Page 11 of Coming Clean

Finally done with the day,Connor crashed on his couch and turned on the TV. He flippedthrough channel after channel, eventually stopping on a soccer gamehe didn’t really care about. A few minutes later, he realized hedidn’t know the score or what team had possession of the ball. He’dbeen too busy daydreaming about Jeremy, wondering if his blond hairfelt as smooth and soft as it looked, how his plump lower lip wouldfeel, and whether his eyes would widen just before Connor kissedhim the way they did when Connor had realized Jeremy was staring athis crotch.

Connor had never kissedanother man. He’d fucked men, jerked them off, and receivedblowjobs, but he’d never kissed a man on the mouth. Kissingrepresented a level of intimacy he wasn’t comfortable with. Sex hadalways been about what his dick needed, not some screwed-up versionof romance.

A few years ago, he wouldhave argued that he wasn’t going to kiss a guy because doing sowould make him truly gay. How stupid could he be? He was gay,nothing was going to make him more gay than wanting to stick hisdick up a guy’s ass or feel a man’s body move under him.

He’d only hooked up with afew men since he’d finished his last tour. None of them had doneanything for him beyond filling a basic need. They damn sure hadn’tmade his heart pound the way Jeremy did. What was wrong with himall of a sudden? Jeremy was about as far from his type as one couldget. He liked military guys, didn’t he? Or had he just liked whatwas available? He’d certainly never been into guys who lookedgay.

Along with a slender frame,Jeremy had soft features and delicate, long-fingered hands. He worethin, gold-rimmed professor glasses, which was apt since hewas—according to the client form Jeremy had filled in—actually a fucking English professor, one who specialized inpoetry—yes, Connor had Google-stalked him. So Jeremy was smart ashell and wealthy, at least after his inheritance. And Connor hadbarely made it through high school. He earned enough to pay thebills but not much more. Jeremy was completely out of hisleague.

Connor needed to forgetabout him. Why did he find the man so fucking attractive anyway?He’d been tongue-tied and maybe a little crazy—were all professorsa little crazy? And those socks, those damn neon socks, werehideous.

But you said they werecute.

I was just beingpolite.

Sure you were.

They were absolutely notsexy. I do not have a neon sock fetish.

Sounds more like you’vegot a nerdy poetry professor fetish.

No. I. Do. Not.

He could feel hisconscience laughing at him. Fuck!

Connor pushed himself offthe couch. Maybe he needed to get laid. He was going out, and hewas going to find someone to fuck, someone who was nothing like thebeautiful professor he could never have.

He pulled out his darkestjeans, which fit like a second skin, and a black t-shirt. He wasgoing to find a guy to fuck, one who liked a strong man to give itto him hard and rough. Would Jeremy like raw, nasty sex or would helike it sweet and gentle? No. No. No. He was not going to thinkabout Jeremy.

Connor tossed the clotheson the bed and headed for the bathroom. Once he was showered and asgroomed as a closeted Marine could be bothered to be, he dressed,grabbed his keys, and headed downtown towards a bar he’d been toonly a few times since moving to Asheville.

Miraculously, he found astreetside parking place a few blocks from his destination. When hestepped into the darkened room, Connor glanced around. There weregroups of guys clustered around the pool tables toward the back,and a row of men with their back to him at the bar, only one ofthem turned around. Dangerous. He’d sure as hellnever sit with his back to the door. Always watch your back. Didn’tthey know that?

He found a seat at the farend of the bar and turned so he could see his surroundings. When hefinished his first beer, he had yet to see anyone whose bearingscreamed “I need to be pounded by a big, tough Marine”. Impatiencemaking him twitchy, he drummed his fingers on the bar.Someone appealing would eventually show up. Probably. Either way,he could wait. He was good at it, even when hehated the delay.

A few minutes later thedoor opened and two men walked in. One of them was laughing, if youcould call it that. The high-pitched, nerve-grating sound carriedeasily across the room. Connor was so distracted by the man’simpression of a dying hyena that he didn’t look at his companionfor several seconds. When he realized who it was, he nearly felloff his stool.

Why him?He looked down quickly as Jeremy turned his way.This was a disaster waiting to happen. He’d been right. A man hewanted had come through the door, but Connor damn well wasn’t going homewith Jeremy.

Are you so sure hewouldn’t say yes?

One: He’s already withsomeone.

Who might be a friend.It’s not like they’re holding hands or anything.

Two: More importantly,he’s a client.

So? It’s not like you havea boss to answer to.

Three: He’s not my type.He looks like a strong breeze would snap him in two.

Um… according to your dickhe actually is your type.

Connor had really wanted arough, nasty fuck, but now that he was in danger of beingrecognized any second, it wasn’t likely he would go home withanyone at all.

Jeremy and hisfriend headedtoward the back. Jeremy was the one laughing now and rather thangrating on Connor’s nerves, the sound made his cock stir. Longing,harsh and deep, like the thirst he felt under the desert sun tookhold of him. He so did not need this.

The hyena led Jeremy to atable. Fortunately, Jeremy took a seat facing away from Connor. AsConnor watched them talk and laugh together, he had the urge tograb Jeremy’s friend, drag him to the door, and toss him to thecurb. He did not want that bastard anywhere close to Jeremy. As ifhe had a say in the matter.