The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

She touched the head carefully. Pre-cum smeared across her fingertip, slick and warm. She circled the ridge, then pressed him back lightly against his stomach so she could see the small slit at the tip.

Zac made a broken sound above her.

"Fuck. Roxie."

She wrapped her fingers around the base.

Her fingers didn’t meet.

That made heat rush through her so fast she almost forgot where they were.

Zac’s other hand came down, covering hers. He guided her grip tighter around him. His palm was hot over her hand, and his hips jerked the second she stroked him once.

More pre-cum welled at the tip and slid over her knuckles.

Roxie stared.

Zac stared too, breathing hard, his hand still tangled in her hair like he needed something to keep him standing.

Then he hauled her up.

Fast.

Almost rough.

One second she was on her knees with his cock in her hand, and the next he was dragging her to her feet and crushing his mouth to hers again. The kiss was desperate, all tongue and teeth. She could taste panic in it, like he still couldn’t believe she had done that.

Roxie kept her hand on him.

She stroked him between their bodies while they kissed, feeling him jerk against her palm each time her fingers tightened. Then she shifted, angled him down, and pressed him between her thighs.

Her skirt rode up. Her spandex shorts were thin enough that every inch of him pressed hot against her. Roxie squeezed her thighs around his cock and rolled her hips once.

Zac broke the kiss with a sharp curse.

"We shouldn’t do this," he groaned against her forehead.

His breath was hot and ragged.

"Then stop," Roxie whispered.

She rolled again, and the head of him dragged against her clit through the wet fabric.

Her own moan ruined the challenge.

Zac shoved her harder into the wall.

One forearm braced beside her head. His other hand gripped her hip tight enough to leave marks.

"This is bad."

She didn’t answer.

Then he started moving.

Short, filthy strokes between her thighs. His cock slid against the tight heat of her legs, trapped between her and the thin spandex. The rough drag hit her clit again and again, wet enough now that every thrust sounded obscene in the small room.

Roxie clung to his shoulders.

His forehead pressed to hers. They breathed the same air, both of them shaking, both of them stupid enough to keep going.

He fucked the space between her legs like he was trying to ruin the breakup, ruin Mike, ruin every second they had spent pretending they could stay away from each other.

"Jesus. Fuck." Zac’s voice was wrecked against her mouth. "Roxie."

His hips snapped harder.

The wet slide of his cock between her thighs filled the room. Roxie’s legs shook around him. Heat built fast, dirty and sharp, every thrust dragging over her swollen clit through the soaked fabric.

She should have cared that anyone could walk by.

She should have cared that they were broken up.

She should have cared that this was exactly the kind of thing that made them terrible for each other.

Zac’s hand tightened on her hip.

Roxie moaned and pulled him closer.

He was close. She could feel it in the way his body started to lock up, the way his thrusts lost rhythm, the way his mouth dropped open against hers.

"Fuck," he breathed. "I’m going to come."

Roxie looked down between them.

His cock slid hot and slick between her thighs, the head flushed and wet every time it appeared beneath the edge of her skirt.

The sight made her squeeze her legs tighter.

Zac choked on a groan.

At the last second, he pulled back, wrapped his hand around himself, and came hard.

"Fuck. Fuck, Roxie."

His voice broke on her name.

Hot come spilled over his fist and streaked across the inside of her thigh, some of it catching on the edge of her spandex shorts. His hips jerked through every pulse, and his forehead dropped against hers while he fought for air.

Roxie didn’t move.

She watched his hand on himself. Watched his chest rise and fall. Watched the last of his control leave him in a storage room after he had dragged her away from another boy like the breakup meant nothing.

Zac’s breathing stayed rough.

His eyes lifted to hers.

For a second, neither of them said anything.

Then a voice passed somewhere in the hallway outside.

Both of them froze.

The storage room suddenly felt too small. Too bright. Too real.

Zac looked down at her thigh, at his hand, at the mess between them.

His face changed.

The lust was still there, but guilt came in behind it.

Roxie knew that look now.

She hated it.

"Don’t," she said.

Zac swallowed. "Roxie."

"Don’t look at me like that."

"I just came on you in a storage room."

"You pulled me in here."

"You kept going."

"So did you."

His jaw tightened because there was no clean answer.

Roxie reached down and tugged her skirt lower, covering what she could. Her thigh was still wet. Her mouth was still swollen. His hoodie was bunched around his ribs, his jeans open, his cock still half hard in his hand.

They looked ruined.

They looked exactly like what they were.

Zac let go of himself and grabbed a shirt from his bag. His hand shook when he wiped her thigh.

Roxie tried to step back, but the wall was behind her.

"I can do it."

"I know."

He kept cleaning her anyway, careful now, like careful could erase the way he had shoved her against the wall minutes earlier.

Roxie stared at the side of his face.

"You were jealous."

His hand stopped.

"You were with Mike."

"I was using Mike."

Zac looked up.

There.

She had said it.

His face tightened.

"I know."

Roxie’s breath caught.

"I know you were using him," Zac said. "That’s what pisses me off."

"You still came."

"Yeah. And you knew I would."

The truth sat there between them, louder than the hallway outside.

Roxie lifted her chin even though her chest felt tight. "You broke up with me."

"So you wrapped some guy around your finger to make me come back?"

"No." Her mouth twisted. "I wrapped you around my finger."

Zac went still.

Roxie should have taken it back.

She didn’t.

The air changed again. The guilt did not leave his face completely, but something hotter cut through it.

"You think that’s cute?" he asked.

"I think it worked."

His jaw flexed.

"Mike doesn’t matter," she said. "He never mattered."

"Then why use him?"

"Because you were ignoring me."

"I broke up with you."

"You still watched me."

Zac gave a humorless laugh as he rolled the shirt in his hand.

"Yeah," he said. "That’s the fucking problem."

Roxie stepped closer, trapping his half-open jeans between them before he had fully fixed himself.

"You want me to act like we’re over," she said. "Then stop looking at me like that."

"Stop giving me something to look at."

His voice had gone low again. Angry in a different way now. Less about Mike. More about her.

Let him be angry at the right thing. She didn’t give a fuck.

Roxie smiled even though it hurt her mouth. "So what now?"

Zac stared at her.

His eyes dropped to her lips, then to her thigh where his come still marked the edge of her shorts, then back to her face.

"You’re going back out there," he said. "And you’re going to act like this didn’t happen."

"Are you?"

"No."

Her smile faded.

Zac zipped his jeans with rough hands and shoved his hoodie down. The normal version of Zac Prescott came back in pieces. The football hoodie. The set jaw. The swollen mouth. The jealousy he could hide from everyone except her.

"What does that mean?" Roxie asked.

"It means I’m done pretending Mike is the problem."

She swallowed.

Zac moved closer until she had to tilt her head back.

"You wanted me jealous," he said. "You got it. You wanted me stupid. You got that too."

Roxie’s heart beat hard.

His hand lifted toward her face, then stopped before touching her jaw. His fingers curled once and dropped to his side.

That almost hurt worse.

"But don’t act shocked when I hate you for knowing exactly how to make me come get you." He shook his head.

Roxie stared at him and wiped at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I hate you too," she said.

Zac’s eyes sharpened.

The lie sounded stupid with his come still drying on her thigh and her mouth still swollen from his.

He knew it.

She knew it.

A voice moved past the hallway again, closer this time.

Zac grabbed her wrist before she could step toward the door.

His grip was firm.

Then he realized and loosened immediately.

That made her chest hurt worse than the grip.

"Are you going back to him?" he asked.

Roxie looked at his hand around her wrist.

Then at his face.

The honest answer would have been no. She didn’t want Mike. She barely cared about Mike beyond what his presence did to Zac.

But Zac had broken up with her and he had no right to ask.

So Roxie smiled like she knew exactly where to cut.

"Why?" she asked. "You jealous?"

His eyes went cold.

The air between them heated all over again.

And Roxie knew, with a sick twist of satisfaction, that they were nowhere near done hurting each other.