I went to open the door and found it locked. When I went to grab the spare key, I was hit with a wave of déjà vu remembering the last time I’d arrived early to greet Kevin. I opened the door and made my way upstairs.
At the top, I was greeted with muted moans and grunts. For a moment, my mind raced with images of Kevin having a girl over. My stomach rolled and my face heated. I considered backing out, ignoring the whole experience so I didn’t have to face whatever girl he had in his room.
But I didn’t.
My palm reached the cool wood of the door and slowly pushed it open a crack. The thud of my heart almost drowned out the noises coming from his room. With the door opened enough, I could see Kevin leaned back in his desk chair. The sleeve of his shirt pulled tight around his straining bicep as it jerked with the force of his hand moving over his lap.
Fuck. Fuck.
Kevin was jacking off. I should’ve closed the door and backed out. I was going to. But when I moved to step back, I could see the screen of his laptop. A girl was on her knees, naked, with her face pressed to the floor, cringing in pain as a man stood behind her, fucking her ruthlessly.
My body jerked when the man’s hand cracked against her bare ass cheek, leaving a solid red hand print.
“Fucking slut. I’m going to use this pussy until I’m done.” More grunts and cries of pleasure. “You fucking like that, whore?”
Kevin’s moan drew my attention. I was mesmerized by the quick movement of his arm and the straining tension in the chords of his neck. Heat spread over my chest, down through my stomach, and settled between my legs. I squeezed my core, trying to ease the ache forming there.
Beneath the throb and the ache growing by the second, another feeling settled.
Relief. Sweet relief that Kevin was watching and getting off to something so crude and violent. Something so dirty.
Maybe that was what he needed from a relationship, too. Maybe that was why I never saw him with girls. Maybe no one wanted the same things as him. Maybe he was just as scared as I was to try something most would call wrong.
Maybe I wasn’t so alone.
The one time we’d kissed, I’d thought that maybe I wasn’t so wrong in what I wanted to have done to me. But in the end, I’d talked myself out of it, brushing it off as the heat of the moment.
I shouldn’t have been standing there, watching him. I should’ve walked away and allowed him his privacy. But excitement coursed through me. The sexual throb urged me to push the door open wider. Nerves rolled across my stomach and electrified the beat of my heart, making it erratic.
It didn’t hit me how wrong it could’ve gone until he looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened in panic. He jerked and tried to close the computer while simultaneously putting his dick back into his pants. But he stumbled and the computer fell, screen still open. The woman’s urgent moans and the man’s cruel words surrounded us, filling the shocked silence.
My eyes stayed glued to the screen as Kevin stuttered out an apology. “Fuck, Ana. I’m sorry.”
“Is that what you’re into?” The question tumbled out. I fought a cringe that I’d asked something so personal, but I’d needed to know. It beat inside me, unrelenting in the desperation to know I wasn’t alone. “Is that what gets you off?” I asked quietly. Forcing my eyes away from his laptop, I saw his head dropped in shame. I didn’t say anything, just waited for an answer. His tense shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath.
“No,” he grunted before stuttering more answers. “Yes. I mean, shit. Fuck. I mean, it just popped up. I was clicking and not really paying attention. It was . . .” His answer faded when he looked up at me, his face scrunched in pain.
“I thought I was the only one,” I whispered, confessing my secret, hoping he would do the same.
“What?”
The video must have ended because the room was void of all sounds other than our breathing.
“I thought . . . I thought I was the only one who thought about that.” I gestured to the computer lying on the ground.
Kevin ran a hand through his hair and turned, pacing a few steps at a time. “Fuck, Ana. I mean . . . What that was . . .” Kevin started at least five more sentences, trying to process my confession and make excuses all at the same time. In the end, he stopped and let his arms fall limp at his sides. His Adam’s apple moved up and down before dropping his own confession. “I thought I was the only one too.”