Chapter 3: Strip Fighter II
The door clicked shut behind him. The sound was small, ordinary, but it landed in the room like the first stone of an avalanche.
Alexis didn't move from the bed. Her legs stayed crossed at the ankle, laptop balanced on her thighs, that shit-eating grin spreading slow across her face like honey dripping down a knife. The screen's glow painted her cheekbones in shades of toxic green. Her painted nails tap-tapped against the keyboard.
"Rough night?"
Jack shrugged off his jacket and tossed it toward his desk chair. It missed. Landed on the floor. He didn't pick it up. "Tanya's pissed at me."
"Tanya's always pissed at you." Alexis tilted her head, and a strand of dark hair slipped across her cheek. "You gonna do something about that, or you just gonna stand there looking like someone kicked your puppy?"
"Fuck off."
"Ooh. Touchy." She closed the laptop and set it aside. The mattress creaked as she shifted, uncrossing her legs and letting them dangle off the edge of the bed. "Wanna play something? Take your mind off it."
Jack looked at her. Really looked. The oversized t-shirt hung loose at her collarbone, revealing the sharp cut of her shoulder, the smooth line of her neck. No bra straps. No curves pushing against the cotton. Just lean muscle and smooth skin and those goddamn leggings that made her legs look like they went on for miles.
"I don't feel like gaming."
"Too bad." She reached for the controller on her nightstand and tossed it to him. He caught it one-handed. Reflex. "I already set it up. Fighting game. You pick your character, I'll pick mine."
Jack stared at the controller. Then at her. Then at the whiskey bottle on his desk—still sealed, still waiting. He could drink himself stupid. Could crawl into bed and jerk off to the memory of Tanya's disappointed face. Could call her, apologize, beg her to give him another chance even though he wasn't sure he wanted one.
Instead, he sat down on the edge of his bed, across from Alexis, and turned on the controller.
"Fine. But I'm not going easy on you."
Alexis laughed. It was a bright, musical sound that didn't match the predatory gleam in her eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it, Daddy."
The first round lasted forty seconds. Jack's character—a hulking brute with a battle axe—got combo'd into a corner and obliterated before he could land a single hit. He stared at the screen.
"Lag," he said.
"Sure." Alexis selected her character on the rematch screen—a lithe assassin with twin daggers. "Lag."
The second round lasted thirty seconds. Jack button-mashed. Alexis dodged every attack and punished him with surgical precision.
"Lag again?"
"Shut up."
The third round lasted twenty-two seconds. Jack threw the controller onto the bed.
"This game is bullshit."
"Or maybe you're just bad." Alexis stretched her arms over her head, and the t-shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of pale stomach. "Wanna make it interesting?"
Jack's jaw tightened. "What do you mean?"
"Stakes. Winner gets a wish. Anything they want."
The word anything hung in the air like a challenge. Like a dare. Jack knew he should say no. Knew this was a trap, a game within a game, and Alexis was already three moves ahead. But his blood was still hot from the restaurant, from Tanya's accusation, from the way his whole life felt like it was sliding sideways into something he couldn't name.
"Fine," he said. "One more round."
He picked the brute again. Alexis picked the assassin. The countdown flashed on screen. Three.Two.One.
Jack lost in fifteen seconds.
"Fuck!" He slammed his fist on the mattress. The bottle of whiskey rattled on the desk.
Alexis set her controller down. Slowly. Deliberately. She didn't gloat. Didn't even smile. She just crawled across the space between their beds, hands and knees on the mattress, t-shirt hanging loose beneath her, that strip of stomach catching the neon glow. When she reached him, she sat back on her heels and pressed one manicured finger to the center of his chest.
The nail dug in just slightly. Red as blood. Red as sin.
"My wish," she said, voice low and sweet as poison, "is to see your cock."
Jack's breath stopped. His heart hammered once, twice, three times against his ribs. His brain scrambled for purchase, for logic, for some reason this was a joke, a prank, a test of his loyalty to Tanya.
"What?"
"You heard me." Alexis tilted her head. That smirk was back, curling the corner of her lips. "A wish is a wish, Daddy. Don't be a pussy."
The word hit him like a slap. Pussy. He'd been called worse. Had called himself worse, in the quiet moments when he couldn't understand why his own body betrayed him, why his appetite never stopped, why he looked at the person in front of him and felt something dark and hungry coil in his gut.
"I'm not—"
"Scared? Yeah. You are." Alexis leaned closer. Her breath was warm against his chin. Vanilla and something sharper underneath. "Big strong Jack. Star athlete. Alpha male. Can't even show a girl what he's packing."
"You're not—" He stopped himself. Swallowed. "You're my roommate."
"So? Roommates share things." Her finger traced a slow circle on his sternum. "Come on. One little peek. What's the harm?"
Jack's hands were shaking. He didn't know when that started. He looked at the door. Looked at the window. Looked anywhere but at the slender figure perched on his bed, looking at him like he was a prize to be unwrapped.
"Tanya—"
"Tanya's not here." Alexis's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's just us. Just a game. Just a wish."
Jack closed his eyes. He thought about Tanya's tears. About her words in the restaurant—I can't be what you need. About the way his body never stopped wanting, never stopped burning, never stopped looking for something to consume.
He stood up.
Alexis leaned back, still on her heels, watching him with those dark, knowing eyes. Jack's fingers found his belt. The leather was cool against his skin. The buckle clicked open. Then the button. Then the zipper.
He pushed his jeans down past his hips. Past his thighs. They pooled around his ankles. His boxer briefs went with them.
The room was silent except for the hum of the mini-fridge and the distant thrum of music from another dorm.
Alexis's eyes went wide. Her lips parted. That smirk vanished, replaced by something raw and hungry and almost reverent. She licked her lips—a slow, deliberate drag of tongue across glossy pink—and made a sound low in her throat. Part whimper. Part growl.
"Oh, fuck," she breathed. "That's what I wished for."
Jack stood there, exposed, half-hard already from nothing but the weight of her gaze. He should have felt ridiculous. Humiliated. Instead, he felt powerful. That look on her face—that awe—it lit something inside him that Tanya's tears had doused.
"Happy?" he asked. His voice came out rougher than he intended.
Alexis didn't answer. She just reached out and wrapped her fingers around his cock.
Her hand was warm. Smaller than Tanya's. Nails grazing the sensitive skin. She stroked him once, root to tip, and Jack's hips jerked forward involuntarily.
"You're so big," she murmured. "I knew you would be. I could tell."
"Could you?"
"Mmm." She stroked him again. Slower this time. Squeezing slightly at the base. "The way you walk. The way you stand. The way you look at me when you think I'm not watching."
Jack's hands clenched at his sides. "You've been watching me?"
"Since the moment I walked in." Alexis leaned forward, still stroking, and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock. Jack sucked in a breath. "You're the best thing that's happened to this dorm since I transferred here."
"Transfer—"
"Shh." She kissed him again. Then again. Small, wet kisses down the shaft. "Let me take care of you, Daddy. You've had a hard night."
Jack wanted to argue. Wanted to point out that this was insane, that she was his roommate, that he had a girlfriend he'd just left crying in a restaurant. But then Alexis's mouth opened and took the head of his cock between her lips, and every rational thought evaporated like steam.
She was good. Better than good. Her tongue swirled around the tip, lapping up the precum that had already started to bead there. Her hand worked the base in rhythm with her mouth, and the wet sounds she made—soft, obscene, perfect—filled the room.
Jack groaned. His hand found the back of her head, fingers tangling in her dark hair. It was soft. Smelled like coconut shampoo and the faintest trace of cigarettes.
"Fuck," he whispered. "That's—"
Alexis pulled off him with a wet pop. A string of saliva connected her lower lip to his cock, catching the light. "That's what? Tell me."
"Good. Really fucking good."
She smiled. That hungry, predatory smile. Then she took him in her mouth again, deeper this time, until he felt the back of her throat and the slight convulsion of her gag reflex. She didn't pull away. Just breathed through her nose and kept going, bobbing her head in a rhythm that made Jack's vision blur.
He was going to come. Soon. Already. Embarrassingly fast. But when he tried to pull back, Alexis grabbed his ass with both hands and pushed him deeper.
"Wait," he managed. "I'm gonna—"
She looked up at him through her lashes. Her eyes were watering. Mascara smudged. And still she didn't stop. Didn't pull away. Just took him, all of him, and when he came, spilling down her throat, she swallowed every drop.
Jack's legs shook. He grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from falling. Alexis milked him dry with her tongue, gentle now, almost tender, until he finally had to push her off.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Lipstick smeared. Hair a wreck. But she was grinning.
"Now we're even," she said."Even?" Jack's voice came out breathless. "What do you mean, even?"
"For the game. You lost. I got my wish." She stood up, stretched, and sauntered back to her own bed. When she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes were glittering. "But if you want to play another round, I'm game."
Jack looked down at his cock, already half-hard again. Then at the door. Then at the whiskey on his desk.
Tanya's face flickered in his mind. Then Alexis's lips. Then Tanya's tears. Then Alexis's tongue.
"Another round," he said. Not a question.
Alexis crawled onto her bed and picked up the controller. "I'll go easy on you this time."
She didn't.
Jack lost again.