Chapter 9
Sometime before dawn Stacy woke to a hand pawing at the front of his boxers. Half-asleep, he pushed Lamar away and squinted across the room to read the red led numbers on the alarm clock. Three something, almost four. Too damn early for this. He rolled onto his stomach to hide his crotch from his friend’s greedy hands and hugged the pillow to him, already drifting back to sleep.
But Lamar was insistent, his hands groping beneath the blanket and over Stacy’s ass. “Lamar,” he whined, burrowing deeper into his pillow. Jesus Christ—he wiggled his hips to shake his friend off. “No.”
Lamar didn’t take the hint. He found the waistband of Stacy’s boxers and eased the shorts down. The blanket was coarse and rough against Stacy’s bare ass, and so unfamiliar that he found himself becomin
