room, I find a handful of my teammates who live in the house with River and me. They will follow me down the rabbit hole if I lead the way.

“Who wants to go to Lucky’s?” I stand at the center of the living room and face my roommates sitting on the sectional couch. “My treat.”

Parker Hale peels his eyes from the book on his lap. “It’s Tuesday night, Brooks.”

“So,” I snap. “Does your dick not work on Tuesday?”

He rolls his blue eyes. “Asshole.”

I sit on the cushion beside him, grab the book from his lap, and toss it onto the floor. “You love strippers. How much did you drop on that chick with those huge fake tits last week?”

He slides a hand through his short, black curls, and his T-shirt rides up his toned stomach. For a dude, he’s good-looking and fit. He’s muscular but not bulky, yet nowhere as ripped as me.

“You’re paying?”

I flash a victorious smirk. “Hell, yeah. Grab your coat.”

“I’m down.” Carter Hayes rises from the couch and stretches his arms above his head. “Never turn down free pussy. That’s my fucking motto.”

“That’s the spirit,” I tell him.

Carter is tall and blond, his hair cropped on the sides and longer on the top. Still wet from the shower, it flops onto his forehead and hangs over his right eye.

“Pick me, pick me,” Kevin Monroe says, laughing, the defenseman’s hand raised like he’s volunteering for The Hunger Games.

Two of my teammates emerge from the kitchen, giving me a nod of thanks, and head toward the door with the other players.

The thing about addicts? They like it when other people do bad shit with them. Then, it doesn’t feel so wrong and dirty.

I glance at River, arms crossed over his thick chest and shaking his head.

He can disapprove all he wants.

Fuck, I only asked for a handjob, not anal sex. You’d think after all the times he’s touched my dick during sex, he wouldn’t care. But he’s acting all weirded out.

River steps in front of me. “Nate, don’t do this.”

“Have you reconsidered?”

His gaze sweeps around the room at our teammates. All five hockey players are now putting on their shoes by the door.

“Is my hand really what you want?” River whispers.

I press my lips to his ear so only he can hear me, and he shivers as my breath heats his skin. “Someone’s touching my dick tonight. I don’t care who.”

At that, he scowls. “Fuck you, Nate.”

“If you want it to mean something, it can.”

What am I saying?

I’m losing my damn mind over my best friend. And I don’t understand why. Lately, he has become my new fascination—a twisted obsession.

River shakes his head and steps back. “No, just fucking go. Don’t come crawling into my bed when you can’t sleep tonight.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Really? What’s your problem?”

“You will do anything to get what you want.” He tugs at the ends of his dark brown hair and sighs. “I can’t do this with you anymore.”

My heart races a mile a minute, ready to make a prison break from my chest. Fucking traitorous organ. It always works harder when River is around. Somehow, my heart knows what I want before I do.

Do I want River?

Anymore, I don’t know. I can’t make sense of my feelings. My trauma bonds us, transforming our friendship into something… different. My life only makes sense with River. If he were to leave me…

Parker cracks open the front door, breaking our staring contest. “Yo, Brooks!” Are we going or what?”

I toss my car keys at him. “Start the engine. I’ll meet you at my car.”

He catches the keys and closes the door.

Once we’re alone, I grab River’s shirt and pull him to me. “You can stop me, Riv.”

It’s the truth.

I might take and take to feed my addiction. But I would give him anything. He’s my best friend, the only person who understands me.

He licks his lips. “What is this, Nate?”

“I don’t get the question.”

“You and me.” He sighs. “I’m so fucking confused anymore.”

Pressing our chests together, I drink in his scent and memorize the feel of his muscles. “Do you hate touching me?”

He shakes his head.

“When I ask you to jerk me off, do you say yes because it turns you on… or because you’re my friend and want to help me?”

River sighs. “This started as a way to help you heal. But the lines are getting blurred.”

“Do you think your dad was right about us?”

This question has been running through my mind since Ryan accused us of being gay. If I were going to be gay for anyone, it would be River. I mean, look at him. Perfect in every way. Sweet yet rough. A body that deserves to be praised.

He’s also selfless and puts me first, even to his detriment. I know that makes me a selfish bastard, but I can’t get enough of him.

“You’re my best friend,” he says after an awkward pause. “I would do anything for you.”

“Anything?”

He nods, this time gazing into my eyes. “Anything.”

“And if I stay home?”

Before he can answer, Parker opens the door, his cheeks flushed and huffing. “What the fuck, Brooks! We’re not sitting out here all night for your enjoyment. Let’s go.” Then he looks at River. “Hey, Rousseau. You coming?”

“Nah,” River says and starts walking toward the staircase. “You guys go without me. I have schoolwork to do.”

Just like that, the conversation we have been dodging all summer ends, causing even more separation between us and unanswered questions.

CHAPTER 9

NATE

I stumble into the house well after midnight. My teammates didn’t want to leave Lucky’s, so I tossed a wad of cash on the table and told them to have fun. All night, my skin itched for more. But no matter how many lap dances I got, nothing helped with the ache between my legs.

My dick wants River.

I climb the stairs and head straight for his room, cracking open the door. It’s dark inside, and his back is turned to me, his bare ass on display. And what a nice ass. Thick in all the right places, more than a handful for me to grab.

This is so fucked up.

I should leave him alone, walk away. He told me not to come to his room tonight. But with River, I don’t make smart decisions. So, I enter his room and lock the door behind me.

I strip off my shirt and toss it onto the floor with my pants. River hates it when I get into his bed naked, so I keep on my boxer briefs. There were a few times we woke up in the morning dick to dick, and it was weird as hell.

Hence, the rule.

I lean over and see his cell phone in his hand, his dick in the other. He’s wearing earbuds and doesn’t hear me. River breathes heavily as he watches a man on the screen spread his thighs and stroke his shaft.

Holy shit!

I was right about River.

He likes dudes.

All of the signs were right there. I’m usually too wrapped up in my shit to notice subtle things. But when it comes to River, I see everything.

I lean over and peek at his screen. The man is maybe five or ten years older than us. He has tanned skin, eye black smeared under his eyes, and wearing shoulder pads. Black spandex shorts are shoved to his ankles around a pair of cleats.

Does this do it for River?

I would have thought he’d have a thing for hockey players, specifically me.

Interesting.

Although, I’m not surprised the hot jock is doing it for him. He’s watched me jerk off more times than I can count. Sometimes, he just sits there and admires my dick, ignoring the boner in his pants.

We made a lot of porn together over the years. If I had known River was into this kind of shit, I would have filmed myself for him. Maybe I will. I wonder how he would react if I texted him a video like this one but in my hockey gear.

Fuck, yeah.

I like this idea.

When my knee hits the mattress River stops moving. Hell, I’m pretty sure he stops breathing.

I get on the mattress behind him, my hard cock pushed up against his ass. He doesn’t move. So, I rip out the earbud and bite his earlobe.

“You dirty fuck. I would have made videos like this if you had asked.”

“Nate,” he whispers, sounding a mix between deflated and turned on.

“It’s okay, Riv.” My cock senses him and rubs up against his ass, needing the friction. “I don’t care if you like guys.”

He drops the phone on the bed, but the video still plays, the sound drowned out by the discarded earbuds. “Nate, what the fuck are you doing in here? I told you not to⁠—”

I take his length in my hand. “Shut up and let me finish.”

River must be too far gone because he clutches my wrist and helps me jerk his shaft. He leans his head back on my shoulder and moans.

“Is this real?”

“Very fucking real,” I growl in his ear, working my hand faster. “Pick up your phone.”

“W-what…” He moans. “Why?”

I flick my tongue over his neck and back up to his earlobe. “Just do it.”

River follows my command, and I reward him by sinking my teeth into his neck, kissing it better as I pull away. “Good boy. Now, tell me what you like about this video.”

“It’s hot,” he bites out, his entire body shaking from either nerves or the orgasm brewing. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“What’s hot about it?” I grip him tighter and slide my hand up and down, rolling my thumb over the tip, using his pre-cum as a lubricant. “Tell me, Riv. Talk dirty to me.”

He peeks up at me, but I can’t see his face clearly in the darkness. “Are you really into this?”

“I’m into sex,” I say, rocking my hips. “I told you earlier I’m horny as hell.”

Thankfully, my boxers protect us. Anal sex with a dude, even one as hot as River…

Yeah, no.

Not happening.

On the verge of coming in my boxers, I fist him harder, tugging like it’s my dick. “Would you let that guy fuck you?”

“Nate, please,” he whimpers.

“Would you?”

He pauses and then lets out a sigh. “Yes.”

“If I pulled down my boxers right now, would you let me fuck your tight hole?”

“Yes.”

God, I knew it.

River wants me.

Not once in my life have I ever looked at another man and thought, I want to fuck him… until River.

He’s the exception.

I lean over his shoulder and get a better look at the man on the screen. His dick is enormous and leaking pre-cum.

As I slide my free hand to his throat, I grind my dick on his ass and work him into a frenzy. “I won’t fuck you. But I’ll make you come.”

“Oh god,” River mumbles. “Nate. Fuck. I’m gonna…”

Seconds later, River comes on my hand, the bedsheet, and even his cell phone. His cum slides down the screen and lands on the camboy, who’s just busted the biggest nut. Cum is everywhere. His stomach, thighs, arms, hand, even the floor.

Where the fuck did he hide all of that?

River’s still moaning, but his dick is deflating in my hand. So, I tug down my boxers and give myself a few pumps just in time to shoot my stream on River’s perfect ass.

I wish I could see my cum painting his skin. If I weren’t so exhausted, I would get up and turn on the light. Instead, I grab his cell phone and open the camera app.

“Nate, what are you doing?”

“Savoring this moment.”

River grunts. “I don’t even wanna know. This is so fucking embarrassing.”

“Nah. This was fun.”

I snap a picture of the head of my dick tucked between his cheeks, my cum dripping from his skin and onto my cock. Then, I text it to myself.

“Nate, you just came on me,” River groans. “Go get a towel or something. I’m not rolling over covered in your jizz.”

I laugh. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

We were wild our first few years as roommates. Two dumbass kids figuring out their dicks and having a good time. Everything in our dorm room was sticky. Our boxers could stand on their own by the end of each week.

I slide off the bed, grab a towel from the back of his door, and turn on the light. Since he made me get up, I need to see for myself.

“Nate, turn that off.” River buries his face in a pillow and groans. “I’m seriously so embarrassed right now.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“How are you acting so cool about what we just did? What you saw me doing?”

I kneel behind him and clean him up, taking my sweet time admiring my cum splashed on his ass. “Because it changes nothing.”

I’m not gay.

This never happened.

After I wipe my dick and turn off the light, I hop into bed with him. River is on his back now, staring up at the ceiling. He breathes loudly through his nose, making too much noise for me to sleep. Besides, I’m too hopped up on adrenaline. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire from that experience. And I want to do it again.

“I could wear my shoulder pads and shin guards for the video,” I suggest. “Maybe elbow pads and skates. I could take my time stripping for you. What do you think?”

He chokes out a laugh. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Nope.”

“Oh god.”

“I prefer to be called Nate, but god will do for now.”

River laughs and smacks my stomach with his pillow. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” I pull him close enough to smell his musky cologne and soap. “You love me.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I do.”

“Anyway, I also thought I could do a video in my jersey. No gear underneath. Just me naked from the waist down except for shin guards and skates, slowly teasing the camera as I shove my jersey up my stomach. Or I could do a strip tease first.”

“Fuck,” River hisses.

“Yeah, you like that one better?”

“I feel like you’re fucking with me,” River says, resting his head on my chest. “Are you making fun of me for watching gay porn?”

“Not at all. I get the appeal. That was kinda hot.”

“Yeah.” He tilts his head to look at me. “You think so?”

If River is gay or bisexual or however he wants to identify, then I’m going to make him the best fucking porn. I want him to know that I support him. That I will keep his secret. He’s confused and questioning his sexuality, which is understandable because I am, too.

“Why do you think I’m offering to make it for you?”

“This is not how I thought tonight would go after you left the house.” River flings his arm across my body, draped over me like a heavy blanket. “Are you gay, Nate?”

“Fuck, no,” I say without hesitation.

I might wonder why I enjoyed this, but I am not into other men. My interests are specific to River.

“Then what was this?”

I trace my finger over his nipple. “Just two friends helping each other out.”

River sucks in a sharp breath as my finger wanders lower. “Friends don’t make gay porn for each other.”

“Sure they do.”

He chuckles to cover another moan slipping past his lips. “No, they don’t.”

I play with the thin patch of hair below his belly button, loving how he shivers when I touch him. “You would like it, wouldn’t you?”

He hesitates and then says, “Yeah, I would.”

“Okay, then I’ll do it for you.” I hold River close to my chest and drink in his scent. “You should know by now there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You’ve done so much for me. There’s no way I can ever repay you for helping all these years.”

He yawns, lying across me like a sleeping cat. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Yeah, I do.

As he falls asleep on my chest, I wonder what tonight means for us. Nothing has to change, yet everything feels different. I can’t look at the world the same after holding River’s dick in my hand or coming on his ass.

I might not be straight.

That kind of scares me.

Maybe when Samantha comes over this weekend, she can fuck the gay out of me.

CHAPTER 10

RIVER

For weeks, my relationship with Nate has been off. He’s been emotionally distant since he caught me watching gay porn. But he kept his promise. Nate makes me the hottest fucking porn I have ever seen. Well, it’s hot because Nate is on the other side of the camera.

True to his word, he wore his hockey gear in some videos and his jersey in others. He’s been sending me one a day for a while now. And every night, I jerk off to him while he beats his dick on the other side of the wall.

God, we’re so fucked up.

Since he’s rewarded me with not only his silence but his sexy body, I don’t say no when he asks me to fuck Samantha. I could give a damn about her. The sex is no longer about the girls.

I’m here for him, and he knows it.

After almost two months of burying our cocks in Samantha, we’re already in too deep. She thinks this is a relationship. Nate texts her every day. He only talks about sex, but still… she thinks we’re a throuple.

I can see the look in her eyes when Nate pulls Samantha on top of him. She’s obsessed with him, her face lighting up as he sinks into her.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

The sad thing is Samantha won’t be the last. There will always be another girl for us to share. And because I love him, I never say no. So, here we are once again, about to be balls-deep in this chick, all so I can feel his big dick caress mine.

He likes us this way.

Two dicks.

One hole.

Lots of lube.

It’s a damn slip-and-slide when we’re with her. My skin itches like roaches are crawling down my arms, chest, and thighs. Anymore, fucking her turns my stomach, and it’s not because she’s ugly.

Samantha has a cute button nose, freckles on her cheeks, and pouty lips. She has nice tits, too.

I’d rather claim her ass, but I love how it feels when Nate’s cock rubs mine. So, I put my hand on her shoulder and mash her big tits on his chest. I want to smother her for getting in the way. She’s such a dirty whore for letting us fuck her like this.

But what does that make me?

I allow them to use my body so I can live out my fantasy, hoping one day that Nate will realize he wants me.

I sit back on my heels, contemplate bolting out the door, and then Nate’s golden-brown eyes meet mine. The world stops. My muscles ache, but the one thumping in my chest hurts more.

His perfect lips part for me.

Lips I dream about kissing.

They look soft and smooth, yet he’s rough and unyielding. When Nate kisses Samantha, he devours her. I bet she forgets her name and how to breathe.

The kiss ends with him biting her lip. I would slit her throat if it meant feeling his blond stubble on my jaw, my cheeks, those short hairs trailing down my chest, and between my thighs.

Just once.

I’m not greedy.

His long lashes flutter as he rocks his hips, driving into the puck bunny. For a moment, he stares at me. Blinks. Nate opens his mouth like he wants to say something.

There are so many things left unsaid, and it’s ruining our friendship. At some point, this has to end. And what then? What will become of us?

“Ride my cock.” He slaps her ass. “Get nice and wet for River to slide right in.”

Nate winks, and I want to kiss the adorable look from his handsome face. His fingertips dig into Samantha’s ass as he bounces her up and down his cock.

I focus on Nate’s primal grunts. All the sexy sounds he makes for her. I wish they were for me. What I wouldn’t give to be the one getting pounded into by Nate Brooks.

“Riv,” Nate chokes out, sweat matting his forehead. “She’s so wet.” His tongue rolls over his lip as he looks up at me. “Fuck, she feels good.”

Nate rubs her clit with his thumb and sits up to kiss her. I hate she can kiss him. A stranger gets more from him than I ever will.

As I rub lube over my condom-wrapped dick, Samantha backs her ass into me.

“Greedy little whore,” I say as I press my tip to her entrance.

“Yeah, she is.” Nate flashes one of his sexy smiles that makes my cock jump in anticipation. “Hurry up. I need to come.”

If only I were the reason he comes.

The logistics are not great. I mean, this is super fucking awkward and uncomfortable. I feel like I’m about to tip over as I inch into Samantha beside Nate’s fat cock.

Fitting two big dicks into a small hole isn’t ideal. It’s also not a turn-on for me. Now, if I could throw Samantha aside and jam my cock into Nate’s ass, I could die happy.

I can barely move with Nate thrusting his hips upward while I hit her at a different angle. Samantha whimpers, her head dropping to Nate’s chest.

He curls an arm around her. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She has trouble getting out the word, keeping her head down.

Why she agreed to do this is beyond me. She must get off on the pain. Or maybe it’s because she gets to fuck the son of a hockey player.

I have had money and fame all my life, but no one knows the real me. No one ever will. I can’t be gay… and a hockey player.

My dad would never allow it.

So, I fuck my best friend and his little whore, reveling in the feeling of his cock moving in tandem with mine. I watch his face, the slight part of his lips, the strength of his jaw, and listen to his moans.

He’s my sole focus.

The more we fuck her together, the more I want him. My heart can’t handle the longing, the need—the desire to be with my straight best friend.

“I’m coming,” Nate growls, and I feel the pulse of his cock, which sends me running to the finish line.

“So am I.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “Harder, River.”

I want to choke her.

Throw her body in the bay.

Get her away from Nate.

Can I fuck her to death?

My eyes flick to Nate and how hot he looks as he comes. The sheer force of his orgasm mixed with mine knocks me off balance. As cum rockets out of my body, I imagine filling up Nate instead of the condom.

Gasping for air, I crash on top of Samantha, my attention still on Nate. But he’s looking at the puck bunny, too busy to care about me. Annoyed, I pull out and slide off the bed, needing to escape them. I rip off the condom, sickened by her cum and the lube on my skin, and toss it into the trash can.

I need to leave.

The knot in my stomach tightens. Disappointed and disgusted with myself, I itch to get out of here.

I want to cut my heart from my chest, hand it to Nate, and say, It’s yours. Take it! Instead, I choke down the bile, try not to vomit, and search for my clothes.

This part could have been avoided if I had told him no. One word would make all the difference. Yet, whenever Nate asks me to fuck her, I say yes. Denying him means giving up the only thing I look forward to anymore. For these brief moments, he’s mine. The stolen glances, the tiny smiles on his lips as he comes.

I pretend all of it is for me.

Years of torturing myself have led us to this point in our friendship. If I let myself fuck a man who wants me, everything could go back to normal. But I won’t. Not if I can have Nate for a few minutes. I’m a masochist and take whatever scraps he throws at me.

Nate leans over the side of his bed. “Riv, where are you going? We’re not done with her.”

I slip into black boxer briefs and push the Yankees hat onto my head, covering my sweaty hair. “I am.”

“What the fuck?”

Nate almost sounds sad, but I know he needs me to stay because it makes him feel safe after all the trauma he endured. But he already came and doesn’t need me anymore.

“Where are you going?”

No idea.

I yank a pair of gray joggers up my thighs and toss a shirt and hoodie over my shoulder, carrying my sneakers.

“Don’t go,” Samantha says, batting her eyelashes at me. “Stay and play with us.”

I leave Nate’s bedroom without answering them, slamming the door behind me.

CHAPTER 11

NATE

River is not fucking leaving me. Not again. He does this shit all the time, and I’m sick of it. We’ll be balls deep in Samantha, and then he races out the door the second he comes.

Not tonight.

Fuck him.

He walks out of my bedroom, a shirt and hoodie slung over his shoulder, holding his sneakers by the laces. A strange look furrows his brows.

Anger?

Sadness?

Regret?

I can’t tell because he slams my door.

Haven’t I done enough for him? Fuck, I kept his damn secret. I even make him those hockey videos of me jerking off in my gear. How many gay men can say their straight friend makes them porn?

I mean, come on.

Furious, I slide off the mattress, ignoring Samantha’s pleas to return to bed and step into the hallway. River’s halfway down the stairs, so I barrel down the stairs after him.

In the living room, the lights are off.

Three of our teammates are hooking up with girls on the sectional couch. A porno plays on the TV. On the screen, an ugly dude is banging a hot blonde chick with big tits. Pretty vanilla. Not the freaky sex River and I prefer.

“Riv, wait up.”

“No,” he says, stepping into a pair of sneakers. “Just go back to Samantha. I don’t feel like talking.”

“Stop running away like a little bitch.”

River laughs, but it sounds more like a gunt. “Yeah, okay, Nate. Whatever.”

“Would you two stop fighting like an old married couple?” Carter Hayes says, peeling his lips from a mediocre-looking blonde, leaning over the couch to glare at us. “We’re kinda busy over here, dickheads.”

I wave my hand. “Fuck off.”

I don’t care what anyone thinks. Everyone in this house has seen me naked hundreds of times. Clothes are optional, in my opinion. Or at least they should be, especially when you have a body like mine.

The brunette kissing Parker Hale bites her lip, eyeing up my cock.

“Take a good look, sweetheart.” I hold my arms out at my sides. “I got the best dick in this house.”

My calves are toned.

My thighs are solid muscle.

I have a sexy bubble butt.

Corded with muscles, my six-pack has a six-pack, and my biceps are too big for even River to wrap his hands around them.

I’m hot.

I know it.

So do the girls gawking at me.

So do my loser teammates.

I could fuck their girls—and they know it.

Parker groans. “You’re such an asshole, Brooks. Put some clothes on, would you? This isn’t a nudist colony.”

“No, but it is my house. And I don’t feel like wearing fucking clothes.”

“Yeah,” Carter agrees. “So not fucking cool, dude. We’re not in the locker room.”

“You’re just jealous.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if the girls slip out of their rooms later and knock on my door. It wouldn’t be the first time a puck bunny did that to one of my teammates.

“They’re right,” River groans. “Would you put your dick away? Fuck, Nate.”

“Nah, I’m good,” I say, approaching the door where River stands, my cock swinging in the breeze.

Yep, it’s that big.

I glance at the blonde chick, her mouth hanging open like she’s ready to intercept my dick. “If you don’t want to fake your orgasm tonight, sweetheart, my room is upstairs. Third door on the left. Right next to the bathroom.”

She presses her lips together, eyes wide.

Carter pulls her onto his lap, scowling. “Get your own girl, Brooks.”

“Oh, I got one. She’s upstairs, naked and wet, bent over on all fours on my bed. And she does anything I want. And I mean anything.”

“Asshole,” he grunts.

Most of my teammates hate me, or at the very least, tolerate me for River’s sake. Everyone loves him. I don’t care if they want to carve out my eyeballs and spoon-feed them to me. It’s fun playing the villain of the house.

River cracks open the door, his body angled away from me. “Get dressed, Nate. Your dick is like a fucking weapon.”

“Really, Riv? That’s what you’re worried about? I might hurt someone with my dick.”

One of the girls giggles.

Another gasps.

Since everyone’s so worried about my cock, I curl my fingers around my shaft. But it’s not for the lurkers on the couch. No, I do it to see how River responds.

Sex is a weapon for me.

It’s power.

I use it against River to keep him close to me. It’s why I send him those filthy videos every day. And it’s why I won’t stop unless he asks me. Let’s face it, he won’t do that. After I send a new video, I lean against the wall separating our rooms and listen to him jack off to me.

I fucking love it.

As I had anticipated, River’s eyes lower to my cock, and he licks his lips. My best friend stares at me—a lot.

I need his attention.

It’s so addicting.

Whenever we’re inside Samantha, and he zones out, I say his name. Bring his focus back to me. And just like that, he’s pounding her pussy like a champ. Lately, he’s been off and doesn’t seem interested in our sex games anymore.

“What are you doing, Nate?” River chokes out, his voice hoarse.

I bet he’s hard for me.

I can’t tell with the hoodie in the way.

“Getting ready for Samantha,” I say, dick in my hand, enjoying his eyes widening at the sight of me. “Are you coming back to bed or what? I’m in the mood to go all night.”

He wants to.

I can see it in his eyes.

It’s a sickness we share.

Why do I do this to him?

The short answer? Because I can.

Thinking back to our younger years, we were both pretty fucked up and looking for someone to love us.

River became my family.

Mine.

“Are you two gonna fuck or what?” Carter asks, still pissed about me offering to fuck his girl. “Jesus, Brooks. You and River got some weird ass shit going on.”

At that, River tenses up.

His shoulders stiffen.

I see him shrink before me, disgusted by the insinuation. He's not scared when it’s just the two of us. If anyone were to discover River likes men, he would be the most talked about person in this country. It could ruin his hockey career and sponsorships.

“Don’t you have a woman to disappoint with your baby dick?” I spit back at Carter, ready to break his neck for upsetting River.

“God, you’re such a dick,” Carter growls.

“Yeah. My dick is awesome. Thanks for noticing.”

His puck bunny giggles.

“If you wake up tomorrow and can’t find your girl, she’s in my bed.”

River uses this opportunity to slip out the door, but I slink through it and stand on the porch, baring my naked body to everyone on Greek Row.

“Nate, you could get arrested for public nudity,” River mutters, shaking his head.

“Doubtful. Those chicks across the street are staring so hard their eyeballs are about to hit the pavement any second.”

He moves in front of me to block my body. “Please let me go, Nate. I need a second to breathe on my own.”

Let him go?

Never. You’re mine.

Seeing the anguish on his face makes my stomach hurt. So, I nod, knowing this is what he needs, even though I don’t accept his rejection. Anger burns my skin and crawls through my insides like poison as he moves down the porch steps and slips into his car.

Then he’s gone, and I’m…

I can’t place the feeling.

But I don’t like it.

Come back, River.

CHAPTER 12

RIVER

The blood boils in my veins as I hit the gas pedal, flying through the deserted streets of Beacon Bay. Shifting gears, I whip around a corner, furious with myself. Every time we fuck Samantha, I fall deeper for Nate.

Why do I keep putting myself in the position to get hurt? While this feeling is not new, it grows stronger every second.

I still remember the day we met at Remington Academy and would give anything to return to those days before our lives got so complicated.

My legs shook as I entered our shared bedroom. Nate rose from his bed, a mess of blond hair brushing his tanned forehead, cheeks flushed. I noticed his height first. He towered over me, looking much older than twelve. If my dad hadn’t told me we were the same age, I would have assumed Nate was almost out of high school.

He wore a black suit jacket with the school’s logo on the breast pocket and matching slacks. Standing tall for his age, hands on his narrow waist, Nate reminded me of a politician, not a boy.

He grinned like he was good at keeping secrets, eying up every detail of my face. “Do you like to hunt?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, unsure how to answer, so I just stared.

“Well, do you?” Nate said with a thick Texan drawl, his big, brown eyes widening on me.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Never tried it.”

Nate put his hand on my shoulder and steered me to his side of the room. He nodded at the target practice poster on the wall above his bed. Red dots marked the center of the man’s chest and head, both ripped to shreds by bullets.

“You’re either the hunter or the hunted. Which one are you?”

At the time, I was thrown off by his question. Now, I would give anything for Nate to turn his hunter instincts on me.

Some nights, I imagine him pinning me to a wall. Or bent over his bed. My favorite fantasies are of us in the locker room shower. However, I would take Nate anywhere I could have him.

When I touch myself, I dream of his thick cock in my ass, his blonde stubble grazing my inner thighs. All the sexy sounds he makes. The cute dimple that pops in his cheek when he’s focused, seconds from coming.

Since boarding school, I have denied myself pleasure—a decade of wanting someone I can never have.

My chest aches.

My heart breaks.

That fucking whore is with my best friend, in my house, sleeping under my roof. In the morning, she’ll eat my food and kiss my friend. Fuck my friend.

I hate her.

It’s not her fault, though.

Samantha has no idea why I freak out every time we fuck.

I crank up the music belting through the speakers. My dad got me this sick ride after I won last year’s Frozen Four for my team. An Aston Martin DB12 with all the bells and whistles, including premium speakers.

I blast heavy metal—my go-to when I’m pissed—and blow through a red light. “Master of Puppets” by Metallica fills the car, and I bob my head to the beat. Only the drunks are out this late. The frat houses are in full-blown party mode, the music audible from a mile away.

The small coastal town is a tourist attraction in the summer. But with winter almost here, a frosty chill blankets the city. My teeth chatter, so I crank up the heat and increase the temperature of the leather seat.

Whenever in doubt, I drive to the same place every time. My brain does it on autopilot. Glitter is the only gay nightclub within fifty miles of campus. I mostly come to watch men make out. Sometimes, I dance with guys.

But no sex.

Not yet, anyway.

I still haven’t worked up the nerve to go all the way. Until then, my tight ass will stay preserved for the right man.

I want it to be Nate.

I want to be his everything.

As I approach the club’s entrance, I pull down the Yankees cap to conceal my face. I can’t risk anyone spotting me. You never know where the paparazzi are hiding. My entire life has been filmed, photographed, and, at one point, televised.

A few months after The Hockey Life ended and my dad shipped me off to boarding school, my life finally started—because I met Nate. Overnight, he became the brother I always wanted, my family when I had no one but him.

We bonded over our shitty parents and learned we were both awesome at hockey. I taught him puck-handling skills, and he showed me how to shoot a rifle and stand up for myself.

Nate is my person.

Mine.

And the witch took him.

I walk toward the door, dressed in gray joggers and a zip-up hoodie. Some men wear super bright colors. Others are shirtless, tight pants clinging to their asses.

The bouncer scans my driver’s license at the door and glances at my face. If he knows my name, he doesn’t say anything. I hand him the cover charge, get a shimmering gold bracelet slapped on my wrist, and enter the club.

I speak as little as possible when I come to Glitter. I’m so worried about someone remembering me from a TikTok video.

The club has two floors, a vaulted ceiling with suspended cages, and five bars. There’s a main stage and a few smaller ones where the dancers strip. Above my head, men grind against the cage bars. All the blood rushes straight to my dick, fueling my desires. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to quell the cravings.

I love it here.

It’s raining men.

What’s not to like?

My father says all gay men are going to Hell. He would tell me what I’m doing is unnatural and defies the laws of nature.

Fuck him.

If this is Hell, sign me up. I’ll gladly burn with my fellow sinners.

Men are kissing and practically fucking on the steps, the dance floor, and up against the bars. I dart toward the first bar, and a small hand grabs my dick. Another hand squeezes my ass.

“Hey, cutie,” a twink yells at me, batting a pair of eyelashes so long they must be fake. “Where are you going?” He wiggles his tiny ass, the spandex pants clinging to his lithe frame. “Dance with me.”

I could crush him at six feet two and two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Compared to him, I’m a giant. I could easily throw him around and do whatever I wanted.

But he’s not my type.

I come here looking for someone like Nate, someone similar in height and build to me. Bonus points if they like sports, especially hockey. So far, I have yet to find my perfect match at this club… or anywhere.

Because my man is at home with her.

I shake the twink off and continue toward the bar, searching for men who meet my criteria—my Nate checklist.

Leaning against the bar, I flag down a shirtless man behind the counter. Bodies and gazes shift in my direction, and my cheeks flush with heat. Every time, I wonder if someone will recognize me. After six months of coming here, my secret is still safe. But it’s only a matter of time before someone reveals it.

“You look lost,” a deep voice growls in my ear.

“Let me guess,” I say, turning to face him, “you…”

The words stick to my tongue and won’t come out. Entranced by the gorgeous man standing before me, I let him invade my space with his manly scent.

He has short, spiky black hair and is toned in all the right places. Shirtless, mesh shorts hang low from his narrow waist. I could get lost in those big blue eyes lined with eye black—like I am right now.

We’re the same height and build, except my arms are more muscular and covered in tattoos. He leans into my bicep, smothering the air from my lungs as his lips inch toward mine.

Holy shit!

It’s him.

A quizzical look crosses over his face. “Have I seen you here before?”

Panic sets in for a second before I realize he means the club. Most people come up to me and ask why I look so familiar. I always tell them I have one of those faces and run in the opposite direction.

“I come to Glitter sometimes. So, yeah, you’ve probably seen me around.”

His eyes. I couldn’t ignore them if I tried. My sexy Law and Ethics professor—aka Baby Face—stands before me. Because of him, Nate jerked me off and now sends me sexy videos. I know it’s because Nate was jealous. The thought of me getting off to another man probably infuriated him. Whatever his reasons, I will never tell Nate to stop sending those hot as fuck videos.

“Not sure how I missed you.” He licks his lips, and I want to jam my cock between them. “You have a face I’d never forget.”

It sounds like a cheesy pickup line, but coming from him, it’s hot.

I unzip my hoodie so he can see I’m also fit. His eyes lower to my chest, slowly inching down to my cock. The sweatpants leave nothing to the imagination.

I move my hand to his hip and pull him closer. “Can I buy you a drink?”

He shakes his head. “I’m working.”

“Are you a bartender?”

“How about I let you figure that out?”

My lips brush his, but he makes no move to kiss me. “I like a little mystery. What’s my prize for solving it?”

“Baby Face,” a man calls out, hovering over us. He must be close to seven feet tall and built like a refrigerator. “Is this creep bothering you?”

Me, a creep?

I stifle a laugh.

When I see him online, he’s usually dressed like a football player, shirtless and donning shoulder pads, eye black under his eyes, and tight ass shorts with nothing under them.

He’s not wearing his usual costume. But if this man calls him by his OnlyFans name, he must be getting ready to put on a show.

My obsession with him started over the summer when Nate went home for a few days to visit his family. While Nate was gone, I wanted something to jerk off to and stumbled on Baby Face’s videos.

It only took one of his teasers for me to subscribe. I lost days of my life and gave myself a hand and leg cramp coming to the sound of his voice and his big dick.

“Nah, he’s not bothering me,” Baby Face tells the bouncer. “We were just talking.”

He winks at me and follows the bouncer in the opposite direction, leaving me with a rock-hard erection.

By some miracle, he doesn’t recognize me from his class. It’s probably because I sit in the back with Nate. I keep my head down and try not to draw too much attention on campus.

Tonight, I’m not quite myself. So, I get a crazy idea—anything to help me forget about Nate and the hole he’s carved into my heart.

CHAPTER 13

NATE

Please let me go, Nate. River’s plea still haunts me. Even with Samantha on her knees, hands on my spread thighs, head bobbing up and down on my cock. She’s trying to work me up again, but I’m not in the mood.

Not since River left me.

Us, I mean us.

He left us.

So why does it feel like he walked out on me, not Samantha? I hate that River acted like I was holding him hostage. I don’t recall pointing a gun at his head and forcing him to fuck her.

“What’s going on?” Samantha says, fisting my limp dick. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Nope.

Even after two minutes of her porn star efforts, I can’t get into what should have been a fan-fucking-tastic blow job. Samantha gives the best head of any puck bunny. It’s one of many reasons she’s lasted so long with River and me.

Two months.

That’s a record.

She deserves a gold star.

“Just not feeling it,” I tell her.

She sits back on her heels, her tits mashed together, staring up at me with those big, blue eyes. “Is it me?”

Why am I not hard right now?

I should be.

I mean, look at her.

Huge tits, tiny pink nipples, a thick ass—that still has my handprint on it—and willing to do anything. I wasn’t joking when I told my teammates about her. Samantha has no limits. Like me, she enjoys pushing boundaries. Hence, how we ended up with River and me fucking her pussy at the same time.

She loves it.

So do I.

So does he.

When I feel River moving inside her in tandem with me, I nut so hard I lose the ability to speak. All the oxygen sucks right from my body along with my cum.

I know what’s missing.

River.

Fuck.

I grab my cell phone and flip through hundreds of videos. We film most of our sexploits. The girls are all into it and fuck even better when they know someone could watch them.

When I find the perfect video, I hit play. Samantha’s sexy fucking moans and River’s grunts carry over the music playing in the background.

“What are you watching?” Samantha lifts her head, popping my dick out of her mouth, saliva dripping from her lips. “That sounds like me.”

“It is.” I push her head down until she’s choking on my dick. “Don’t stop. Get me nice and hard if you want me to pound that pussy.”

She gags on my dick, the vibration sending a jolt to my balls. Fuck, this girl could suck the dick right off my pelvis.

With the phone in my left hand, I watch River on the screen. As Samantha straddles my thighs, he moves behind her, bending her forward. Her long, blonde hair covers my eyes, her nipples brushing my lips. You can’t see much more than my legs and chest from the side and my fingers digging into her sweet ass.

When we filmed this, I couldn’t see what River was doing to her. Keeping one hand on her ass, he slides his thumb between her pussy lips.

He licks his lips.

His dick is rock-hard.

River watches her cum drip onto my cock. Then, he looks at me, pupils nearly blown out, and he’s so excited. He fists his thick cock and rolls on a rubber, still watching me—not her.

I’m not sure what it means.

Or why we’re like this.

He guides Samantha onto my cock, and from this angle, I see him smirk. He likes having this power over her. So do I.

I think I’m a sex addict.

Well, I know I am.

One time, I Googled signs of sex addiction and got a list of questions that made it crystal clear I have a fucking problem.

1. Do you have some form of sex daily?

Fuck, yes.

2. Do you enjoy group sex?

Oh, hell fucking yes.

3. Do you have sex with multiple partners?

See number two.

4. Do you engage in unprotected sex?

Fuck, no. Herpes is for life.

5. Do your sexual urges control your life?

Define control.

6. Do you masturbate multiple times a day?

My dick won’t stroke itself.

After a few questions, I got bored and closed the web browser. It was pretty obvious the answer was yes, but the questionnaire didn’t factor in my age. I’m a twenty-two-year-old hot-blooded American man.

Of course, I like sex.

I never turn down pussy.

Samantha gags on my cock, massaging my balls in her hand. She’s so tiny compared to me. So fragile. And she smells nice, like fruit or candy. I can’t place the scent, but I like it.

The second I feel my orgasm building, I push her off my dick and rise from the chair. “Get up.”

“What the fuck, Nate?” Samantha tucks a few blonde curls behind her ears. “What is up with you tonight? You’ve been acting like a weirdo since River left.”

She has no idea.

My connection to sex goes back to our years being roommates at Remington Academy. River was there for some of my firsts, and I was there for all of his.

I kissed Layla Matheson. Then, I dared River to kiss her, too. A sick part of me wanted to share that moment with him. It only seemed fitting since we jerked off together all the time. We watched the same porn and knew what sounds the other made when he came.

River lost his virginity on my bed, the two of us taking turns until we both came. And I got off on his moans, making him my sole focus. I didn’t care about the girl. I only cared about making him feel good.

How could I not?

He’s my best friend.

I know our relationship is fucked up, but I don’t care. No one else understands me the way River does. He knows what I need and gives it to me.

“Nate,” Samantha says, snapping me back to the present. “What is your deal?”

“I don’t want to come in your mouth.” I rub my thumb across her bruised lips. “Bend your fat ass over my bed and shut up.”

Samantha scoffs. “My ass is not fat.”

“The fuck it’s not.” I shove my hand through her hair to mess it up some more. “Learn to take a compliment, woman.” I point my finger. “Bed. Knees. Now.”

She giggles. “So bossy.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s right. I am the boss.”

A quick slap to her fat ass gets her moving. She squeals and practically jumps onto my bed.

Good girl.

I plug my phone into the cable connected to my TV and change the input so our video plays on the screen. The flat-screen mount has an adjustable arm, so I move it closer to the bed.

Samantha kneels on the mattress, facing the TV. “What are you gonna do to me this time?”

I toss a condom and a bottle of lube onto the bed. Her eyes widen as I approach. Propped up on her elbows, she looks up at me like she wants me to eat her. I will if she’s a good girl.

“We’re gonna watch River and me fuck you.” I climb onto the bed and move behind her. “While I fuck this tight ass.”

She moans when I drag my finger down her crack and then slip it into her wet pussy. “Oh, god, Nate.”

“God can’t help you in here.” A Joker-like grin spreads across my face as I lather her tight hole with lube. “Keep your eyes on the screen.”

I follow my own instructions, focused on River’s muscular ass. He has a cute dimple on his left butt cheek that pops each time he thrusts into her. Seeing him dominate Samantha only makes me want to do the same. And since he’s not here, this is the next best thing.

As I fuck Samantha’s ass, I shove two fingers in her pussy. It’s still not enough. So, I add another. I need her nice and full—how she feels when River and I fuck her. But even that’s not enough because my fingers are a poor replacement for River’s dick.

“Holy shit,” she hisses. “Wow, that feels good, Nate.”

I fuck her like a madman possessed, the metal headboard slamming into the wall.

Thump, thump, thump.

She whines.

Screams.

Begs me for more.

“Harder, Nate.”

I fill her with so much force my balls smack her pussy over and over until I know I left a mark. But she likes it this way.

Rough, hard, no mercy.

Someone bangs on the wall.

One of my teammates.

Fuck them.

I’m about to come.

I’m so close.

And it’s not because of her.

It’s because of him.

River.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I don’t understand my obsession with him.

I’m not gay.

I don’t like guys.

So, why do I miss him?

CHAPTER 14

RIVER

I swear people are staring at me. My paranoia has kicked up a few notches. Years of being in the spotlight have fucked with my head. So, I booked a private dance with Baby Face.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

If anyone recognizes me, the media will ruin me and my family. I can already see the headline: Ryan Rousseau’s Son Caught Paying for Sex at a Gay Club.

My dad would kill me.

A shirtless blond escorts me, shaking his tiny ass as he walks. “This is the Ruby Room,” he says, waving his hand at the red leather couches lining the space. “Baby Face will be with you shortly.”

The room is aptly named, with a red light glowing on the walls and carpet. Even the leather couches are red. A dance beat belts through the speakers, drowning out the rapid thumping of my heart.

He turns to look at me, hand extended, waiting for a tip. I reach into my pocket and flip open my wallet. I don’t have less than a twenty, so I place one in his palm.

“Thanks, sugar.” He blows a kiss at me, stuffing the money into his spandex shorts. “You’re in for a real treat. Have fun.”

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket as I sit on the closest couch. It’s Nate. I’m shocked he waited this long.

I open the message and see a video attachment.

Nate

Your loss, Riv.

Curious, I click on the short video of Samantha’s hands tied to the headboard, Nate claiming her ass like he’s possessed. He tips his head back, lips parted, blond hair falling onto his forehead. His thick cock pulls out and slams back into her. Over and over, he relentlessly takes her from behind.

His eyes lock onto the camera. He’s staring at me, hoping to gain a reaction. This video has nothing to do with Samantha.

Nate filmed this for me.

What is he doing?

Until recently, Nate hadn’t shown any signs of wanting more than friendship. The handjobs don’t count. He only uses my hand to get off, a way to satisfy his addiction.

When someone clears their throat, I stuff the phone into my pocket and look up. Baby Face stands in the entryway, dark makeup lining his big, blue eyes. Dressed as a sexy football player, he looks like a fucking wet dream. This is the man I know from OnlyFans.

Fuck. Me.

I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat. He’s ripped in the arms and chest. His spandex shorts are so tight they leave little to the imagination.

I have no idea what to do.

Baby Face leans forward and places his hands on my thighs, eyes pointed at me. He moves his body like a seasoned pro, as if he’s done this a thousand times. I practically drool as he works me into a frenzy, luring me in with his intoxicating scent.

Baby Face unclips the shoulder pads that crash to the floor. Kicking them away, he moves closer. His eyes haven’t left mine since he entered the room. The football player costume is fucking doing it for me. I love strong, muscular men.

Men like Nate.

My dick gets perks up thinking about my best friend and his sexy body. The way his ass tightens when he fucks. I shouldn’t be thinking about Nate when I have the attention of this beautiful man.

He’s a few inches shorter and less built than Nate, but he’s my type. His hands roam up and down his chest, continuing a slow exploration until the spandex shorts are halfway down his thighs.

“Fuck,” I bite out, breathing harder, desperate to touch him. “Take those off.”

With a cute smile, he bends forward and shoves the shorts to the ground. He steps out of them, standing before me in a black thong. His dick and balls are enormous. The fabric can’t contain him.

In person, he’s even bigger.

The screen does not do him justice.

After torturing me for an entire song, he climbs on top of me. He straddles my thighs, slowly moving his hands up my chest and to my shoulders. My cock grows harder, tenting my sweatpants. I want to remove them, but that’s probably against the rules.

Baby Face cages me against the couch with his gorgeous body. When our skin connects, an electric spark glides down my spine—just a simple brush of his fingers over my biceps.

Fucking hell.

He shoves the zip-up hoodie off my shoulders, letting it drop onto the couch. Our eyes lock as he rocks his hips, rubbing his dick against mine. As he grinds on me, his balls slip from the thong’s pouch. His erect cock peeks out from his underwear, the tip leaking pre-cum I want to lick off.

A low growl escapes from my throat, and his eyes meet mine. “Can I touch you?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

I scan the room and don’t see any visible cameras. “We’re alone, right?”

He bobs his head.

“Will some scary bouncer come running in here and cut off my hands?”

He bites his lip, considering my question. “No. It’s just us. No cameras. No bouncers.”

That explains why I paid two grand for five songs. We can do a lot in that short of a time, and no one will stop us.

My erection rubs his stomach. His eyes slam shut, and he lets out a moan. When his eyes open again, he leans forward, our lips so close we could kiss.

The makeup only does so much to conceal his identity, but the more I stare, the more I notice the strength of his jaw, the perfect curve of his nose, and his sculpted eyebrows.

“Fuck, professor,” I choke out, mentally chastising myself as the words leave my mouth.

He stops moving, hands braced on my shoulders. “What did you say?”

“I called you… professor.”

Mortified, he slides off my lap.

I reach out to him, and he recoils, stepping backward. “I won’t tell anyone, professor. Promise. It’s just… I’m a big fan of your work. I watch all of your videos. They’re so fucking hot.”

Professor West covers his face with his hands and sighs. “Fuck.”

I rise from the bench and move in front of him. “Look, I have much more to lose than you if anyone finds out.”

He inspects my face for a lie. “How do I know you won’t tell anyone?”

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

He eyes me up again and shakes his head.

“I’m River Rousseau.”

He scratches his jaw, thinking it over, and mutters, “River? Your dad, he’s… No, I didn’t recognize you. I thought you were⁠—”

“Straight?”

He nods. “Yeah. But most people think that about me when we meet. Can’t make assumptions, I guess.”

In all fairness, we have never interacted until now. I sit with Nate and barely pay attention. Getting a degree is important to me, a fallback in case I don’t get signed by an NHL team or get injured, but I don’t see either of those things happening. I’m also not that interested in law. I only enrolled in the major to be near Nate.

“I’ll keep your secret,” I tell him. “No one knows I like men. And my dad… he would disown me. It would also ruin my hockey career.”

Professor West steps into his shorts, yanking them up his toned thighs. “I’ll see if the club can refund you. It is highly inappropriate for me to dance for a student.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this with you.”

“I’m one of your top subscribers. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

He pauses at the door.

“I’m not your student tonight. And you’re not my professor. Dance for me. It will be our dirty little secret.”

My hot professor spins around, his back to the door, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “River, we shouldn’t…”

“I’m not unsubscribing, professor.” Grabbing my aching cock, I lick my lips. “So, how about you dance on my dick for a few more songs, make some extra cash, and we can both walk out of here and forget this ever happened.”

When he doesn’t move, I whip out my wallet and drop a thousand dollars in cash on the bench. “I’ll just go home and jerk off to you, anyway. Might as well let me experience the real thing.”

He bites his bottom lip, staring at the money. Of course, he needs it. What kind of lawyer dances for cash and works as a camboy? He must have gotten himself mixed up in some serious shit to be this desperate.

Holding his gaze, I drop another five hundred dollars on the bench. “That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

I don’t feel like myself right now. Nate would do something like this, which only makes my cheeks flush with heat.

Fuck, what am I doing?

I have lost my damn mind.

Thankfully, my professor doesn’t take the bait, still standing by the door, unsure what to do. So, I scoop the cash into my hand and pocket it.

As I walk toward him, he steps aside. I yank open the door. “I don’t need a refund. Keep it. I’ll see you in class, professor.”

On my way to the parking lot, I feel lost. Tonight was supposed to be about figuring myself out—to see if my feelings for men extend beyond Nate. I enjoy watching gay porn and love Baby Face’s dirty videos, especially his collaborations with a hottie named Dean.

Does that make me gay?

Fuck if I know.

CHAPTER 15

RIVER

After leaving Glitter, I drove straight to the store and bought vodka. I parked at the marina, cracked open the window to smell the salty air, and drank until my brain shut off.

All night, Nate texted.

And all night, I ignored him.

Sometime between last night and this morning, I passed out on the steering wheel. One minute, I was dreaming about Nate taking my anal virginity, and then I was pulled back to the present, horn blaring and scaring the shit out of me.

I turn on my cell phone and force myself to read Nate’s texts. The last one he sent gutted me, so I stayed out all night.

Nate 12:47 a.m.

Bro, your pussy is waiting for you.

There’s a picture of Nate and Samantha in his bed, naked. His hand cups one of her huge tits, and with her legs spread, I see two of his fingers inside her. She does nothing for me. Either I no longer find Samantha attractive, or I’m super gay.

I used to consider myself bisexual. But as I get deeper into my obsession with Nate, I think I prefer guys more than girls.

Nate 12:50 a.m.

In case it wasn’t obvious, she wants you. Again.

Nate 12:51 a.m.

Come home. Samantha misses your dick.

Nate 1:01 a.m.

Dude, why are you fucking ignoring me?

Nate 1:04 a.m.

What the fuck? Are you allergic to pussy?

Nate 1:05 a.m.

Why did you run away? That was a dick move.

Nate 1:07 a.m.

This is fucked up, Riv. You’re being an asshole.

Nate 1:08 a.m.

Samantha keeps asking for you. She’s so fucking wet. Come fuck her.

Nate 1:08 a.m.

She’s thirsty for your dick, bro. Get your ass back here.

Nate 1:15 a.m.

Fine, fuck you. Don’t even bother coming home.

I’m mad at him. But I’m mostly angry at myself for letting things get out of hand. What started as sex has become so much more, and my heart can’t take it.

With a pounding headache, I drive back to Kingston University. Students stumble out of houses, half awake and disheveled. Some girls stagger down the steps of a frat house, the grass littered with red plastic cups.

My house doesn’t look any better. Living across the street from fraternities has its perks. But not so much when their trash makes its way onto our property.

I swerve when a girl walks in front of my car, nearly falling on top of it. She waves with a tiny smile, then staggers onto the pavement.

Dodging a few more students, I park in front of the house I share with nine hockey players. When I step inside, the house is a mess. Clothing is scattered on the couches and tables. There are at least a dozen bottles of alcohol, a deck of cards spread across the sofa, a woman’s red bra on the floor, and two pairs of panties.

Looks like my teammates had fun.

The house is unusually silent, even for eleven o’clock on a Sunday. Everyone must be sleeping off their hangovers. I slowly creep up the stairs toward my bedroom.

As I walk past Nate’s room, I’m extra quiet. The door is cracked open, and the floorboard creaks beneath my shoe.

“Riv?” Nate calls out. “Is that you?”

Fuck.

I stop at the sound of Nate’s deep voice and pause at the entryway, head down like a kid waiting to get scolded by his parents. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“What the fuck? Get in here.”

Sensing the anger in his tone, I push open the door, revealing him in bed with Samantha. Both are still naked, the same way I left them, their hot bodies on display.

Nate shoves a hand through his blond hair, his big dick hanging between his spread thighs. He has no shame about his body. My best friend thinks he’s God’s gift to women, and rightfully so.

“I’ve been texting you all night. We waited for you.” He tips his head at the puck bunny, smiling as if he didn’t tell me not to come home. “Get in. She’s warmed up and ready.”

More like stretched out and used.

Like an old condom.

No, thanks.

Nate has killer stamina. All hockey players do. We know how to reserve our energy for those quick bursts on the ice. He probably went all night with her. I’ve watched him line up girls and fuck them one after the other.

“Nah, I’m good,” I tell him. “I need to shower.”

Samantha sits back on the mattress, legs spread, and raises her hand to beckon me. “Come play with us, River.”

Nate’s rock hard and stroking his long length. His cock is perfect, smooth, and wet with pre-cum. I consider staying to watch him fuck because I love how his body moves when he’s racing to the finish line. But I’m not in the mood to fuck her. Now, if he were bent over and offering his ass to me, that would be a different story.

“Have fun without me.”

As I turn to leave, Nate says, “Don’t be such a pussy.”

I walk toward the door. “I have shit to do.”

I’m such a liar.

Well, technically, I have to film new videos for brand deals. My dad already texted about getting those posted this week. With school and practice, today is the only day I have time to work on them.

“Yeah, like what?” Nate asks.

“My dad is on my ass about filming more videos for the sponsors.”

A few years after my dad retired from the Rangers, he took the head coaching job with the team. Whenever he’s home, he travels to Connecticut to watch me play. We bond over hockey. But when it comes to other life shit, we have nothing in common.

I’m an only child and have lived in his shadow for years. He groomed me to be just like him in every way. That’s why I fear disappointing him. Dad sees so much of himself in me that my being anything but straight would shatter his world.

I can’t do that to him.

It’s better this way.

“I’ll help you,” Nate offers.

I bob my head, knowing I could use his help with setting up the tripod on the ice. “I have to shower first. I’m leaving for the rink in thirty.”

Nate slaps Samantha’s ass. “Off you go.”

She flicks her blonde locks over her shoulder and gasps. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, you wanna fuck?” Nate waggles his eyebrows at her. “If you’re a good girl and shut your mouth, maybe I’ll make you come one more time while River showers. But then you gotta go.”

She wets her lips. “Can’t I watch you guys practice?”

“Nope.” Nate slides off the bed and grabs a condom. “Sundays are reserved for River and me. No chicks allowed.”

It’s always been this way. Some people—like my father—go to church on Sundays. But Nate and me? We have our traditions. Hockey, junk food, and movies. And now that I think about it, we have a weekly date.

Fuck.

No wonder why I’m so in love with him. Nate has basically been courting me for the past decade.

Samantha shakes her head. “I don’t get you guys.”

Nate puts one knee on the bed, his sexy ass facing me, and tears open a condom with his teeth. He flips Samantha onto her stomach and drags her to him.

He runs his hand over her thick ass. “Is this what you want, my little slut?”

I wish he would do the same thing to me.

“Uh-huh,” she whimpers, then glances at me. “Get in bed with us, River.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Ripping off my hoodie, I head into the bathroom and turn on the shower. With Nate’s door open, I can hear them loud and clear. So can our teammates.

“Pussy or ass,” he says to Samantha.

I’m surprised he’s giving her the option. In the bedroom, Nate makes the rules. If he wants her ass, she bends over and lets him take her. Like Nate, Samantha has almost no limits.

“I want your dick in my pussy… and your fingers in my ass.”

“Dirty girl,” he praises, and then they’re both moaning, penetrating the silence in the house.

Our teammates know Nate is a freak. But they don’t realize my best friend is a sex addict. He would fuck until the skin peeled off his dick. And even then, he wouldn’t stop.

I step inside the double shower once the water is nice and hot.

Thump, thump, thump.

I hear Nate’s headboard crash into the wall and focus on his grunts. Licking my lips, I stroke my cock, imagining my hand is Nate’s.

My orgasm quickly builds as my best friend grunts in the room beside me. Almost as if we planned it, I’m coming at the same time as Nate. I can tell because I have programmed those sexy sounds of pleasure into my memory.

Bracing myself against the wall, I jerk my shaft hard as cum spills into my hand. A groan of relief and ecstasy slips past my lips.

“You and Brooks are so fucked up,” a male voice booms.

I thought I locked the door.

Shit.

No privacy in this damn house.

I poke my head out the glass door. “Get out, Waters. I’m trying to shower.”

The dark-haired beast of a man stands in front of the toilet and whips out his dick. “Sure sounded like it.” As he takes a piss, he says, “What’s with you and Brooks? You guys got some homo thing going on that I need to know about?”

Annoyed, I fired back, “No. And even if we did, it would be none of your fucking business.”

CHAPTER 16

NATE

The second I came, I told Samantha to get dressed and go on her merry way. She’s already cutting into my time with River—our weekly tradition.

No one fucks with River Time.

“Why can’t I watch you guys play?” Samantha tosses blonde locks over her right shoulder. “You’re just filming brand deal videos with River.”

I rise from the bed, naked and sticky with her cum after fucking for the past twelve hours. “It’s our time, babe. I already told you. No chicks allowed.”

She grabs her purse from the chair and tucks it under her arm. “Will you call me later?”

“Nope,” I say because it’s the truth. “We’ll be busy all day and night.”

I don’t let anyone intrude on my time with River. Not even the hottest pussy on campus. Lord knows I will be ready to fuck again later, but I won’t let her ruin Sundays for us.

“I don’t understand either of you. You guys act like you’re dating.”

“Fuck off,” I snap. “Just go home, Sam.”

How dare her?

I’m not fucking gay!

Her cheeks flush with heat. “Nate, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m not dating River. He’s my best friend. You just don’t get us. Maybe you should stop coming by the house if you’re so fucking bothered by my relationship with River.”

Samantha steps in front of me to block my path. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just sometimes I feel left out. We’ve been hooking up for two months. And you and River never invite me to go anywhere but your bedrooms or a party.”

Fuck, I am not having this conversation right now. We drop clingy girls like hot pokers. And I like fucking her. So…

“This is just sex. Neither of us ever promised you a thing. And we took you to get pizza last week.”

“Oh, how nice of you,” she says with an attitude. “You and River are only worth billions of dollars. It’s not like you can’t afford to take me someplace nice.”

“Stop.” I hold out my hand. “You’re not our girlfriend.”

“I know.” She frowns. “Because you don’t date. Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me a million times.”

“Then, it should have sunken in by now. I have never had a girlfriend. Neither has River. And we don’t want one. Got it?”

She wets her lips, staring at me with those big blue eyes. “I know. I just thought…”

“That’s the problem, Sam. You overthink.” I rub my thumb across her bottom lip. “You like how I treat your pussy, right?”

“Uh-huh,” she moans.

“Then that’s all that matters.”

I walk away with Samantha on my tail. We just fucked with the door open, giving everyone in the house a show. Waters’ door is open across the hall from mine. Parker and Hayes also have theirs cracked.

Dirty motherfuckers.

“Go ice down your pussy,” I say as we step into the hallway. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Samantha peeks up at me, wide-eyed and hopeful. “Can we eat breakfast together?”

“Sure, whatever.” I slap her ass and push her toward the stairs. “Good work, babe. A for effort. Now, it’s time for you to go.”

“You’re such a dick,” she groans.

“Yeah, and if you want more of my dick, you’ll stop talking and start walking.”

Samantha puts her palms on my chest, standing on her tippy toes to kiss me.

“You’re being clingy.” I turn my head and wipe her lipstick from my cheek. “Gross.”

“Would it kill you to be affectionate with me? Just once.”

What Samantha doesn’t understand is that sex is only sex to me. It’s a means to an end. A simple act to release my demons. If I weren’t driving my cock into her pussy, it would be another girl beneath me. She’s only lasted this long because River insisted we fuck one girl at a time.

Herpes is for life, am I right?

So, yeah, she’s here to stay until we get sick of her. Or she realizes this is never going anywhere. Samantha is not marriage material or even girlfriend material.

Anyway, it’s not like I date.

Ever.

Neither does River.

“Clingers get cut,” I tell Samantha. “I suggest you stop talking before we replace you with someone else.”

She scoffs. “Oh, fuck you, Nate. Seriously, just go fuck yourself.”

“I will,” I say with a smile. “And I won’t think about you when I do it.”

At that, she storms down the stairs.

I know I’m a dickhead.

What can I say?

I don’t form attachments to anyone. Not unless you count River. For whatever screwed-up reason, he’s the only person I have been able to create any connection with. My childhood shrink said it was because of all of the trauma I endured at an early age.

“Next time, shut your fucking door,” Waters yells into the hallway. “I’m trying to work over here.”

I poke my head inside his bedroom to see the wall of a man tapping away on his laptop, sitting cross-legged on his bed. “I know you sleazy motherfuckers get off to me bringing home puck bunnies. Don’t deny it, Big Boy.”

His eyes flare along with his nostrils. “If you weren’t on the starting line and the key to us winning another Frozen Four, I would end you, Brooks. Get the fuck out of my room!”

“Aww, I know you like me, Big Boy. It’s okay. I won’t tell your girl that you have a crush on me.”

I slam the door before he can say another word. Then, I push my way into the bathroom. Steam billows around my head, the mirror fogged from the hot water. River has always taken skin-melting showers.

I lock the door and step into the glass-encased double shower. River stands with his back to me, his palm on the tiled wall, water drizzling onto his dark hair.

River hears me and spins around, hands raised, ready to strike. “Oh.” He sighs, the tension releasing from his shoulders. “I thought Waters was in here again.”

The shower is large enough to fit both of us. We have double heads and a rainfall at the center of the massive space. Kingston University is for the wealthy—the elite. And so are the accommodations, even in the on-campus housing. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” River whispers, eyes downcast. “The guys think there’s something up with us. Waters just came in here making accusations.”

I slide my hand beneath his chin to pull his gaze back to me. “Like what? I’ll slit his fucking throat if he does anything to hurt you.”

“Nate,” he sighs.

That’s all he says.

And stares at me.

“Yeah?”

Finish your sentence.

I wait for him to respond, but he turns his back to me and puts his head under the water.

Moving behind him, I place my hands on his shoulders. “What did he say to you?”

River shivers when my lips get closer to his ear. “He asked if we have some homo shit going on. And it’s not the first time he or anyone in the house has asked us. If it gets back to the media…”

Ah, I see where this is going.

River turns to face me, leaning his back against the wall. “Or my dad. A rumor like this could ruin my career before it even starts.”

“We’re not gay. What they think is irrelevant.” I get close enough for our foreheads to almost touch. “It’s just sex. They can all fuck off.”

“It doesn’t look good.” He shrugs. “That’s all I’m saying. And now, you’re in here… showering with me.”

“We do it all the time in the locker room. How is this any different?”

“Boundaries, Nate. You never had any. And it’s cool because I don’t mind. I never did. I want you around. But no one else understands us.”

I nod. “Yeah, but it doesn’t change jack fucking shit. We do everything together. And if other people don’t like it, they can choke on my fat dick.”

River laughs. “You have such a way with words.”

I grab the body wash off the ledge and smirk. “Maybe I should be a poet instead of a law major.”

River opens the door to the shower and looks back at me. “Hurry up, okay? I want to get going before the women’s hockey team takes the ice. My dad will kill me if I don’t finish with these brand deals.”

“I don’t get why you do it,” I say, lathering my arms with body wash. “You don’t need the money.”

His eyes rake over my chest for a second, watching the soap slide over my six-pack. I never miss how he looks at me. Like he’s a starving, wild dog, and I’m a juicy steak.

River swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he checks out my cock for a split second before returning his gaze to my face.

“It’s not about the money. My fans expect certain things from me. So does my dad. And so will any team that signs me after graduation.” He shuts the glass door. “Be ready in five.”

I see him wrap a towel around his narrow waist through the fogged glass. Like the rest of his body, his back is ripped with muscle. He stands in front of the mirror and brushes his teeth. River spits, then gargles and leaves the bathroom without another word.

The second he’s gone, I wonder how anyone could think we’re gay. We get more pussy than any guys on campus.

As I stand here, soapy dick in my hand, I wonder if they’re right about us.

Nope, I’m not gay.

So, it’s settled.

I think.

CHAPTER 17

RIVER

After an hour on the ice, I’m exhausted. Last night kicked me in the ass. I’m still sore from getting drunk and passing out in my car.

“Dude, wake the fuck up.” Standing behind the camera, Nate waves his hand. “You look like death, Riv. Jeez. Snap out of it.”

“I’m tired. Barely slept last night.”

“You would’ve gotten some sleep if you had stayed home with Samantha and me.”

Ugh, not this again.

I’m sick of the nagging.

“You told me not to come home, dickhead.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs. “I didn’t fucking mean it.”

Nate has been on me about not coming home last night. Between filming new videos for brand deals, he tells me what I did was fucked up. I didn’t do anything wrong, yet I still feel like I betrayed him.

“How could you leave Samantha?” Nate had said an hour ago, but I could tell he wanted to say, “How could you leave me?”

It’s always about Nate. And his addiction. He uses me to satisfy his sick desires, and I have let him for far too long.

Nate moves out from behind the tripod and skates over to me. “Maybe we should take a break. You need water… or something.”

“Do I look that bad?”

He shrugs. “A few times, you even slurred your words.”

“Shit. Can you edit that out?”

He bobs his head.

Nate is good with technology and edits all of my videos. He has a natural gift for filmmaking, but he only uses his talents for creating porn and helping me tell a decent story for my viewers.

He puts his hand on my back and shoves me toward the bench. “Sit down. Drink something.”

“We only have thirty minutes until the women’s ice hockey team’s practice.”

“I can chop up some of your old videos and make it work.” He guides me into the box and forces my ass onto the bench. “Sit before you fall over. We can’t have you breaking any bones when we’re this close to winning another Frozen Four.”

He strips off his helmet and hands me a water bottle. I take it with an appreciative nod and down half the water.

Nate grabs a can of an energy drink I’m promoting and gulps it down in one swallow. “Not bad,” he says, licking his lips. “How much are they paying you to drink this on the ice?”

I shrug. “Who knows? My dad and his agent set this shit up. Doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s good exposure,” I say, imitating my dad’s voice.

Nate laughs. “Your dad is just looking out for you. He wants you to follow in his footsteps.”

My dad is my manager, even though a company handles our careers. He’s hands-on and always in my business. I can’t breathe or take a shit without my dad crawling up my ass, which is why keeping a secret life is so damn complicated.

“It will happen.” Confident in my response, I smile. “I know it. I just hope the Rangers pick me up.”

I have the highest stats in Division I hockey, breaking all previous records for a defenseman. Every professional team has me on their radar. But if they discover my secret…

“How about we call it a day?” Nate suggests, crushing the energy drink can in his palm. “We can finish this up tomorrow after classes end.”

I rise from the bench and fall into his shoulder. Nate wraps an arm around me to steady my shaky legs. With him this close, I drink in his scent and commit it to memory. He smells like bergamot with a hint of something sweet.

“Whoah,” he says, holding me against his chest. “You sure you’re okay with hanging out today? Maybe we should go back to the house.”

Like I would ever give up spending the day with Nate. For years, I have looked forward to lazy Sundays with my best friend. Back at boarding school, we would practice shooting drills, stuff our faces at the refectory, and spend the night watching movies.

I will never give that up.

Not for anyone or anything. Not even for the sleep I so desperately need.

“Nah, I’m good,” I tell him. “Where do you wanna eat? Giovanni’s or The Wing Shack?”

Nate releases me from his firm grip, his intense golden-brown eyes on my face. “Giovanni’s, I guess. We can bring back some pizza for the guys. I kinda owe them after the show I put on this morning.”

I laugh, but it’s forced. “Pizza will get Waters off my back. That motherfucker can eat.” I lift my helmet from the bench and pause. “We need to be more careful.”

Nate stops mid-turn, his right skate pointed toward the exit. He stares at the ice, then slowly sweeps his gaze over me. I gulp down the fear and anxiety clawing at my throat.

“What we’re doing isn’t wrong, Riv.”

Deep down, I think Nate understands how fucked up our relationship looks to outsiders. Even I don’t get it sometimes. My feelings are tied up in these weekly rituals, all the days and nights we have spent together since adolescence.

When I first started catching feelings, I thought my interest in men was specific to Nate. He was always there, filling every inch of space in my life. How could I not notice him, especially with him preferring to sleep naked and only wearing clothing when he felt like it?

“I don’t want you to change,” I say and mean it. “I love who you are, Nate. But I just think…”

“Say it,” he snaps.

I hold my head high despite the pounding ache in my skull. Hangovers suck.

“Go ahead. Just rip the Band-Aid off, Riv.” He gets in my face. “Fucking say it.”

I drop the helmet on the bench. “What do you want me to say?”

“You want this to end,” he whispers as if he’s afraid saying the words aloud will make it happen. “You and me. The girls. Everything.”

“Of course not,” I fire back, furious he would think that.

You’re too addicting.

“Good,” he says through clenched teeth. “Then stop fucking bringing it up. Between you and Samantha, I don’t know which of you is worse.”

He leans closer, his breath fanning over my lips.

Kiss him.

Do it, you coward.

See if he’ll kiss you back.

My heart screams one thing, but my body won’t allow me to make the first move. Not when I know what’s at stake. If I kiss Nate, our lazy Sundays will end.

We are over.

So, I back away a few inches.

He does the same.

Nate picks up my helmet and hands it to me. “We good?”

I nod, smiling through the lie.

No, I’m not good.

“There’s a new superhero movie,” Nate tells me as we head toward the locker room. “Wanna see it? Or there’s a horror one that looks good.”

“Whatever you want.”

Spending time with Nate is my only priority. We could sit and watch paint dry for all I care.

“Horror,” he says with a creepy grin. “I’m in the mood to be scared.”

Nothing scares Nate, though.

Well, one thing does.

Losing me.

And that gives me power.

CHAPTER 18

NATE

River curls up beside me, practically sitting on my lap when the villain pops out and slashes into a hot girl’s chest. Slasher movies are my favorite. Hot chicks, tons of blood, and the stereotypical virgins getting spared.

What’s not to love?

River’s hand is on my thigh, inches from my cock, and fuck…

Am I getting hard?

I had sex like ten times in the past twenty-four hours. My needs are more than satiated. Yet, as his fingers drift closer, my cock jerks. It senses him the way it would pussy, which is so damn confusing.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He must notice because he glances down at the bulge in my dark gray joggers, eyes wide. It’s hard to miss and aimed straight at him like a missile. Even in the dark, you can see I’m turned on… by him.

What is happening?

It’s not like I hadn’t asked River for a handjob when I was in a jam—or made hockey porn for him. There was also that time I jerked him off while he watched gay porn and came on his ass.

This is normal, right?

Typical River and Nate.

On some of my darkest days, hands shaking and dying for an orgasm, River has helped me out.

A hand is a hand.

Right?

River pulls back and whispers, “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

I tap my fingers on my knee to steady my nerves, wondering if he can hear the rapid thumping of my heart.

Fuck, no.

I’m not okay.

I hate this fucking addiction. If I could kick my habit, I would. For most people, sex is a normal part of their lives. But for me, it’s all-consuming.

Every second of the day, I think about bending women over things. Anything, really. A water fountain. A desk. On all fours in the dirt. I could give two fucks how we do it as long as I get to come.

My fantasies are endless.

Mini movies in my head.

We’re in the back row against the wall. The closest people are sitting below us in the orchestra section. So, I grab my cock over my sweats. A chill rolls down my arms, spreading to my toes. It feels so fucking good just to touch myself.

“Nate,” River whispers in my ear, and the heat of his breath on my skin does something strange to me.

I shove my hand into my pants, and he grabs my wrist.

“What the fuck, Nate? You just had sex a few hours ago.”

I love having sex in public places hence how we ended up screwing a frat boy’s girlfriend in a closet before moving to the bedroom for the grand finale. Nights like those I barely remember the next day. I blackout from the drugs or alcohol, but sometimes from having a lot of orgasms. And my trust fund suffers for it.

When I look at River, I want to say, Well, if you didn’t jump onto my lap like a scared little bitch and make me harder than steel, I wouldn’t be thinking about jerking off in public.

Instead, I say, “I’m horny. Can you blame me?” I tip my head at the screen. “That girl was giving it good until she got her throat cut.”

“You need help.”

I cup my balls and groan. Fuck, it feels incredible. I just need to touch myself for a few more seconds…

“And you need to shut up. I keep a lot of secrets for you, Riv. I even make you fucking porn.”

He shakes his head. “Please don’t ruin today for me. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

The more he stares at me, the harder my dick gets. It’s painful, the ache spreading to my balls. Last night, I needed to see him to get an erection, which is super fucked up. An all-time low for me.

River.

River.

River.

He’s on my mind all the time.

Needing to understand this new addiction, I grab his hand and stuff it down my pants. Just to see if he will freak out. He never has. Not even the first time I asked him for a handy. I was so drunk and sloppy, muttering my words.

But he said yes.

He always does.

I wonder if he’d blow me.

Wait. What?

I’m horny and desperate and not above begging.

“Please, Riv.”

River’s hand cups my dick over my boxer briefs. We stare into each other’s eyes, and I feel… I don’t know.

A spark?

What is wrong with me?

My addiction has taken a new turn—a slow descent into madness. I can’t lose my best friend over this. Yet, I can’t stop myself.

“I need you,” I whisper into the crook of his neck. “Please, Riv.”

He smells good. His cologne is spicy and manly. Beneath that, I catch a hint of clean linen and a fresh musk. I slide my hand up his thigh, unable to stop myself, burrowing my face in his neck and grinding against his hand.

“What do you want from me?” River says the words softly in my ear. “Huh? Say it, Nate. Tell me what you want.”

Oh God.

Fuck me.

“I want you to make me… come. Please.”

“What about me?”

I lift my head from his shoulder. “What about you?”

Disgusted by my response, River scoffs and removes his hand from my pants. He jumps out of his chair and barrels down the steps toward the exit.

Fuck, what have I done?

One day, River will leave me. He’ll decide he’s had enough of my bullshit and walk away for good. But I won’t let him quit me.

CHAPTER 19

RIVER

Nate leaves his seat, his shoes tapping on the steps behind me. I should get this over with so it doesn’t ruin our day.

But I refuse to look at him.

Not until I gather my thoughts.

I can’t fucking believe him.

Nate’s addiction has finally come between us. At some point, I knew it would. It was only a matter of time before his needs overpowered my own. He has no problem asking me for a handjob, yet when I ask him to reciprocate, it’s like I electrocuted him.

Well, fuck him.

Before he can reach me, I race out of the dark theater. He already made enough of a scene. Besides, I can’t risk someone overhearing the blowout.

I dart through a door to the parking lot and ignore Nate yelling my name. As I power walk to the car, I recall every detail of our conversation. The last part, anyway. The only part that matters to me.

“I want you to make me… come. Please.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “What about me?”

Nate lifted his head from my shoulder. “What about you?”

The way he said you grates on my nerves. Like what I needed didn’t matter to him at that moment.

“River, wait,” Nate shouts behind me, the familiar jingle of him reaching into his pocket for the keys only a few feet behind me. “We need to talk about this.”

I stop by the passenger door to his car. Unless I want to walk the five miles back to campus with a hangover, I have no choice but to catch a ride with him.

Nate hovers in my space, maybe an inch or two between us, and sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Keeping my head down, I say, “I know.”

He’s always sorry.

“Riv, look at me.”

I ignore his command. And that pisses him off, his hand now clutching my chin to yank my eyes back to his face.

“I’m sorry.” He rubs the pad of his thumb on my chin, and I don’t want him to stop. “I’ll try harder to get this shit under control, okay?”

“I think you should go back to therapy.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not telling some quack about my sex life.”

“Do it for me.”

Nate pauses at my request. His hand falls from my face, and he stuffs both hands into his pockets.

“Please,” I say, reminded of how he begged me in the theater to stroke his dick.

“Would you go with me?” Nate clears his throat and shrugs. “I mean…”

“Yes,” I say without an ounce of hesitation. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“I hate this.” His eyes are on his shoes. “I don’t want to be this way.”

I know how he feels. So many times over the years, I have wanted to be anything other than gay. It would make my life so much easier. Yet, I can’t deny how I feel about men, how I feel about Nate.

“Your addiction is ruining our lives.” I step forward, invading his space. “But we can figure this out together.”

“Promise?”

I nod. “I got you.”

Nate hugs me, resting his chin on my shoulder. Basking in the warmth of his body, I drink in this moment. Any time I get to touch Nate like this, I don’t want to let go.

“Is that River Rousseau?”

I snap my head to the voice and am brought back to reality by a blonde girl in her early twenties holding up her cell phone.

Fuck.

“Holy shit! He’s into dudes.”

“So hot,” her friend comments, licking her lips. “Are you guys gonna kiss or what? I’m dying over here.”

Nate grits his teeth and advances on them. “Give me that fucking phone.”

“Hell, no,” she fires back and runs toward the movie theater. “You want it, come get it, sexy.”

“Don’t bother.” I yank on his arm to pull him to the car. “There’s no point. It will only make things worse.”

He clicks the button on the keyfob to open the doors. “Get in before someone else sees us.”

I slide into the passenger seat, the weight on my chest lessening by the second. Inside the small space, I can catch my breath.

“That looked bad,” I mutter.

Nate hits the ignition switch, and the engine roars to life. “You’ve been caught in more compromising situations over the years. Hugging your best friend isn’t a crime.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I doubt that looked like a hug between friends.”

Because it was so much more.

Nate reverses out of the parking space, arm stretched across the back of my seat, his long fingers dangerously close to touching my shoulder. “Friends can give each other a fucking hug, dude. Chill out.”

Am I being paranoid?

Yes.

Nate drives past a group of girls leaning on a BMW 6 series hood. I glance out the window and spot a few we fucked. I doubt Nate remembers them.

On our way back to campus, I scroll through my notifications. I have over a thousand on Instagram, twelve hundred on TikTok, and at least several hundred direct messages from strangers.

I rarely read the messages. Most of the time, I get tit pics. Even dick pics on occasion. This helped me to understand why women hate it when men send them out of the blue. An unprovoked dick pic is creepy and intrusive.

I’m worried about that girl posting something about Nate and me. I get tagged in other creators’ videos all the time. And with so many notifications, it would take all day to go through them. Unless my dad or my publicist calls, I’m okay.

But I’m still freaking out, so I look at the comments on my latest TikTok video to distract myself.

@Sluttyhockeyfan: Watching River stretch his calves makes me feral.

@Puck_Bunny_For_You: I’d give my left tit for a nude.

@RangersGirlieForLife: What I wouldn’t give to get pucked by Daddy and Son. #lifegoals

@Puckmeinthea: My nipples are hard… and it’s not from the chill in that arena.

@RiversBabyGirl2456: River, come lick the drool from my lip.

@NYFanForEva178: Anyone else need new panties after watching this?

@PuckyGetLucky: I don’t even wear them when watching his videos.

@NYFanForEva178: Ha! Good idea.

@PuckyGetLucky: Especially if his dad is in the vids. Gah!

@Puckmeinthea: Zaddy Ryan. :)

@Sluttyhockeyfan: Zaddy! Zaddy! River, where’s your dad today?

“Oh my god,” I mutter and close out of the TikTok app.

“What?” Nate glances at me when we stop at a red light.

“The comments on the video we uploaded today.”

Nate smirks. “Puck bunnies?”

I bob my head. “They want more videos with my dad.”

“Dude, your dad is a legend. Of course, they do.”

“No, they just want to fuck him.”

He laughs. “They want both of you.”

“Sickos.”

Nate snickers. “No different than what we do with women.”

“He’s my dad,” I point out. “That’s gross.”

“It will only get worse after you sign with a team.” He taps his fingers on the leather steering wheel. “Get used to it.”

Nate punches the gas, and I jolt forward, my shoulder crashing into the seatbelt.

“Slow down,” I tell him as he cuts off another car, weaving in and out of lanes. “We’re not in a rush.”

“What’s the point in owning a sports car if I don’t open her up?” Nate flashes a grin, eyes on the road. “She only has five hundred miles on her. I need to break her in like a good little whore.”

I open Instagram and see what awaits me. There are always tons of messages, including images that make me want to bleach my eyeballs. Marriage proposals. Nudes and random body parts. All kinds of weird ass shit. So, I skip the DMs and go straight to the comments.

Earlier, I posted images of Nate and me prepping for our shoot. We’re laughing and smiling in the pics. Nate is bent over in one to place a puck on the ice for me.

“You’re the highlight of my Insta,” I tell him.

“Oh, yeah?” Nate stops at another light. “What are those thirsty bitches saying about me?”

I laugh at his choice of words and spot some of the same usernames from TikTok. These girls are relentless. Nate isn’t in the spotlight as much as I am. But whenever I post about us, the girls go wild.

They love Nate.

Of course, they do.

@PuckyGetLucky: Raise your hand if you thought about throwing a puck at Nate’s fine ass to see if it would bounce.

@Puckmeinthea: Love his bubble butt.

@Fangirl_Townie_69: I wanna take a bite out of dat ass.

@NYFanForEva178: The things I would let them do to me.

@HotForRiverR: Threesome, anyone?

@Puckmeinthea: Sign me up.

@NYFanForEva178: Too bad they don’t have an OnlyFans.

@Puckmeinthea: I’d empty my bank account to see them together.

@HotForRiverR: I’d gladly donate an organ to make that happen.

After I read a few of the comments to Nate, he laughs. “Like I said, thirsty bitches. Can you imagine how much money we’d make if we had an OnlyFans page?”

I stuff the phone into my pocket as we pull up outside our house. “My dad would love that.”

“If I needed the money, I would do it.” Nate winks. “Getting paid to do what I love is the dream, right? I’m not shy about my body or sex. I like when people watch me fuck.”

I can see the madness dancing across his face, the need to orgasm clawing at his carefully constructed veneer.

“Call the therapist tomorrow. Make an appointment. I’ll go with you.”

Nate pauses, his fingers brushing the door handle. “I can do it on my own.”

“No, you can’t.”

He sits back in his seat, stares at the three-story Victorian with painted shutters, and then glances at me. “I’m so angry, Riv. I wouldn’t be like this if⁠—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Nate.”

I can see him thinking about his fucked up childhood, the wheels turning in his head. We both know what started his obsession. It’s the reason his dad sent him to boarding school at the age of twelve. His shitty past is why I get to call this beautiful man my best friend. But I wish those horrible things hadn’t happened to him.

He’s so broken.

Scarred.

Nate swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t like talking about that part of my life. Especially not with strangers.”

“I’ll be there with you,” I say to assure him. “You get to decide what you talk about with the doctor.”

Nate grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I was there for Nate when he had nightmares and needed a hug. Sometimes, I roll over in the morning and find him in my bed, his head on my pillow. I secretly love those brief moments before he opens his eyes and realizes he’s clinging to me.

His addiction stems from a dark part of his life. And since I’m the one who pieced him back together, he needs me. Sharing women is not about the sex for us. Our bond goes much deeper, so I will never say no to Nate.

CHAPTER 20

RIVER

When I was twelve, Nate showed me how to jerk off. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t understand the concept. My dick was like a toy I couldn’t stop playing with… but Nate made it fun.

The first time I touched my dick to completion, Nate was watching porn on the bed across from mine. I heard a woman moaning and a man grunting. He called her a good girl, and I lifted my head from the pillow to see Nate on his bed.

Shirtless, Nate touched himself through the slit in his boxers. “Mmm,” he muttered, eyes on his cell phone, the screen light casting a glow on his face.

Like the rest of Nate, his dick was big, but everything about Nate was massive. He never looked like a boy.

His dick was beautiful.

Perfect and smooth.

The head peeked out of his boxers, and he grunted as he stroked his shaft, rubbing his thumb over the tip. He looked so relaxed and focused.

I rolled onto my side. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at porn and fucking my hand.”

“Dude, we have practice in the morning.”

“So.” Nate continued jerking his shaft, staring at the screen. “You should try it. Feels good.”

I sat up, curious. “Let me see.”

“Get over here.”

I slid out of the warmth of my heavy blankets and climbed onto his bed. Following his lead, I leaned my back against the wall, legs stretched across the mattress, feet dangling off the side beside his.

“Isn’t she hot?” Nate licked his lips, then glanced at me, eyes wide. “We need a girlfriend like her.”

Not girlfriends plural. I should have known back then that I would never escape Nate. Every sexual encounter from that day forward involved him. If only I had known what I was getting myself into when I hopped onto his bed.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Nate snapped his head at me. “We’re gonna get the hottest girls. Like this one. Just wait and see.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about girls at that point. All I knew was that I liked the sight of Nate’s dick. A whole fucking lot. And I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Touch yourself,” Nate said, which was kind of weird. “It’s just me, Riv. I won’t bite. You never have to be afraid of anything around me.”

“I’m not scared.”

I pulled out my dick just to prove a point. He eyed me up for a second, then his focus returned to the woman on his screen.

He rolled his tongue over his lips. “Look at her pussy. She’s so wet.” Nate shoved the phone in my face. “She’s leaking his cum.”

I was surprised Nate knew so much about sex. It wasn’t until a year later that I found out where his experience came from—and it gutted me.

“Nate,” I whispered, eyes meeting his in the dimly lit room. “Should we be doing this?”

Nate didn’t see the issue and said, “Why not?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Is this something friends do together?”

“Who cares? It’s what we do together.” He showed me the girl, her boobs so big they took up half the frame. “She has nice tits. Do you like them?”

“Yeah,” I said to make him happy.

“Does she excite you?”

I glanced at his dick and nodded.

“Then do something about it.”

Moments like that one have me questioning everything I ever thought about Nate and his sexuality. Is he secretly bisexual and afraid to tell me?

After a long day and a belly full of food, I follow Nate to his bedroom. He’s all smiles as we cross the threshold.

“I want to show you something.” He grins. “You’re gonna love it.”

I step into the room. “Okay, what? You’re giving me creepy vibes.”

He reaches over me and locks the door, his arm brushing mine. With him this close, I drink in the scent of his cologne and let the delicious smell burrow into my nostrils. I want to pull his face to mine and kiss his lips. Throw him against the wall and make him scream my name.

But I won’t.

I’m a chicken shit.

Nate turns on the flat-screen TV. Of course, there’s a porno paused with two asses in my face.

Does he watch anything else?

As I move closer, I realize it’s Nate and Samantha.

“We didn’t want you to miss out.” Nate gives me a playful look and shrugs. “It was weird without you last night.”

What does that mean?

Don’t read into it.

Last night, Nate chased me downstairs naked. He even sent me a clip of him fucking Samantha’s ass to entice me to come home. It didn’t work, though.

“You sent me this,” I say, turning toward the door, annoyed.

He promised to quell his urges for me. It’s supposed to be our night. The one day I get Nate all to myself.

Nate grips my shoulder and spins me around, a wicked smile on his face. “You didn’t see this one.”

“You’re doing that creepy thing again.”

He laughs and plops down on the bed, patting the space beside him. “I made this just for you. Don’t be a dick. Come and watch with me.” He winks. “And please do cum.”

I sit on the mattress beside him, our backs to the wall like old times. The familiarity excites me. It reminds me of before my true obsession with Nate started.

“I couldn’t get hard after you left,” he tells me, zero emotion in his tone. “Samantha was getting pissed. So, I started looking through some of our old videos for inspiration.”

With my eyes on Nate, I study his face. The strength of his jaw, the perfect curve of his nose. His sun-kissed skin. Those pouty full lips I want wrapped around my cock.

I wet my lips. “Why couldn’t you get hard?”

“Because you weren’t here.” His hand drops to the bed, his fingers inches from mine. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s part of your addiction.”

He shoves a hand through his blond hair to brush it off his forehead. “Yeah, ya think?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. How many times did you come yesterday?”

Nate leans his head on the wall and looks up at the ceiling. “Umm, like… Fuck, I don’t know.”

“A lot,” I answer for him. “You started jerking off the minute you woke up. Then, in the shower. The whole fucking house heard you.”

Nate laughs. “They only wish they had my stamina.”

“You invited Samantha over after dinner. So, that was, what, around seven o’clock? And you went all night with her and then again this morning. I’m surprised your dick hasn’t fallen off yet.”

He snickers. “I like sex. What can I say?”

“Maybe a little too much.”

He clicks a button on the remote. From this angle, I see Nate’s bubble butt that makes me want to take a bite. Samantha is in front of him, her wrists tied to the metal bedpost.

“I thought you would like this,” Nate says as if it’s his life’s work, and he is proud of it. “I know how much you love anal.”

Yeah, I fucking do.

Giving. Receiving.

I want it all.

“I had to chop it up to get all the angles just right for you,” he says as the frame switches to where his dick slides in and out of her wet hole. “The first part I filmed with the camera. This clip is with my cell phone.” He looks at me. “You like it?”

“Yeah,” I say, semihard just seeing his hot body on the screen and that big dick I love so much.

“I’m so fucking hard right now.” He hits the Stop button. “You’re not still mad about what happened at the theater, right?”

I shake my head. “But tomorrow, you’re calling the doctor.”

“Promise.”

Nate shoves down his pants and kicks them onto the floor with his boxers. Then, he peels off his Kingston University T-shirt. He has this thing about total nudity when he jerks off. Not like I mind at all. The view from my side of the bed is amazing.

His abs flex as he leans forward to strip off his socks. I stare, mouth open, my dick straining against my pants. Long and hard, his cock pokes his stomach.

Fuck me.

I think about leaning over and putting him in my mouth. There were a few times I thought he would let me. Nate was all strung out like a junkie needing a fix, begging me to touch him. But to my disappointment, he only wanted my hand.

“What are you waiting for?” Nate asks, remote in his hand. “I’m fucking dying over here, Riv.”

Of course, he is.

Nate never goes a day without some form of sex. If he’s not jerking off, he’s getting head from puck bunnies or handjobs under the table during class. That’s why I talked him into the deal with Samantha. Otherwise, his urges would control him. And since this is my doing, it’s my responsibility to help him.

I yank off my shirt, then toss my pants and boxer briefs onto the floor. Since we were teenagers, we have always done it this way. Our backs to the wall, our legs hanging off the bed, fully naked.

I know why I prefer it this way… but why does Nate? He’s not into men.

Focused on me, Nate licks his lips. “Ready?”

I nod and fist my shaft.

As the video plays on the TV, we sit back and enjoy the show. On all fours, Samantha grips the headboard and moans. Nate’s taking her ass hard, slamming in and out of her with force.

“What do you think? You like this one?”

“Yes,” I mutter, matching his strokes. “You did good.”

A smile graces his lips.

My eyes flick between the screen and Nate’s dick, which is even bigger up close. Pre-cum drips from his hand and down his long length. Legs spread wide, he is so bared to me that he might as well bend over and let me take him from behind.

Fuck, I want that.

I put my right hand on the bed beside his left one. His fingers are right there. So, I inch toward him, needing to feel his heat. My pinky finger brushes his.

He curls his pinky finger around mine. I hold my breath, too fucking stunned to process the simple gesture. It’s stupid to overthink anything with Nate. His addiction always wins, consuming him like a virus.

Nate weaves his fingers between mine as tremors shake through him. We’re both on the edge, about to fall off the fucking cliff.

I hold his hand like we’re boyfriends and continue fisting my dick, matching his grunts. But I don’t take my eyes off him. Every sound, every stroke. I pretend all of it is for me and not Samantha.

Nate catches me watching him. He pauses for a second like he’s trying to decide what to do.

I hold his gaze.

Will he kiss me if I close the distance?

I can’t tell with Nate. Sometimes, he acts so comfortable in his skin, only caring about chasing his next orgasm that I think he would let me. Other times, he plays it off as if this is normal. If our roommates were to walk in here right now, they would be horrified.

“Riv,” he says, his focus still on me. “You’re not watching the movie.”

“Neither are you.”

Using his pre-cum, Nate glides his thumb over the tip, then up and down his shaft. “You like watching me, don’t you?”

Drunk on pleasure, I mutter, “Yes.”

“You gonna come for me, Riv?”

Oh god.

Why does he do this to me?

“Yes,” I moan.

“Do you want me to come for you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think you deserve my orgasm?”

What?

“You need to earn it,” he says, confident and cocky, with a smirk tipping up the right corner of his perfect mouth.

“How?”

“Like this.” Nate wraps my hand around his shaft. “Make me come.”

I can’t stand it anymore.

The pressure in my balls builds to a painful crescendo. I jerk our dicks, moaning as my cum spills into my hand.

“Good boy,” Nate whispers, head tipped back, licking his lips. “You always come for me, don’t you, Riv?”

I love it when he praises me.

Nate lasts a minute longer than me, making the hottest sounds when he comes. It takes every ounce of my energy not to climb on top of him and ride his cock.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, completely spent. “That was… Wow! Thanks for that.”

I don’t know what comes over me, but I suck his cum from my finger.

“What are you doing?”

I want to die.

My brain is all fucked up.

I need to leave ASAP.

Nate is waiting for a response, so I say, “I wanted to see⁠—”

“How I taste?”

I bob my head, cheeks flushed, unable to look at him.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Salty,” I whisper, feeling like an idiot for losing myself in the heat of the moment.

“Does my cum taste good?”

“Mmhmm.”

His eyes light up, and he swipes a finger over the head of my leaking cock and puts it into his mouth. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

I laugh. “You think about tasting my cum often?”

“Nah. You know what I mean. Girls always say it’s salty, but not you. I get a hint of something sweet.”

I stare at him in awe, afraid to speak and break the spell he has me under.

“I’m so horny,” he says after sucking his finger clean. “Why is this turning me on so much?”

The logical answer is that Nate could be bisexual. But this is Nate we’re talking about. He craves sex like a junkie needs a fix. Eating my cum was nothing more than curiosity for him. It didn’t even register in his brain.

“Because you’re an addict.”

“I hate when you say that,” he tosses back at me. “It’s normal for guys our age to like sex.”

“You more than like sex, Nate.”

Ignoring my comment, Nate slides off the bed and grabs a bath towel from the back of the door. He wipes the cum from his dick and throws a towel at me.

“Clean up and leave. I want to get some sleep.”

The sting of his rejection hits me deep in my marrow. It’s not even late. Nate still has at least four more hours of porn-watching before he goes to bed.

What was I thinking?

I made things weird.

I shouldn’t have touched him.

If only I could take it back.

Fuck.

CHAPTER 21

NATE

I wake up to River poking me in the shoulder with his finger. A golden glow rings around his face. He looks like an angel. The sun shines on his cheek, making his skin appear even more golden.

Am I dreaming?

“Get up, Nate.”

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I look up at him. Shirtless and wearing mesh basketball shorts slung low on his hips, he folds his arms across his muscular chest. 

He looks good.

Really fucking hot.

Did I hit my head?

Maybe this is a dream.

I sit up, leaning back on my elbows, still unsure if he’s real.

You tasted his cum last night.

And liked it.

You let him jerk you to completion.

And loved it.

You are a fucking idiot.

One hundred percent true.

My addiction has reached an all-time low. I promised River that once I started crossing the line, I would seek help.

It’s time.

Propped up against a stack of pillows, I run a hand through my messy, blond hair. 

River sits on the bed beside me. “You slept through your alarm.”

“Did I?” I glance at the nightstand. “Do you have my phone?”

He hands it to me. “I put Dr. Swanson’s number in your Contacts. Call her before we leave for class.”

My heart races at the thought of rehashing the past with a stranger. The last time I trusted a shrink, she told my parents everything. To this day, my mom still looks at me with pity in her eyes. And my dad? I can’t even place the vacant look, but it makes me sick to my stomach. 

“Last night,” I say in a hushed tone, knowing the walls in this house are paper thin. “Did I…”

“What?”

I press my lips together, thinking about how to phrase my question without sounding like a jackass.

“Just say it, Nate,” he says after a long, awkward silence.

“Did I make you uncomfortable last night? You know, when we got home.”

There, I said it.

All night, I thought about how I dismissed River after I used his hand for my pleasure. I kicked him out of my bedroom because I couldn’t deal with liking the taste of his cum.

River drums his fingers on the mattress as if hearing an imaginary beat in his head, focused on the wall. “No, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I just wish you could get your urges under control. What we’ve been doing is confusing to me.”

I scroll through my Contacts and find the doctor’s name. “I’m calling her now. Okay?”

He nods, waiting for me to follow through.

Raising the phone to my ear, I hear a woman’s flowery voice on the second ring. I explain my issue and schedule an appointment for the end of the week. Then, she asks if she can put me on hold. River studies my face as I chew the inside of my cheek.

He takes my hand in his to stop me from fidgeting. Just the feel of his calloused skin against mine settles my nerves. River is all I need. Fuck talking to quacks about my shitty childhood. No one can calm me down like him.

River traces a circle on my hand, and it sends a shock to my nervous system, telling it to chill the fuck out. “Is everything okay?”

I blow out a breath of air and nod. “I’m on hold.”

When she returns, the woman says, “I just had a cancellation today. Would three o’clock work for you, Mr. Brooks?”

“One second,” I tell her before muting the call. “Can you come with me this afternoon?”

“I can move around a meeting I had scheduled. No big deal.”

“I can go later this week. They have another opening.”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re going today. With me. Say yes before she gives it to someone else.”

I unmute the call and accept the appointment for this afternoon. After I hang up, River is gripping my hand for dear life. Like he’s afraid I will run away. I might if the nerves don’t eat me alive. I have the rest of the day to freak out over going to the doctor’s office—to tell her my horror story. 

Yay! Can’t fucking wait.

“I know you’re scared,” River says to break the silence. “But I’ll be right by your side.”

When we were kids, I taught River how to stand up for himself when older kids gave him shit. Then, I showed him how to shoot a gun. How to shave. How to be a man. That was one thing my father passed down to me. My ability to get things done without anyone’s help.

River usually follows my lead. But now, I need him to be the aggressor. To hold my hand and make sure I don’t fall apart. I need him to make this day bearable.

“Get in the shower.” He drops my hand on the bed. “We have class in thirty minutes. And I want to stop and get coffee.”

I slide my long legs off the bed and raise my arms above my head. Stretching out my muscles, I yawn, not ready to start the day. I slept horribly last night. Tossing and turning, flipping from one nightmare to the next.

The bad dreams always find me.

It’s impossible to run from my past.

CHAPTER 22

NATE

My palms sweat like crazy as we park in the garage. It’s been years since I went to therapy. And I don’t miss it. The last doctor made things worse, not better. After our final appointment, I went off the deep end and never looked back.

River turns off the Aston Martin’s ignition and looks at me. “You can do this, Nate.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumble, trying to calm the rapid thumping of my heart.

“You can,” he assures me. “And I will help you get through this. I want you to get better. To be happy.”

“I am happy.”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re not. The compulsions are ruining your life.”

“I’m happy with you. That’s gotta count for something.”

River presses his lips together, mulling over my words. He seems at a loss for something to say.

“I can’t do this without you,” I tell him.

“I know.”

He lets out a deep breath, blowing a strand of dark brown hair in his eyes. They’re a pretty dark green, unlike anything I have ever seen. But River is unlike anyone I have ever known.

He’s special.

River opens his door. “We should go.”

Once inside the office building, we hop into an elevator. The backside has a glass wall, so I can see into a courtyard as we ascend to the seventh floor.

The second the doors open, my heart pounds like a drum. All I can hear is the thump, thump, thump in my ears. I step into the corridor and put my palm on the wall. It grounds me. Brings me back to the present moment.

River cups my face in his big hands. “Nate, look at me.”

I do as he asks.

“You will be okay.”

“I can’t breathe,” I whisper.

“Yes, you can. It’s all in your head.” His arms wrap around me, and I cling to him for dear life. “Just hold onto me, okay? Do you feel my heart beating against your chest?”

I hug him harder, feeling the steady beat. “Yes.”

“Take a deep breath in through your nose,” he says in a hushed tone. “Hold it. And then, let it out.”

Once again, I follow his command, and as I do, breathing becomes easier. Resting my head on his shoulder, I continue the process until my chest doesn’t feel like it will collapse.

River moves his hand to my heart over the top of my T-shirt. “You’re okay, Nate. You’re safe.”

I am safe.

With him.

We stay this way for a few more minutes until the elevator dings. I pull away from his embrace and walk toward Dr. Swanson’s office.

River is beside me, his fingers grazing mine. “You okay?”

“Sure,” I lie.

At least, for the moment, my heart isn’t ready to give out. But only time will tell. I still have an hour of divulging my darkest secrets to a doctor.

Kill. Me. Now.

At the front desk, I give my name to a forty-something brunette woman with big tits falling out of her top. I don’t find her remotely attractive. Yet, I can’t stop staring at her tits.

My mind constantly drifts back to sex. I can’t stop thinking about women in sick ways, enacting all of my fantasies in my head. Most of the time, I play those scenarios out in real life. That’s why I need women who are willing and uninhibited. Girls like Samantha I can mold.

The woman hands me a clipboard with papers.

I glance at the top page. “What is this?”

“Medical history. Insurance info. That kind of stuff.”

“I’m paying cash. Is this necessary?”

I have medical insurance through my dad, but I don’t want him to know. If he sees the statement, he’ll be up my ass about it. He thinks I’m cured and that the worst part of my life is in the rearview mirror.

What my old man doesn’t realize is that trauma never goes away. It lives inside you like a bomb, ready to detonate at any moment. All it takes is one thing—a scent, a sound, or a memory—to activate the kill switch.

She forces a grin. “The law requires your consent for us to treat you. Dr. Swanson also needs a better understanding of your medical history. It’s pretty standard.”

River takes the clipboard from my hand. “I’ll fill it out. Go sit down.”

As I find a seat in the waiting room, he speaks to the receptionist. She smiles up at him, then points a finger, eyes wide. Of course, she recognizes him. Everyone knows River Rousseau and his famous father.

He talks to the woman for another minute, sits beside me, and starts working on the paperwork. River knows everything about me—even my social security number. So, he goes through the motions, head down, scribbling on the page.

“Are you still allergic to Amoxicillin?”

I nod. “As far as I know. Yeah. Why does a shrink need to know that?”

He rolls his broad shoulders. “They always ask these kinds of questions at doctor’s offices.”

“Thanks for doing this,” I say in a hushed tone, tapping my foot on the ground.

“Of course.” His eyes meet mine. “I will come to every appointment if you need me. Okay?”

I nod. “Thanks.”

The tightness in my chest lessens by the second. But I’m still on edge, afraid of what the doctor will ask of me. The last one wanted me to stop having sex and watching porn. I mean, why not cut my dick off then?

Sex is a normal part of life.

Men need sex.

I need sex.

After River gives the receptionist my paperwork and credit card, we wait a few more minutes before we’re called into the doctor’s office.

A woman in her early fifties looks at me with a sweet smile. She’s wearing a gray pencil skirt, a fitted pink blouse with the first two buttons open, and heels. Black hair sits right above her shoulders, tucked behind her ears. She’s attractive for her age. Old enough to be my mom, but that’s okay because… so was she.

Don’t think about her!

To switch gears, my thoughts drift to what’s beneath Dr. Swanson’s shirt. Are her nipples small or like silver dollars? Pale pink or more of a dark pink?

Stop it, Nate!

I finally notice her outstretched hand. “Are you okay, Nathaniel?”

Huh?

I blink. Once, twice.

Did I go somewhere else?

Fuck.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I say as I shake her hand.

Is that even why she offered her hand to me? I have no clue.

River clutches my shoulder. “You’re safe,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s going to be okay.”

He guides me to a plush couch large enough to fit several people. She takes the chair across from us, separated by a coffee table. It’s bare except for a floral arrangement.

“What brings you in today, Nathaniel?”

“Nate,” I correct. “Don’t call me Nathaniel.”

I hear her voice in my head, my name whispered on her pretty pink lips.

“Nathaniel, my sweet boy. You’re so big now. So much taller than the other boys your age.”

I cover my ears with my hands and close my eyes, willing the memory to fade. The flashbacks never go away. They stick like cement, etched into my fucking soul. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake her.

“Nate.” River slips his fingers between mine. “She’s not here.”

“Who are you referring to?” Dr. Swanson asks.

“The woman who sexually assaulted Nate for a year.”

Since I’m not with the program, River takes the lead. He places his hand on my knee to keep it from shaking and speaks for me.

“Nate’s parents have an open marriage,” he says, starting from the beginning of my miserable existence. “They have sex parties. And when Nate was a kid, they had them every weekend.”

Dr. Swanson reaches for the notepad on the table beside her, and once again, I’m staring at her tits, hoping they will pop out of her shirt. Free themselves of the burden of being trapped in that bra.

“Nate, were you present for the parties?”

Me?

Right.

“Yes,” I choke out. “I was upstairs. In my room. Sleeping.”

More like trying to sleep.

“How old were you when this started?”

“The parties? I don’t know. Five, maybe. But nothing happened with her until I was eleven, almost twelve.”

She scribbles something on her notepad, and then her eyes are on me again. I feel like a specimen under a microscope as she analyzes me. “Did your parents ever force you to engage in any sexual acts?”

I shake my head.

“I normally ease my patients into speaking about trauma,” she says in a soft tone. “But if you’re okay with discussing that time in your life, we can continue.”

I nod, even though I want to run away. River is the only reason I am here.

I can’t lose him.

“All week, I dreaded the weekends because that meant she would be there,” I explain.

“Can you tell me how it started?”

I sink into the couch cushion, wishing magic was real so I could disappear. “She was my mother’s best friend.”

“So, she was someone you trusted?”

I bob my head. “I thought she was pretty. At first, I didn’t think what she was doing to me was wrong because of my attraction to her.”

“In many cases, victims of sexual assault can still feel arousal, even though they’re not enjoying the act. This is not your fault, Nate. You were a child taken advantage of by an adult who knew right from wrong.”

“I still feel like I could have stopped it. I was bigger than her. Stronger. But she…”

I lean forward, head in my hands, fighting the tears ready to spill. Consumed by anger, I clench my jaw and feel my teeth grind. I like the pain. It reminds me that I’m alive.

River rubs circles on my back, always knowing the right thing to do to make me feel better. He gets that quality from his mother. When he was sick, she would do the same thing. His father is an unbearable asshole. Thank fuck he didn’t turn out like his dad.

Everything I love about River comes from his mom. I wish I had a mother like his. She’s sweet and kind and makes you feel at home.

Whenever I think about my mother, I think about her—the She-Devil. No matter how hard I have tried, I can’t fucking erase her.

CHAPTER 23

NATE

This is my worst fucking nightmare. My version of Hell. If I could teleport, I would beam my ass out of this office and to another planet.

My shirt sticks to my chest, slick with sweat like my forehead, neck, and palms. Fanning myself with my hand, I suck in another deep breath. As if my nightmares are not bad enough, I have to relive this shit during the day.

“You are not responsible for what she did to you,” Dr. Swanson lilts, her tone calm and sweet. “Many victims of sexual assault justify what happened to them by blaming themselves. You didn’t do anything to provoke her.”

My mind wanders back to the first few months with her. It’s dark in my bedroom when she wakes me up. Panic immediately sets in as her hand inches down my chest.

“You’re so big, Nathaniel.” Her hand dips beneath the waistband of my boxers. She grabs my dick and strokes it until I start to feel something. “Look at you growing for me. You like it, don’t you? That’s my sweet boy.”

Did I like it?

Yes and no.

That was the problem.

I got off on her but hated myself for it later. And since I was so young, I didn’t understand sex and how she used it against me.

“Where did you just go, Nate?”

It’s Dr. Swanson.

I blink a few times and focus on her face. “Um… I was thinking about her.”

I don’t want to do this anymore. Searching the office for a clock, I don’t find one. So, I reach into my pocket and check the time on my cell phone.

Thirty more minutes.

No fucking way!

“Can we talk about something else?”

Dr. Swanson crosses her right leg over the other. “Sure.” Then her gaze drifts to River. “Can you tell me about your relationship with River?”

That’s easy.

“He’s my best friend.”

“It’s not that simple,” River adds.

“How so?”

“I asked Nate to see you because he has a sex addiction.”

She clutches the pen in her hand, her face expressionless. “Much like other addictions, sexual compulsion is a serious condition. That’s not a diagnosis I would give out lightly.”

“He has one,” River says without hesitation. “And he makes me participate.”

Her eyebrow raises. “Makes you?”

“No,” River says to clarify. “Nate has never forced me to do anything. He needs me to be there when we have sex with women. So he feels safe.”

“Do the two of you have a sexual relationship with each other?”

He shakes his head, then stops moving, lips parted. “Well, not exactly. Sometimes, he asks me to give him handjobs. More recently, he’s been making porn for me. Once, he jerked me off. But never sex.”

“We also watch porn and masturbate together,” I admit. “And have done so since we became roommates at boarding school.”

“How often do you ask River for help with your sexual desires?”

I shrug. “On occasion.”

“It happened twice on Sunday.” River wraps his arms around his middle as if he needs a hug. “The first time in the movie theater. And then, again that night in his bedroom when Nate showed me a porno he made for me.”

She takes a few notes. Then her eyes dart to River. “How did you respond?”

River folds his hands on his lap and sighs. “I wanted to help him. So I did. But it’s confusing for me.”

She scribbles onto her pad, eyes pointed down. “Why is it confusing?”

“Nate is straight,” he says, tugging at the ends of his dark hair. “Yet he’s asking me to get him off. And I’m… Well, I’m still trying to figure out my sexuality.”

“I like how your hand feels,” I say, even though it’s fucking humiliating to admit aloud. “It’s the closest I can get to doing it myself but more gratifying.”

His head snaps to me. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“So my hand is just a hand?”

He looks hurt but also doesn’t seem surprised.

“What do you want me to say?”

He inches away, elbow rested on the arm of the couch, and peeks down at his lap.

“I’m not gay,” I state to clear the air.

Even as I say the words, they feel wrong. Dirty. The first time I crossed the line with River, I stopped being straight. Maybe I’m bisexual. I don’t fucking know anymore.

“When it comes to sex addiction,” Dr. Swanson says, her eyes on me, “it’s not about the sex or attraction to another person. Sex is only a symptom of the underlying problem. If you have a sex addiction, it would likely be a result of your trauma.”

I take a second to digest her words, letting them roll around in my brain until they make sense. All of this comes back to that bitch. Of course, it does. On some level, I have always known that.

“If it’s not about sex, then why am I jonesing for an orgasm all the time?”

“Because what you crave is an emotional connection to someone. You want to feel some form of intimacy. You desire an emotional connection with your partner, but you seek it elsewhere when you don’t find it.”

“I don’t have a partner. I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

“River fills that void for you,” she says, not a question but a statement.

“He’s the only stable relationship I’ve ever had.”

“Do you feel close to him?”

I nod. “More than anyone.”

“Do you trust him?”

“With my life.”

River slides over to my cushion and grabs my hand. I feel the nervous energy slithering down his arm, but he appears calm on the outside. He’s so good at masking his feelings.

Dr. Swanson glances down at our linked fingers. “You care about River.”

Another nod.

“Do you feel intimacy with him?”

“No, we don’t have sex. I already told you that, Doc.”

“You can have sex without intimacy. But you can also have intimacy without sex.” When I narrow my eyes at her, she says, “You have a bond with River, one that’s emotional, mental, and physical.”

“Not physical,” I snap.

She tips her head to our joined hands to prove her point.

My lips form an O, but I don’t interrupt her.

“I watched how you responded to him when you entered my office. You can be yourself with River. He makes you feel validated and safe. You can be vulnerable with him.”

“I’ve never felt that way with anyone else. He knows everything about me.” I hang my head low, ashamed of forcing River into this mess. “I need him there.”

“Because he makes you feel safe?”

I nod in answer. “We don’t have sex. But we fuck the same girls. Isn’t that being intimate?”

She shakes her head. “Can you name a time when you were vulnerable with anyone?”

“With River,” I admit. “When I told him about her.”

“Have you ever shared this with anyone else?”

“Only my parents and former therapists.”

She pauses for a beat and takes a sip from her coffee cup. “How did your parents respond when you told them?”

“They sent me to boarding school and brushed it under the rug. After I turned eighteen, I stopped going home on my college breaks.”

“Where do you go instead?”

I shrug. “Wherever River wants. We usually spend our summers at his house in The Hamptons. Aspen for the winter break.”

“You have a special bond with River,” Dr. Swanson says to break the dark thoughts swirling around in my head. “On some level, your connection is linked to the trauma. He was there for you right after it happened. Instead of helping you through that time, your parents sent you to boarding school, and you sought comfort in River.”

At least this doctor isn’t a fucking quack. She seems to get me. River said she specializes in both trauma and addiction. And she knows her shit.

“I still do,” I say with my eyes on my best friend. “I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes when he’s not around.”

That sounds super unhealthy… and maybe it is a little fucked up. But River is my lifeline. Without him, I would probably be dead right now.

River squeezes my hand. “It’s okay, Nate. I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s not true,” I spit back. “When you sign with an NHL team, you’ll leave me behind.”

This is my greatest fear.

Once we graduate, our relationship ends. My life will crash down on me once and for all, and no one will be left to help me pick up the pieces. It’s my childhood all over again.

Abandoned.

Unloved.

Afraid.

CHAPTER 24

NATE

Dr. Swanson hit the nail on the fucking head. Damn, this woman is good. She peeled back all of my damaged layers, exposing my worst fear.

Losing River.

My heart pounds so fast that I grab the arm of the couch for support. River is too far away. He’s on his respective side when I fucking need him here.

Touching me.

Making me feel better.

That’s his job.

Fuck, I’m needy.

I don’t like the distance, so I scoot closer. River seems to notice and meets me halfway. He always knows what I need. Even when he’s pissed at me, he never denies me.

I squeeze his fingers, holding his hand on the couch. He mimics my gesture, a sad look in his green eyes. Watching me lose my mind hurts him. He rarely expresses his feelings since I’m already such a disaster. But there have been times when I cried in his arms, and he held me tighter, a sob escaping his throat.

“Do you feel triggered knowing River could leave you?” Dr. Swanson asks, bringing my focus back to her face.

For a moment, I ponder her question. The answer is so fucking obvious. River knows what’s up. He doesn’t say the words aloud, knowing they will gut me. One day, he will go where I can’t follow. Our lives are mapped out for us, inevitably pulling us apart.

I nod. “I dread River going off on his own. We’ve been together for ten years and haven’t spent more than a week apart.”

Dr. Swanson taps the pen on her notepad, lips pressed into a thin line. “How does it make you feel? Be specific.”

Are you kidding?

I feel everything.

“Angry. Scared. Alone. Like I need to do something.” My fingers drum on my knee to an imaginary beat. “I have to keep my body and mind in motion… or get lost in my thoughts.”

“Does River moving away make you want to have sex? Watch porn?”

“Yes,” I admit and swallow the lump lodged in my throat. “Lately, I have needed to do it with River. I couldn’t even get hard the other night after he left. But I wanted to fuck. My skin felt like it was going to melt if I didn’t have an orgasm.”

“How did you get back in the mood?”

My cheeks heat at the memory. “I watched a video of River and me with Samantha.”

Her expression gives away nothing. Most people would be disgusted by my admission. Instead of judging me, she moves on to the next question.

“What about the video helped you?”

“I don’t know.” I roll my shoulders against the couch. “The memory, I guess.”

Her gaze snaps to River. “You’re essentially in a relationship with Nate but without any benefits. How has this impacted your life?” When he doesn’t respond, she says, “I’m not trying to pry into your personal life. I want to understand how much Nate’s compulsions impact those around him. A little insight would help to treat him.”

River’s fingers brush mine as he clears his throat. “And this is all covered under the NDA?”

She nods. “I’m also bound to doctor-patient confidentiality. I won’t disclose our sessions. Not unless I think Nate is endangering himself or others.”

“Do you think he’s a danger?”

“No,” she says without hesitation.

River lets out a deep breath. “I’ve never had a girlfriend. Never been on a date, not unless you count the Sundays I spend with Nate. Until recently, I hadn’t realized we’ve been doing that. Dating but without any benefits.”

He glances at me, his eyes watery. A brief pause passes as we stare at each other, using our unspoken bond to communicate. Without words, I know what he’s thinking.

River loves me.

He hates that I feel like this.

He wants me to get better.

I need him to keep talking for me, so I tip my head at the doctor and tap my fingers on his hand.

River shifts on the cushion and looks at Dr. Swanson. “I have no idea what it’s like to be in a relationship with anyone but Nate. When things with us first started, I did nothing to stop him because I was a horny teenager and wanted sex just as much as he did. But now… It’s getting old. I walked out on Nate and Samantha on Saturday because I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

My heart cracks in two. If he were to stop… I can’t even think about what I would do. River is my lifeline, the oxygen I need to breathe.

Dr. Swanson clears her throat, sitting straighter in the chair. “Does your arrangement have rules to keep Nate in line?”

River thinks over her question, deep in thought. I can see the shame on his face, the same shame I feel daily.

What am I doing to him?

By hurting myself, I’m bringing my best friend down with me. Thank fuck we’re here. Even though this sucks, maybe the doctor can cure me.

“He’s only allowed to have sex with one girl at a time,” River explains, yanking his hand away to cross his arms over his chest. “We decided on this arrangement because of the last sex tape that almost got leaked. It cost Nate five million dollars to cover it up. And that wasn’t the first time.”

“So, the threat of exposure led to your new rules?” Dr. Swanson asks.

“Yes.”

“When it comes to River, you don’t seem to have an issue committing,” she says, studying my face as if searching the depths of my broken soul. “When he asked you only to have sex with one woman for his safety, you agreed. And you kept that promise. Why?”

“Easy. Because I don’t want him to get hurt because of me.”

A frown pulls at River’s mouth. “Whenever we find new girls, he turns it into a game. Like we’re hunting prey. When, not if he loses interest, he tosses them to the curb and moves to the next one.”

Dr. Swanson takes more notes. “How long do the women stick around?”

I sink into the couch and bury my face in the decorative pillow. A scream is on my tongue, ready to explode from my chest. But I force myself to stay calm. To take those fucking breaths.

“One night,” River says when I don’t respond, still hiding behind the pillow like a coward. “A week. A month. It depends if Nate likes them or not. And if they’re willing to do more extreme stuff.”

She tucks the notepad between her thigh and the chair, drawing my attention to her legs. For a woman her age, she’s toned in all the right places.

Stop it, Nate!

“Do you have repeats with any of the girls?”

Her voice snaps me back to reality, commanding me to look at her face instead of wandering between her legs.

“Once we let them go, no.” This from River. “It’s on to the next one.”

“We’ve had sex with so many women, I’ve lost count.” I toss the pillow behind my back and gulp down the anxiety, clawing at my throat. “I can’t even remember most of their names.”

“If you had to guess, how many women have you had sex with?”

Do you have a calculator?

I glance at River, hoping he can supply an answer. He bites his lip. Either he’s embarrassed or just as clueless as me. Half the time, we were drunk off our asses. Other times, I was high and on another planet.

“I don’t know. But Samantha is our longest,” River says. “Until Saturday night, we were with her for two months. I think she’s in love with us… Which is another reason it’s time to let her go. We’ve been leading her on for too long when there’s no future for her with us.”

She looks at me. “How about you, Nate? Are you interested in having a romantic relationship with Samantha?”

“Romantic? No.” I snicker. “Sexual? Yes. But if River’s out, we can find another girl.”

“No,” River growls at me. “I don’t want to do this. Period. I feel nothing. I’m so dead on the inside and hate myself for feeding your addiction. She’s just another girl, the same as it’s been since we were fourteen. I’m sick of this shit.”

My eyes widen at his confession. I thought he was mad Saturday night and needed to let off some steam. Yet, he’s ripping my fucking heart open and gutting me with his words. He can’t stop, not when I need him.

“What am I supposed to do?”

He leans forward on the couch and tugs at the ends of his dark hair. “You can have sex with women without me there.”

No, I can’t, not anymore.

“What if I don’t want to?”

He turns his head away, eyes on the wall. “I’m not giving you a choice.”

The most awkward silence of my life clings to the air. River stares at his shoes, fingers working through his hair as he sighs.

I slide my hand onto his knee. “Riv, talk to me.”

He tosses my hand away.

My heart can’t take much more. After years of gluing me back together, River is done with me. I have finally pushed him over the edge, and if I don’t change, he will accept a deal with a team far away from me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m fucking sorry, Riv. I wish I weren’t like this.”

His lips part, and for the first time in years, I have no idea what he wants to say. He zips his mouth shut and closes his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, sucking in those breaths I have been taking for the past hour.

Dr. Swanson glances at her watch. “Depending on your schedules, we can meet again next week.”

River rises from the couch and smoothes a hand down his pants. “Our schedules are pretty packed. But we’ll be here. Just tell us when.”

He hasn’t given up on me.

Thank fuck.

“Until next time, Nate, I want you to reduce your overindulgence in sex and pornography. Try to limit it as much as possible.”

I scowl at her. “I can’t jerk off?”

“Masturbation is okay at an acceptable level.”

“I jerk off once a day,” River interjects. “Is that considered acceptable?”

She nods. “Yes. But for Nate, even once daily could lead to more compulsions.”

“I can’t quit cold turkey, Doc. I’m a man.”

“Your gender is irrelevant,” she says as we walk toward the door. “All human beings have desires. It’s how we choose to satisfy them that matters.”

“So, when can I have sex?”

Instead of answering the most critical question, she says, “I want you to keep a journal of your thoughts. Record every time you get the urge to have sex, watch porn, masturbate, or engage in any destructive behavior. Try to be specific. Write down why you feel that way and if something triggered you.”

I consider her suggestion and immediately dismiss it. “If I write down every sexual thought, my hand will fall off by the end of day one. And then, I won’t be able to play hockey.”

Or with my dick.

River groans beside me. “I’ll make sure he does it.”

“To be clear, Doc, can I jerk off?”

“Once a day,” she says but seems conflicted by her response. “If you feel the need. But no more than that. And no watching pornography. No more making home movies.”

“How do you expect me to get off?”

“Use your imagination,” River says, tugging on my hand as she opens the door for us.

After we say our goodbyes, River drags me out of the office. I squeeze his long fingers on the elevator ride to the ground floor and all the way to the parking lot, draining the life from his knuckles.

He lets go when we’re standing at his car.

No, don’t leave me.

“River?”

He must see the look in my eyes because he pulls me into his arms, stroking his fingers down my back. “I got you, Nate.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“Never.”

His nose burrows into my neck, and I tilt my head to the side to give him better access. I love the feel of his skin pressed to mine. The sounds he makes when he sniffs me. For years, he’s done this when we hug.

It’s like River is scenting his mate.

If I could choose anyone as my forever person, it would be River. I hate being apart from him. Any distance, even during classes, annoys the fuck out of me.

River is mine.

Why do I like the sound of that?

I’m so damn confused. Lately, it seems my sexuality is dangling by a thread. I mean, I know for a fact I’m not gay. Women are the best. They smell good and look pretty when they get dressed up. And I love when my cock disappears into a nice, tight pussy.

Yet, I need River to hold me together, to keep me from drowning in a sea of darkness.

I’m not gay.

But I am for River.

CHAPTER 25

NATE

All night, I toss and turn, wracked by nightmares. They never go away, no matter how hard I try to dull them with alcohol and sex.

I’m in my childhood bedroom, curled up on my side. The music from downstairs floats up to the second floor, but I can’t make out the words. I hear people talking, muffled voices, and other strange noises.

Whimpering?

Is someone hurt?

I roll onto my back as my bedroom door opens. A golden glow from the hallway lighting filters into the dark space. Heels tap on the hardwood floor, and I smell vanilla as she moves closer to the bed.

She’s here.

Again.

I don’t like it when she wakes me up. Or when she slips off her heels and gets into bed with me.

“Hey, my sweet boy,” she whispers, her lips hovering above mine.

I’m almost six feet tall and built for my age, but that doesn’t make it okay for her to do this. Just because I look like a man doesn’t mean I am one.

I swallow to clear the lump in my throat, close my eyes, and pretend to sleep.

She doesn’t care.

She never does.

My eyes snap open to darkness. Heart racing a mile a minute, I sit up, clutching my chest.

Fuck.

Scanning the space, I see four different walls. And no sign of her.

Thank God.

Another dream.

A memory.

Sweat covers every inch of my bare skin. Even naked, I feel like clothes are sticking to me. Grabbing a bath towel from the back of my door, I wipe my face and take a few deep breaths. Then, I dry the rest of my body and slip into a pair of boxer briefs.

River hates it when I get into bed with him naked. And I already know that’s where I’m going.

To him.

To the only place I feel safe.

I crack open his door, hear him softly breathing, and enter his room. Until we moved to Kingston University, we shared the same bedroom.

I miss it.

Moonlight creeps in through the open blinds. River sleeps on his side, naked and with his arm draped over his eyes. In this light, I see his dark tattoos perfectly.

Over his heart, there are two crisscrossed hockey sticks with the number twenty-three between them. C'est la vie is written in script over the right side of his chest, a few inches above his nipple.

River’s dad is French Canadian and taught him English and French. The words translate to that’s life, as in some things you can’t change.

Do the words have anything to do with us?

He got stuck rooming with me at boarding school, and I have made his life miserable ever since. It’s my fault he’s never gone on a date. If he’d never met me, his life would be perfect. Because I am fucked up, River has been denied any chance at normalcy, which only makes me hate myself more.

I’m such a selfish asshole.

He should leave me.

Why is he even my friend?

I don’t deserve River.

I stare at his sexy body and trace my fingers over the dark vines that curl around his shoulder and down his right arm. On his forearm, he has a black infinity symbol to match mine. We got it in the same place to symbolize our never-ending bond.

Only death could keep me from River. And even then, if he were to die first, I would throw myself in the grave with him.

He’s my forever.

As the mattress dips, he groans. I drop a sheet over the lower half of his body because he’s naked. Just seeing exposed flesh makes me think about sex.

His abs are so tight they look hand-sculpted. And the tiny patch of hair below his belly button that leads to…

Stop it, Nate!

I don’t even like men.

Never in my life have I thought another guy was hot. Yet, my mind keeps noticing River’s body. How he smells. How his cum tastes.

Fuck.

This is bad.

I’ve always wondered when my addiction would take a horrible turn. I’m already on the verge of losing River if I don’t get my shit together.

Laying my head on the pillow beside his, I turn to face him. Looking at him helps soothe my nerves. I watch his chest rise and fall. Notice how his full lips part as he breathes softly. He doesn’t snore, which is nice. It makes it easier for me to close my eyes and zone out.

This will go away soon.

River will leave you.

No one loves you.

You’re unlovable.

Tears prick my eyes at the thought of River signing an NHL contract. What if he gets picked by the Toronto Maple Leafs?

Jesus.

I can’t even imagine being that far from him. Most of River’s family lives in Quebec. He could move to Canada and never come back.

We’ve had a good run, ten years of friendship. But I know he needs to go. River was born to be a star like his father. He’s not supposed to stay behind and take care of me.

I cover his hand with mine and intertwine our fingers, needing to feel closer to him. According to Dr. Swanson, this is intimacy. What I share with River goes beyond the normal limits of friendship.

“Nate,” River whispers.

His eyes are closed, but he must have felt my weight shift the mattress or my fingers linked with his.

“Nate,” he says again, and one green eye opens. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

He squeezes my hand. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He licks his chapped lips. “Think you can go back to sleep?”

His lashes flutter, and I can see he’s fighting to stay awake for me.

“Yes,” I lie, even though my pulse is pounding in my ears and my heart is racing.

I hate that my shitty life keeps him up at night. River is so selfless that he would give up anything for me. He’s already given too much and needs to be at his best for our next game.

“Are you sure?”

No.

“Yes.”

He pats his chest, seeing through my bullshit, knowing what I need. “Come here.”

Like we’re lovers, he coaxes me closer with the invitation. The second my head hits his chest and I hear the steady beat of his heart, I close my eyes.

“You’re safe, Nate.” River curls his arm around me, his hand on my upper back. “I know today was hard. But we will get through it together. I promise.”

That’s all I need to hear before I drift to another place without a dream or nightmare.

Something warm and soft but also a little hard touches my cheek. I lean into it to experience the feeling more. A musky scent and clean linen fills my nostrils. I burrow my nose into another soft space.

“Nate?”

I open my eyes to find my arm draped over a man’s bare, muscled chest. My nose shoved into the crook of his neck. And my lips on his skin. Then, I see the tattoo above his right nipple.

C'est la vie.

River.

Lifting my head, I stare into his tired green eyes. They’re glassy and hooded, a sign he didn’t sleep well because of me.

“Did I keep you up with my nightmares?”

He shakes his head. “No, you slept through the night.”

Of course, he doesn’t answer my question. Knowing River, he stayed up and worried about me. I rarely dream in his bed. River keeps the nightmares away.

I inch my hand lower and accidentally graze his cock. It’s hard, tenting the sheet covering us.

“Morning wood,” he says, looking mortified, his cheeks flushed.

Just seeing the outline of his hard dick makes me think about sex. I want to make another porno for him just to listen to him come from my side of the wall while I get off to his moans.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’m hard.

Painfully so.

Like clockwork, I wake up every morning with an erection. Sometimes, several times a night. I know it’s probably because I have to piss… or had a filthy dream. But being hard always leads to me watching porn, and that usually ends with wanting the real thing.

“Nate, no.” River clutches my wrist as I touch my cock. “No sex today.”

“Dr. Swanson said I can jerk off,” I say, tossing the covers off my legs.

River tackles me to the mattress. When I try to get up, he pins me down with his muscular thighs, his big cock flush with my abs.

Make it fucking stop.

I think he’s even harder now… and so am I. As if that were even fucking possible.

“If you don’t listen to me, then you need to find a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting and get a sponsor.”

“Fuck that. I’m not going to a meeting and telling strangers about my life.”

He holds his weight down on me, all two hundred pounds of muscle and cock. River leans forward, so close our lips could touch.

Is he going to kiss me?

Would I let him?

Maybe if he lets me jerk off…

“Stop it,” he bites out, his green eyes intense and scary. “You haven’t even made it one day.”

I like this side of River.

Women never put up a fight when I suggest we get rough. They embrace it. Now that the tables are turned, I can see why they enjoy it.

I hated when the She-Devil dominated me, which is why I’m always in control with women. But I want River to claim me.

To create some friction, I grip his hips and shove him lower until our cocks touch. His eyes widen, and those full lips part for me. River wants to say something, yet he lets me rock my hips, allowing me to rub our bodies together.

My boxer briefs are the only thing separating us. Bet he didn’t think this through when he jumped me like a dirty whore looking for a ride. And so that’s what I let him do.

“Nate,” he whispers, eyes half-closed. “Fuck. Stop it.”

“You can stop me at any time.”

Guiding his body over mine, he does nothing to prevent our dicks from brushing in the most delicious way.

I need this.

I need him.

This isn’t even sexual. My need to be one with him consumes me and drags me down a never-ending spiral of doom and destruction.

I glance down at where our bodies join, then back up to his face. “You don’t want to stop, do you?”

Instead of looking at me, he closes his eyes and moans.

Fuck, that’s hot.

I love the sounds he makes when he comes.

River cages me with his big body, resting his elbows on each side of my head and moving his hips like a greedy little slut desperate for my cock.

His head drops to my shoulder, and his lips are on my neck. He sticks out his tongue and wets my skin, purring in my ear.

“Tu es à moi,” he whispers, and I wish I had paid attention in French class.

I’d write it down to Google later, but my dick is the only hard thing near me. And the last I checked, it doesn’t make for a great writing instrument. Although, who knows, my dick has been known to perform miracles.

I peek up at River when he lifts his head, and our eyes meet. “Say that again.”

He looks confused and then says, “Tu es à moi?”

I can’t even begin to spell the words because I sucked at French. But I need to know what he muttered in the heat of the moment.

“What does it mean?”

Blush creeps up his neck, and he buries his face in my neck. “Whatever you want it to.”

I want it to mean you love me. I want it to mean you will never leave me. I want it to mean we can stay like this forever, our hearts beating as one. And I wish I had the nerve to say all this to you.

I etch my fingers into his tight ass, enjoying how firm he is in my hands. “Ah, fuck. Yes. Come for me.”

As River’s cum spills onto my abdomen, I come in my boxers. Sticky and sweaty, we stay like this for a second. It takes a solid minute before River’s trance breaks and reality sets in for him.

“Oh god,” he mutters and slides off me. “What did we just do?” River curls his knees into his chest and tugs at the ends of his dark brown hair. “I promised to help you and⁠—”

“Hey.” I grab his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s fucking not, Nate!” River has tears in his eyes. “I told Dr. Swanson I would keep you in line, and we just… What the fuck did we do? I’m a terrible influence.”

“If anyone is a bad influence, it’s me. And it was nothing. Just two friends getting off.”

“With each other,” he points out. “That’s not fucking normal, Nate.”

“Is this any different than when I ask you to jerk me off?”

River hops out of bed. “No, it was so much worse. I can’t believe you. Why do you keep putting me in this position? You fucking promised to try.”

I toss my legs over the side of the bed, still getting my bearings from that orgasm. “Dr. Swanson said I can come once a day.”

He wraps a towel around his waist, shaking his head. “Not with me. With your hand.”

Furious, River flings open the door, disappearing into the hallway before we can finish our discussion. I don’t go after him. River needs his space to work out his feelings. And I’m left with the nagging thought that I ruined our friendship forever. This time, I might have lost him for good.

CHAPTER 26

RIVER

After Nate used my body this morning, I felt an intense amount of shame and disgust. Mostly because I used him, too. Our relationship is turning into something ugly and unfamiliar.

I took a shower and left for practice without him. Nate didn’t even bother texting or calling. He knew he fucked up, stumbling onto the ice with a lazy grin and sad I’m sorry.

I need advice from someone who understands my predicament. So, I find myself standing outside Professor West’s office, staring at the calendar on the wall, worrying this is a terrible idea. He has office hours for another hour. No one has penciled their name in the last slot of the day. So, I add mine and knock on his door.

Once.

Twice.

The door flings open.

All smiles, Professor West seems happy until his eyes land on me. His expression transforms into something darker, conflicted.

He’s dressed in black slacks that hug his perfect thighs. A white dress shirt with a dark blue tie beneath a black cardigan. His black hair is styled off his forehead, spiked with gel.

He looks good. Too fucking sexy to be a professor.

“River, what are you doing here? I thought I made myself clear.”

“I need to talk.” Clutching the strap of my backpack, I step toward him. “Can I come in?”

He hesitates, gripping the partially open door. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Please.”

He scans the hallway and opens the door wider. “Get in here before someone sees you.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” I say as he leads me to the two chairs in front of his desk.

“I figured as much.”

The room is sparse, save for diplomas on the wall and a pinboard behind his desk covered with papers. My eyes sweep over his undergrad and J.D. degrees from Kingston University. He must be a hometown boy.

“My friend got accepted to Kingston Law,” I tell him, eyes moving from the law degree to his face. “Would you recommend it?”

He nods. “Yes, but that’s not why you’re here. So, why don’t you tell me what I can do for you.”

“Um.” I bite my lip and sit when he moves behind his desk. “I was hoping you could help me with something. It’s kind of personal.”

“River,” he says in an authoritative tone. “You’re my student.”

Dropping my backpack to the floor, I hold his steely gaze. “I need a friend, not a professor.”

Professor West leans back in the leather chair and sighs. “That’s highly inappropriate, given our previous encounter.”

“Don’t talk to me like a child,” I say, annoyed by his attitude. “I came here because I wanted to talk to another gay man. And because…”

“What is it?”

“Nate,” I mutter, anxiety clawing at my throat. “My best friend.”

“Okay,” he says, confused. “I don’t understand how I can help you with Nate. He’s also my student.”

“Nate is a sex addict.”

There, I said it.

The weight rolls off my shoulders. Even if only for a moment, it feels good to tell someone.

“And I enable him.”

He continues staring, nibbling on his bottom lip, unsure how to answer.

What is there to say?

What did I expect?

I needed to unburn myself, and now that I have, I can breathe easier.

“We’ve been having threesomes and orgies for almost eight years.” When his eyes widen, I continue spilling my darkest secrets. “But he’s getting worse… and I think he might like me back. I don’t know. Maybe not. He’s an addict. Sex is only sex to him. Every time something happens between us, he says he’s not gay. Like he’s trying to remind me what I feel isn’t real.”

“Wow,” Professor West mouths, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah.” Shoving my fingers through my hair, I blow out a deep breath. “I’m fucked, right?”

“I don’t know.” He leans forward, the chair creaking beneath his weight, and folds his hands on the desk. “It’s hard to say without knowing anything about you or Nate. If he’s a sex addict⁠—”

“He is. We’re seeing a therapist.”

“That’s pretty serious, River. I don’t see how I can help you with this. It’s not my area of expertise.”

“I can’t talk to anyone else. Not even Nate.” I pause for a beat to catch my breath. “Especially not him. Normally, I would tell him everything. But he’s not in his right mind. His addiction is worsening because of me. I created a monster.”

“There’s more to this story,” he says, picking up my shit mood. “What are you not telling me?”

“This morning, we did something stupid. Nate accidentally touched my dick. At least, I think it was an accident. I was already hard.” I shrug. “Morning wood. But something snapped when he touched me. He was getting ready to leave my room and watch porn… So, I stopped him by jumping on top of him.”

My hot professor cocks an eyebrow at me. “And? Did you fuck him?”

He seems more interested than judgmental, which is a welcome relief. I was afraid telling anyone other than Dr. Swanson would be too embarrassing. But I also figured, given his side hustles as a camboy and stripper, that he would understand.

“No, we didn’t have sex,” I tell him. “Nate gripped my hips and rubbed our dicks together. I told him to stop…” I lick my lips at the smoking hot memory. “He gave me an out. But I couldn’t move. I wanted to know what it would feel like to fuck him… or the closest thing to it.”

“You both got off?”

I bob my head. “Have you ever done anything like that with a straight friend?”

“Fuck, no.” He scrubs a hand across his jaw. “I only dreamed about it.”

“Do you think Nate is bisexual?”

“Has he ever hooked up with a man?”

“No.”

“Have you ever noticed him looking at men?”

“Nope.”

“Honestly, River. I don’t know. Addicts don’t think the way we do. They only care about getting their next high. The longer an addict uses, it alters their brain chemistry.”

Professor West tugs at his tie, and my mind wanders back to him on top of me at Glitter, half-naked and wearing a sexy football player uniform.

“Think about it this way. If Nate were a drug addict desperate for a hit, would he suck your dick?”

Without question, I nod. “So, it’s what I thought. Nate isn’t gay. Just lost in his addiction.”

Professor West rolls his broad shoulders. “I work with a guy who only likes one man. He’s never felt attraction toward another man and has been in a relationship with his partner for five years. If they were to break up, he said he would go back to fucking women.”

“Huh.” I stare into his pretty blue eyes, needing his words to be true. “In other words, there’s hope for Nate and me?”

He pushes his palms to the desk and rises from the chair. “Possibly. But in my experience, it rarely works out with straight men who want to experiment. I’d be careful.”

I sling the backpack over my shoulder and stand. “Thanks, Professor.”

He walks me to the door. “Do you feel any better?”

I nod. “Can I come back if I have other questions? I promise not to make things weird. I know what I did at the club… and felt sick after leaving. I shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

He pats me on the back. “It’s all good. You can talk to me if you need to. Just make an appointment.”

After I leave his office, a massive weight lifts off my shoulders. I already feel a hundred pounds lighter. But I can’t stop thinking about what he said.

It rarely works out with straight men who want to experiment.

Nate will destroy me if I let him. Except I’m in too deep to stop this moving train.

CHAPTER 27

NATE

Lately, River is all I think about. He’s on my mind day and night, thoughts of him playing repeatedly in my head like a highlight reel.

River.

River.

River.

My best friend has invaded my brain like an alien taking over a planet. It’s hard not to think about him when I see him in class or at practice. Plus, we live on top of each other. It would be easy to ignore these nagging feelings if he weren’t right next door.

But I can’t.

I must keep my idle hands occupied, so I whip out the journal River bought at the campus bookstore. We met between classes, but instead of shooting the shit, he stuffed the book into my hand.

“Get your fucking shit together,” he said and walked away.

I didn’t follow.

No point.

River’s pissed about me using him this morning and rightfully so. I deserve the silent treatment or whatever punishment is coming my way.

Propped up against a maple tree in the quad, I rest the journal on my knees and start writing every dirty thought I had today.

I woke up with a boner and accidentally touched River’s dick. I liked it. I liked it a whole fucking lot. His dick is big like mine but slightly girthier.

Fuck, why do I like his dick so much? I’m not gay. This is all so confusing.

We fought about me wanting to have sex. To stop me from doing something stupid, he climbed on top of me… and then we made each other come.

I loved it.

Every second.

I don’t understand why.

Are my feelings specific to River? Is the bond Dr. Swanson mentioned making me do things out of my comfort zone?

I didn’t hate River on top of me. I also didn’t mind him kissing my neck as we both came.

What does that say about me? Is this my addiction talking?

Since this morning, River has barely spoken to me. I crossed the line.

How do I fix us?

Later that morning, I stared at Professor Walcott’s ass for most of the class. It’s firm, round, and just right. I thought about sinking my teeth into her flesh and wondered how her pussy would taste.

She caught me looking at her.

I winked.

She scowled.

She’s around forty and has a good body for her age… but not a great face.

I would fuck her.

From behind.

Arms tied behind her back.

Yes, I like this idea.

At lunch, I sat in the cafeteria with a few of my teammates and scouted my next fuck. River is sick of Samantha.

We need a replacement. So, I scanned the cafeteria, stuffing a grilled chicken sandwich into my mouth and looking for another girl to take her place. But then, Samantha found me. Of course, she did. She knows my schedule by heart.

We fought about me not calling her back for days. I told her we were over and to get lost. I could have been nicer, but she wouldn’t stop yelling and was pissing me off.

“Nate,” a deep voice says, returning me to reality.

Before I look up, I know it’s River. I would know that voice anywhere.

I drop the pen into the book’s fold and close it. “Still mad at me?”

River sits on the grass beside me and tosses his backpack between us. “No. I can’t stay mad at you. I tried, though.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. You barely spoke to me all day.”

He glances at the journal. “Did you write in it?”

I nod. “Just finished with my morning and afternoon. Who knows what the rest of the day will bring?”

I laugh, but he doesn’t.

“Can I see it?”

Tightening my grip on the book, I sink against the tree. “It’s not finished yet.”

“Are you embarrassed by what I’ll think?”

I shake my head.

River wets his lips with his tongue, and the simple motion goes straight to my cock. More confusion settles into my mind, clouding my judgment. Maybe River and I are too close. This must be our intimate bond fucking with my head.

River extends his hand. “Let me read it.”

“Why?”

“I need to understand what’s going through your head. This is hard for me, too. And confusing. I want to help you and to do that… I need to know.”

Holding the journal to my chest, I bite my lip, searching for a way out. But I don’t see one.

“What we did this morning,” I say in a hushed tone. “It’s messing with me.”

“Me too.”

I place the book in his hand, my heart pumping rapidly. “Promise not to hate me.”

“I could never.” He flips to the first page, eyes on me. “You’re my best friend, Nate. I will always be here for you.”

“Will you, though? You’re leaving me after graduation.”

“Nate,” he whispers, closing the book. “Is this why you’re acting out so much?”

I bob my head. “I’m scared.”

Eyes downcast, he picks at the grass and sighs. “You can’t ask me to give up my dream to keep you from making mistakes.”

“I’m not,” I fire back. “I just…”

He lifts his head, and dark hair falls before his green eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know.” I wave my hand. “Forget it.”

A beat passes, the tension in the air making my skin tingle. I instantly regret writing all of my feelings about River on the page.

What a stupid fucking exercise!

I wish the doctor hadn’t suggested it.

River clutches the book and sighs. “Do you have feelings for me?”

To avoid River’s question, I tip my head at the journal. Saying the words aloud feels too raw. Too real. He can figure it out for himself.

River reads the entries several times before his eyes meet mine. His chest rises and falls faster as if struggling to catch his breath. Is he having a fucking panic attack?

An alarm on his cell phone dings. He turns it off and tosses the book at my chest, rising from the grass and slinging the backpack over his shoulder. “Gotta go. I have another class.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, deflated, hoping I haven’t ruined our friendship.

I can’t sit still during Criminology and tap my foot repeatedly on the floor. The raven-haired girl two chairs over whips her curly head, giving me a look that could turn a man to stone. Medusa tips her head at my shaky leg, and I narrow my eyes at her.

Yeah, I get it.

I’m annoying.

I would have bailed if I didn’t need the credit for this class. Letting River read my journal without him saying a word is fucking with my head. I should have answered his question.

Do you have feelings for me?

For the past hour, his words have rolled around in my head like a ping-pong ball. I honestly don’t know. Sure, I love River. He’s my best friend and rates higher on my list than family.

Do I have romantic feelings for him?

Maybe.

I pluck the journal from my backpack to distract my lingering thoughts and start writing. It’s surprisingly cathartic unleashing my inner demons on the page.

I can’t stop thinking about River. He left me in the quad, feeling like I was holding my limp dick. Everything has changed between us. Our dynamic is off, and he’s becoming distant.

I can’t lose him.

So, I sit in class, plotting my next video. He never comments on which one he likes. Never even acknowledges he got the text, leaving all of them on read. But when I lean against my bedroom wall and listen to him jerk off, he grunts the loudest at the ones I wear only my jersey.

I usually sit on a chair, completely naked except for the jersey, legs spread wide so he can see all of me. With my right hand, I touch my cock, just enough to tease him, rolling the pre-cum over my tip.

Then, I inch up my jersey, the pads of my fingers brushing my abs. I continue my slow exploration until he can see my nipples. And since he loves it when chicks touch his, I flick my finger over mine, one after the other.

Sometimes, I lick the pre-cum from my finger, eyes on the camera. A few times, I even swiped at my stomach after I finished and let him see me taste myself.

I wonder if he mimics my movements. Does he imagine I’m doing the same to his cock?

I enjoy his moans.

I want to watch him in action, but I feel weird asking. The videos I make in private are for his eyes alone, and so is his enjoyment. Yet, I can’t stop wondering how he looks while watching me on the screen.

Does he spread his legs and lean back on his mattress, clutching the phone? Or does he sit in his computer chair and watch me on a bigger screen?

I’m dying to know.

Fuck.

Maybe tonight I’ll be more adventurous. Slip a finger into my tight hole and see how it feels. I bet River would like that. The man he watches on OnlyFans fucks his fingers, dildos, and other men’s dicks. I’m not ready to go to the extreme without the proper motivation.

But I can try it.

For River.

I drop the pen into the book’s fold, my cock harder than steel and too fucking horny to sit another second in this classroom. So, I scoop my laptop and books into the backpack, using the bag to shield my boner as I stand.

Medusa glares at me.

To be a dick, I blow her a kiss.

She scoffs, flicking her curls over her shoulder and acting like she can’t stand me. But I catch her eyes roaming my body, spending a few extra seconds to admire my ass.

Take a good look.

I slap a hand on my right cheek and smirk. She scowls.

The professor looks up as I inch across the row. I nod and hop over students’ legs to get the fuck out of here. I’m not my usual slick self, stumbling and bumping into people. With this massive erection poking a hole in my pants, aching and leaking, begging to be free, I can’t even walk straight.

If Medusa saw the bulge in my pants, she would probably call the damn police. Uptight brat. I flash her a final wink, which earns me another sneer.

I exit the classroom, awkwardly pressing the bag to my front, and stagger into the crowded hallway. My law classes are in Mathis Hall, located on the other side of campus from my house. At all times of the day, this building is bustling with annoyingly loud co-eds.

Darting to the left, I shove through the mass of bodies until I’m outside and breathing in the salty air. Beacon Bay is the name of the small town and the body of water spanning the coastline.

Kingston University separates the uber-wealthy from the poor. However, only people from the north side of Beacon Bay can afford the hefty tuition.

Crossing the quad, I spot Samantha sitting under a tree with two brunettes. They’re cute but not hot like her.

Fuck, I miss her pussy.

Not her, though.

Our last few texts were pretty toxic, even by my standards. Maybe I should have been nicer. I could have handled things differently. Samantha thought we had a future, yet I’d told her every time we fucked that it was nothing more than sex.

I veer off the path and make a beeline down a side street. People wave and flag me down. One guy invites me to a frat party this weekend. Girls bat their lashes and flash pretty smiles.

Fuck, I miss women.

Or do I just miss sex?

I notice their short skirts and sexy thighs. Yoga pants and skinny jeans. Tight tops and low-cut shirts showing cleavage. Anything that molds to their bodies draws my attention.

I don’t discriminate.

But then River’s naked body enters my mind. All thoughts of these women disappear in a blink.

This is unhealthy.

I can’t like my best friend.

Even if I wanted to be gay for a night, our friendship would not survive it. I don’t know how to explore my sexuality with anyone but River. He’s the only person I trust. And he’s already interested in me.

Could I fuck him?

No.

Maybe.

Yes.

Fuck, I’m screwed.

CHAPTER 28

RIVER

One of my teammates yells my name, then Nate’s, waking me from a sound sleep. I rise from the bed like a vampire from the grave, slow and without composure. My legs ache from back-to-back practices and late-night runs to clear my head. I need to rest for our next game, yet my teammates do their best to annoy me.

“Riv.” Nate knocks on the door and pushes it open. He stands in the entryway, mesh shorts slung low on his narrow hips, shirtless. “Come downstairs.”

Still semi-delirious and wondering if I’m dreaming, I stare at Nate’s bare chest and lick my lips. Ripped with muscle and toned in all the right places, he’s perfect.

“Hey!” Nate waves his hand. “Did you hear me?”

Nope, I was too busy gawking at you.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” I slide off the bed and pull a shirt over my head, yanking it down my stomach. “What’s the big fucking deal?”

“Who knows?” Nate shrugs. “Parker keeps calling our names. Probably a house meeting.”

My role as the team captain does not extend to the house. I let Parker handle the other nine players living under this roof. He’s good at organizing our schedules, dealing with the cleaning crew, and ensuring our refrigerator has food. Parker also collects rent, pays the utilities, and does a dozen other things we all appreciate.

I follow Nate downstairs, scrubbing a hand at my tired eyes.

Parker stands at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the railing, jaw clenched. His head tips toward the door where my two roommates block someone from entering. “Deal with her. Now!”

“Go home,” Waters says to the person on our front porch. “I won’t tell you again, woman.”

Shit, what now?

“Let me in,” Samantha yells. “Don’t act like I haven’t been here dozens of times. Just tell Nate and River I’m here.”

I glance at Nate. “I thought you talked to her.”

“I did,” he fires back and heads toward the door. He yanks it open and pushes past Waters and Monroe. “Was I not clear in my texts, or do you need me to spell it out for you in another language, Samantha?”

He says her name with so much disdain in his tone it shocks me. Nate has always been kind to Samantha. I think he liked her. But if that were the case, then why did he stop fucking her when I lost interest?

He hasn’t been with anyone since. Well, he’s also not allowed to have sex. So, there’s that.

“Nate, will you tell your teammates to let me in?”

He leans against the front of the house, shaking his head. “How many times do I have to tell you this is over? Should I make you a sign and hold it over my head?”

I elbow him. “You don’t have to be a dick.”

Nate shrugs. “What? She’s not getting the message, and she’s bringing this bullshit to our doorstep.”

Parker listens from the entryway, propping the door open with his hip. He looks annoyed while my two other teammates are amused.

Jimmy Waters, a beast of a man, sits on the porch swing beside Kevin Monroe. The goalie and defenseman lean back on the cushion, their weight nearly tipping the swing off balance.

They are too damn big for that thing.

I told Parker to remove it before someone lands in the hospital. His solution was to reinforce the bolts on the porch roof, which, by the looks of it, did not work.

Samantha eyes me up, a plea on her lips and desperation in her eyes. “Tell him, River.” She puts her hand on my chest, and I step out of her grasp. Her gaze drops along with her shoulders, deflated by my response. “You still want me, don’t you?”

“No,” I admit. “I moved on, Sam. You should, too.”

“But…” She presses her lips together, tears welling in her bottom lids. “What did I do wrong?”

You don’t have a dick.

I wish I could tell her the truth. Someday, she will read about me online and realize nothing she did could have prevented the pain she’s feeling. And I hope then, it will bring her some comfort.

“It’s not personal.”

“Oh, it’s not you, it’s me?” Samantha rolls her eyes. “Wow! You two have some sick kinks. Things I have kept a secret because I like you.” She studies us, then settles on me. “I could tell everyone about you.”

I nervously laugh at her comment. “What about me?”

She tips her head back and cackles like a witch, loud and terrifying. “They don’t know, do they?”

My blood runs cold at her words.

“Know what?” Waters asks, leaning forward, tipping the swing.

Samantha’s plump lips curve into a wicked grin. “You are going to regret this.”

She storms down the steps, blonde hair flapping behind her.

Waters hops up from the swing. It rocks to the side, knocking Monroe to the ground. The defenseman curses. The giant laughs.

Waters stops in front of me and smirks. “This house has thin walls. We know what she was going to say.”

Monroe nods.

CHAPTER 29

RIVER

I wake up to my cell phone ringing. When I don’t bother to answer it, the person calls again, fucking with my gameday ritual. I like to sleep late if possible, hydrate, and pamper myself. My body is more than a temple. It’s my ticket to the NHL.

But the asshole won’t stop calling me. I fling an arm over the side of the bed to grab my cell phone from the nightstand. My fingers touch the phone, but I miss and knock it onto the floor.

“Fuck,” I groan and hang off the mattress to retrieve it. “What?” I yell into the receiver without looking at the Caller ID.

“Is that how you speak to your father?”

Oh, dear lord.

Make it fucking stop.

“What, Dad? I’m trying to sleep. I have a big game tonight against Penn State.”

“Yeah, I know. And I want you focused, but… I just talked to Alanna. Someone leaked a video of you, and it’s gone viral.”

At that, I sit up straight, eyes wide, heart pounding. “What kind of video?”

“You and Nate hugging by his car.” He lets out a deep sigh. “I thought we talked about this River. No more gay shit with Nate.”

How the fuck dare he?

I go from panic to full-blow rage monster in one second flat, shouting into the phone. “A hug, Dad? Really? Have you never hugged one of your teammates or friends? Come on. This is bullshit. How many of your teammates have you slapped on the ass after a game? No one made a big deal about it. No one called you fucking gay.”

“I never engaged in the kind of activities that you and Nate are into.”

“Oh my god. Stop. If you think for one second I’m going to believe you never had a threesome before you met Mom⁠—”

“Not with other men,” he interrupts. “Not with my teammates. Do you see where I’m going with this, River? Have all the threesomes you want with women⁠—”

“Just not with Nate. Got it. Can I go now, Dad?”

My blood feels like it’s boiling in my veins. Every inch of my skin is hot, now covered in a thin sheen of sweat. How can one person make me so angry? I don’t even care those girls from the movie theater filmed us. People have been doing that shit my entire life.

“Sure,” my dad says. “Alanna will call you after your first class to discuss cleaning up your image.”

“My image is fine,” I snap, anger dripping from my tone.

“This isn’t the first time someone accused you of being gay, River. If you are, you need to tell me or Alanna. We can fix this.”

“I’m not gay. And I don’t need fixing.”

Some days, I think I’m mostly gay. Not even bisexual. But other days, I see a pretty girl on campus and think I would fuck her. Then, Nate flashes into my head, and all sense goes out the window. I can only see Nate when he’s in the room, consuming every aspect of my life.

“Please don’t call me again today. I have a game tonight and don’t need any distractions.”

He blows air into the receiver, annoyed with my request, but says, “Good game, good luck.”

My dad says this before every game. He’s a little superstitious. I don’t need luck or his well wishes, not with my skills.

After I hang up the phone, Nate stumbles into my room, a pair of black boxer briefs sitting crooked on his hips. My cock notices him before my brain does, so I place a pillow on my lap.

Nate sits on the bed beside me, unaware of my hard dick peeking out of my boxers, wanting to say hello to him. “Did you see TikTok yet?”

I shake my head. “No, but my dad just called to yell at me.”

“Yeah, figured he would. I used to idolize your dad. But he’s such a dick once you get to know him.”

“Tell me about it.”

He shoves his phone at me. “We’re gonna have to fuck half the girls on campus just to prove we’re not gay.”

“Not happening.” I take the phone from him. “Dr. Swanson said no sex until you get your urges under control. Fucking a bunch of women isn’t going to prove shit.”

Nate frowns. “Just watch the damn video. It doesn’t look or sound good for either of us. The audio is really clear.”

The Kingston Spy has thousands of comments on the video. God, I hate this fucking girl. It has to be a puck bunny or someone out for revenge.

I hit Play, and I’m standing in front of Nate on the screen, but his eyes are on his shoes.

“I hate this,” he mutters. “I don’t want to be this way.”

“Your addiction is ruining our lives,” I say, stepping closer. “But we can figure this out together.”

“Promise?”

I nod. “I got you.”

Nate throws his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. I hug him back like my life depends on it. We cling to each other, looking more like lovers than best friends, which is how it feels anymore. We became more than friends once we crossed the line, even if Nate couldn’t see it.

“Is that River Rousseau?”

In the video, I turn to look at the girl filming the video, but you can’t see her. She zooms in on me, then wanders to Nate, getting a good shot of his face and glassy eyes.

“Holy shit! He’s into dudes.”

“So hot,” her friend says. “Are you guys gonna kiss or what? I’m dying over here.”

The camera angle changes to Nate as he grits his teeth and moves toward them. “Give me that fucking phone.”

“Hell, no,” she yells, the video shaking as she runs toward the movie theater. “You want it, come get it, sexy.”

The screen flips to images of Nate and me over the years, and then The Kingston Spy does an AI-generated voiceover.

“I wonder what River was talking about,” the fake voice says as photos from my Instagram flash on the screen. “Anyone got the deets on Nate Brooks and his addiction? Or is he just addicted to River Rousseau? Can’t say I would blame him. Share this video with a friend and comment with your theories.”

After the video ends, I scroll through the comments. A bunch of trolls talking shit. Girls hoping we’re hooking up and want pics. They also want in on the action. Of course, we get some Bible thumpers bitching about God and gay people and how it’s unholy.

Whatever.

Fuck them.

I close out of the app and hand Nate the phone. “Doesn’t matter. They have no proof of anything.”

He nibbles on his bottom lip. “My dad will want to know about my addiction.”

“Mine didn’t mention it. Maybe he won’t tell your dad. He doesn’t spend any time on TikTok.”

“Yeah, but his PR team keeps tabs on me. They set up Google alerts so they know if anyone posts about me. And they check all of the social apps.”

“We can tell the world whatever we want. Without proof, they have nothing.”

His arm bumps into mine, and my skin sparks with heat, going straight to my cock that is now awake again and wants to play. With him.

Down boy.

“I’m not worrying about this shit on game day,” I tell Nate, slapping a hand on his back. “Can you make us breakfast? I’m starving.”

He winks, and then he’s gone, leaving me to deal with the massive boner he left in his wake.

When Coach Marten calls for a line change, Parker and Nate hop over the wall, sticks in hand. I follow behind them, skating down the ice. Fueled by adrenaline and rage, I want to take out my pent-up aggression on the opposing team.

I need to hit something.

Anything.

I’m wound too tight.

Thankfully, I have a distraction. We’re playing Penn State at home and winning by two goals. I check a defenseman into the boards, fighting him for possession of the puck. He’s not as good of a puck handler as me. No one in the league can touch my skill, and how could they? An NHL legend trained me.

The defenseman attempts to knock the puck through my legs instead of taking the toe of his stick blade to move the puck away from me. A winger throws his right shoulder into my left, trying to push me out of the way. But I’m quicker and better than them, tapping the puck away from the defenseman’s stick using a toe drag to slide it to the other side of my body.

At least I’m good at hockey.

Lately, I feel like I am failing at life. Being on the ice gives me an instant pick-me-up. A thrill rolls down my arms and spine, sending a ripple of excitement through me.

I set off down the ice on the breakaway, crossing the puck in front of me with my eyes on the goalie. Players trail behind me in a poor attempt to match my speed. I can skate circles around them. While I may lack confidence in many areas, this is not one of them.

I’m as good as people say and know it.

My stats don’t lie.

Staring down the goalie, I switch the puck from my left to right to fake him out and then quickly change at the last minute, smacking the puck to the right side of his skate. He attempts to stop it, but the puck sails over the crease and hits the back of the net.

The goal horn sounds.

Another victory.

The packed rink erupts into chaos. Everyone rises from their seats, dressed in a sea of black and gold jerseys and hoodies, screaming my name.

I love the admiration.

At a time when I’m feeling low and shitty, I need all the praise I can get from strangers.

My teammates rush over to me. Gloves slam into my back, on my shoulders, and a few land on my helmet.

“Because of this guy,” Parker says to my teammates, “we’re winning another Frozen Four this year.” He taps my back with his glove. “Good game, Rousseau.”

I spit out my mouthguard and nod. “Thanks, Hale.”

Other players congratulate me and skate away. Most of the crowd still stands, cheering my name. This never gets old. I grew up watching people do the same for my father. Hockey is all I have ever known, and I don’t want to lose this feeling.

When I reach the bench, Nate grabs my arm. “Killer game, Riv.”

I nod as his breath warms my cheek. “Thanks.”

“We need to talk,” he says in a hushed tone.

He holds my gaze, his long eyelashes framing golden-brown eyes, and while his words say one thing, his eyes say another. Something has shifted. I can’t put my finger on what is different about Nate. There’s so much subtext hidden in our interactions.

He tips his head at the crazed puck bunny in the front row, her big tits mashed on the Plexiglass. Samantha is wearing a replica of my jersey, the number twenty-three splayed across her chest.

I follow my teammates toward the locker room.

Nate walks beside me and whispers, “Do you want to find another girl?”

“Nope.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You, I want to yell. My obsession with you is the fucking problem!

But as usual, I hold my tongue, locking up my feelings like a traitorous prisoner consuming space in my heart.

“Neither of us will ever have a normal life if we keep this up,” I say as we strip off our gloves at our lockers. “It’s for the best, Nate.”

“I don’t get you anymore,” he hisses, tossing his gear on the floor. “We’ve been sharing women for a long time. I thought…” He sits on the bench and unties his skate. “I’ll find someone better for us. She wasn’t right anyway.”

He sounds like the lawyer he will one day become, negotiating his way through a deal. But he can’t settle matters of the heart with a new girl or even the right words.

“I mean it, Nate. I’m done. If you want to fuck Samantha, go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

He storms toward the showers, keeping his distance. After I shower, Nate is gone when I return to my locker with a towel wrapped around my waist.

That fucker left without me.

CHAPTER 30

NATE

My crush on River sort of happened overnight. One day, we were fucking a puck bunny, our cocks buried inside her stretched-out pussy—nothing out of the ordinary. Just another wild night. A lot of beer, lube, and a box of condoms.

Our eyes locked for a split second, long enough to see the desire in his eyes. I shook it off as nothing. We were both drunk and high on life. But a thrill rushed through me when I noticed him watching me again. I liked it and didn't understand why.

I didn’t want it to mean anything. Yet, I wanted to feel his body pressed down on mine. My cock inside his ass instead of a pussy.

I want him.

I need him.

I will have him.

After the game, I made a rash decision to leave without River. I ran home to burn off the nervous energy. Now I’m pacing across my bedroom floor, trying not to think about River.

Tonight, I need to be alone.

If I hide until morning, maybe I can get my shit together. Forget all about these unwanted feelings for River.

Before I left the locker room, I peeked at River in the shower, willing my cock to behave. The water crested over his nipples and slithered down his chiseled abs as he tipped his head back to wash his hair. My eyes went straight to his cock hanging between his thick thighs. Anymore, he gets me all riled up, ready to fuck, and desperate for more.

I hate this.

The need.

The cravings.

I can’t fuck my best friend without destroying us. River is too sensitive for us to have sex and forget about it. This is nothing more than curiosity, a strange fascination I must snuff from my brain.

My fingers itch to grab the remote and turn on a porno. I’m going crazy not making or watching porn… or having sex.

Fuck, I miss the release.

I turn on the TV, about to surf through my porn collection, when my cell phone rings.

Fuck, not now.

Why does my dad call when I want to punch something? Conversations with my old man rarely go well. The last one ended with me losing five million dollars and him threatening to take my trust fund away.

I lean against the headboard, stretching my long legs across the mattress, and answer the phone.

“Explain the video,” my dad drawls, his Texan accent thicker when he raises his voice. “Why are you confessing to having an addiction?”

“Dad,” I groan. “That video was taken out of context. I don’t have an addiction.”

“I will squash this. Just tell me the truth.”

“I’m not an addict,” I fire back at him. “Have I done drugs or drink? Sure. So have most college students. But it’s not serious. Promise.”

“Then what the fuck were you mumbling about on that video? Why were you hugging River, looking on the verge of tears?”

“I wasn’t,” I snap. “Fuck. Any asshole on the internet can use someone’s face, voice, and likeness to make shit up. It’s called a deepfake. Look it up.”

He breathes into the receiver. “I’m not in the mood for this shit, Nathaniel.”

I know you like this, Nathaniel. You get so hard for me.

“Stop fucking calling me that!”

Whenever her voice enters my mind, my stomach cramps. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s peeling from my bones. I close my eyes and block out her voice, attempt to forget about those awful fucking nightmares.

“It’s your name,” Dad shouts.

“No, it’s fucking not. Don’t call me again.”

I end the call and toss the phone across the room. It hits the wall and lands by the open closet. A second later, someone knocks on my door.

I throw a pillow at the door. “Fuck off!”

“It’s just me,” River says, his voice deep and smooth. “Let me in, Nate.”

“No.”

“Stop being a dick,” he growls. “Open this damn door before I break it down.”

“Get lost, Riv. I want to be alone.”

“I don’t care.” He bangs on the wood. “I will kick this fucking thing down if you don’t get off your ass⁠—”

I yank him inside the room before he can finish his thought and push him against the closed door. “What do you want?”

River scowls. “You left me.”

“So? Do you need me to walk you home? You’re not my fucking girlfriend.”

“Nate, stop.” His hands slide up my chest, awakening my cock. “You’re mad. I get it. Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to go away.”

Liar.

To prove my point, I turn away from him, but River comes up behind me.

He hooks his arms around my middle, chin resting on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about what I said in the locker room. I know this is hard for you.”

I sigh. “It is.”

“I’m proud of you.”

His words bring a smile to my face. “I haven’t had sex in forever… and I’m only jerking off once a day. I deserve a reward.”

River groans. “Nate, you have to follow the program. It will work if you stick with it.”

“You get to have sex,” I fire back at him, spinning around to face him. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since Samantha.” He places his hands on my shoulders, our lips so close we could touch. “You want a reward?”

I bob my head.

River holds out his palm, wiggling his long fingers. “Show me your journal.”

Oh god.

Not this shit again.

Ignoring his request, I sit on the bed and grab the remote, flicking through the channels.

River stands between my spread thighs. “Dr. Swanson asked you to write down your sexual thoughts for a reason.”

Bored with the selection, I turn off the TV and look up at him. “I’ve been writing in the journal all day.”

His thumb brushes my cheek, a smile on his face. “Please let me see.”

“It’s embarrassing.” A blush dusts my cheeks, heat spreading down my neck. “I wrote stuff that… I’m trying to work it out. I don’t want you to see it yet.”

“Did you write about me?”

I nod, keeping my expression vacant, afraid he will see the truth on my face.

“I’ll make you a deal,” River says. “If you let me read your journal, we can jerk off together.”

Most people would be annoyed by his intrusive behavior. But River is not like most people, and we have never kept secrets from each other.

I lift an eyebrow at him. “Will you touch my dick?”

River nibbles on his bottom lip, grabbing the growing bulge in his pants. “Only if you touch mine.”

Because I might be losing my mind, I lean forward and grip his hips, breathing in his scent—a spicy soap and his usual musky cologne. He doesn’t stop me from basking in his essence, lost in his feel and smell.

I shove up his fitted T-shirt a few inches and let my lips brush across the waistband of his pants. River lets out a guttural sound.

“Fuck, Nate.” His skin pebbles with tiny bumps, and then his fingers are weaving through my hair. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

I stick out my tongue and roll it over his warm skin. “Tell me how bad you want me, Riv. I’m not stupid. You’ve been getting off to me long before I started sending you videos.”

Choking down his fear, he clears his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I breathe on his soft skin, right over his nipple. “Yes, you do.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “That feels good.”

I lick his nipple, and he hisses. “I watch you, too. It’s not one-sided.”

As I peel my lips from his body, he shivers and scrubs a hand over his jaw.

“I’ll let you read my journal… But I want more from you.”

“Like what?”

“I have a lot of questions.” I rise from the bed, yanking at the ends of my short, blond hair. “How long have you been into men? Are you gay? Bi? Pan? You know, stuff like that, I guess.”

River gets in my face, our lips nearly touching. “I have fantasized about you fucking me for years. What I feel for you goes beyond a crush. Or a fantasy. I want you, Nate, but you will never want me. Not like that.”

He has no idea.

My best friend is so cute and clueless. Every night for months, I have jerked off to videos of River. A few times, I even got hard looking at old pictures of River shirtless and wearing bathing suit trunks.

Memories of our summer vacations flood my mind. I think of all the holidays and trips we have taken together and the years we lived together, sharing everything.

I skim my fingers on his forearm, directly over the tattoo mirroring mine, an infinity symbol showing our everlasting bond. “It just took me longer to see it.”

His eyes lower to my finger tracing over his ink. “Nate, I… I don’t understand. Are you gay?”

I shake my head. “I still like women.”

“I think I’m gay,” he says, and I can see the relief rolling off him in waves. His shoulders sink as his chest deflates.

“Really? But you like fucking girls.”

River backs me into the desk until my legs hit the wood. My body responds immediately to his dirty words. I reach down to touch myself over my pants, and he smirks.

He pushes on my shoulder, forcing me to sit on the desk, and knocks open my legs with his knee. “I dream about you licking my asshole. Shoving your fingers inside me, working my inner walls until I come in your mouth.”

My mouth falls open, and for once, I’m speechless.

He stands between my thighs and clutches my chin. “I have dreamed of having you in every way possible, Nate. And I’m ninety percent sure I’m gay.”

“Since when?” I choke out, still shocked by his speech.

“Always,” he says without hesitation. “I knew for sure the first time we jerked off together. I stared at your dick the entire time.”

I feel a range of emotions, starting with surprise, moving on to confusion and fear, and then sadness before settling on excitement. At least I read him correctly. All the signs were there, ready for me to take my head out of my ass.

“I figured you were bisexual after I caught you watching gay porn. And you get off to my videos every night. I didn’t want to push you to tell me. But I knew.”

River shrugs. “I feared losing you. I was afraid saying the words aloud would change us.”

Taking his hand in mine, I rub the pad of my thumb over his knuckles. “I felt it the first time we were both inside Samantha.” I lick my lips at the memory, my dick twitching in response. “When I felt you coming and liked it, I knew something had changed in me. With us. But it probably happened sooner than that. I just didn’t notice it.”

River slides his hands up my chest, igniting a fire inside me. “Do you like other men?”

I shake my head. “Only you.”

“And you still want to fuck women?”

I nod.

His expression darkens, a storm cloud crossing over his handsome face, and then he steps back. “I can’t do this with you. Not unless you’re willing to go all in.”

“What’s the big deal? We’ve been fucking girls together for years. Passing them back and forth, taking turns. This is what we do. It’s who we are.”

“Not anymore.” River inches away, only partially holding my gaze. “I refuse to fuck another woman even if it means never touching you like that again.”

I rise from the desk and close the distance between us. As I step toward River, he moves backward. I continue advancing until he has nowhere to go.

Pushing him into the wall, I lean forward to kiss his lips. Let them brush for a second. His lips are soft, just as perfect as I had imagined. Most nights, I lay awake, fisting my cock and envisioning his kissable lips and how they would feel on every inch of my body.

I put my hands on both sides of his head, caging him against the wall. “Kiss me.”

He glances at my lips and then turns his head to the side as if it’s too painful to look at me. “No.”

“I need to know why I feel this way.” Gripping his chin, I steal his gaze back to me. “Why do I have these cravings?”

“I can’t answer that question for you. It took me years to come to terms with my sexuality, which is why I have to protect myself from getting hurt.”

“I would never hurt you.”

River shakes his head. “You might not mean to, but if you change your mind about us, it will wreck me.”

I take his hand and hold it over my jeans so he can feel my hard cock. “Only you can help me with this.”

“I need time to think. To clear my head.” He ducks under my arm and heads toward the door, teasing me with his tight ass. “I’m going for a run. Don’t follow me.”

“Run away, River,” I shout as he exits my room. “You’re good at doing that.”

CHAPTER 31

RIVER

This is not happening.

After dreaming about Nate for years, he finally wants me. I can’t ignore how my pulse pounds whenever he enters a room. He has an instant effect on me and knows it.

Nate uses my desire against me.

So when he calls, I keep running and let it go to voicemail. I don’t want to talk about how his confession changed our friendship. We can’t take back what we said or the fact we almost kissed. I pulled away because kissing was too personal. My heart won’t recover if I allow him to touch me like that until he’s sure about us.

I could lose him over sex, and it’s just not worth it. The thought of him fucking a woman turns my stomach because it will happen eventually. Even if he allowed himself to be with me, Nate would not be satisfied. He loves having sex with women.

I will never be enough.

On the south side of campus, I stop running and sit on a bench when my phone rings, cutting off the music blasting through my earbuds. I expect it to be Nate, but it’s my dad.

He never calls this late.

I raise the phone to my ear. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

“Can’t a father just call to say hello to his son?” he says in the same deep pitch as mine.

I snort. “Hi. How’s Mom?”

“She misses you. So do I.”

As a child, I wanted to be like him in every way. I busted my ass on and off the ice to impress him, to follow in his footsteps. All of the ignorant gay comments have pushed me away.

Since my father’s berating at the beach house, I barely speak to him. What’s there to say to a man who told me to stop doing gay things? He’s such an asshole. I can’t even think about him without getting angry.

“You’re playing the best season of your career,” Dad says. “Coach Marten sent me clips from your last game. Without you, this team wouldn’t have consecutive Frozen Four championships. I’m proud of you, River.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

While I’m not his biggest fan anymore, knowing I’m on the right path still feels good. That all of the shit I sacrificed for hockey was worth it.

“I have good news,” he tells me. “Several teams are interested in signing you. I spoke to Mickey tonight. He wants to arrange for you to meet each team and let them present their offers in person.”

“I’m in the middle of a semester,” I point out since he seems to have his head jammed up his ass. “I can’t withdraw my enrollment and abandon my team mid-season.”

“You can. I already spoke to your coach and the dean.”

“I’m not bailing now,” I snap. “We’re close to our fourth consecutive Frozen Four win, and I graduate in May. This is important to me.”

I also hate the idea of leaving Nate. I would have joined the NHL years ago if it weren’t for him.

“River, stop acting like a child. This is real life. College can wait. You’re never going to use a law degree.”

“Just because you dropped out after your freshman year doesn’t mean it will work out the same for me.”

“You’re in your prime,” he fires back. “Right now, you have teams looking at you. This won’t last forever. When an opportunity presents itself, you have to grab it. You can’t keep turning down these teams and think they’ll come running back whenever you’re ready. It doesn’t work that way. Grow up, River.”

My skin burns from his harsh words. While he might be right, he could get his point across without being such an asshole.

“Fine,” I say, taking a long, irritated breath. “Set it up for when I come home for Thanksgiving.”

Nate will flip out, which is why I won’t tell him. Knowing I could leave him sooner than expected will send him into a downward spiral.

My dad sighs in relief and says, “Hold on a sec. Your mom wants to talk to you.”

A second later, my mother says, “Rivie. Hey, baby.”

I smile. “Hey, Momma. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too. How are you doing? I know you’ve been busy with school and hockey… but you can’t be too busy for me.”

“Sorry,” I say in a hushed tone. “I didn’t mean to be so distant. I just… have a lot going on right now. But I’ll see you soon for the holidays.”

“Yeah, you will. I can’t wait. I’m making all of your Thanksgiving favorites.”

“Sounds good.”

My dad mutters something in the background.

“Oh,” she says, “your dad has something else to say. But I love you, Rivie.”

“Love you, too, Momma.”

My dad takes the phone from her and clears his throat. “There’s one more thing. Harold flagged an unusual transaction on your credit card from a club called Glitter.”

Fuck.

“Do you know anything about it?”

I can’t breathe. My heart claws out of my chest, pounding my rib cage. “No, never heard of it.”

“Someone charged two thousand dollars. When Harold looked into this place, he learned it’s a gay club.”

When he says gay, it sounds like a dirty word falling from his tongue. Like it pains him to say it. He’s now Catholic and holier than thou—forgetting that he used to gang-bang puck bunnies before marrying my mom. No amount of holy water and Communion can wash away his dirty sins.

Hypocrite.

I choke out a laugh. “Yeah, right. Like I would be caught dead at a place like that. Someone must have stolen my credit card number.”

Dad pauses as if he wants to question me further, but he says, “I’ll cancel your credit card and send a replacement. Be careful who you give your information to.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

After we hang up, I wipe the sweat from my brow.

Fuck, that was close.

To clear my head, I run until my soles burn. By the time I head back to campus, it’s almost midnight.

The first floor of the house is dark. I’m shocked no one is downstairs playing video games or getting drunk. That’s a relief. Someone is always awake in this house.

I creep upstairs and flick on the light in my bedroom. To my surprise, Nate is lying in my bed, face down and sleeping on my pillow.

Fuck.

I thought I’d made myself clear. I guess not. He seems to be taking rejection worse than a girl.

How long did he wait for me?

I strip to my boxer briefs, turn off the light, and get into bed, staying on my respective side. This will be awkward in the morning, but I don’t care. Our friendship is already in a weird place.

Nate rolls over, breathing in my ear, his arm slung over my stomach. I whisper his name, but he doesn’t wake up. Eyes closed, he presses his nose to my cheek, using my shoulder as his pillow.

Fuck.

I don’t want to move him.

If he wakes, he’ll want to talk about us—not like there is an us. Since his confession, I have avoided him like a plague. I don’t know how to defuse the situation without giving Nate what he wants.

He’s not gay.

He’s not bisexual.

Sex is his way of controlling me. And if I give in to him, I risk losing my best friend and my heart.

CHAPTER 32

RIVER

I wake up to soft lips pressing against my neck. I’m half asleep, still dreaming about Nate’s hands on my body. Eyes closed, I let him move us in the perfect rhythm.

Yet, this is not a dream.

Nate’s fingers trail down my chest, feeling the ridges of my abdomen before his long fingers wrap around my shaft. I whimper at the sudden contact. His muscular body molds against my back, and I love how our joined bodies fit.

He knows what I like, his strokes matching the movement of my hips. I rock into his fist, so he has to squeeze me tighter, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

“Come for me,” he says, and a ripple of pleasure spreads down my spine, curling my toes.

I push back on his hard cock, and he slides between my thighs. Instead of teasing me, he juts back and forth, using my legs for more friction.

Nate groans in my ear right before he sucks the lobe into his mouth. I’m so close, on the verge of coming, my cock harder than steel in his hand.

I bite my lip and focus on him licking the length of my neck, cock moving back and forth between my legs. A nibble on my ear sends me straight over the edge.

“You feel so fucking good, Riv.”

Cum shoots out of my cock like a rocket, spraying his hand and the sheet. A second later, I feel his cock jerk, my thighs holding him in a vise. His warmth splashes on my legs, the bed, and even my hand.

Panting hard, I struggle to catch my breath. My eyes snap open, and Nate stares back at me when I look up. I blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating. But when I open my eyes again, he’s still there. Still blond and gorgeous. The same face I have looked at almost every day for a decade.

This is real.

So very, very real.

His cock is jammed between my legs and leaking on me. My boxer briefs are shoved down to my ankles.

Nate frees his limp cock from my body and kneels on the bed, making no move to get dressed or cover his big dick. He presses down on my shoulder when I try to get up, pinning my back to the mattress.

His tongue slides past my lips.

“Open up for me. Let me kiss you.”

I turn my head. “Nate, we’re not alone.”

He holds me down with all his weight. I’m a big guy, two hundred pounds of muscle, but he has a few extra pounds on me.

“I need to get you out of my system. This is just a phase. A crush. Let’s see where this goes, and then we can return to being us.”

His words slice into my chest like a machete. Even when he tries to make me happy, he manages to fuck this up. Nate doesn’t know how to be intimate with anyone, so I try not to blame him for being so stupid about relationships.

But his words hurt.

“It’s not that simple for me. How I feel about you is not something I can get out of my system.”

Nate moves on top of me, shoving his already hard cock so close to my ass I can’t see straight. “Help me with this problem. Look at what you’re doing to me. I need to know if it’s my addiction or if I have feelings for you.”

Without warning, his tongue breaches my lips, slipping inside my mouth. I try to sit up and push him off me, but he’s too strong and determined to overpower me. Or maybe I’m not trying hard enough.

Someone knocks on the door. Nate freezes on top of me, eyes wide. His lips are slick with my saliva and bruised from my kisses.

“It’s a little early to be watching porn, Rousseau,” Waters yells. “Practice in thirty. Get your ass in gear.”

Thankfully, I locked the door last night. Jimmy Waters is the last person I want to know about my business. He already suspects I’m gay. I'm not sure how I gave off that vibe, but I must not hide my sexuality well.

“Fuck off,” I toss back at my asshole teammate.

“Is Brooks in there with you?” Waters asks. “He’s not in his room.”

“Yeah,” Nate calls out. “Just showing River a new video. I’ll send it to you later.”

Waters laughs. “I didn’t hear any women on that video.” His fist taps the wooden door. “Enough with the homo shit. Time for practice.”

I hear the top step creak, and Waters descends the stairs.

Nate rolls off me and sighs. “Fuck, that was close.”

I sit up and sling my legs off the bed, my back to him. “We can’t do this again.”

He kneels behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “I’m not done with you.”

“We will get caught,” I remind him. “Eight other people live here… and the walls are very fucking thin.”

His nose nudges my cheek, and I breathe in his masculine scent. “Please, Riv. I need your help. This is probably just a crush. But I won’t know unless⁠—”

“Unless we fuck?”

“Just think about it.” He bites my earlobe. “Do you want to ruin our friendship over this?”

“You’re the one fucking up our friendship,” I hiss. “Everything was going fine until you confessed your feelings for me. We’re talking about this with Dr. Swanson.”

“I just want to see what it’s like.” His hand grasps the base of my cock, slowly moving up and down. “I need to know if all these weird feelings I’m getting are specific to you… or if there’s more to it.” He breathes in my ear, grunting as he fists me. “Look at how hard I make you. Please do this for me, Riv. I need you.”

I hate saying no to him and don’t want to lose his friendship. He needs me, and I love being needed by Nate.

“Do you want me?”

“I’m a greedy asshole, Riv.” He licks my earlobe. “I want you all to myself.”

After years of dreaming about this moment, it has finally come true. But I’m still torn about taking things further with Nate.

“Would you be okay with it being just us? No girls.”

“Would it change anything if I wasn’t sure?”

“Yes.” I feel the muscles in my face clench. “I don’t want us to fuck, and then you invite Samantha over because you miss pussy.”

“What if I do?”

Nate pins my back to the bed with his hand on my shoulder. The scent of bergamot invades my nostrils, and I pull him to me, desperate for these stolen moments.

I curl my biceps around him, and he lets me hold him. “I want you to fuck me. But I’m scared you’ll change your mind.”

His lips part, but no words come out. He stares, blinks, and then his hands are on me, his fingers tugging at the ends of my short hair.

“If this ends badly, I hope you remember that you ruined our friendship. Not me.”

Nate’s lips brush mine. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

His words say one thing, but I know Nate better than he knows himself. One day, he will realize he misses sex with women. And when that day comes, I won’t be enough for him… and all of this will come crashing down on us.

CHAPTER 33

NATE

River decided to stay after practice to help Coach Marten with new plays. He’s our team captain and the best player in Division I hockey. If not for his insistence on getting a college degree, the NHL would have drafted him years ago.

My best friend is dedicated. Loyal. So I know he won’t deny me the one thing I want. A few days ago, we made a mess on the bed, his sheets soaked in our cum, a reminder of what we did.

Since then, he’s made excuses to get out of spending time alone. But late at night, when the house is silent, I climb into his bed and make him come.

He doesn’t know I stayed behind after practice, like a fucking stalker waiting in the shadows. The locker room is empty. Coach Marten and the staff are gone for the day. My teammates left an hour ago. So I strip off my clothing and head into the shower.

With his back to me, River leans forward, the water running over his dark brown hair. His palm is on the wall, the other hand around his dick.

Fuck.

Keeping my footsteps slow and quiet, I walk toward him, staring at his ass. I like what I see. He’s tanned and toned in all the right places. Every inch of his body has planes and ridges sculpted to perfection.

I kneel behind him and spread his cheeks. He gasps at the sudden contact and jumps forward.

“It’s just me.”

River glances over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you get off.” I spread him wider. “You said you wanted my tongue in your ass. Keep stroking your dick, Riv.”

“Are you…” He groans, his body angled, but his ass is still in my face, right where I want him. “Fuck, are you serious right now?”

“I’m on my knees offering to lick you until you come. Turn around and keep fucking your hand.”

Etching my fingers into his muscular flesh, I dive between his cheeks and lick his pretty hole. A moan slips past his lips.

“Jerk that big dick for me. Show me how much you love my tongue in your ass.”

“Fuck,” he mutters and faces the wall. “Are we alone?”

“Didn’t seem like you cared a minute ago,” I say with a silly grin he can’t see.

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“It’s just us.” I shove my hand between his legs, and he widens his stance, making more room for me. “Bend forward.”

I slap his ass, and with the water raining down on us, he yelps at the sting.

“Did that hurt?”

He moans, so I do it again.

“You better come for me, Riv. I want you to save yourself for me, squeeze the last drop of your cum onto my tongue.”

As I lick him up and down, toying with his hole, he bucks against my mouth, driving me fucking wild. Every time I see him naked, I want to bury my tongue, fingers, and dick inside him.

Does that make me gay?

Honestly, I have no idea anymore. River has worked some kind of sorcery on me.

I don’t like other men.

When I’m with my teammates, I feel nothing. Not even an ounce of attraction. I wouldn’t let any of those assholes touch my dick if they paid me.

“Nate,” River chokes out, panting. “I’m so close. Right there. Put your finger in my ass.”

“Turn around.”

He does as I instruct, and my mouth closes over the tip of his cock. I bob my head up and down, slow then fast.

“Holy fuck,” he growls, his palm dropping to my head.

River is a good nine inches and thick, so I’m not surprised to have some resistance. Fitting him into my mouth is a struggle, but I find a good rhythm.

He grabs my hand and guides my finger. River moans when I breach the first layer of muscle. His hooded green eyes meet mine. I’ve watched him come plenty of times. But the look of pleasure spreading across his face is unlike anything I have witnessed.

I did this to him.

“Nate,” he moans, threading his fingers through my hair, and the sound is music to my ears. “Mmm. I’m coming.”

He came a lot for me this week.

I could get used to seeing my best friend lose control, and I want to be responsible for his orgasms. Loving how he tastes, I swallow his cum and lick my lips to lap up every drop.

Shit, I just guzzled my best friend’s cum like a sorority girl at a frat party.

Yeah, I’m definitely not straight anymore. Not sure how I would classify what we just did.

River grips my chin and smears his thumb across my bottom lip. “You’re so hot. I love watching you on your knees for me. Taking my cock.”

I rise from the floor and slip my fingers between his. “I figured out my sexuality.”

He cocks his head to the side. “And?”

“I’m Riversexual.”

He laughs. “That’s not a thing.”

“I’m making Riversexual a sexual orientation. It’s happening.”

River playfully shoves his palms into my chest. “You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Pinning him against the tiled wall, I raise his arms above his head. Our dicks touch, and the skin-to-skin contact feels incredible. “Neither of us can go public with this. We can keep it a secret, Riv. Just the two of us. We can still get married and have families. No one will ever know.”

River closes his eyes and groans. “I don’t want to get married and have kids with a woman. It’s also not fair to bring other people into a lie.”

“I’m willing to lie if you are.”

“I can’t do this right now.” He pushes me off him and inches toward the exit. “I’ll see you at home.”

Why does he keep doing this to me?

He bolts from the room.

I follow River to our lockers, towel wrapped around my waist, showing off all the muscles he loves touching.

“I’m not letting you go,” I tell him. “You’re not walking away from me.”

His head snaps to me, and wet strands of dark hair flop onto his forehead. Fuck, he’s killing me. Every bone and muscle in my body aches for him.

He bites his lip, studying my face as if trying to memorize every feature. “I need you to be sure, Nate.”

“What do you want me to say?” I step into his space, caging him against the locker, forcing him to look into my eyes. “I’m not gay. I don’t like men.”

With a smirk, he slides his hand down my chest, fingers splayed over my bare, wet skin. “You don’t like it when I do this?”

I mutter a curse, refusing to acknowledge how much I like it when the pad of his thumb brushes my nipple. “No, I hate it.”

“Liar.” He grabs my hard cock over top of the towel. It falls to the floor as he kisses my neck, reaching down to massage my balls. “Or this?”

As my eyes slam shut, I hiss, “Yes, I fucking like it. Doesn’t make me gay.”

“Maybe not.” River rolls his tongue over my bottom lip. “But at the very least, it makes you bisexual. Stop denying who you are, Nate.”

My eyes open in an instant. “I’m not…”

He holds his finger to my lips. “Shhh. I don’t care. You’re still my best friend. Nothing has to change that.”

“What if it does?” I bite my lip. “What if I suck at this? I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Sex with women is easier than breathing. I go through the motions, not thinking much about it. But sex with River? I have no idea where to begin.

River senses my worry and says, “How about we take this one step at a time?”

“Tell me what to do. I’m out of my element.”

“This is new for me, too,” he confesses. “I’ve never kissed another man. Never touched one until you. If you want my firsts, you can have all of them.”

“Fuck. Yes, I want them. I want whatever you’ll give me. You’re the only person I’ve ever completely trusted.”

“Same,” he agrees. “I can’t quit you, Nate. I’m obsessed with you… and have been for a long time.”

His nose brushes my neck, and I wrap my arms around him, desperate to hold onto this moment. My hands glide over his shoulders, down his biceps, and eventually land on his chest. As I continue my slow perusal of his muscular body, he moans.

He lifts his head, those pretty green eyes latching onto me. “Tell me you won’t regret me.”

“I won’t.”

“I need you to mean it.” River drops his hands to my biceps, all while I attempt to calm the pounding in my chest. “If we’re going to do this, you can’t change your mind afterward. This cannot be a hook-up.”

He has to know I’m incapable of a real relationship. No matter how hard I try, I will fuck this up. It’s not a matter of if but when. For River, I will at least try to make this work.

But what if I don’t like having sex with a man? Until we do it, I won’t know for sure.

“What do you want from me?” I say after a beat passes, tension clinging to the air. “A contract signed in blood? A promise to be with you forever?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I want it to mean something. I want more than sex.”

I rip off his towel and massage his big cock, loving the noises he makes for me. “This is new for me. I have no idea what I’m doing. But I want to fuck you. I want you to scream my name when you come. Isn’t that enough for now?”

“If you change your mind, what happens to our friendship?”

The sex will probably be mind-blowing and worth every second, but I refuse to lose him. Also, we’re not supposed to be having sex. It breaks the rules Dr. Swanson laid out in therapy. And yet, I don’t fucking care.

Didn’t she want me to find intimacy? Well, there’s nothing more intimate than being with River. No one makes me feel as seen or validated as he does.

“I don’t see how I can commit to anything more than sex,” I admit. “I’m not even sure what I want out of this. But I want you.”

River turns his back on me and digs through his locker. He tosses a Henley and a pair of black joggers over his shoulder with a sigh.

I move behind him, placing my hands on his hips. “Don’t ignore me, Riv.” I nibble on his earlobe, and my teeth trail over his hot skin. “You know I’m right. Just think about it. Neither of us knows what the fuck we’re doing. But we want this.”

He sighs loudly. “I don’t think our friendship could survive if you break my heart.”

Two dinging sounds interrupt our conversation, slicing through the silence in the room like a knife. I reach into my locker and grab my cell phone. River does the same, clutching his phone so hard his knuckles drain of color.

It’s a Google alert.

We both stare. Blink.

I hold out my cell phone. “Did you get this?”

He nods, biting his lip, his hand trembling as he swipes on the notification.

Dread settles into my belly, chills rolling down my arms. My heart rate speeds to a horrific pace. All the blood rushes to my head, and there’s a whooshing sound in my ears.

River presses his shoulder to mine as we click on the article written by The Beacon Press. The headline reads The Secret Life of Ryan Rousseau’s Son.

“I can’t breathe,” River chokes out, staggering into the locker, holding his chest. He drops his clothes on the floor. “Fuck, this is not happening.”

I drag him to a bench and force him to sit.

“Can you read it to me?” River asks, tears welling in his bottom lids.

I scan the contents of the short article and read it aloud.

A former girlfriend of River Rousseau, the son of NHL legend Ryan Rousseau, spills the tea in a spicy new book. River is slated to sign with an NHL team and follow in his father’s footsteps, but the salacious biography could derail his plans.

The publisher has yet to release all the details. However, they are teasing that River shares women with his best friend and teammate, Nathaniel Brooks, the son of Texas oil billionaire Spencer Brooks.

In this juicy tell-all hotter than a sexy romance novel, the author, who uses the pen name R. Daly to conceal her identity, pens a graphic love story guaranteed to break the ice and steam up your Kindle. Dirty Pucking Secrets is available for pre-order and will hit shelves in May.

“Fuck,” River chokes out, shaking uncontrollably. “I’m so screwed.”

“We can fix this,” I say, though my tone lacks confidence. “We always do.”

He shakes his head. “Not this time, Nate. You missed an NDA. Someone you forgot about.”

For the sake of our friendship, I hope I didn’t forget someone.

River will never forgive me.

He will leave me.

He’ll stop loving me.

Fuck.

I type the book’s name into Google. Hundreds of videos, images, and articles have already been posted on various social media platforms and news outlets.

My eyes drift to a recent TikTok video from The Kingston Spy. As usual, she tagged River and me.

River leans over my shoulder as I click on the video. The Kingston Spy uses video clips from River’s TikTok account and then flips to a green screen with the Dirty Pucking Secrets book cover. She also shows screenshots from various articles talking about the book.

“Look at what our dirty, dirty boys have been up to,” a woman says in an AI-generated voice. “We love them. We want to date them. And sometimes, we even hate them. You can bet your pucking ass I’m reading any book about River Rousseau and Nate Brooks getting it on. Oh, hell yes. And guess what, my loyal followers, I know the woman who wrote this book.”

Of course, she does.

River is in shock, staring at the wall without blinking. I wave my hand in front of his face, and he doesn’t move an inch.

Since he’s unresponsive, I have to do something to save our asses. So, I click on The Kingston Spy’s account and send a message.

@natebrookshockey

How much do you want for the name of the author?

@thekingstonspy

Well, hello there, sexy. I had a feeling you would come begging for my help.

@natebrookshockey

Don’t play games with me. Name your price.

@thekingstonspy

One night with you and River.

My heart thumps in my chest, draining the air from my lungs. River warned me that our private life would catch up to us one day.

“What are you doing?” River asks, snapping out of his catatonic state.

I show him the messages.

“It doesn’t matter if she knows who wrote the book,” he mutters. “We’re fucked. The publisher would have done their due diligence before offering her a deal.”

“Our dads will get involved and make this all go away.”

“Time’s up, Nate. We knew this wouldn’t last forever.” He shakes his head. “And the fucked up part is that we haven’t been with a girl in weeks. We were so close to there being a you and me. I wanted an us. But⁠—”

I wrap my arms around River and kiss his cheek. “You still have me. Nothing else matters as long as we’re together.”

“I wish that were true.” River wipes a tear from his cheek and sighs. “Our already fragile relationship can’t weather this storm.”

NEXT IN THE SERIES

Find out what happens next with Nate and River in Our Hearts to Break, the conclusion to the story.

Available now at Amazon

WANT MORE OF NATE AND RIVER?

Get bonus content and extras HERE.

ALSO BY JILLIAN FROST

CAMPUS SECRETS

Our Secret to Keep

Our Hearts to Break

GILDED EMPIRE

Gilded Gods

Gilded Goddess

PRINCES OF DEVIL’S CREEK

The Darkest Prince

Cruel Princes

Vicious Queen

Savage Knights

Battle King

Wicked Heiress

Dirty Heirs

Shattered Empire

BOARDWALK MAFIA

Boardwalk Kings

Boardwalk Queen

Boardwalk Reign

For a complete list of books, visit readpennbooks.com.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jillian Frost is a dark romance author who believes even the villain deserves a happily ever after. When she's not plotting all the ways to disrupt the lives of her characters, you can usually find Jillian by the pool, soaking up the Florida sunshine.

Learn more about Jillian’s books at readpennbooks.com