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“All of you. Now,” Jackson gasped.
Without another word, Corbin pushed his way past the tight ring of muscle. He wrapped his arms around Jackson’s chest, pulled him back, and thrust into the man until he was fully seated.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He powered into Jackson, pulling him back and down onto his cock, thrusting as hard and deep as he could get.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” Jackson whispered.
Corbin bit down on Jackson’s shoulder as he felt his climax building. Jackson shouted, then clenched tight around Corbin’s cock as his own orgasm took over his body. He trembled beneath Corbin’s hands, his body wracked by tremors, pulling Corbin over the edge with him. Corbin felt as if he came forever, pulses of heat filling the condom. He never wanted to let go of Jackson, never wanted to be separated from him.
They stood still, their bodies joined, as their breathing slowed.
With a kiss to the skin he’d abused with his teeth, Corbin laid his head against Jackson’s back.
“Why?” Corbin whispered. “Why did you do what you did at the club?”
“You would never have done anything while I worked for you. I needed to get your attention.”
“But why walk away? Why come on this trip?”
Jackson’s chuckle was filthy. “Because we wouldn’t be here if you weren’t so angry with me you forgot to keep your distance.” Turning his upper body as much as the restraints let him, Jackson kissed the corner of Corbin’s mouth.
Corbin rocked Jackson in his arms. “You know me too well.”
“I’ve had two years to learn about you, but I want to know you better if you’ll let me.”
“I think we can work something out.”
Jackson snuggled back into his arms. “Good. I’m looking forward to it. Sir.”
Nothing Like A Summer Romance
Micah
“You’re sure your roommate doesn’t mind?” Micah asked for at least the fifth time since Alex had picked him up at the San Jose airport.
“Nah. Jake’s a good guy. He’s going to crash with a friend whose roommate is visiting his girlfriend in Scotland or something like that.” Alex threw himself backward onto his bed and stretched his legs out. “He even changed the sheets for you, so you don’t have to worry about his spooge stains.”
Micah rolled his eyes at Alex’s shit-eating grin. They’d been best friends since second grade, but sometimes Alex’s crudeness made him wince. “Glad to see Stanford hasn’t rubbed off on you.”
“It has. Just not in ways you want to see.” Alex cracked up. “Come on. Throw your stuff on the bed, and let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Give me a sec. I need to change.” Micah put his backpack on the neatly made bed with its navy comforter and crisp, precisely folded, light-blue sheets. Jake’s side of the room, the side that would be Micah’s for the next few days, was exactly like the bed. Neat. Ordered. Everything in its place.
Micah eyed the top of Jake’s dresser, then Alex’s. Instead of the chaos of discarded papers and tissues and jumble of razors, aftershave, and knocked-over, all-in-one shampoo/conditioner bottles—Micah counted three—that Alex must have transplanted from his room back home, Jake’s dresser was organized. Organized! Three black leather trays sat side by side. One was empty and Micah assumed it was for his watch and keys since another held two pairs of sunglasses and a couple of foil-wrapped condoms, and a third held several dollars’ worth of loose quarters and two full coin rolls.
Somehow, Micah knew if he opened the closet, he’d see all Jake’s clothes on hangers, not a wrinkle in sight. And somehow, he also knew, they’d be button-up shirts with oxford collars. The kind that needed to be ironed or sent to a laundry.
He unzipped his backpack, and the contents exploded from the top, spilling T-shirts, jeans, and underwear onto the navy comforter. He’d shoved as much in as he could and hadn’t dared open it during his cross-country flight in case he couldn’t get everything back inside.
As he sorted through his clothes, looking for something light because who knew—who knew?—April in Palo Alto was going to be hot while New York was still digging out from the latest snowstorm, Micah felt someone watching him. He straightened up and turned, a white T-shirt clutched in his hands, and found himself being scrutinized by a tall, gorgeous, dark-haired guy standing in the doorway.
“Hey, Jake.” Alex swung his feet off his bed and sat up. “Micah, this is Jake. Jake, Micah. We were about to get something to eat as soon as Micah gets his shit together.”
“No problem,” Jake said without taking his eyes off Micah. “Just needed to get my stats notes.”
Micah couldn’t take his eyes off Jake either. Despite being a dancer and loving the stage, Micah had spent most of his life trying to be invisible—even more so in the three years since he came out to his parents when he was fifteen. They hadn’t exactly been hostile, hadn’t thrown him out of the house or anything like that, but they’d made it clear they weren’t happy about it. Even his sister accused him of doing it to get their attention. As if. Invisibility was much easier.
But Jake was different. Jake seemed to actually see Micah. No one had ever looked at him like that. It wasn’t overtly sexual. In that moment, Micah didn’t think Jake was checking him out, but something was definitely happening between them.
