His Girlfriend Doesn't Know He'd Rather Fuck Me Than Her
My roommate Liam came into my room late at night, while his girlfriend was asleep just down the hall. He made me suck his cock--slow, deep, messy--then bent me over and fucked me like he couldn't help himself. When she knocked on the door, he stayed inside me. Lied to her face. Pulled out, zipped up, and went back to bed like nothing ever happened.
It was late.
The lights were low, warm and golden, casting slow-moving shadows across Liam's bedroom walls. Paige leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, bare legs cold against the hardwood. She wore one of his old gray shirts--oversized, no underwear underneath--just soft cotton clinging to her thighs and a sharp, unreadable look in her eyes.
Liam sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, hair messy like he'd just rolled out of someone else's bed. His skin was golden from the day's sun, smooth over his chest, that lean swimmer's frame she used to love tracing with her fingertips. His collarbones stuck out like they were begging to be kissed. One hand rubbed the back of his neck, the other braced against the mattress like he didn't know what to do with himself.
"You wanna fuck me before I go?" Paige asked softly.
There was a dare in it. A smirk. A trap, maybe. But Liam just blinked like he hadn't heard her.
"Huh?"
"You've been weird all day," she said, stepping closer, her voice a low hum. "Thought maybe you just needed to get off."
He didn't answer. Didn't stop her, either.
So she kissed him. Slow. Familiar. Lips brushing his like she was trying to bring him back into his body. Her hands slid up his chest, across his shoulders. She climbed into his lap, hips grinding down in slow circles, her breath hot against his cheek.
He kissed her back--but only barely. Enough to keep up the illusion. Not enough to mean it. His hands stayed at his sides. His lips moved, but not with hunger. Not like they used to. His eyes were half-lidded, distant. Like he wasn't kissing her at all. Like he was thinking about someone else.
She felt it immediately. After a minute, Paige pulled back. "Babe?"
"Mm?" Liam mumbled, already reaching for his phone by the pillow.
"You hard?" she asked, more challenge than curiosity.
He didn't reply.
Just flopped back onto the mattress, opened TikTok, and started scrolling like nothing had happened. "I'm tired," he muttered. "Didn't sleep much last night."
She sat there, still straddling him, staring down in disbelief. "Liam."
He didn't even look at her. Just kept scrolling. Video after video. A dog dancing in a hoodie. A guy cutting soap. A girl fake-crying over some viral audio.
Eventually, his eyes fluttered closed. Phone still in his hand. The screen lit his face in faint pulses as he scrolled himself to sleep.
Paige didn't move. She just watched him. Watched his breathing slow. Watched the blue glow of the screen wash over the sharp line of his jaw, his parted lips, his peaceful, oblivious face.
Then his phone dinged. Her eyes dropped.
A message had popped up on the lock screen.
Tommy: remember how deep my throat was earlier? bet you're still tasting it.
Her blood ran cold. Another one came in.
Tommy: wanna finish in my mouth next time, or my ass?
She stared at the phone. Hands trembling. She unlocked it. And there it was.
