Page 3 of Not Dating Material

He throws me a sympathetic look before delicately moving my Fleshlight to the side. “What the hell happened to make him leave you like this?” Molly successfully finds the keys and comes back over to the bed.

I try to shrug, but it’s too hard with my hands secured over my head. “Didn’t call his friend back or something. It’s so—”

“Oh.” Molly straightens, face pulling tight. “So you deserve this.”

“Wait? What?”

He mouths wordlessly at me for a moment. “What is it with men?” he explodes, and it’s only this uncharacteristic tone that stops me from pointing out that he’s a man too. “You go on a nice date, send them flowers, show up at their work to surprise them with lunch. You call and send texts and make sure they know you’re interested, then the second you have sex with them—pow! All over. Like they never existed. I’m sick of the games. You’re all the same.” Then Molly tosses the keys on the bed and stalks toward the door.

“Wait! Whoa, hold up!”

“You’re part of the problem.”

“I didn’t ask someone to tie me up and take naked pictures of me, okay? There’s no excuse for that, no matter what I did or didn’t do to his friend.”

Molly turns slowly back toward me, pretty eyes still narrowed. “Photos?”

“Yeah.” My gut turns over itself again. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can you please just unlock my arms?”

And clearly, he’s been taking lessons from Madden as well because he sucks down a deep breath and moves closer. He picks up the keys, hesitates a second, then grabs my sheet and drapes it over my groin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, turning his attention to my wrists.

“Yeah …” I cut him a look. “Me too.” And because I’m not going anywhere in a hurry, I add, “I’m getting the impression you’ve been through something.”

“You could say that.” And after him word vomiting on me, he’s surprisingly restrained now.

“Need to talk it out?”

My first wrist clicks free of the handcuff, and before I can tell him that I’ve got it from here, Molly leans over me to unlock the other. His sweet scent washes over me, and while he’d been a good boy and stopped himself from checking out my dick earlier, my gaze isn’t as controlled. His shirt lifts, revealing a slice of soft-looking, lightly tanned skin hovering mere inches above me.

Now is not the time to get hard.

“I’m okay,” Molly says, and I call bull crap based on all that oversharing, but what am I supposed to say? My second wrist frees, and Molly immediately turns his attention to my leg.

It’s on the tip of my tongue again to tell him I’ve got it, but his hand on my calf stops me. I’m a sensory guy, and it feels incredible to be touched. Fingertips over hair, skimming near my ankle. After what I’ve been through today, I can give myself this moment, at least.

He finishes one leg, and I’m almost sad when he unlocks the other, then rubs his hands gently over my ankle before letting go.

Instead of leaving, he settles on the side of my bed. “Do you need to talk?”

Immediately, my face flushes red, and I curse my stupid pale skin. “I’m good.”

“It’s okay if you’re not. I imagine it felt violating.”

I sigh and sit up, pulling the sheet more securely over me. “Yeah. A little.” More than a little, but I’m not going to let on how much it got to me.

We’re quiet for a moment, one of his feet bouncing up and down on the floor. “Okay. Well. If you need me …”

“Thank you.” Almost forgot that. “And sorry guys have been donkey’s breath to you.”

His lips twitch. “Donkey’s breath?”

“I prefer to get colorful with my insults rather than dropping curses all over the place.”

Molly nods, brown mop swaying with the movement. “They really have been donkey’s breath. I mean, I’ve had my donkey moments too though. But as a whole … men suck.”

“Date women?”

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