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Then he says, “I know. I just don’t know how to tell him. He knows you catfished me. He’s not happy with you.”
“Understandable.”
He takes a sip of his Coke, and I can tell there’s something else he wants to ask, but he doesn’t.
We eat and talk about St. Silas, our classes at Hayworth, and I tell him stories about living in the frat house.
When we’re finished, I pay the check, and we head back to my Range Rover.
When we pull up outside his apartment, he looks over at me and asks, “Are you coming up?”
“I want to. But I want to make sure you’re okay with how fast we’re moving.”
“You mean sex?”
“Well, yeah, that’s part of it.”
He looks at me, his expression serious. “I want you to come up. Please.”
I’m surprised by his directness.
I follow him into the building, and as soon as the elevator doors close, he’s on me.
His hands are in my hair, his mouth on mine, and I press him against the wall, kissing him hard. We stumble out of the elevator and into his apartment, still kissing. I guide him to the couch and we crash onto the cushions.
“Straddle my lap,” I tell him.
He climbs onto my lap, his thighs on either side of mine.
I run my hands up his torso, feeling the hard lines of his abs, the curve of his chest.
“Take off your hoodie.”
He pulls it over his head, followed by his shirt, and I can’t help but stare at him.
“You’re the most perfect man I’ve ever seen.”
He looks down at himself, like he’s checking to see if I’m right.
I lean forward and take his nipple into my mouth. I flutter my tongue over the little nub, and he gasps, his hands flying to my hair, holding on. I suck gently, then harder, and he moans. I move to the other nipple, and he’s squirming in my lap now, his hips grinding against mine.
“Take off your pants,” I say.
He stands and strips them off, then looks at me expectantly. I take off my shirt and slide my jeans down, and then we’re both naked. I pull him back onto my lap and kiss him, deep and hungry, while I take both our cocks in my hand and stroke them together. He’s losing his mind, lifting into my strokes, moaning into my mouth.
“I want you to fuck me,” he says breathlessly.
I laugh. I can’t help it. He doesn’t know what he’s asking, but I do.
He pulls back, offended. “What?”
“What we’re doing now, Cam, is like getting our undergrad degrees,” I say. “Full-on fucking is like earning a doctorate. We’re not ready yet.”
“I didn’t mean tonight,” he says quickly. “Just…someday.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Yes, baby.
