by Neve Wilder
“Oh, snap a pic of you in your suit, would you? Give me something besides you in a bikini that I can put on the mantle.”
“It’s a mankini, and I think you should put that one up. Your friends’ll love it.”
But, like a dutiful son, I thrust my phone into Mark’s hand after we’d parked and made him snap a photo I could send to her.
“Naaaaaaattttteeeeeeee.” Ashley sloshed into me. That was the best way to describe how she came careening into my arms. I caught her by the elbow to keep her upright as she giggled, adjusting the top of her sheath or whatever you called what she was wearing, which looked like a sausage casing.
“Wow,” I said, once I’d regained my balance. “You look great.”
“Thanks. Miss me?” She beamed me a smile and squeezed my bicep through the suit jacket I was considering getting rid of. It was getting hotter inside as more people piled in, boozed it up, and filled the dance floor. But her question set off warning bells in my head. Alert, alert, proceed with caution! Our relationship had been fairly relaxed, but when she’d invited me home to meet her parents and I found myself desperately wanting to avoid the trip, it’d been a sign. After I told her I didn’t want to do that, we’d just sort of gone flat as a soda with the cap left off. Looking at her now, I tried to drum up some regret but couldn’t find any.
She must have read something in my expression because she laughed and rolled her eyes. “I’m messing with you. Did you bring a hot date?”
“Nope.”
“Me either, so if neither of us scores by the end of the night, I’m down if you are.”
I blinked because it seemed so out of left field, but maybe it wasn’t, since we’d gone back and forth a while after our official breakup, hooking up after mixers a few times. This time, however, I couldn’t manage even the faintest whiff of interest, so I gave her what I hoped was a charming smile. “I doubt you’ll have any problems.”
One of her friends grabbed her by the arm and tugged her toward the food display. I found Mark and some of the other brothers, but hung back when they decided to go out on the lawn beyond the french doors to find a place to get high.
I’d been keeping an eye on the front of the ballroom for Eric for the last couple of hours, wondering if he might not show after all. Then, suddenly there he was striding through the door with Amanda on his arm, and I didn’t know whether I was going to pop a chub or pop a blood vessel. Okay, that might have been a little exaggeration, but the sight of him looking so hot, leaning his head down to speak with Amanda, then breaking into laughter with a big grin on his face like he was having a grand ol’ time while I’d been standing there half the night with my nerve endings crackling in anticipation just made me want him all the more. I’d rubbed one out in the shower, but the half-life on that orgasm proved shitty. I needed what only he seemed to be able to give me. And badly.
“Why didn’t you bring Chet? Won’t he feel left out?” I asked as I sidled alongside him next to the bar. Amanda had walked off, I was guessing to the bathroom, so I was glad to take up where she’d left off.
“I’m seriously starting to wonder if you have a thing for him.”
I glared at him and glanced around. Eric cocked his head at me and gave me a musing smile that might have also been a subtle tease.
“Rein in the paranoia, Busey. No one’s paying attention to us.” He chuckled and reached past my shoulder to grab something from the bar, brushing against me in the process. I felt the heavy warmth of his cock through his pants grazing my thigh. And there it was. I’d officially popped a boner. He knew it, too, without even looking. I could tell by the self-satisfied smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth.
“You love this,” I told him.
“I do. And so do you. Don’t even pretend you don’t.”
He dropped the stirring straw he’d retrieved into his drink, then pinned it to the rim of his glass as he took a swallow. “Did you jack off in the shower?”
I laughed because he was just…I didn’t even know. He was outrageous. And I wasn’t sure if I loved it per se, because could you really love something that kept you in limbo between panic and ecstasy? But I was addicted to it. Every agonizing second.
“Came in your shampoo bottle,” I quipped, and air-toasted my glass in his direction.
He ran a hand over his hair—which was perfect, of course, some product in it that made it fall just right, like something out of a magazine. “That would explain why it’s extra shiny tonight if it were true. But I happen to know your aim isn’t that good—much less your finesse—when you’re really worked up.”
I almost groaned from the sheer ball-tightening arousal that rocketed through me, but managed a half-hearted scoff. “You’d be the same.”
“Maybe. So far, you’re all take. Care to find out what it’s like to give?”
I sucked in a breath and caught movement in my periphery as Amanda sauntered back. Eric snaked an arm low around her waist as she leaned her head against his shoulder affectionately. My heart started pounding again.
“Nate, Amanda. Amanda, Frat Boy. One of two.”
That fucking term. It was Pavlovian, and I hated it as much as it turned me on.
Amanda gave me a warm smile and tipped her glass against mine. With the red hair, plush lips, and high cheekbones, she was more striking than pretty. “Nice to finally officially meet you.”
Jesse caught my eye as he made his way through the crowd. I lifted my chin to him as he started in our direction, then bumped fists with him as he arrived and our circle grew.
“Anyone want shots?” Eric asked, and then without waiting for an answer, slid behind me to get in the bar line, bumping against me again. Instead of his cock, it was his hand brushing against me this time. Subtle, infinitely subtle if someone had been looking, and I could tell by the lightness of the touch it must have been his knuckles or the side of his hand skimming over my ass. Had it been anyone else, I wouldn’t have even noticed it, probably. But God, from him it was one more open circuit crackling with electricity. I crunched down hard on an ice cube, turning a glance over my shoulder in time to catch him grinning at me as he stepped into the line while Jesse and Amanda talked about some class they were thinking of taking next semester.
“I’ve heard he’s the worst. A tyrant. Totally inflexible, takes pride in handing out F’s,” Amanda was saying.
“Ugh. I’m dreading it.” Jesse groaned.
“Who’s this?” I asked, trying to play catch-up.
“Professor Williams.”
I winced. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard stories.”
“Well fucking great. I’m screwed,” Jesse said, making a face.
Eric returned loaded down with shots and passed them off to each of us. I eyed the milky liquid. “Kahlúa?” I asked.
His eyes slid over to me and held, amusement twinkling within deep green. “Screaming Orgasm.”
And then the bastard winked.
We were nothing but undercurrent and tension, and I darted a glance between Amanda and Jesse to see if they were picking up on any of this. Jesse seemed clueless, but there was something about the way Amanda looked me over, then fiddled with Eric’s lapel that put me on edge. I downed my shot fast, relieved when everyone else did the same.
Amanda tugged on Eric’s arm. “Let’s dance.”
Jesse watched them go, tilting his head. “They’re fucking. Definitely fucking.” His expression suggested he might not approve of this, but I wasn’t sure why.
I joined the fray fifteen minutes later when Ashley came up and took both Jesse and me by the hand. On the dance floor, she put her back to me, pushing her perky little ass up against my crotch, but it wasn’t her getting me hard, it was Eric, glimpsed in fragments, the glow on his face and the smile, the flash of his arms wrapped around Amanda. What would it be like if those arms were wrapped around me? If he was behind me, grinding up against my ass, sweating against me, pressing into me to some hypnotic beat?
I wa
s suddenly burning up and tugged my coat off, moving to the side of the dance floor as I pulled my phone from my pocket.
Nate: Are you fucking her?
There was a three-minute delay, and I lost sight of Eric before I glimpsed the crown of his head again, still on the dance floor.
Eric: The first time you use my number and that’s what you ask?
And then a second later, another message: No. I told you that. Ask the question you really want to ask.
I pressed my lips together. I couldn’t get mad at him for putting out that impression when I was desperate to keep what we were doing secret. Hell, he was doing me a favor.
Nate: That was the question I really wanted to ask
Eric: You sure?
I glimpsed the back of his head as he walked toward the exit.
Nate: Are you leaving?
Nothing. Shit. Had I pissed him off? I wanted to go with him home. No one would be back at the house, but I was on cleanup duty. I bit my lip, wondering if I could make it there and back before I was needed.
A long minute later, I got another text that threw my heart into a pathetic hummingbird frenzy and sent a flush racing up my neck. I wrapped my hand around my phone, shielding the screen and the fat erection he’d just sent me a close-up view of against wandering eyes. In the photo Eric’s fist was wrapped around the base of his swollen shaft, the whiteness of his knuckles telling me how tightly he was holding himself. Fuck me. I think I did start drooling then.
Eric: Want this?
The bottom dropped out of my stomach as if I’d gone flying over a hill in a roller coaster.
Nate: Yes
He took longer than expected to reply.
Eric: Surprised me. Thought you were going to do your usual one step forward two steps back thing.
Nate: Whatever. Where? I’m on clean-up crew. Have to be back here in an hour.
Eric: Give me a few. I’ll figure it out.
Mark clapped me on the back, sending my phone skittering out of my hand. I yelped and launched after the thing as it spun across the floor in a kaleidoscope of fleshy purples and pinks, managing to snatch it up while it was still spinning.
Mark laughed hysterically at my glare, then shoved a drink in my hand. “Finish it for me? I’m so fucking baked.”
His eyes were bleary and bloodshot, and I had an idea the combo of weed and the whiskey I detected in his drink would have him clinging to the toilet before the end of the night. I pasted on a grin and accepted the glass.
“Are we cool, dude?”
I blinked. “Yeah, of course. Why?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. You’ve just been acting a little off lately.”
“Naw. I’m just…” Letting one of our roommates pound the hell out of my ass with increasing regularity and loving every fucking second. “A little overloaded this semester.”
“Sure. Cool. Just checking. Marty said you gave him the thumbs-up on Ashley, wasn’t sure if maybe…”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I hiked my thumb toward the entrance before he’d finished speaking. “Gotta piss.”
He nodded and turned away, absorbed back into the dancing as I headed off. I finished his drink and set the empty glass on a table as I passed, alcohol a gentle current in my body, making me loose and more than a little reckless.
Eric’s texts directed me to the left stairwell that flanked the inner vestibule. Both it and the one on the right had been roped off with orange cones and signs. With a glance around to make sure no one was coming down the hallway and that the attendant at the door to the ballroom was looking away, I launched up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and was breathless by the time I reached the top. Only a third of that was due to actual exertion, though; the rest was pure, dick-twitching anticipation.
I hung a left down the hallway, passing a few closed doors until I arrived at the second to last one near the end of the hall. No light came from beneath it, so I double-checked Eric’s text before turning the handle and slipping inside, then closing the door after me.
There was a love seat against the left wall and a bank of windows that overlooked the ballroom, I guessed, which was the only source of a soft-glow wash of lighting that haloed Eric’s figure where he sat on a large, polished wood desk facing the door, knees wide, posture loose, his palms planted to the surface behind him like some debonair executive calling in the secretary he was sleeping with.
“This is someone’s office,” I said stupidly, redundantly.
“You were expecting a hotel suite?” His voice was cool, limbered by alcohol, and trickled like a light touch of fingertips down my spine. His lips quirked up and carried my dick right along with them. I was little more than a fucking charged particle in his presence, and I kept waiting for it to wear off, but it seemed to be getting worse.
“A supply closet or storage room, I guess. Wasn’t it locked?” I caught my breath and tugged at my collar, willing my racing heart to calm the hell down.
“It was.” He smirked. “And now it’s not.”
“How are you so fucking cavalier?”
“Life’s short.” His smirk became a tight smile. “What’s the worst that can happen? You think we’re the only ones messing around? Someone else is fucking around here, you can bet your ass. I just thought you might enjoy the relative privacy, and that hedge out back looked awfully prickly. But hey, I’m game.”
“Are you going to fuck me?” Just saying it out loud sent a fresh wave of raw, needy desire through me. Fuck, I wanted it. Right here, right now. This office felt almost like luxury: the quietness, the lack of people in the immediate vicinity, but still nearby. Not the same tension as the library—a different kind of thrill. I hadn’t been alone with him, truly alone, since that first time in my room.
“Not right now.”
I bit my lip, debating whether I should just get it over with and start begging, say please. I wanted him to ruin me, make me beg, make me come. Make me do anything.
Then, as he sat there, with his coat tossed onto the desk chair he’d kicked out of the way, and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, he crooked his finger at me. Actually crooked his fucking finger at me as if calling me to heel while he sat on that desk like a damned incubus. I tried for token resistance but soon shuffled forward, slavering for whatever he would give me, aroused by the possibilities and the noise coming up from below.
“Stop,” he ordered when I was no more than three feet from him. I could’ve reached out and touched his knee.
I froze and waited, obedient and wary.
His eyes roamed over me, a sexy, hooded darkness, and in no hurry at all before he declared, “Damn, you look good in a suit. I knew you would.”
Likewise, I wanted to say, but didn’t.
“Makes me want to mess you all up, put wrinkles in that nice shirt, see those pants around your ankles.” He sucked at his lower lip, then shifted on the desk, his stiff cock tenting his pants. I swallowed hard and kept quiet, starting to get a sense of what my role was.
“Is that what you want? Me to strip all that polish off, mess up your hair, get you dirty?”
I nodded, the words filtering in belatedly, but they would have earned the same reply.
“Say it.”
“Yeah, I want it.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up, and I knew that wasn’t enough. His gaze heated with quiet demand. “Try again.”
I closed my eyes and dragged in a breath, but Eric cut me off before I even got started. “Nope, open your eyes and look at me, frat boy.”
His eyes were the heat of a storm pressing into the earth, ready to unleash. I could lose myself there if I allowed it. And I wanted to. Fuck, I wanted to. “I want you to get me dirty.”
“Mmm.” That throaty purr of sound that glided over me like silk. “Good. Untuck your shirt.” He clucked this tongue chidingly at me the same way he had earlier that the morning. “Don’t rush it. Slowly.”
I’d been ready to yank at the
fabric, but obeyed and gripped the bottom of my shirt lightly, giving it a gentle tug. The soft whisk of cotton sliding slowly across my abdomen gave me goose bumps and shallowed out my breath as I worked my way around the edge of my waistband.
“Unbutton it.”
He didn’t have to remind me this time. I moved leisurely up the row of buttons, each little plastic disk in my hand like a boulder between me and what I wanted. When I finished, he lifted the toe of his shoe, the cool sole brushing over my skin as he separated the fabric of my shirt to expose more of my chest.
“Such a killer body,” he murmured, grazing his toe along my abs before it relaxed to hang off the side of the desk again. “I should start going to the gym with you.”
“You definitely shouldn’t do that, nope. Trying to lift with a boner would be hell.”
He laughed, this genuine, throaty sound that warmed me in a different way. His eyes crinkled at the corners and sparkled with mischief. “Fair enough. I’ll take that as a compliment.” His laughter halted as suddenly as it had begun, and he ticked his chin at my slacks, which were straining comically with my erection. I flushed with awareness at how obvious I was, naked for him without even being naked yet. In fact, nakedness would probably have been the better kind of vulnerability.
“Unzip.”
Fucking finally. Now we were getting somewhere. My cock twitched and throbbed, excited at the prospect of being manhandled, maybe sucked.
But as soon as I’d unzipped, Eric was telling me to do something else. “Pinch your nipple.”
I pinched it quickly, not seeing the point, and staved off the eye roll I wanted to give him.
“Harder. Dig your nails in and do it the way I would.”
My fingernails made crescents in my skin, and the sting bloomed outward over my chest until I gasped. And even though I was growing impatient and my balls ached, I did it again when he told me to, and was rewarded with a low rumble of approval that made me feel better than it should have for having apparently pleased him with such a simple thing. I kept my gaze trained on his, waiting for the next instruction, and when nothing else came, groaned out, “Fuck dude, can’t you do anything fast?” I thought of him at the front door this morning, how he’d been counting down, how he’d had me hanging by a thread and ready to come in seconds. I wanted that again.