“Tell me,” he repeated.
I licked lips that had gone bone dry. “I…I want you to suck my cock,” I said.
A satisfied smile curled his lips. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said.
Not as hard as my cock is, I thought.
“Watch me,” he said. And then his warm mouth closed over the head of my cock, and I could barely think at all.
The sight of David, on his knees before me and that dark head moving over me, was almost as hot as the sensation of his mouth suctioning me deep into his throat. The combination? Fuck. I could die happy like this.
Just when he’d found the perfect rhythm and I closed my eyes, sure I’d be coming soon, he backed off. His tongue traced the sensitive ridge under my head.
“What did I tell you about watching me?” he said.
With a massive force of will, I opened my glazed eyes. “Sorry. I’m watching.”
My voice sounded funny. All low and raspy.
“Good boy,” he said. Then with his gaze latched to mine, he licked his way up to the tip of my cock and lapped up the pearly drop of precum that glistened there.
“Fuck,” I whispered when my cock jumped in response.
“Are you going to watch the whole time this time? I’d hate to have to stop again, this looks painful.” He licked his tongue down the entire length of my cock to demonstrate what this was. Like I hadn’t known without the reminder.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a sadistic streak?” I panted.
His laugh was low, the sensual notes making my skin erupt in goosebumps. “Now you’re getting it.”
Then,, once he checked to make sure I was watching him—which, fuck yeah, I was—he sucked the entire length of me back into his mouth. One of his hands gripped me tightly around my base and started jacking me in time to the bobbing of his head. Each stroke lifted me closer to the edge, until the pressure built to a breaking point. My balls tightened and the last thing I saw before I spiraled over the top was the sight of his eyes, hungry on mine.
He guided me through the spasms, staying between my legs, his mouth now gentle on my cock. Somehow, he knew just the right amount of pressure. As I emptied myself into his mouth, contentment flooded me, endless and warm. This. This was how the two of us were meant to be. In those moments, I felt more connected to David than I had anyone else in my life. I wanted to live in those moments forever.
Afterward, he rose and tugged me until my head was on the pillow, pulled off his shirt, and curled up around me.
“What, what about you? I want—”
“Shhh,” he put a finger to my lips to quiet me, “there’ll be plenty of time to reciprocate, when we aren’t testing the club’s boundaries. That was just for you.”
I wanted to protest more, but after my whirlwind of a day, fatigue pulled my eyelids down. Then nestled in the safety of David’s arm, I drifted off…more content and at peace then I’d been in a long time.
14
David
The following Monday brought blue skies and perfect weather, the kind that beckoned students and faculty alike outdoors with the promise of sun-warmed skin and faint breezes. I’d just picked up an iced tea from the little coffee shop on campus—a citrus green blend that was perfect for this sunny day—when I ran into Loretta Davis, who taught all of our Russian history courses.
Loretta’s dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she wore her usual uniform of black slacks and a colorful, fitted jacket. The thing that was different today? Her typical wide smile was nowhere to be seen.
Not this again, I thought with an internal grimace. An unwelcome reminder that while being with Seb this weekend might have been wonderful, we still hadn’t done anything to address the university’s displeasure with our relationship.
She shuffled her feet and bit her cheek, so I exhaled an impatient huff. “Let me guess…you have news that some higher-up is unhappy with my relationship with a grad student, despite the fact that he’s not in my department.”
She heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness, you’ve already heard. I wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject.”
“Yes, I’ve already gotten an earful on the topic, but I do appreciate your concern.” I was being honest. Loretta wasn’t a gossipy sort, so I knew she’d come to me as a favor.
“What are you going to do?” she said, then winced. “If you don’t mind me asking, I mean? I heard that since board members are involved, they’re thinking of reassigning your classes next term?”
I fought to keep my expression stoic when her words registered. Board members? Reassign my classes? Yes, I’d known the dean of my department was displeased. The fact that now Seb and I were being discussed amongst the board members and there was talk of relieving me of my teaching duties meant things had escalated quickly, though.
“I’m still considering my options,” I said. True enough. I had no idea what to do with this new information.
She squeezed my arm. “Well, good luck…and not that you’re asking for my opinion, but I say give them hell.”
Once she left, I stalked over to an empty chair by itself outside and dropped into the seat, my shoulders stiff and my jaw tight. Take away my classes? How was this happening?
Apparently, bad news enjoyed beautiful days, because my cell phone rang next. My finger moved to silence the darn thing, but the display showed my publisher’s number.
“Hello?” My voice was wary as I answered. Justifiably so, as it turned out.
“Hi there, David. Alex here.”
We exchanged a few pleasantries before he cut to the chase. “So listen, I’ve got some news. I’ve been tossing some ideas around with marketing and sales, and we’ve come up with what I think is a great idea.”
It took every bit of willpower in my possession not to scoff at that point. Whatever idea they’d come up with hadn’t involved me, so I was fairly certain that I wasn’t going to find this idea quite as tantalizing as the rest of them.
I made some noncommittal noise and waited for the other shoe to drop.
And oh, did it ever.
“We think it’s time that you took your thrillers in a new direction. The market is eating up domestic thrillers right now, and you’d be great at them.”
I held the phone away from my ear and stared at the thing like it was an alien being before replying. “I’m sorry, did you say domestic thrillers?”
“Yes!” Alex’s voice boomed with unbridled enthusiasm, making me yank the phone away from my face again. This time, to save my eardrum. “You know, thrillers about married couples or lovers…where you don’t know if the husband is the bad guy or not? Stalking stories? Mistresses? That sort of thing?”
Oh, I knew exactly what domestic thrillers were, and they were nothing like the lone wolf type of thriller I’d been writing for the past five years.
As he prattled on about this book and that book and how in-house marketing was predicting a continued boom in domestic thrillers over the next couple of years, I stared blankly out into the quad while the walls closed in around me. It wasn’t like I was being snooty about his suggestions, but I happened to like writing the books I wrote. The fans liked them, too. Sure, my fan base wasn’t up to John Grisham levels, but they were loyal customers, and I enjoyed writing for them.