With nothing better to do, I follow him, swing the door open, and step outside. The night wraps cold around me.
Quietly, I close the door and scan the alley.
A streetlamp casts a faint light across the gray wall.
I stroll to the corner of the building, my footsteps soft and silent. Nervous, I glance over my shoulder, making sure no one has followed me.
I crane my neck out as I reach the corner. Not far from me, I spot a tucked-in area where some employees park their cars. Aside from a dark SUV sitting at the far end, there’s no other vehicle in the parking lot.
I move my gaze around, searching. That’s when I spot the two men.
Gasping, I scoot back and hide behind the wall.
Fast, shallow breaths tear off my chest. I suck in a gulp of air and look again.
He’s right there, standing feet away from me.
Propped on his motorcycle, a cigarette in his hand, head tilted back, and hips angled forward, the second man’s mouth connected to his groin.
What the…?
On his knees, the man in front of him bobs his head, his eyes closed as muffled groans crawl up his throat.
Heat disperses over my body, my body reaction taking me by surprise. The rush––as shocking as it is––holds me in place.
I swallow hard a few times.
My wiring must be completely wrong.
Here I am, getting hot while watching them, yet I can’t warm up to a man in my bed.
Baffled, I move away from the corner and take a few small steps in their direction, craving a better view.
Not much older than me, the man at his feet is well-dressed and quite attractive. The kind of man you’d meet at an event, perhaps a wedding.
The sort of man you’d take home to meet your parents.
There’s something so erotic about him. As I get a better glimpse of his face and, subsequently, his expression, I quickly learn––he loves it.
He loves sucking the man who leans against the motorcycle and seems unmoved by his passion.
I lift my gaze and try to read the standing man’s face.
I can’t say whether lust or pleasure lurks in his eyes, despite the glistening hard-on entering the man’s mouth.
He seems removed from the scene, but even so, the sight of him, his stance, glaring indifference, and, I suspect, his sexuality make me shiver.
The man on the ground groans again.
He flicks his eyes open and notices me, yet he doesn’t stop.
Startled, I raise my gaze and meet the standing man’s stare. The man I’ve been obsessed with looks at me with fierce eyes, his gaze burning through me like wildfire.
It’s not shock or surprise what I read in his eyes, not even the slightest curiosity. He couldn’t care less that I’m here, spying on him.
He slides his hand into the man’s hair and rolls his hips–– narrowing his eyes at me.
I’m sure he does it on purpose now as much as I know he’s eye fucking me. It works. I feel warm, and a pleasurable tension grows in my abdomen.