Page 40 of Bro Amazing

"Um … sports romance." Shit. Why did I say that? I don't write sports romances. Although I guess they are inspired by athletes in a way. Esports are, after all, sports, according to Helix. And come to think of it, even though my boyfriends don't really fit the mold for the book boyfriends usually seen in sports romances, but they're certainly athletic enough in bed to qualify.

"Can we read it?"

A bolt of panic shoots through me at the idea. "It's not done. I don't like to share rough drafts outside of my critique group."

He tilts his head, confused. "Didn't your parents say you had other books published?"

I don't want the guys I'm fucking to know anything about my writing. Even my already-published stuff.

"Those are sweet romances," I explain. "Very different from what I'm writing about now."

He grins. "You're writing dirty sex."

I can feel the blush creeping up my face, so I change the subject. "Was there a reason you came up here?"

"Yeah." Lionel stands and walks toward the door. "We're ready to watch something." He pauses halfway and looks back. "If you're done with work for today."

I'm shocked. Lionel cares about my work schedule? None of them have ever seemed to pay attention before. With their weird schedule, I'm not sure they ever considered that most people work a normal nine-to-five even if they work from home. I can't help but mentally give him brownie points for being considerate.

"Yeah, I'm done. Let's go." I push in my computer chair and follow Lionel down to the basement.

The other guys are already splayed out on the sofa, but the projector screen is dark and they're just sitting here, waiting. I'm mildly annoyed. Our agreement was to watch something, butthey don't have it ready. I could have snuck in at least another paragraph while they're setting this up.

"What are we watching?" I move to sit between Ethan and Helix.

"Actually, you're going to sit right here." Lionel points to the coffee table, and I notice that for some reason it's covered with a blanket.

"On the table?" At his nod, I perch on the edge and l look around at all of them. They're completely focused on me. "What's going on? I thought we were going to watch a movie."

It feels more like we're going to have an intense talk. Like the world's most bizarre family meeting.Oh, no. Maybe they're disappointed in me as a live-in girlfriend. Are they kicking me out?

My chest rises and falls quicker as panic and uncertainty set in. I don't like this situation at all.

"No, the deal was that we'd get to watchsomething, and we didn't pick a movie," explains Helix.

"I don't understand." I fidget on the table, the blanket shifting slightly beneath me.

"What we want to watch," says Miles, leaning forward and balancing his elbows on his knees as he focuses on me, "is you touch yourself."

"Excuse me?" I'm shocked. This is outrageous. I should walk right back up to my room. "You didn't say that in our deal, so it shouldn't count. You need to be clearer."

"We asked you if you worked from home and you said yes," says Quintin. "You didn't tell us that you write romance."

"Smutty romance," says Ethan.

"Exactly," agrees Lionel. "Youshould have been clearer."

"So you're going to sit there on the table and masturbate for us," explains Quintin.

"You want me to masturbate in front of all of you, right now." My mouth is dry, and my hands are shaking. With nerves, anger, or a touch of excitement, I can't say.

"Yes." Lionel scooches lower on the sofa, spreading his knees to display his growing cock inside his sweatpants.

The other gamers do the same, watching me with hungry eyes. All except Miles, who's still leaning forward, intent.

I'm not sure I can do this. I've had sex of some sort with all of them, but they've always been the instigators, and have more or less just fucked me without me having to do much. Now they're asking me to be an exhibitionist. I've taken the initiative with them a few times—that first night with Ethan, calling Lionel's bluff in the kitchen when he asked for a blow job—but showing them how I enjoy touching myself is something else entirely.

"Go on," commands Lionel.

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