Page 11 of Bro Amazing

And at how much I enjoyed it.

Lionel called me a good girl.

My hand sneaks down inside the waistband of my jeans. I imagine his voice telling me I'm a good girl as my fingers slide over the soaked gusset of my cotton panties. This is what his words do to me. The way he held my jaw open with his big cock. The way he gripped my hair and fucked my face with no way for me to stop it.

I slip my underwear to the side and my fingers slide right through my wet slit.They never need to know I'm doing this.

As my fingers delve inside my pussy, I imagine they're Ethan's cock again as Lionel calls me a good girl. In practically no time at all, I'm coming so hard I see stars.

Chapter Six

Two days later, I still can't believe I did something so brazen as pleasure Lionel in the middle of the kitchen. Ofcoursesomeone walked in on us. We weren't even trying to be subtle. The fact that I hadn't been able to see who it was at the time, and never looked up as I dashed back to the seclusion of my room, has turned whoever it was into a stranger. Obviously I don't really know any of my new roommates, so they're all strangers, but this was a faceless one. A random man watching my "boyfriend" shove his cock as deep down my throat as he could get it.

Every time I think about it too long, I start getting warm and squirming at my desk chair until the temptation is too much and I sprawl on my bed and touch myself as quietly as possible so none of my new boyfriends hears me. Afterward, I feel like I've done something wrong. These gamers hired me to take care of their needs, not my own. I didn't even fully realize Ihadneeds like this.

At least all of these bubbled up, conflicting feelings have been great for my writing. I've produced more work in these two days than I have in the last few months. Everything going through my mind, every flicker of emotion and physical sensation that's gonethough my body, has ended up on my pages, experienced by a character.

I'm nervous about what my critique group will say about this change in my writing. I haven't told them I'm switching from writing sweet romance to high-spice. It's already uncomfortable for me to read and discuss the explicit scenes they've written, and now it's going to be mine. They'll all know that I've thought about these fantasies.

At least they won't know that I've actually lived them.

Slipping out of the house to come to critique group is the first time I've left my room since the kitchen incident. That's how I'm thinking about it—the kitchen incident. I've been surviving in my room on snacks I'd brought from my old apartment. Writing, masturbating, and snacking on a loop has become my new normal.

Honestly, I'm kind of surprised that none of the gamers barged into my room, or even knocked. They hired me for a job that I'd barely started before I went into hiding. How can I look them in the eye again, though?

That's a problem for later, after critique group.

My train was late, so the other ladies are already chatting at our regular table. I slide into my normal seat as quietly as possible so as not to interrupt. I'm just lucky that they let me be part of their group. We all write slightly different subgenres, and they're all further along in their careers than me. As in, they're all actually making money.

Critique group always meets during happy hour because a drink or two helps make it a little easier to discuss the sex scenes in their books. I'm going to need at least one or two extra myself today, since my own sex scenes will be on the table.

Maybe literally, one day. There is a table in our kitchen. I wonder if any of the guys has ever considered using it for?—

No, I scold myself. I'm here to focus on work.

The conversation stops as I slide into my seat, everyone's heads swiveling in my direction. "We have to talk about your new pages," says Angela, a small-town romance author.

I snag a menu from the table even though I get the same thing every time. I need a moment before I have to look my critique partners in the eye.

I don't like being called out in this way. Normally the other ladies keep talking for a few minutes, not even acknowledging my arrival. But discussing our work is why we're here, so I force a smile. "I'd like that very much. Thank you."

"Oh, my god! Your pages this week! Am I the only one who needed a minute to take care of themselves after reading that?" Maddie, who writes billionaire romance, fans herself theatrically.

"Do you want to go first?" Sasha pulls out her stack of our weekly writing submissions. There's red ink all over the page. "It's not bad." She pauses. "For a first attempt."

My stomach roils at the sight of all that red ink, but this is why I'm here in this group. To get feedback from authors whose opinions I respect. I want my writing to be the best it can be. These ladies are helping me achieve my dreams. They want the best for me too.

"Ooo, yes. Let's order our drinks, and then I need to talk about these pages." Maddie pulls out her copy of my chapter. There's a few markings in the margins, but nothing terrifying like what Sasha's copy has on it.

"Agreed," says Angela. "Drinks first. I'm going to need them before we get to my new pages. It's been a rough week."

My shoulders relax. I'm so nervous to hear what these ladies think of my new writing. It's so far from my normal style and I wrote it so fast, I'm not even confident about what's on those pages. All I know is that every word was inspired by Ethan,Lionel, and whichever stranger watched me choke on cock on the kitchen floor.

The other ladies order cocktails, but I take a house wine. It's on the happy hour list and the cheapest option, and I'm broke. I may need to have two today to get through this ordeal. But people need to read my work at some point in order for me to make it as an author, and there's no sense in me having started down this path of new sex acts if I'm not going to use them as inspiration.

It doesn't take long for our drinks to arrive. Pulling out my own copy of my chapter, I get my pen ready to note down any and all comments my critique partners are ready to dole out.

"Well, I for one would love for the new book boyfriend you're writing to just step out of the pages and take care of me like that." Angela laughs and fans herself. "I had to read your chapter twice this week. The first time I raced through with such enjoyment, I needed a second time to catch the one or two places that could be a little stronger."

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