Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I forced myself to walk away rather than watch Connor leave. I didn’t need to spend any more time salivating over a man who was so obviously not for me.
5
Connor
Finally done with the day, I crashed on my couch and turned on the TV. I flipped through channel after channel, eventually stopping on a soccer game I didn’t really care about. A few minutes later, I realized I didn’t know the score or what team had possession of the ball. I’d been too busy daydreaming about Jeremy, wondering if his blond hair felt as smooth and soft as it looked, how his plump lower lip would feel between my teeth, and whether his eyes would widen just before I kissed him the way they did when I’d realized Jeremy was staring at my crotch.
I’d never kissed another man. I’d fucked men, jerked them off, and received blowjobs, but I’d never kissed a man on the mouth. Kissing represented a level of intimacy I wasn’t comfortable with. Sex had always been about what my dick needed, not some screwed-up version of romance.
A few years ago, I would have argued I wasn’t going to kiss a guy because doing so would make me truly gay. Jesus, that was so stupid. I was gay, nothing was going to make me more gay than wanting to stick my dick up a guy’s ass or feel a man’s body move under me.
I’d only hooked up with a few men since I’d finished my last tour. None of them had done anything for me beyond filling a basic need. They damn well hadn’t made my heart pound the way Jeremy did. What was wrong with me all of a sudden? Jeremy was about as far from my type as one could get. I liked military guys, didn’t I? Or had I just liked what was available?
Along with a slender frame, Jeremy had soft features and delicate, long-fingered hands. He wore thin, gold-rimmed professor glasses, which was appropriate since he was a fucking English professor, one who specialized in poetry—yes, I had cyberstalked him. Jeremy was smart as hell and wealthy, at least after his inheritance. I had barely made it through high school. I earned enough to pay the bills but not much more. He was completely out of my league.
I needed to forget about him. Why did I find him so fucking attractive anyway? He’d been tongue-tied and maybe a little crazy—weren’t all professors a little crazy? And those socks, those damn cock socks.
You said you liked them.
I was just being polite.
Sure you were.
They were absolutely not sexy. I do not have a weird sock fetish.
Sounds more like you’ve got a nerdy poetry professor fetish.
No. I. Do. Not.
I could feel my conscience laughing at me. Fuck!
I pushed myself off the couch. Maybe I needed to get laid. I was going out, and I was going to find someone to fuck, someone who was nothing like the beautiful professor I could never have.
I pulled out some jeans that fit like a second skin, and a black t-shirt. I was going to find a guy to fuck, one who liked a strong man to give it to him hard and rough. Would Jeremy like raw, nasty sex or would he like it sweet and gentle? No. No. No. I was not going to think about Jeremy.
I tossed my clothes on the bed and headed for the bathroom. Once I was showered and dressed, I grabbed my keys and headed downtown to a bar I’d been to a few times since moving to Asheville.
Miraculously, I found streetside parking a few blocks from my destination. When I stepped into the barely lit bar, I glanced around. There were groups of guys clustered around the pool tables toward the back, and a row of men with their backs to me at the bar, only one of them turned around.
Fools. I’d sure as hell never sit with my back to the door. Always watch your six. Didn’t they know that?
I found a seat at the far end of the bar and turned so I could see my surroundings. When I finished my first beer, I had yet to see anyone whose bearing screamed “I need to be pounded by a big, tough Marine.” Someone appealing would eventually show up. Probably. Either way, I could wait. I was good at it, even when I hated the sensation of time ticking by.
A few minutes later the door opened and two men walked in. One of them was laughing, if you could call it that. The high-pitched, nerve-grating sound carried easily across the room. I was so distracted by the man’s impression of a dying hyena that I didn’t look at his companion for several seconds. When I realized who it was, I nearly fell off my stool.