Make a mad dash for it

There was no time for dignity. Dignity had left the building the moment the towel hit Gaby’s floor. There was only physics, adrenaline, and the cold silver key glinting on the carpet like a holy relic.

Ethan didn’t wait for the catcalls to get louder. He didn’t wait for the phones to come out. He took one jagged, hyperventilating breath, dropped his hands from his crotch, and launched.

The reaction was instantaneous. A collective, sharp intake of breath hissed through the hallway, followed by a chorus of gasps and one very distinct, "Oh, wow."

He was a blur of pale skin and sandy hair. Without his hands to restrain it, his cock swung with agonizing prominence, a heavy, rock-hard weight that felt like a spotlight was fixed directly on it. He felt every eye in the hallway track his movement—the way his thigh muscles bunched, the jiggle of his ass, and the frantic, rhythmic bounce of his erection.

He reached the semicircle of women in three long strides. They didn't move away; if anything, they leaned in.

"Coming through!" he barked, his voice a frantic, high-pitched wreck of its usual self.

He dove between the brunette in yoga pants and an older woman in a floral blouse. He was so close he could smell the brunette’s vanilla latte and feel the heat radiating from their bodies. As he bent low to snatch the key from the carpet, he was acutely aware of his position—his ass pointed directly at Gaby’s door, his thick, pulsing cock dangling mere inches from the brunette’s sneakers.

"Nice form, honey!" the woman in the floral blouse chirped, her eyes wide and scanning every inch of his hunched, naked form.

His fingers clawed at the carpet, finally snagging the cold metal of the key. He didn't stand up fully; he stayed low, spinning on his heel like a panicked animal. The brunette was looking down, a predatory, delighted smirk on her face as she took in the view from above—the way his balls tucked, the sheer girth of him while he was strained and ****.

"Find what you were looking for?" she purred, her voice dripping with the kind of hunger Chloe had warned him about.

"Got it! Bye!" Ethan scrambled past them, his bare feet slapping loudly on the hallway carpet. He didn't look back. He couldn't. If he looked back and saw them laughing—or worse, staring with genuine, hungry appreciation—he thought his heart might actually explode.

He reached Chloe’s door in a dead sprint, fumbling the key toward the lock. His hands were shaking so hard the metal clattered against the plate. Clink. Scrape. Clink.

"Almost there, big guy!" one of the women shouted from down the hall, followed by a peal of raucous, feminine laughter. "Don't be a stranger!"

Finally, the key slid home. He twisted it, threw the door open, and practically fell inside, slamming the door shut and leaning his forehead against the cool wood. He was gasping for air, his skin on fire, his cock still throbbing with a confused, intense mix of terror and the most electric arousal he’d ever felt.