Art of Love (Valley Boys Book 1)

by Vicki Tharp

  Spicy reached into Roman’s pocket and handed him the phone. This better be good. Roman answered and held the phone to his ear. “What?”

  “It’s me.” Moses sounded breathless.

  “Wha—”

  “I have an emergency. Where are you?”

  Roman stilled, and Spicy must have either overheard or sensed something was wrong because he stopped nibbling and kissing his way down the length of Roman’s throat. “I’m at Premier, it’s—”

  “I know where it is. I’m close.”

  “Meet me by the alley.”

  “Why?”

  “Just... just meet me there.”

  Moses hung up before Roman could ask anything else. He leaned his forehead against Spicy’s. He smelled the fresh sweat on their skin and the faintest hint of musk. If it were anyone else who had called, Roman might have told them to call someone else, but this was Moses.

  “I’m sorry. I have to go,” Roman said.

  “It’s okay.” For a guy about to be denied a back-alley blowjob, Spicy took the news exceptionally well. “Maybe it’s better that it ended this way.”

  A sadness had crept into Spicy’s voice that didn’t quite jibe with what had transpired. But before he could ask about it, Moses pulled up at the head of the alley and honked his horn.

  “I guess that’s your ride,” Spicy said.

  Roman stuffed himself back into his underwear and fastened his pants. “What’s your na—”

  Moses honked again and, through his open window, called out for Roman to hurry. Then the Premier’s back door opened, and a man in a light charcoal gray suit stepped out.

  “There you are,” the man said to Spicy. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Was this a boyfriend?

  A husband?

  That would be Roman’s luck, the one guy who’d turned his crank in a while might be taken.

  Moses honked again, and Roman didn’t have time to stick around to find out.

  4

  Demetri turned toward Niko as he adjusted himself. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  Niko chuckled. “Like what?”

  “Like you’re a proud papa after finding out his son has gotten laid for the first time.”

  “I’m just standing here.” He handed Demetri his suit coat. “You ready? Everyone else has gone. They’ve even locked the front door on us.”

  “I’m ready.”

  Niko fell into step beside Demetri as they walked down the alley and made their way back to Niko’s Jaguar.

  “That was...” Niko started, but it didn’t seem like he knew how to finish the sentence.

  “Unexpected?” Demetri filled in for him.

  The mild night made it ideal for walking, even with the winds. Demetri hooked his suit coat on his finger and hitched it over his shoulder, his balls and semi-hard cock heavy between his legs. He’d have to jack himself off later if he wanted to get any sleep.

  But what he wanted most was the bartender’s sexy lips on his dick, but the relief of not having to come up with an excuse as to why that wasn’t going to happen almost made up for the fact that he’d probably missed out on some fantastic head.

  That late at night, even for the valley, traffic came in spits and spurts, especially on the side streets. He glanced up at the sky, but the light pollution blotted out all but the brightest stars.

  “You going to see him again?” Niko asked, bringing Demetri back to himself.

  “I didn’t get his number.”

  He should have. But in Demetri’s experience, alley sex had never amounted to anything more than scratching an itch.

  “I’m sure you could look him up on social media. He’s bound to be—”

  “I didn’t get his name, either,” Demetri muttered.

  Probably a good thing. In a very short time, Green Eyes had made Demetri question all of his morals and values and almost had him consenting to things he damn well promised himself he wouldn’t.

  A man who could move Demetri’s moral line that easily was far too dangerous.

  They drove back to Demetri’s place in near silence, guilt starting to nibble at his edges. What if they hadn’t been interrupted? Would Demetri have let the man go down on him?

  Would he have been tempted to do more?

  In Demetri’s driveway, Niko parked. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “Why do you say that? Because he didn’t run?”

  “No, because the self-recrimination is wafting off of you like something foul a dog rolled in.”

  “I didn’t do anything unsafe.” Demetri brushed the dirt off the knees of his pants, where the threads had been scuffed and scraped. He’d probably ruined the pants. Then he glanced up at Niko, his cousin’s features in harsh relief in the blue glow of the dash lights. “But I fucking wanted to.”

  “He scared you.”

  “I scared me.”

  Niko stared out the windshield. Demetri had left the lights on when he’d left, and through the front plate-glass windows, you could see through to the backyard.

  Niko looked at Demetri, not speaking until Demetri held his gaze. “You didn’t put him at any kind of risk. You know that. Go easy on yourself.”

  Easier said than done.

  Especially when Demetri knew exactly what else he’d wanted to do in that alley.

  “You are one of the most compassionate people I know,” Niko said. “Try saving a little of that for yourself, yeah?”

  Demetri gave him a curt nod, more because it was expected than because he agreed.

  Back in his house, he stripped off his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt. He poured himself cheap box wine. It had been sitting in the fridge since God knew when.

  He dropped onto the couch in the darkness and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking his pool.

  Demetri couldn’t get the bartender out of his head.

  And being half hard didn’t help.

  After two glasses of wine, the stupid thought that he might be able to find Green Eyes on one of the hookup apps popped into his brain. It took another glass while arguing back and forth with himself before he called himself an idiot and pulled his phone out of his pocket anyway.

  You would have thought that the minutes it took for him to re-download several of the more popular hookup apps would have given him enough time to come to his senses.

  You’d be wrong.

  On the first app, he set the location radius to two miles, having no idea where the man lived. He scrolled through grids of faces and bare chests, one after the other. He recognized a few. Some were friends, and some were people he’d hooked up with in the past. But none of them were the man he’d sucked off in the alley.

  For all Demetri knew, the man could have driven up from Los Angeles or somewhere else.

  Demetri tossed his phone onto the cushion beside him. He got up for another glass of wine and drained the dregs from the bottom of the box. Probably a good thing the box hadn’t been full.

  Flopping back down on the couch, he picked up his phone. Finding the bartender would be like finding a needle in a gay haystack.

  But the man’s friend called and was there within minutes.

  Demetri widened the search area to five miles but still came up blank.

  Maybe this was the universe’s way of saving him from himself.

  He rinsed his empty glass in the sink and shuffled his way into his bedroom, kicking off his shoes and stripping to his briefs on the way, leaving a trail of alley-scuffed clothes on the floor behind him.

  Dropping onto his back on the bed, he closed his eyes. All he saw were those mesmerizing eyes, that heart-stopping smile, and a hard cock that went on for a mile.

  Okay, maybe not a mile, but it had been impressive. Demetri still felt the tightness in his jaw from the strain. And thinking about the feel of that thick dick in his mouth turned the semi he’d had since he’d left the gallery into a full-blown hard-on.

  He shoved hi
s underwear down his legs and kicked them out of the way, having zero shame as he took hold of himself. He’d never see the guy again, and there was nothing wrong with some harmless jacking off.

  Precum quickly slicked his tip. Even after all the wine, Demetri imagined he could still taste the man on his tongue. Could still feel the pulse of the bartender’s orgasm slamming into him, and the cum shooting into the back of his throat.

  His balls grew heavy and tight as Demetri continued stroking himself, his shaft now slick with his precum. He teased the ridge and the head, wishing it were a tongue or the bartender’s hand.

  He came quickly, and with little of his usual warning, his load landing on his chest and abdomen. As he lay there, with his spilled cum drying on his skin, he knew the universe had been looking out for him.

  His kryptonite wasn’t an alien mineral from another world...

  It was a sinfully sexy bartender.

  Roman jumped into Moses’ car, trying to buckle in as Moses sped away from the curb. He looked his friend up and down, searching for blood or something, he didn’t know what. But besides looking a little frazzled even for Moses, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  “What’s wrong? What’s happening? Where are we going?” Roman couldn’t get the questions out fast enough. His heart still raced from the mind-altering blowjob and the fresh dump of adrenaline.

  Moses glanced over at Roman, his eyes sweeping down Roman’s body until they landed on his unfastened belt. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? What’s the emergency? Why did you call me?”

  Moses grinned, his usual mischievous grin, but this time a little oops, my bad lurked around the edges. “Did you just get sucked off?”

  “Would you forget about my dick for a minute and answer the fucking question?”

  Moses stared straight ahead as he accelerated to avoid the red light, in a rush to get wherever they were going. Roman’s first thought when Moses had called was that Moses or one of his friends had gotten jumped and beat up leaving one of the clubs. It didn’t happen often, but it still happened.

  “Look, if I’d known—”

  Something in the way Moses glanced back at him, his smile wider and devilment powering the spark in his eyes, Roman clicked onto the reality that the reason Moses had called hadn’t been life or death.

  Roman should have been relieved, but he was too pissed to feel anything but lied to.

  Moses should have known better.

  At the corner, Moses slowed and pulled into Exeter’s back parking lot. The heavy beat of the bass escaping the club vibrated throughout Moses’ piece of shit car.

  “There they are.” Moses pointed.

  Two guys were lip locked and leaning against one of the cars, completely oblivious to anything going on around them.

  “Who are they?”

  “Our tricks for the night.”

  Roman already had perfectly satisfying anonymous sex that night. He didn’t need these guys.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Roman shoved the door open with his foot and headed down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

  “Wait!” Leaving his car running, Moses scrambled around the trunk and caught Roman’s arm at the street corner. A metallic purple lowrider drove by, the windows down, the bass from the music at a bone-vibrating, ear-numbing volume that put Exeter to shame.

  Roman shook Moses off and stepped into him. Roman’s vision narrowed, and the bass from the music vanished as he stared down at his friend, his fists shaking at his sides.

  “What’s your problem?” Moses said. “How the hell was I to know you were getting yourself some? I thought I was doing you a favor.”

  “I thought someone was dying, I thought—”

  Moses laughed. “Yeah, dying to get into their pants.”

  Roman spun away from his friend, stalking to the curb before turning around again. “You said it was an emergency.”

  “I didn’t think you’d come otherwise.” Moses raised his hands, having the decency to look the tiniest bit chagrined.

  “Is this your friend?” The two guys walked over. They scanned Roman up and down like a side of prime beef. “You weren’t kidding.”

  The taller one, the one with his shirt unbuttoned and his hair all sweaty from dancing in the club, grabbed the end of Roman’s unfastened belt and tugged Roman against him. “I call dibs.”

  Roman shoved him away. “Not tonight, guys.”

  “Hey, man.” The shorter one had a harness holding up his unfastened pants, his fly open, his jockstrap exposed. “We’re just looking for some fun.”

  The two guys in front of him were young and muscled and easy on the eyes.

  But they aren’t Spicy.

  Roman poked Moses in the chest with his finger. “Don’t ever pull crap like that again. You got me?

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and started walking the few miles back to his car. Even if he’d had the money to spare for an Uber, he needed every step of that walk to soften the edges of his rage.

  Are you mad because Moses lied about an emergency? Or are you mad because you had to leave before getting the guy’s number?

  The emergency. You don’t lie about—

  Bullshit. Any other day you would have laughed it off with him. And probably hooked up with one or both guys.

  It still didn’t make the lie right.

  Annoyance trailed Roman back to his car and followed him home. He slapped together a sandwich as Moses came through the front door, towing the two guys from the parking lot behind him.

  They guys kissed and giggled and tore at each other’s clothes as they stumbled their drunken way down the hallway and into Moses’ bedroom, hardly noticing that Roman was there. Just as well, considering the dark mood cloaking him.

  He hid in his room, closing his door and stuffing a towel underneath, but he still heard every thump and laugh and ‘oh fuck’ and ‘I’m coming.’

  So much for having rooms on opposite ends of the apartment.

  And the whole time, all he could think about was Spicy’s mouth and lips on his face, neck, cock. He lay on his back on the bed, hard again.

  He thought about joining Moses and the other guys, but while he had nothing against it, they weren’t what, or rather who, he wanted.

  You’re never going to see Spicy again, so you might as well take advantage of your opportunity while you can.

  Which was legit.

  But felt... wrong somehow.

  Later, after the guys had left, a knock came at his door.

  Roman had kept his work clothes on because sometimes, when he moved, he caught whiffs of Spicy on the fabric and his skin. “Come in.”

  With the towel stuffed in the gap under the door, Moses had to work to shove the door open. He wore a holey pair of sweatpants and a drunk, apologetic smile.

  Moses plopped on the end of the bed. He smelled of alcohol, weed, sweat, and sex.

  “Sorry I messed up your night.”

  Roman reached behind him and tossed one of his pillows at Moses’ head, but Moses blocked it and tucked it under his chest to lay on. Roman thought back to his encounter in the alley. As much as he’d enjoyed it, something about what had happened seemed... off. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Spicy seemed as equally into him, but something had flashed in the man’s eyes right before he’d gone down on Roman.

  “It’s okay,” Roman said at last. “It was probably the hottest blowjob I’ve ever had, but I don’t think it was going anywhere else beyond that.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Roman shrugged, too tired for much more.

  “Was he at least a little closer to your age this time?”

  Again, the shrug, but by Moses’ exasperated expression, he read that to be a ‘no.’

  “He seemed different from the others.”

  “Only because this time you had your dick in his mouth. Isn’t it usually the other way aroun
d?”

  “I like to suck dick. Sue me.”

  “Hey.” Moses’ voice dropped, and Roman glanced over at him. “You really liked this guy, didn’t you?”

  And Roman had no clue why. “I only spent a handful of minutes with him all night.”

  “Yet you imprinted on him like one of those little ducks that follow the people around in the spotted boots.”

  “You’re such a dick. I didn’t ‘imprint’ on him.”

  Moses sat up, crossing his legs and hugging the pillow to his bare chest. “Give me his number. I’ll apologize to him. I’ll make this right. You can invite him back here, and I’ll clear out for a night or the whole fucking weekend if you want.”

  “I don’t have his number.”

  “Then you can—”

  “Or his name.”

  Moses rested his chin in his upturned hand. “Well, fuck.”

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t look like that’s ever going to happen. One and done. No big deal, right?”

  5

  Monday morning, on the first day of the fall semester, Demetri sat at his desk at the back of his art room, watching the students file in one by one. It was his live model class, usually restricted to upperclassmen and typically one of his smaller classes each semester. He glanced down at the paperwork the registrar had given him. Sixteen in this class.

  He counted heads. Fourteen students. “Pick any seat,” he said as the students settled.

  At the front of the room, chairs and empty easels stood in front of a semi-circular dais where the live models sat during class. Like in every class the world over, some students sat in the front row, while others tended toward the back or found a middle ground in between.

  In the art department’s infinite wisdom, it housed all the art rooms in the bowels of the building. At the beginning of each semester, a few students always got lost trying to find his room.

  He waited five minutes past the time class should have started before going to the door and checking to see if there were any stragglers coming. Finding the hall empty, he closed the door. With his hand full of the syllabi, he passed the papers around, then stepped onto the dais and introduced himself.