Riptide Rentboys
Page 12
“Well, if you want to come over for one last study session tonight, I’m up for it.”
“Actually, I think I’m good.” Connor could hear the proud grin in Wes’s voice, even as his own stomach hit the floor. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d looked forward to their evenings together. Seeing the spark of excitement in Wes’s eyes across the dinner table had become the highlight of his day. “You did a great job preparing me. Think I’ll just stay in tonight and hit the sack early.”
Connor set down his pen, leaning forward in his chair. “So you’re not afraid of . . . him coming back?”
“Nah, I’m all right. I mean, it’s been weeks. If he was gonna turn up on my doorstep, it would’ve happened before now. I guess you really did put the fear of God in him.” A faint rustling sound, as if he were switching the phone to his other ear, and then, “I’d better go grab some coffee before my next exam. Thanks for everything, Teach. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help. Other than flunk out.”
So Wes thought of him as merely a teacher now. Well, that was only fair and right. Then why did it leave Connor with that old empty ache inside? “Let me know how it goes, all right?”
“You’ll be the first one I tell when I get my grades.”
Before Connor could reply, the line clicked off.
Another two weeks flew past, with Connor spending his nights catching up on all the research he’d neglected while he was tutoring Wes. They saw each other in the hallway a few times, just long enough to wave and say hi. Made Connor’s heart ache whenever he stepped inside his quiet, lonely apartment. Well, no point dwelling on it. He had work to do.
Then one evening came a knock at his door, and there stood Wes, all smiles. “Two As and an A-minus,” he announced, handing Connor a printed email as confirmation. “I’m gonna fucking frame it.”
“Hey, I don’t blame you. If it were up to me, I’d have it bronzed.” Connor grinned, his gaze sweeping Wes from head to toe. Why was he wearing a suit? It was the same one he’d had on at the conference, the day Connor had delivered his presentation. The night they’d slept together. Connor’s smile faded. “Where’re you going? Out to celebrate?”
Wes hesitated, then shrugged. “Um, not exactly.”
Shit. Sheer impulse taking over, Connor grabbed him by the arm and hauled him inside, slamming the door behind them. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.” Wes’s only response was to avert his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, are you fucking insane?”
“I . . . I don’t have a choice.” Wes’s voice trembled, but he finally forced himself to meet Connor’s gaze. “I made the money he paid me last as long as I could, but . . . rent’s due next week, and the week after I’ve got another installment on my tuition. Oh, and somewhere in the middle of all that, I need to eat.”
“I’ll give you the money.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Nothing. I just . . .” Connor swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Don’t do this, Wes. I’m begging you. Please don’t do this.”
“You think taking your money’s gonna make me feel any less like a whore? I don’t need your fucking pity. At least I earned what all those other guys paid me for.”
“What if you end up with another sick fuck who beats the shit out of you? The next one could kill you.”
“And what’s my alternative? Drop out of school and go back to fucking Indiana to work in some shitty convenience store? Hell, I’d rather be dead.” With that, he pushed past Connor, marched out the door and down the hallway.
Connor followed, catching up with him on the front stairs, snagging his arm to pull him back. “You’re not doing this again.”
“Get your fucking hands off me!” Wes snapped, jerking out of his grasp. “Why do you give a damn anyway? I’m nothing to you. I’m just a guy you fucked once.”
If Wes had actually punched him, it couldn’t have hurt more. “You honestly think I would’ve spent so much time tutoring you if I didn’t care what happens to you?”
“I have no fucking clue. I mean, all those nights I spent on your couch, and you never made a move. What was I supposed to think?” He canted back against the railing, his eyes suddenly shiny. “I— I’m not used to people doing things for me without expecting something in return.”
“Even the ones who love you?”
Shock rang through Connor like a struck bell, but for once he had no desire to take back his words. Not even when Wes’s jaw dropped, his hands gripping the railing behind him.
There was too much space between them. Connor closed it in two swift steps, one arm looping around Wes’s waist, the other sliding up his back, fingers carding through his hair to drag those beautiful pink lips up to his.
Wes placed his hand on Connor’s chest, holding him back, their mingled breaths puffing in the chill October air. For one frozen second Connor thought Wes would tell him to stop—
—Until Wes murmured, “God, finally,” and closed his eyes.
They kissed slowly, deeply, savoring each other. Connor had thought he’d never have this again—have Wes again, trembling in his arms as if the entire universe began and ended where their bodies touched. They swayed together, slow-dancing without music, until a lack of air finally forced them apart.
“You are never fucking anyone for money ever again,” Connor whispered. “End of discussion.”
Wes clung to Connor, arms locked around his waist. All the pent-up passion and intensity of their kiss had left him light-headed, his mind awhirl. When Connor murmured, “Why don’t we head inside before we catch cold?” all Wes could do was nod and take his hand, then follow him back to his apartment.
The instant the door closed, Connor wrapped his arms around him again, holding him tight as they kissed, chasing lips and tongues until sheer breathlessness left Wes swaying on his feet. Talk about sensory overload. “Take me to bed, Connor,” he gasped. “Now.”
They staggered down the hallway and into the bedroom, leaving behind a trail of clothing. Connor tore back the covers and tugged Wes down beside him, rolling him onto his back.
The dizziness just kept coming, crashing over Wes like that first wave he’d ever waded into when he’d first moved to California, the first time he’d ever seen the ocean, tasted the salty air. It was like discovering a whole new world. The same way he felt now, with Connor kissing him all over, stroking his skin.
It was too much. He couldn’t breathe. Any second he was going to explode.
“Your heart’s racing,” Connor said, fingertips pressed to the center of Wes’s chest. “Calm down, okay? We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. I’m just happy to finally have you in my bed. And me in it with you.” He smiled. “Believe me, I don’t want to rush you into anything.”
Wes drank down deep breaths, one after another until his lungs stopped burning and the room righted itself. “You don’t know how many times I wished I’d never walked out of your hotel room. All the time we lost. All the things that could’ve been different . . .”
“Shhh. We’re together now. Concentrate on that. I intend to.”
“There’s . . . something else.” He closed his eyes until he’d summoned up the nerve to go on. “Something I need to tell you about me and Dr. Campbell—”
But Connor laid a finger across Wes’s lips, silencing him. “I already know. And there’s no need for us to ever mention it again.” Connor’s mouth brushed over his cheek and jawline, right before he shifted onto his side to spoon behind him. “Relax. There’s no hurry. We’ve got all night.” His hand skimmed up Wes’s arm, gently squeezing his shoulder.
Sense memory of the last time someone had touched him there kicked in. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t suppress a shudder.
Connor immediately moved back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”
No. Not this. Not now. “Look, I know you’re not him. I’m not thinking of him when you touch me.”
God, he so didn’t want to discuss this. But he had to do it sometime, and he’d never feel safer than he did right now, with Connor’s calming presence beside him. “You don’t need to treat me like I’m made of porcelain. I’m a big boy. You’re not gonna break me.”
“But someone else almost did.” Connor’s arm slid tentatively around his waist again, though he waited until Wes released his breath before pulling him closer. “I don’t want to remind you of him.”
“Oh, Jesus, Connor, there’s no way you ever could. Just the thought of you comparing yourself to him makes me want to . . .” Tears sprang to his eyes, his stomach clenching. “He, he used to pay me extra on the nights he got really rough. Said if I took his money, it meant I’d consented. That it wasn’t . . . what it was.” He pressed his face into the pillow. “He’d just throw the money on the table right before he walked out, like it was an afterthought. Or an insult. As if forcing me to lie there while he hit me and fucked me and choked me wasn’t enough.”
“Don’t.” Connor whispered, the stab of pain in his tone making Wes cringe. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t think about him anymore.”
“Then make me forget.” Turning his head, he met Connor’s lips with his own. “Erase him. Put your mark on me instead.”
It started with soft, wet kisses raining down on his face as Connor eased him onto his back again. His ginger stubble scratched, but it felt good. Better than good. A thousand times better, because it was Connor. The man he’d idolized from the first time he’d heard him lecture his freshman year. The man who thought he was brilliant. God, that was funny. The mere idea made Wes break out in a huge smile, fingers tangling in Connor’s hair as he slid down to nip at Wes’s throat.
Another triggered memory made him stiffen. Connor hesitated, so Wes murmured, “It’s fine. I’m fine. Keep going. I want you to.”
Connor began again, his lips leaving not an inch of Wes’s skin untouched, painting pleasure where the pain used to be. Throat, shoulders, arms, and down his torso. He paused to nuzzle Wes’s belly, swirling the tip of his tongue into his navel before moving lower. He shot Wes a wicked glance as he took his cock in his hand and licked a long stripe from root to crown, then sucked it into his mouth.
Warm, wet, deep. Overwhelming. It’d been so long since he’d felt such incredible sensations, he let out a strangled gasp and almost came on the spot. Connor gave the base of his cock a quick squeeze and pulled off. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were so close.”
“S’okay, I, I just . . . it’s been awhile since anybody’s done that for me.”
Connor scooted up for another kiss on Wes’s lips, cupping his face in both hands. “Shall I go on, or would you rather do something else?”
Connor was fully hard now, his cock flushed bright pink. Wes reached down to grasp it, stroking it lightly from base to tip, amazed at the way it throbbed in his hand. “I don’t see how you can ignore this,” Wes said. “I sure as hell can’t.” Another, harder stroke, and this time Connor groaned and tried to push his hand away. “What’s the matter, don’t you want to get off?”
“Not until you do.”
“Then fuck me, and we both can.”
The hot glow in Connor’s eyes told Wes how much he wanted to, but he still shook his head. “It’s too soon. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Connor, it’s been weeks. I’m completely healed.” Wes kissed him again, then whispered, “I love you. I want this, and I want you—all of you. Please.”
“Well, since you’ve asked so nicely . . .” Connor grinned. “I’m assuming there are supplies in your pants pocket, since I don’t have any.”
“Right-hand side.”
Connor got up and darted into the hallway, returning with Wes’s slacks. He fished out the condoms and lube while Wes spread his legs, drinking in the sight of Connor’s lean, gorgeous body as he willed himself to relax.
Connor took his sweet time prepping him, driving him insane with long, slow flicks of his tongue, finally darting the tip inside him. Nobody had done this for him in ages, either. He’d forgotten how good it felt, warm, wet, and slick, even before Connor slipped in a lubed finger, alternating between the two—tongue, finger, tongue, finger, tongue and finger—until he had Wes writhing, tossing his head on the pillow, hands digging in the covers.
“I take it this means you’re ready for my cock?” Connor flashed him a wide, toothy grin. Wes had never seen him smile like that before. God, it was positively predatory—and a total fucking turn-on.
“Enough of your damn teasing.” Wes tore open a condom and quickly rolled it on, then laid back, pulling Connor on top of him. “Get inside me now.”
Connor positioned himself and pushed in slowly. It hurt a little at first, just a twinge until he slid home, and then pleasure took over. Gazes locked, they moved together, kissing slow and deep. Felt like their first time, and in so many ways, it was. Their first time since they’d admitted they loved each other. Their first time with no lies between them. Their first chance to wash away all the pain, doubt, and violations of the past.
“Jesus, you’re so gorgeous. So fucking perfect.”
Took a second before Wes realized it was Connor who’d spoken, echoing his own thoughts. He smiled and rolled his hips, looping his arms around Connor’s neck, drawing him down for another kiss.
“I, I don’t think I can last much longer.” Connor’s breath came in rapid puffs. “Especially if you keep doing that.”
So honest, so desperate. So fucking hot. Wes grabbed Connor’s hand and wrapped it around his cock. “I don’t think I can either.” A few hard, quick pulls had him spurting all over Connor’s fingers, crying out in ecstasy that zinged through him like liquid lightning. Connor followed with a soul-deep groan, his face buried in the curve of Wes’s throat.
Wes moaned in disappointment when Connor rolled away, snagging some tissues to clean them both off. Luckily, it didn’t take long before they were spooned together again, drifting in lazy afterglow.
“I like this bed,” Wes murmured at last. “It’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than mine. Plus, it’s got you in it, of course.”
“Well, that’s good, since you’ll be sleeping here every night from now on.”
Wes twisted around to get a look at him. “Are you serious?”
“Why not? You’ll probably be spending most of your evenings here anyway. And you know what they say about two living as cheaply as one.”
“So you want to be my new sugar daddy, huh?”
He’d meant it as a joke, but Connor’s expression immediately darkened. “I want to be your lover. Your partner. I want us to take care of each other, like partners are supposed to. Besides, maybe I’m paying the rent now, but when you win that Nobel Prize—as I fully expect you will someday—you can buy us a beach house in Malibu. How’s that sound?” He grinned. “So, Wesley Martin, will you move in with me?”
“God, you actually have to ask?” Wes leaned in for a kiss, his pulse tripping again. But then another all-too-sobering dash of reality crept in. “Guess I’ll have to start exploring new job possibilities. Wonder if they need help in the department library? It doesn’t pay much, but—”
“I’ve been thinking about that too. It just so happens there’s a professor in need of a research assistant for a new project. And no, before you ask, it’s not me.” Connor propped himself up on one elbow. “Much as I’d love to work with you, it wouldn’t be ethical. I don’t mind pulling a few strings, although with your grades, I doubt I’ll have to. And I know you’ll ace the interview.”
“You sure you should do that? I mean, I don’t expect you to go out of your way for me just because we’re . . . you know.”
“It’s not like we can keep our relationship a secret, especially living here. Not that I’d even want to.” He smoothed back a lock of Wes’s hair. “Look, all I plan to do is put you
r application on his desk. The rest is up to you. Fair enough?”
“Okay. And thanks.” Shifting onto his side, he snuggled in close, head pillowed on Connor’s chest. To think only a little while ago his heart had been sinking while he’d put on that damn suit, and now his life had taken a complete one-eighty. Things couldn’t possibly be better—except for one thing. “Guess that means if I get accepted into the Ph.D. program next year, you can’t be my advisor, either.”
“Afraid not.” Connor smiled. “But I’m hoping I can make up for it in other areas.”
“Like making sure I spend every night with the smartest, hottest guy I’ve ever met?” Wes grinned back. “Oh, yeah. Definitely.”
My heartfelt thanks to my editor/BFF/brain-twin Rachel Haimowitz, for being the best ass-kicker/cheering section a writer could ever hope for.
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EPIC Award–winning author Cat Grant lives by the sea in beautiful Monterey, California, with one persnickety feline and entirely too many books and DVDs. In her spare time, she reads (mostly for research), goes to the movies and opera a lot, and fantasizes about kinky sex with Michael Fassbender. You can find Cat at http://catgrant.com.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cruce de Caminos