by Sierra Hill
I know exactly what the Professor looks like underneath those clothes. And he’s more beautiful naked. I shake out of my reverie and return my attention to Lucas.
“This morning we have a special guest who is here to announce the winners and grand prize winner of the art contest.”
Lucas raises an arm and points toward the right of the lecture hall where all heads turn to see Dr. Clemons, the head of the arts department, looking ever-so-pleased with himself. Like he’s some kind of rock star.
I silently snicker because, honestly, I’ve spoken with him before and Clemons is a dreadful bore with the personality of the dry Phoenix desert.
“For those who don’t know him by sight, I’m sure you are well acquainted with his name and position. But let me introduce you to Dr. John Clemons, our esteemed Head of the Arts Department.”
Lucas motions for Dr. Clemons to take a spot next to him at the front of the class. Lucas towers over him, but smiles brightly down at the older, slight in stature man with his tri-colored handlebar mustache, completely mismatched with his white hair.
Dr. Clemons clears his throat, his hand nervously toying with the paper in his hand.
“Good morning, students. Let me first say what an honor it was to have served as one of the judges of this contest. You can thank your brilliant Professor Mathiasson”—he gestures with a hooked thumb to Lucas—“who was instrumental in creating this offer to showcase the veritable talents of our students.”
Instrumental, my ass.
Lucas told me all about the idea and how it only happened because he’s friends with the guy in Vegas who is curating the show. The entire contest was Lucas’s baby and Dr. Clemons is totally downplaying that aspect. But whatever. Lucas said he doesn’t want the attention but would rather see it bestowed on a deserving art student.
And that’s why I’ve fallen so hard in love with this man.
The thought is a bolt of lightning straight from above, hitting me in the center of my chest so sharply that I have to gasp for a breath. I get a weird look from my seatmate who gives me a side-eyed glance and mouths, “You okay?”
I give him a smile and nod, returning my gaze down to the front. But the smile doesn’t leave my face.
Dr. Clemons continues, dipping his head to the paper in his hands and then peers over the rim of his glasses. “And now, it’s my honor and privilege to announce that the grand prize winner of the art showcase is…” He looks down at the paper one more time perhaps for good measure, and then back up to the class, his eyes scanning the room full of eager students.
“Mr. Kyler Scott.”
The room erupts with claps and cheering and suddenly there are hands clasping and patting my shoulders and Dawson, the guy next to me, jabs me with a quick elbow.
“Congrats, dude! That’s awesome, man.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d be eating up this kind of attention like a chocolate dessert, but right now I’m almost too stunned. My head swirls with all the potential impact this award may have on my future career and resume.
First and foremost, my painting will be showcased in Las Vegas at a professionally curated art show.
That in and of itself is so freaking cool that a thrill of excitement hits me in the throat.
And secondly, I’m going to Las Vegas, baby! All expenses paid. Holy shit! And that also means my travel partner is not only my hot professor but also happens to be my lover.
When that last thought sinks in, my eyes laser in on Lucas who is smiling broadly and clapping along with the class. And although I probably looked panicked, he appears not to be the slightest bit phased or concerned.
In fact, he looks extremely proud and happy.
With all that Lucas and I have done this semester to hide our attraction from one another, and then hide our affair from others, careful to avoid speculation and risk of exposure, the man now grinning at me looks like he’s extremely excited about this.
Dawson prods me to stand and I finally do on shaky feet, making my way through the aisle and down the steps to the front of the room. It dawns on me that I’ve never accepted an award before unless you count my high school graduation certificate. Nerves flutter in my belly as I clutch my waist with my hand across my body.
I come to a stand in front of Dr. Clemons, who shakes my hand briskly and hands me an envelope. Then Lucas steps forward and shakes my hand, as well, but it holds very different implications.
His handshake not only feels more intimate, but his thumb runs over my knuckles sensually, implying there’s so much more to come. That he’s offering me a reward far greater than this award.
I tamp down my nerves and turn to make a sweeping bow to the audience like a court jester before jumping in the air with a hoot, garnering a wave of laughter from the class. I’m sure I look like a giddy fool but don’t really care, smiling with pride as I let myself have this moment of joy and recognition of my achievement.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life thus far, it’s that anything big and wonderful that happens to me is bound to be followed by a bubble-bursting blow.
You never get off Scot-free.
After class, as I work to disengage from all the other students who swarm me with congratulatory high-fives and hugs, I made my way down to Lucas’s office, texting Peyton along the way.
Me: Holy shit. I won! I won the grand prize! I told you I’m that good. (smiley wink face)
Pey-Pey Le Pew: OMG! Kyler that is so awesome! And I always told you that, dummy. Does that mean you’re going to Vegas with Professor Hot Stuff?
Someone from behind me pats me on the back as they walk by with a “Congrats, man” and I press my phone against my chest, hiding the message from prying eyes.
To avoid getting trampled on, I step out of the way of the oncoming pedestrians, moving aside to the brick wall, bending one knee and propping my heel against the wall to support me as I rapidly fire off another text.
Me: I guess…meeting him in a few minutes for my individual class session. Will ask what’s up then.
Pey-Pey Le Pew: Awesome. Can’t wait to hear all about it tonight. That is if you’re going to be home tonight. I hope so because I miss seeing you.
Guilt rolls through me as I think about all the nights I’ve spent over at Lucas’s house in the past few weeks, barely getting home unless it’s between classes to take care of the feline princess, grab something to eat and clothes to wear, before heading to work. Not all nights are like that, though. Especially the nights when I dance.
The club doesn’t have the best dressing room to shower or get cleaned up. And showing up with glitter and make-up all over my body would probably draw a few questions from Lucas that I’m not quite ready to answer. I don’t know what my hesitation still is, but I like how things are between us and don’t want to ruin it.
Me: I promise I’ll be home tonight. Smooches. Love you. Later, gator.
A smile curves at the edges of my mouths as giddiness swims through my veins. I can’t wait to wrap my arms around Lucas in the privacy of his office. To pepper his face with kisses, to run my nose up the long stretch of his neck. To show him my gratitude from my knees with his cock in my hand.
Just as I turn the corner down the hallway of his office my phone chimes again with another message. Thinking it’s Peyton again, I roll my eyes, but when I glance at it in my palm, I tighten my grip and gnash my teeth together.
Max: I can’t get you off my mind. I miss you. Any chance to get together?
All that light weightless feeling evaporates and pops like a balloon when I read it’s from Max.
Why did he have to ruin my moment? I thought I’d given him the boot when I suggested I was with Lucas but apparently he’s not taking the hint. I’d waited six lonely months for him to realize he needed me and came graveling back to me.
But now it’s too late.
Now? I have no desire to cater to his needs or worry about the time he’s spent missing me. I am my own man an
d he can’t put me in his little box again as his boy toy and expect me to do his bidding at his whim.
I type a text back to him, clearly spelling out my disinterest in ever getting back together.
Me: Max, I’m not interested. I’m with someone and I’m doing great without you. Don’t contact me again.
As I enter Lucas’s office, I find him waiting for me wearing a smug smirk etched across his lips, hands laced together behind his head casually leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk.
“Looks like you’re getting lucky in Vegas.”
36
Lucas
“Is that all you’ve packed?” I offer incredulously at the small duffle bag Kyler has just whipped off his shoulder and thrown into the backseat of my car.
He shrugs, offering me a wicked smile, and leans in over the console to steal a kiss from me.
“It’s Vegas, baby. I’ll be spending the majority of my time lounging by the pool in my thong bathing suit and spending it naked in your bed.”
I chuckle at his antics and shrug. “Makes sense. But what about a suit for the art show?”
He snaps a panicked look at me and covers the frown on his mouth with a smack of his hand.
“Oh shit. I don’t have a suit. Fuck. I didn’t even think…”
I pull out of the parking lot of his apartment complex and wave my hand. “No worries. We’ll get you one when we’re there. I know a guy.”
This is followed by silence – very unlike Kyler not to have a ready comment. When I stop at the light, I flick a glance in his direction and find him staring down at his lap, worrying his lip.
“What’s wrong?” I reach for his hand, linking my fingers through his.
Kyler is rarely quiet or pensive, but his tone is soft and uncertain.
“I can’t afford a suit, Lucas. I’m sorry.”
I squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Hey, it’s fine. It’s on me, okay? You don’t have to worry about shelling out the money for this.”
Kyler shakes his hand free from my grasp, turning to stare out the window.
“I don’t like feeling being bought and paid for. That’s what Max used to do, and I hated it. I hated the feeling of being owned.”
Peeling my eyes from the road for just a moment, I place my hand behind his neck, the soft bristles of his hairline tickling my palm.
“Kyler, that’s not what this is at all. You’re going to be surrounded by the elite in the art world and I want you to look and feel like the star of the show. This is my gift to you. You don’t owe me for a gift and it’s not intended to make you my pet.”
From the side angle, I can see him chewing on his bottom lip, mulling this over.
“Would you do the same thing if I were a different student who won? Or is it because we’re lovers?”
It’s a fair question and as I think through my decision, I know it’s partially influenced by my unique relationship with Kyler. I care for him and want to give him things he needs because of my feelings for him. On the other hand, if he were anyone else who didn’t have the proper attire, I’d likely help them out, too. Just not for all the same reason.
“Yes,” I answer unequivocally, dropping my hand to his thigh. “I would offer this to any student to ensure they were dressed comfortably for this occasion. But, I also know that it wouldn’t fill me with the same amount of pleasure to see someone other than you in dress clothes…or to remove those clothes at the end of the night.”
To emphasize this statement, I boldly roam my hand up his thigh, laying my palm over his crotch, feeling his cock spark to life at the simplest of touches. Desire courses through me and if I could, I would pull over to the side of the highway and prove my sincerity with my mouth and tongue.
Kyler punches his hips forward and I chuckle.
“Ah, my eager little stallion. Just a few more hours until I can put my money where my mouth is…or will be, that is.”
He groans and leans back into the leather reclining seat. “Drive faster.”
We’re greeted by a valet as we park in the circular entrance of the resort and spa on the Vegas strip. Kyler’s face has been glued out the window, admiring with awe the grandeur of the strip, all its lights, displays, and people.
“This is amazing! Movies don’t do it justice,” he comments animatedly as he hops out of the passenger side as my driver door is opened by the valet in full regale.
“Sir, will you be staying with us during your visit?” he asks with a genial smile, something he probably has to use a hundred times a day.
I step out and shake my head, handing him my key chain. “Yes, we’re checking in for the weekend.”
While he completes the key tag form, I watch as Kyler takes in his surroundings and it makes me insanely happy to give him this trip. Although, I didn’t really have anything to do with it, since the judging committee, which I abstained from, selected his beautiful masterpiece as the winner.
When he first received the award, Kyler seemed a bit skeptical, asking several times after it was announced and even during the four- and half-hour drive here whether I had any part of picking his submission, which I truthfully and adamantly denied doing.
I thank the valet as I round the back of the car and remove our bags to bring into the room, Kyler sidling up next to me and taking his duffle.
“This is so dope. Peyton is going to be so jealous when I show her all the pictures.” He rushes ahead of me and into the revolving door and vestibule, with me trailing behind, watching his eyes sparkle with excitement.
Heading up to the reception desk, we wait in the queued line and notice the sign that points in the direction of the conference room floor with the art show advertised. It’s then that I see a banner across the poster board, indicating a Very Special Guest Artist.
“Hey, check it out. You’re already a star.” I nudge my chin toward the sign and notice the moment he recognizes his name.
Kyler’s head bounces back and forth between the sign and me, and without warning, springs into my arms, nearly knocking me into the ladies behind us. He swings his hands behind my neck and wraps himself around me like a monkey in a tree. I startle with laughter, catching him around his trim waist and hugging the shit out of him.
With his mouth at my ear, he whispers his gratitude.
“I love you. I love this! And I am going to do very naughty things with you the minute we get into our room.”
How am I supposed to respond to that in the middle of a busy hotel lobby?
My initial reaction is all physical with my dick growing rigid and hard inside my pants. The women behind us giggle, taking in our PDA spectacle. I realize how we look together, out in the open, and for once, I don’t care. I’m open and free because this is Vegas.
Kyler cups the side of his mouth, using the universal sign of secrecy, whispering to the women conspiratorially.
“Sorry ladies, but this hot man is all mine. I won’t be sharing him.”
I roll my eyes with a note of exaggeration but give him a playful wink as he slides down my front, his feet landing on the floor as we’re called up to the desk.
“Checking in for Lucas Mathiasson and Kyler Scott, please.”
Although Arlos offered to pay for two rooms, we won’t need to use the second room this weekend.
I haven’t been this excited for a weekend getaway for years. It’s all due to my feelings for this man and how he’s turned my routine world upside down, giving me profound joy and sense of belonging I’ve never felt before him.
And he’s also opened my heart to a new and fulfilling kind of love.
37
Kyler
I’m a man of my word and I tackled Lucas the minute our bags hit the floor inside our hotel suite.
There was no seduction needed, as our bodies had both been amped from the foreplay during the drive from Phoenix, as we speedily ditched our clothes, fondled and caressed with hands and mouths, and then dove right into getting each other off.
It served the sole purpose of taking the edge off as we both came within minutes of getting naked.
Now as I lay cuddled in Lucas’s arms, my breath and heart rate slowly returning to normal, I feel more content than I ever have in my life.
Somehow he’s found an internal lock deep inside my heart, and inexplicitly he has the key. He’s had it all this time but something turned and unlatched during the drive here today. Maybe it was the intimacy we shared, in telling our stories and sharing our innermost secrets. Or the way he caught me when I flew into his arms in the lobby, his arms embracing me lovingly and with adoration out in the open.
I strum my fingers over the ridges and valleys of Lucas’s abs, marveling in his beauty in and out of clothing. He has a stunning physique and build, strong and muscular, where I’m far more lean and wirey. Yet we fit so perfectly together. His part making me whole.
With a sigh, Lucas shifts to his side, his eyelashes fluttering as if trying to stay open.
I trace the curve of his hip and over his thigh, relishing in the soft wisp of the masculine hair covering his skin. His cock grows hard again, pressing firmly against my thigh. I wedge a hand between us, wrapping it around his length and stroking it slowly as he moans in my ear. My mouth waters with desire.
“I think you best stop that, Art Boy, or we won’t make it to the suit shop in time before your grand opening tonight.”
I let my fingers flutter underneath his balls and his cock jerks in response. I love to find ways to make him lose himself like this. Allow him to experiment with his sensuality and uncover new and sensitive spots on his body, making him forget everything else in the world but how he feels about me.
It’s such a heady feeling and I bask in the knowledge that I get to make this man come.
“Fuck the suit,” I sputter, my lips attaching themselves to his pectoral, my tongue tracing the bronze penny of his nipple. “I need you in my mouth more than I want to go shopping.”