Just Like That - Cole McCade Page 0,64
he pushed Summer back against the desk, leaning into him, leaning into that enticing, wetly stroking mouth, sliding his fingers over the buttons of Summer’s shirt.
“If that was all you wanted,” he rumbled, “I suggest we find a reason to make better use of our office hours.”
And better use they made, indeed.
As Summer arched beneath him, and the desk shook and rattled while Summer twisted his gloriously golden body against it, making a mess of the papers and books, making a mess of himself. The door was unlocked, Summer’s voice a rush of gasps and cries stifled against the back of his hand, but in this moment...
Fox didn’t care.
Because sweet thighs were around his hips, sweet flesh tight around his cock...
And a sweet voice called his name on slick, needy lips, and he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
If he had only months...
Then for those months while he gave himself to Summer without thinking of the consequences of the future, he might as well live.
* * *
Summer thought he might just have to get used to being sore.
Not that he minded it.
Especially when it gave Fox another reason to use those long, devious fingers on him, slipping them inside Summer coated with a soothing, specially handmade herbal cream that at once eased the pain and made it burn that much deeper as the warming salve soaked into his abused, battered, swollen flesh.
He just...hadn’t been particularly sexually active before, save for a few one-night stands while he was figuring out himself and what he liked, and he hadn’t really built up any stamina for the perpetual feeling of being stretched open and filled until he thought he would burst, then left throbbing with the perfect empty ache of it that wouldn’t let him forget Fox even when they weren’t in the same room.
But it sure as hell made sitting an interesting prospect.
And he’d thought, over the past few days of quiet mornings working over assignments and lesson plans, quieter evenings taking work back to Fox’s suite over dinners they made together with a sort of familiar comfort that shouldn’t have come so easily but that did...
He’d thought for all his stoic expressionlessness, Fox had enjoyed watching Summer squirm to get comfortable on the sofa, in the easy chairs, in the office chairs, on the little café stools where they’d gone out for lunch yesterday, just a simple thing and yet it had brought Summer such pleasure to be out under the midday sun with Fox’s eyes always on him, trailing him with so many things left unsaid.
Things that made Summer’s heart seize up tight.
Things that told him by the time they got back to the bedroom every night...
Fox would give him even more reasons to be so deliciously, wonderfully uncomfortable.
But Summer was struggling with the desk chair now, as he tried to squirm his way into a comfortable position on the thin padded seat and keep his concentration on digging up phone numbers, names. He’d already tried sending emails to the parents of several of the boys he wanted to speak to, and only gotten four responses when he’d contacted over a dozen.
This was going to be like herding cats, he could tell.
But he had to try.
Even if a backwoods like Omen was somewhere people sent their kids to forget about them, somewhere so hidden that they couldn’t embarrass their wealthy, prestigious parents in the public eye or be easily scoped by the paparazzi...
Summer had to believe at least some of those parents cared.
And wouldn’t want their boys to be as unhappy as they were.
He glanced up, though, as a little alarm on Fox’s laptop went off, chiming the signal for ten minutes to the day’s block of afternoon classes.
And Fox wasn’t back.
He’d gone off to dig up something for class at the town library, some obscure older book on Fechner, and he’d be late and Summer...
Summer still wasn’t sure he’d be ready to lead the class on his own, not after almost two weeks.
He’d try, if he had to.
But he was starting to think, more and more, that his place wasn’t at the front of the class.
He dug his phone out, though, and tapped out a quick text message. Ten minutes to class and the clock is ticking. Did you want to do something for dinner tonight? Maybe in town?
He waited three minutes, watching the clock, and hoped Fox just didn’t answer because he was driving. Though Summer knew the real reason, and he sighed fondly.
Fox had probably let