The Billionaire Throuple

Andreas Santiago [suggestive scene]

I wake to my phone buzzing on top of the wolf gray nightstand I set it down on. I forgot how loud it gets when it vibrates on hollow wood. I should've kept it under the pillow, but it wasn't on my mind while I was getting naked in this fancy hotel room. I didn't realize I dozed off.

I fend off a yawn and resist reaching for my phone. Cam is busy with the whole worshiping business and I don't want to be rude. He's annoyed enough as is from me not calling him CW. I let out a loud moan a bit of my yawn slips out behind it. I couldn't hold back any longer, but I don't think he noticed.

I don't usually go for the closet cases that are so hardcore they have to sneak you into a hotel room in the dark of night to get their fix. I think of them like dead end jobs. I'm too pretty to be wasted on someone who is embarrassed to be seen with me.

I'm fine meeting up with Cam because we're both hiding something. That and I'll never want anything more with him and I'm not just saying that. His face isn't exactly Instagram worthy and sleek trainer bodies aren't on-brand with what I'm selling. I could look past all that if he had a personality though.

He exists purely to satisfy that problem I shied away from mentioning at Luciano's. Yes, I have a problem. Well, an addiction, to an activity, not to drugs or anything. I think you can guess what it is and better than a closet case to hide my addiction?

My addiction is why I had to leave Samuel the Third's. I conked out during Mean Girls, which isn't something I ever do. Braving the cold on Nemo's back took a lot out of me and I was surprised by how comfortable the recliner was.

The material is so much softer than the ones at AMC and once Samuel the Third turned on the vibration, I didn't stand a chance. Once the movie was over, I woke up to him laying on me.

His head, tilted over my shoulder. His hips, on top of mine. His lanky body, strewn across me. He doesn't have an ounce of fat on him. He's that extra lean tube of ground beef you go to the store for, but they're always out of.

That was when it happened.

I held in my urges long enough to get set up in his guestroom, but I couldn't sleep after that. All I was thinking about was... Alright, don't judge me. I stopped myself, which is why I'm here and not there.

I'm a fiend, we established that when I almost ditched Oliver Twist on his birthday. I should start looking for meetings and step programs, but for now, I'm doing the next best thing.

I'm staying the hell away from that heir to wealth, at least until my lust blows over. And it will blow over. It has to, I never thought of him when I was there for tutoring. I don't get it.

Before his birthday, in fuck-marry-kill, he was always a kill, no matter what other two losers you put in the mix with him. Other than Hitler and the obvious ones. Don't be a wise ass.

*****

Cameron crawls up the bed and starts gently rubbing my shoulders, but his hands aren't the only things doing a lot of rubbing.

"You don't have a condom on," I say, "And no, don't go put one on. I said I'm not going there with you." He sighs. I sigh back. "I can leave?"

"No, I want to taste you some more," he says.

I turn onto my back. It's stupid, creepy ass shit like that, that kills the mood for me. I stay ready, but let's not pretend this isn't what it is. A shower and cherry lube is lipstick on a pig.

If my nether regions are in your top ten flavors, you're not someone I want to be spending a lot of my time with. Not in the daylight anyway.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks.