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Friday, I had a rare evening to myself. No clients. No need to fuck for cash. No desire—yet again—to even go out. I just wanted to curl up in my bed and sleep without dreams about sexy Teach and what I wanted him to do to me.
What he never would do.
Ugh, the life of a gay man falling for the straight professor sucked ass but in the worst way possible. There was no tongue action—licking or probing either—to make my crush bearable.
My cell pinged in the stillness of my second bedroom I’d turned into a home office, and I lifted my weary head off my desk where I’d been attempting to write a paper for the previous couple of hours.
BetsyAnne, EEMM’s secretary had texted, alerting me to the fact a client had cancelled last minute. The rare occurrence left my buddy free.
Drake himself texted me before I shot off a reply to BetsyAnne, thanking her for the update.
Boo: Client backed out. What are you up to?
I glanced over my workstation—textbook, pad of paper with a bunch of illegible scribbling, two broken pencils, and one pen. My laptop sat open, its dark screen reminding me I hadn’t accomplished shit. While a few minutes earlier I’d wanted to crawl in bed and call it a night, I hadn’t enjoyed any actual fun in far too long.
The stirring of interest for something outside school lit inside me, and with the decision for procrastination made, a grin roused to life on my face.
Me: Nothing of importance.
Total lie, but what the fuck ever. I needed a break.
Drake: I’ll pick you up in twenty.
I took the fastest shower known to man, not bothering to spend extra time on the sexy bits since I was off the clock and unable to hook up. Tight jeans snuggled against my thighs and ass, and I went with a T-shirt that hugged my lean torso and showed off my pierced nipples with hot as fuck bumps beneath the cotton.
While fixing my hair, I wondered what sort of a response I would get from Teach if he saw me in my nightlife clothes rather than the more subdued attire I wore to class twice a week. Even in baggier shirts and jeans, I still caught him looking my way with a what-if lingering in his eyes. What would he think of my piercings? Would he want to feel up the globes of my ass so lovingly encased in faded denim?
My dick stirred, but I shut that shit off since I wouldn’t be seeing any action from him or anyone else until the following night. I was booked with EEMM Saturday and would hopefully get dicked down by a visiting dignitary from some foreign country in Europe I’d never heard of.
Drake texted to let me know he waited out front of my condo building, so I grabbed my keys and wallet before hurrying into the elevator.
My paper due the following Wednesday could wait.
I had beers with my name on them and a few hours of letting go from responsibilities I’d been dutifully focused on for almost two weeks. To say I was proud of myself was an understatement. I deserved a night just chilling with my boo and enjoying local brews.
Drake’s silver Mercedes Roadster purred alongside the curb, and I climbed in with a grin still plastered on my face.
“Hey, boo.” I leaned over the console and kissed the air beside his cheek, causing him to back off with a grimace. The guy was an affection whore but pretended to hate when I got all up in his face.
“Jesus, you have no sense of personal space,” he muttered the absolute truth while pulling out into traffic.
I pinched his nipple, which earned me a hiss, and reached for my seatbelt. “And you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Laughing, I settled into the red leather seat, filling my lungs with the new car smell he’d somehow managed to retain after owning the Roadster for over a year. It had been his first big purchase as an Elite, even before the small condo he’d bought. His home had cost a fraction of what mine had, but I enjoyed the evidence of how far I’d come, how much I’d accomplished before hitting thirty. So what if I’d paid an arm and a leg to own the place?
It had felt good to spoil myself for a change even if Pop had grumbled about poor investments and wasting my money. He hadn’t stated the same to Micah when he’d bought his mansion.
While my pad wasn’t near my big bro’s square footage or had a plot of land with it like his, I didn’t require anything more since I had zero plans of having kids. There was no need for a sprawling lawn that would demand upkeep. No huge outdoor living space when my condo’s small balcony provided salt-scented breezes and room enough for a grill and a couple of lounge chairs for kicking back and chilling out.
And if Pop didn’t like it? I didn’t give a shit.
Lies, lies.
“Where are we going?” I asked glancing once more at my friend, ready to eradicate everything from my brain but a good time. “Dancing? Drinking? How about both?”
Drake wasn’t a club type but often relented to my manipulations when I was in the mood to get my groove on, sweat, and grind all over hot bodies.
