Page 4 of Pretty Obsessed

I'd been doing a really good job of not looking at his dick while sitting right next to him, but he shifted in his seat, moving closer again, causing him to slip from the girl's mouth, letting me see the full extent of him.

Damn it was impressive. Decent length, but the girth on him. Uncut and veined, throbbing while pre-cum leaked from his slit.

I groaned. I couldn't help myself. Tearing my gaze away as I swallowed back all the saliva pooling in my mouth, muttering, "Sorry."

"I'm the one sitting here with my cock out, I don't know why you're sorry."

"I'm the one sitting in a sex club. I should expect it…and I do. I enjoy it, too." I let out the breath I'd been holding, laughing at myself. "I don't know where I'm going with this. I guess what I'm trying to say is it's a little more…weird…? When I'm talking to the person while it's going on. Does that make sense?"

"You don't have to ignore it," he offered, more like he had a beer for me than him watching his dick get sucked.

"I'm not. Kind of impossible." Especially after seeing it. I gave it another side glance. Nope. No ignoring the monster in the room.

"Feel better?" He smirked.

"Maybe? I don't know what to feel. This might be the weirdest experience of my life and I am the writer who hangs out at a sex club."

We both laughed.

"I'd say use it for a book…no don't do that. It's a bridge too far."

"No shit. I think my publisher would have my balls, as they rhyme with ‘bisney’."

"Damn. No kidding? That's impressive. You weren't joking about the writing thing. Good for you." He studied me. "Wait, I know who you are."

My brows lifted. I wasn't exactly Rick Riordan, but my books sold well. I wasn't at the level of getting recognized. Most authors weren't. "You do?"

"Yeah, you wrote that really popular series of comics, yeah?"

"Books first, but yes, they blew up as graphic novels." He surprised me, and it showed on my face.

"I read the whole series on tour two years ago. I read them so many times I wore out the binding. Your eyes are the same as the picture they have of you in the back." He reached out like he was going to touch my face. "But your hair is different." He dropped his hand at the last second to drape over his chest. "Wow."

"Wow indeed. I rarely get recognized."

"And I always do. Quite the flip we have going on." He wet his lips with his tongue. "And you're way more attractive in person."

I glanced at my hands, shifting in my seat, heat filling me. "Thank you."

"So you write queer superheroes. How did you get ‘Bisney’ to let you do that?" He made air quotes when he said Bisney to drive his point home.

"My agent. I didn't expect it when I wrote the book, but they've been really great." I glanced at his cock again, still there, still with bright red lips working on it. How was he having such a normal conversation like this? I forced myself to look at his face. "Can I ask who you are? You said tour so, music? Or maybe you don't want to tell me who, but tell me what you do.”

"I'm a drummer for a band."

"Would I know them?" I asked. "You don't have to tell me who."

"I'm not worried about it. I'm sure most everyone here has something they don't want others to know. Hence the NDAs in the first place."

I vaguely remembered Octavius making me sign something the first time I'd come, years ago. He'd told me not to repeat anything I'd seen here. As if I had anyone but him to tell. It was a pretty exclusive place. And expensive. The only reason I was admitted was because my best friend worked here.

"True. That doesn't mean you want to tell me."

"We're called Pretty Broken."

"Shit, really?" I stared. I knew them. About as well as I knew any other musician. I'd never seen them live or anything, but they were on a couple of my playlists and were played on the radio all the time.

"Is that a good or a bad reaction?" he asked.

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