Playboy For Hire

11. Ryder

11

RYDER

M y phone rang.

“Are you going to get that?” Raf asked.

I looked down at the screen. It was my mom.

“Nope.”

I went back to concentrating on the TV. Raf and I were playing Super Smash Brothers, and I was currently getting my ass kicked. I needed to focus.

Raf darted a glance at me. “That’s the third call in a row.”

“If it’s important, they’ll leave a message.” I shrugged.

I wasn’t quite as unbothered by the calls as I wanted to appear, but maybe if I faked it hard enough, I’d make it. It was the same reason I hadn’t bothered to reach over and turn the ringer off.

I was supposed to hang out with Quinn tonight, just as friends. He should be arriving any minute, and then we’d walk over to The Cheshire, a bar in my neighborhood. I didn’t want to talk to my parents before that. It would only put me in a bad mood.

Amir came into the living room from the kitchen, carrying an entire roast chicken breast speared on a fork. He watched us play for a minute.

“You need to use your throw more,” he said, nodding at me. “You’re getting destroyed.”

“I am using it,” I grumbled. “I’m just not playing main.”

“A good mechanic doesn’t blame his tools, Ryder.”

I shot him an annoyed look. “Why do you always backseat drive my games?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d get good.” Amir smiled innocently.

My phone, which had only just fallen silent, began to ring a fourth time.

“Ooh, who’s blowing up your phone?” Amir asked, sauntering over. “Some girl, or—”

“No, it’s—” I began, but he swooped in and grabbed my phone before I could reach it.

“Aw, it’s your mom.”

“Just let it ring,” I told him.

“And ignore your mother? What if it’s something important?”

It wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t, because when something important actually happened, like my dad ending up in the hospital after falling off the combine last year, my parents hadn’t mentioned it for two weeks. But it was too late. Amir had already answered.

“Hi, Mrs. Olson. This is Amir, Ryder’s housemate. Oh, I’m doing fine, how are you?” He paused a moment, listening to my mom’s response. “That’s great. Yeah, he’s right here. I’ll get him for you.”

He waved the phone at me. I gave him a death glare.

“Fine, if you think you’re so much better than me, you take over.”

I stood up, thrusting the controller at him and taking the phone.

“Aw, I hate playing Mega Man,” Amir complained.

He slid into the spot I’d vacated on the couch as I trudged through the living room and up the stairs. No use having this conversation in front of anyone. Whatever my mom was calling about, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

I pasted a smile to my face and brought the phone to my ear.

“Hi, Ma. How are you?”

“Well, I’d be better if you answered your phone for once,” she said. “I’ve been calling and calling you. Twenty times now.”

Twenty? Four. But hey, what was the difference?

“I’m sorry, Ma, I was in the other room.”

“I don’t know why you can’t be more available. You know, Christina Davies from down the road talks to her kids every night, and they don’t leave her hanging.”

“I said I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

It wasn’t worth explaining that I didn’t like to pick up because any conversation with my mom immediately turned into a referendum on my failures. That would only invite more criticism.

I smiled again, hoping it would come through in my tone. “Anyway, how are—”

But my mom didn’t even let me finish before she started talking about Jaden Davies, who was so sweet, he certainly hadn’t abandoned his parents when he moved away from home.

“Why, he lives all the way down in Raleigh, but he came back last week to help repair the fence in their back field. You’re much closer, but you never come home.”

“Ma, I can’t just—”

“And you know Samson Lewis from your sixth-grade class just had his first baby. I saw him and his wife, Shaniah—you remember her? Nancy’s daughter? From the salon? Anyway, I saw them at the gas station and they looked gorgeous. What a beautiful couple.”

“That’s great,” I said, hoping I sounded genuine. “Give them my congratulations next time you see them.”

“Why can’t you tell them yourself? You never come back and see us anymore.”

“Ma, I’ve got soccer.”

That wasn’t the world’s greatest excuse. Soccer was a fall sport. It didn’t take up too much of my time in the spring. But since my parents had barely paid attention to my soccer career thus far, I doubted they realized that.

“I’ve got classes, too,” I added, wanting to strengthen my position. “And work. I can’t uproot my life and—”

“I just don’t understand why you aren’t more appreciative of all we’ve given you. I’m not trying to call names here, but I think you could be a little more grateful.” She tsked audibly. “Didn’t you date Shaniah your sophomore year? If you’d stuck around, you could be married with kids by now.”

“We went on two dates. In eighth grade. Then she dumped me for Carson Bancroft.”

“Maybe if you’d tried a little harder—”

“I don’t actually want kids right now,” I protested. “It’s great if Shaniah and Sam do, but that’s not my goal.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a grandmother, I’ll tell you that,” my mom continued, like I hadn’t even spoken. “If only we’d been able to have more kids. But we’ve only got you, and the way you ignore us—”

“Ma, Ma ,” I broke in. “Did you call me for an actual reason, or just to tell me how much of a disappointment I am?”

“Well, there’s no need to raise your voice, honey. I know your father wouldn’t like to hear you talking to me like that.”

My father was probably mainlining some crazy conspiracy theorist’s latest YouTube video right now, and wouldn’t come up for air for hours, but I let it go.

“And I never said you were a disappointment,” she said. “I just mean that so often, you disappoint us.”

I almost laughed. I couldn’t have told you the difference between those two statements if you’d paid me a million dollars, but somehow, my mom thought there was one.

“We love you, Ryder, but you seem so determined to forget us up at that expensive school of yours. And I know you keep saying you don’t want to work the farm with your dad after graduation, but he’s put his whole life into this land and you’re spitting in his face. If I think that seems a little cruel, well, maybe I’m justified. But I guess you think you’re too good for us. Do you even have another job lined up?”

And there it was. It had taken a total of five minutes for my mother to remind me why I avoided going home. Ever since I was six, I’d known my parents wanted me to take over the family farm. And ever since I was six and one day, I’d known I didn’t want to.

I didn’t think the farm wasn’t good enough for me. It just wasn’t right for me. I was happy my old classmates had gotten married and had kids, if that was what they wanted. But it wasn’t what I wanted. My parents never seemed to understand that, though.

First, my dad had expressed his displeasure with silence, punctuated by bitter remarks about how I would never amount to much. But in the last year or so, it had turned into rants about how DC was turning me into a mindless automaton who needed to wake up and see The Truth. So…that was fun.

My mom expressed her displeasure by telling me to my face how much I disappointed the pair of them, and how much she wished they had other, better kids than me. But she wrapped her criticism up in nicer language, so somehow, I was supposed to be grateful for that.

I sighed. “Not yet. But I’ve got a few interviews scheduled.”

Okay, so that was a lie. But what was I supposed to say? No, because I’ve been blacklisted by every major consulting firm in the DC area, if not the country ?

I hadn’t even figured out what to do about it myself, let alone what I was going to tell them.

“Don’t you think, if you were going to get hired, someone would have offered you a job by now?” my mom said, as though she could read my mind. “Are you sure you’re smart enough for one of those fancy jobs anyway?”

Great. Cool. Just the questions you want to hear your mother ask you. My mom knew my grades hadn’t been great in high school, but I hadn’t realized how firmly she’d reclassified me as ‘ drooling idiot ’ in her head.

“Because your father and I would always be happy to have you home.”

She might be happy—maybe—but my father wouldn’t. Then again, maybe he’d relish the chance to remind me of my failures, and to try to convince me that climate change was a government hoax perpetrated by evil scientists who controlled the weather.

“I appreciate it,” I said, trying to keep my voice pleasant. “Really, I do. But I don’t think it’s the right decision for me. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want—”

“It’s not about what I want,” she interrupted. “All I want is for you to be happy. I just can’t believe you would do this to your father. Right after the award ceremony? Don’t you want him to be proud of you? Or do you care about his feelings so little?”

“Ma, it’s not—” I broke off. “Wait, what award ceremony?”

“The Small Farmers of Northern Virginia’s medal for Barley Farmer of the Year. Didn’t I tell you?”

That was a mouthful. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, but that’s why I called. They’re giving out the awards next week, at a ceremony in one of those swanky hotels up there by you. And I know he’d love for you to come. You can even bring a date—he was given three tickets. Or are you too busy to see us?”

This was the least appetizing offer I’d ever had, but I knew if I said no, I’d never hear the end of it. This was why I hated picking up when my mom called. It always led to a guilt-trip that made me feel like a horrible son.

“Yeah,” I said, biting back a sigh. “Yeah, that sounds great. I’d love to come.”

“Well, I never thought I’d hear you say that,” my mom said, disbelief audible in her voice. “Wait until I tell your father, he’ll think I’m lying. Our little boy has finally agreed to see his parents again.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you, I just—”

“Land sake’s, next thing you know, you’ll tell us you’re done with all this city nonsense and are ready to come home where you belong.”

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I agreed to one thing, and suddenly it meant I was moving home—so when I didn’t, I would break their hearts and get called an ungrateful snob all over again.

“Can you text me the details? I have to go.”

“Oh, look who’s too busy to talk to his mother. You know, I carried you in my own body for nine months. Sometimes I think you forget that. But that’s okay. I don’t need my child to acknowledge me, as long as he’s happy.”

“Ma, that’s not—”

“I’ll send you a text, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want to keep you any longer. Just remember, I’ll always love you, even if the feeling isn’t returned.”

She hung up the phone before I could respond. Maybe that was a good thing, because how the hell was I supposed to respond to that? Every sentence from her was some kind of barb, designed to cut or hurt. But I couldn’t ever complain, because then I’d be hurting her .

Everything with my folks was a mess, and I had no idea what to do about it.

“Everything alright?”

I jumped at the sound of a voice at my bedroom door, and turned to see Quinn standing at the threshold to the room, looking concerned.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.” He smiled. “Your housemate let me in.”

I nodded, still frustrated from the phone call, and a little flustered by Quinn’s sudden presence. “Cool. Yeah. Let me get my jacket and we can head out.”

Quinn gave me a doubtful look. “You don’t sound too excited. We don’t have to go out, you know. We can reschedule.”

“No, it’s not you. And I don’t want to reschedule. I want something to take my mind off things.” I laughed helplessly. “But somehow I don’t have the energy to walk the two blocks to the bar.”

Quinn snorted. “You do spend a lot of time at the gym. Maybe you’re overworked.”

“Yeah, but today was arm day. My legs should be fine.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was joking about the gym. Do you seriously go every day?”

“No, it’s important to have rest days too. Your muscles need to recover.” An idea occurred to me. “How do you feel about room temperature vodka?”

“I don’t think about it enough to have an opinion. Why?”

“Because I have some of that under my bed, which means we don’t have to walk any blocks if we drink that.”

I dropped my phone on my nightstand, then bent down to retrieve the bottle. It was jammed between an old pair of running shoes and two textbooks from last year that I hadn’t gotten around to returning.

When I straightened up, I caught Quinn staring at me. He flushed and looked down at the stickers on my laptop when he saw that I’d noticed.

“Enjoying the view?” I said with a grin. I shook my ass a little.

His scrutiny of the stickers intensified. “I was just wondering why you had vodka in your bedroom.”

“Relax, I don’t mind being ogled. And to answer your question, I have vodka up here because last year, Raf got really into infusing liquor with different flavors, and he decided to do a whole Thanksgiving-themed set. He wanted to put green bean casserole in the bottle I’d just gotten for the house. I had to hide it up here to keep it safe.”

“Where it’s spent the last year soaking up eau de gym shoes instead?”

“I still think that’s better than beans.” I unscrewed the cap and sniffed. “Smells like vodka to me.”

I took a swig, then handed the bottle to Quinn and sat down on my bed. Quinn sat in my desk chair and looked at the bottle dubiously. “Drinking warm vodka straight from the bottle. I feel like I’m back in college.”

“I mean, I am in college, so if you need that as an excuse…”

“You might be, but I’m not.” He made a face.

I tried not to take it personally. I knew Quinn was older than I was—older, and smarter. I was sure he only kept fancy vodka in a glass bottle in his freezer, or in a bar cart with dedicated martini glasses and expensive liqueurs.

“Think of it as anthropology.” I grinned. “When in Rome…”

“Drink warm vodka?” He smiled wryly. “Bottoms up, I guess.” He brought the bottle to his lips and swallowed, then winced. “Oh, wow. I don’t think I’ve had plain vodka without a mixer in a long time.”

I looked around the room, my eyes falling on a half-drunk bottle of blue Gatorade. “Want some of that?”

“I think I’ll pass.” Quinn tilted his head to the side. “I’ve never asked. Why do you live all the way out here instead of on campus? Wouldn’t it be easier to live closer to where your classes are?”

“Probably, but I’m happier way out here.”

“Why’s that?”

I shrugged. “I lived on campus for the first couple of years because of soccer. But it felt so claustrophobic. And the guys on the team—don’t get me wrong, most of them are great, but soccer was like, a religion for them. It was life. But for me, it was just a way to get out of my hometown. I was good at it, but I never cared about it the way they did.”

Quinn’s dark brown eyes were glued to mine, and I felt warmth creeping up the back of my neck. I liked having his eyes on me.

“Mix that with the fact that when you’re on campus, you’re never really away from your classes, your professors, and all that academic stuff and it felt…too much, I guess. It started to seem like the only thing in the world. I needed to get out.”

“So the three of you ended up in Park View?” Quinn asked. “Why not pick somewhere closer to campus?”

“Oh, Raf and Amir already lived out here. I was just lucky that they had a third bedroom.”

Quinn frowned. “Aren’t they students too?”

I laughed. “Oh, God no. That’s funny though. Raf is twenty-seven, and Amir is twenty-nine.”

“How did you guys meet, then?”

“Work.” I paused. “Well, no, that’s not quite right. Amir and I used to run the same six-mile loop around the monuments on Sundays, and one day we got to talking. He’s actually the one who told me about Heartbreakers Anonymous, and helped me get hooked up with them.”

“I’m trying to imagine that conversation.” Quinn laughed. “How do you tell someone they’re hot enough to work as an escort without sounding really creepy?”

I wrinkled my nose. “We don’t really use the word ‘ escort .’ It has some baggage. But it was actually pretty funny how it happened…”

I spent the next half hour telling Quinn about how I’d joined Heartbreakers and met the rest of the team—a story that involved an over-eager Dachshund, water balloons, and frilly pink bedroom curtains turned into a dress. He seemed fascinated, though he did slip and call me an escort a second time.

We kept passing the bottle back and forth, and after a few more swallows, I started to feel mellower. I handed the bottle to Quinn and watched him take a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. My fingers itched to stroke his skin, to lick his neck, to taste the vodka on his tongue. I bit my lip, remembering how sweet his mouth was.

“Ryder? Ryder!” Quinn snapped his fingers a foot from my face.

I blinked. “Hmm? What?”

“You drifted off there. I said your name like five times. Everything alright?”

He had that concerned look on his face again. I flushed, wondering how he’d feel if he knew what I’d just been daydreaming about.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I’m fine.”

“Really? Or are you finally going to tell me what you were upset about earlier?”

“Upset?” I asked.

“When I came over. You were staring at your phone like you couldn’t decide whether to throw it out the window or crush it with your fist.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“About your phone?”

“No, about me being upset. Am I really that transparent?”

“I don’t know. Who else said that to you? What was the context?”

“My friend Tessa. Well, she’s a client. But also a friend. And the other day, she said I was being…” I trailed off, realizing what I was about to say. I’d been hung up on Quinn that night with Tessa. “Nevermind.”

“I’ve got a guess, if you won’t tell me,” Quinn said.

“Hit me.”

“Is it about your family?”

I frowned. “How did you know?”

“Because you never talk about them.”

“For good reason.”

“Come on, you know all my family history. Time to dish about yours.”

I pondered that. I didn’t like talking about my family. But I also didn’t want to confess to Quinn that I’d just been fantasizing about licking his neck. Maybe my family was the lesser of two evils, as conversation topics went.

“It’ll just sound like I’m whining,” I warned him.

“Whine away. I’ve got time.” He took another sip of vodka and looked at me expectantly.

So I told him. I told him about the phone call from my mom, and her way of making me feel small, and the guilt and criticism and how I wanted to make her happy, but nothing I did was ever enough—not unless I gave up who I was. I told him about my dad, and his drift into right-wing conspiracy theories, and how sad I was that I couldn’t talk to him anymore without him bringing that up. I felt bad, leaving my mom to deal with him all on her own, but her way of coping was to just enable him, and I hated that even more than losing contact.

“And they’re coming up here next week for some awards ceremony, and my mom wants me to come, and bring a date, and I just—it’s going to be excruciating, sitting there. I couldn’t subject anyone else to that. It’s going to be enough of a struggle to get myself to go.”

“You could subject me,” Quinn said softly.

I shook my head. “Thank you for the offer, but you don’t know what you’re saying. It’s like volunteering to eat crushed glass.”

He shrugged. “You’ve helped me out with a family obligation.”

“Yeah, but your family isn’t terrible.”

“I really don’t mind.” He smiled. “I mean, what are friends for?”

I laughed. “Maybe I should say you’re my boyfriend. They’re kind of conservative, but at least it would be a different kind of disappointment for them.”

Quinn’s eyebrows rose.

“Don’t worry,” I said quickly. “I wouldn’t put you through that. I have no idea how they’d react, but it probably wouldn’t be great.”

“That’s surprisingly thoughtful of you,” he said.

“ Surprisingly ? Gee, thanks.” I threw the bottle cap at him. “Honestly, they might be happy,” I continued. “If I could pull a good-looking lawyer as my boyfriend, that might give them hope for me in the future.”

“Good-looking,” Quinn scoffed.

“What? You are.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments or anything,” he said. “It’s just that you’ve called me ‘ good-looking ’ an awful lot. It’s the kind of compliment my aunts give me.”

I stared at him for a moment. Then I stood up and took his hand.

“Come here.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just come here.”

I tugged him to his feet, then dragged him over to the mirror on the back of my closet door. I moved behind him.

“This,” I said, pointing to his face while I watched him through the mirror, “is the face of a good-looking guy. I mean it when I say it. I’m not bullshitting you.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You said I sounded like one of your aunts, who you claim are bullshitting you when they call you handsome. But I’m not doing that.”

“Well, you didn’t call me handsome , that’s for sure.”

“What’s wrong with good-looking ?

“It just…” His shoulders rose and fell as he looked at me in the mirror. “It’s the only adjective straight guys are comfortable using to describe other men. Which I guess explains why you would use it. But it’s just kind of funny, is all.”

“Excuse me. Who are you calling straight?”

“Uh, you? You literally told me you were straight when we first met.”

“Well, that’s what I thought I was, then.”

He turned away from the mirror and looked me in the eye. “You don’t anymore?”

My cheeks heated. “I would have thought the other night made that clear.”

“You mean the other night when you ran away before I even woke up.”

“I told you, I was just—it wasn’t about the gay thing. It was about me. But not, you know. Like that.”

Quinn frowned. “So are you saying you are gay?”

“No. But I’m saying I don’t think I’m straight, either.”

“And it’s just that easy for you? Your whole sexual orientation changes in one night and you just…roll with it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Freak out?”

“I don’t know, maybe!” Quinn shook his head. “I just can’t imagine being so calm about it. But maybe it’s easy for you, because you’re just so…you know.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hot, if you’re going to make me say it. Maybe people who look like you don’t get anxious about how other people are going to react to them.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Do you really think I don’t get anxious?”

“Not about your looks, I assume. Not like me, anyway.”

I sighed and spun him to face the mirror again.

“What are you—”

“If you’re going to make me say it,” I told him, “you are not just ‘ good-looking .’ You’re cute. Hot. Utterly fucking gorgeous.”

I picked Quinn’s hands up from behind him and raised them to his face. I pointed his index fingers like I was moving a marionette and touched them to the outer corners of his eyes.

“Your eyes are dreamy. I feel like I could get swallowed up in them happily.” I touched his nose. “Your nose is kind of severe, and combined with your glasses, you’re giving strong hot professor vibes.” I touched his lips. “These things shouldn’t even be legal, they’re so fucking kissable-looking. And feeling. And tasting. As I happen to know. And this—” I brought one of Quinn’s fingers to his birthmark “—is just a part of you. And that makes it gorgeous, because you’re gorgeous.”

He flushed and squeezed his eyes shut. I waited ‘til he opened them again, then pointed at his cheeks.

“You’re adorable when you get embarrassed.” I touched his shoulders. “And beautiful when you’re naked.”

“Technically, you haven’t seen me naked,” he said. “Not fully, anyway.”

I stood on my toes to tuck my chin over his shoulder and nipped at the bottom of his ear.

“Then maybe we should change that.”

My heart thudded. I knew this was dangerous. I was breaking my own rules. But Quinn was right there, pressed up against me. I just wanted to feel good tonight, just wanted to forget the mess with my family and give in to what I wanted.

His pupils were wide as I looked at him in the mirror, and when he spoke, his voice was breathy. “I thought you didn’t hook up with clients.”

“You’re not a client right now.”

“I thought you said this shouldn’t happen again.”

“I said I don’t do relationships. But if we both know this is strictly casual…”

I wasn’t worried about Quinn getting attached. I was worried about me . I was the one with the no-relationships policy. But wasn’t it possible to care about Quinn as a friend, and want him sexually, and keep those two things separate?

“Then there’s no reason we can’t have fun,” he finished for me.

He grinned at me in the mirror. I turned him around and kissed him. I wanted him so badly, and I wanted him to know that. I tried to show him, with lips and tongue and teeth. I kissed him deeply, exploring his mouth as his fingers dug into my shoulders and back.

Somehow, I had the presence of mind to push the bedroom door closed. I wasn’t sure if Amir and Raf were still home, but there was no need to give them a show if they were.

Quinn and I stumbled towards the bed, pulling off shirts and shoes as we went. I was so hard already. Quinn got me riled up in the worst way, making me desperate. I craved the feeling of his body pressed up against mine.

My only worry was that I might come too soon. I didn’t want to come off as inexperienced, or too young. I wanted Quinn to see us as being on the same level.

My hands went to his waist, undoing his belt and pushing his pants and boxer-briefs down. He kicked out of them as I tugged my joggers and boxers off. God, his cock was amazing. I’d been daydreaming about it for what felt like forever, but it was even better than I remembered.

And now that we were both naked, a new desire filled me. Yes, I wanted his body against mine, but what I wanted even more was his cock in my mouth. How was it possible that until a few weeks ago, I’d never wanted that before? That I’d been missing out on this desire, this part of myself, for so long?

Was I bisexual? Quinn-sexual? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t particularly care, not as long as Quinn was right there with me.

I pushed him against the edge of the bed, then knelt down on the hardwood floor. I brought my left hand to his thigh, my right to the base of his cock, and looked up at him hungrily.

“I want to suck you off.”

“You don’t have to.” He closed his eyes as I stroked his shaft.

“When will you believe that I want you?”

“Um, check back with me in like, three thousand years?”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up and let me suck your dick.”

He laughed, but brought his hands to my shoulders and tugged me up. “Fine. But there’s no need to ruin your knees in the process.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “I offer him a blow job and it’s fine .”

He tugged me to the bed, laying me down, then rolling on top of me. A frisson of pleasure ran down my back as his cock rubbed against mine. We were both leaking precum. I wanted to touch him again, but he gathered both my hands and pushed them against the pillows above my head.

“It’s more than fine,” he said, nipping at my lower lip. “And so are you.”

His mouth trailed across my jaw and down onto my neck. He sucked the skin there into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth. I loved the heat of it, the tiny bite of pain amid the pleasure.

I was going to have a hickey tomorrow. The thought made my cock throb. Quinn liked me enough to want to mark me. To say, I was here. I touched you. Tasted you. Wanted you .

I liked this version of Quinn, confident and in charge. It was unexpected, but a turn on. I relished his lips and hands on my body.

Finally, I flipped us over, so he was the one on his back. I looked down at him hesitantly. “Just tell me if it’s bad, okay?”

He chuckled. “I can’t imagine it being that bad.”

“But you’ll tell me how you want it? How you like it?”

“I think I’ll like anything you do. But yes.”

I slid down and kissed his stomach, his hips, his abdomen right about where his cock rose from a thatch of dark hair. His cock was warm and hard against my chin, my cheek. I brushed my lips across the tip and got a little gasp from Quinn in response.

I gripped the base and stuck my tongue out, licking the head tentatively. It tasted like skin and sweat and the tang of precum. It was the first time I’d ever done this with another guy, and it felt forbidden and completely natural at the same time. Every cell in my body lit up.

I was a little scared at first. Not of sucking a guy off, but of how badly I wanted this. How a part of me had been aching to taste Quinn since the day we’d met, when I’d grabbed his hand in Bar Onze and asked him not to go.

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go . The words ran through my mind as I worked my mouth up and down his cock, stroking the shaft and getting the tip as wet and sloppy as I could. Quinn moaned louder and louder, and it sent heat down my spine.

“Just like that,” he said as I began to move faster.

His hands slipped down, one sliding through my hair, the other gripping my shoulder. His fingers pressed into my muscles, tugged my hair ever so slightly. I loved how sure of himself he was during sex. I loved knowing I could bring out this side of him.

“Fuck,” he said. “I’m gonna come. If you want to stop, now would be a good time.”

I shook my head emphatically, hoping Quinn could feel the gesture through his hand. I kept my mouth moving up and down on his cock, keeping the pressure and pace just right, until his fingers tightened on my shoulder and he came in my mouth.

I thought I was ready for it, but I was surprised by the load anyway. It tasted different from what I’d expected. Tangier. Sweeter too. A little trickle of relief ran through me, and I laughed in pleasure. The vibration must have stimulated Quinn’s cock, because he shot out more. I didn’t slip my mouth off him until his grip on me relaxed.

I looked up at him and grinned. “Good?”

“Good? Good ? It was fucking great.” He pulled me up, then rolled me over so I was on my back. “You sure you haven’t done that before?”

I smirked. “Positive. But I think I’d like to do it again.”

“Well, you’re going to have to wait your turn.” He rubbed his nose against mine, then began to kiss and suck his way down my body until he reached my nipples. He teased each one until they were as sensitive and erect as my cock, which was sliding against the skin of his stomach.

I was desperate, moaning as he slid farther down, kissing the inside of my thighs. He licked my balls, which made me want to arch up off the mattress, except he was pinning me there with his hand. Not that I couldn’t have moved if I wanted—I had way more muscle on him. But I liked letting him take control.

So I suffered in sweet agony as Quinn took his time sucking me off. He licked my cock thoroughly, getting it hot and wet, then slowly took me into his mouth, moving down the shaft a little more each time he pulled off and then back on. His tongue stroked up and down and around the tip, like he was licking an ice cream cone. It was amazing, but so slow. He was driving me crazy.

When he finally took all of my cock down in one go, I moaned again, loud enough for my housemates to hear if they were still home. I devoutly hoped they weren’t, because I couldn’t keep quiet. Quinn continued to suck me off, playing with my balls, refusing to set a rhythm or let me get comfortable, drawing out my pleasure even longer. He had a bachelor’s degree and a law degree, but I was beginning to suspect he had a master’s in giving head as well.

Even with the slow, lavish attention Quinn was giving me, I wasn’t able to last as long as I wanted. Before I knew it, I was on the edge. It was just too hot, and soft, and wet. I looked down at him and watched his mouth stretch around my cock. We locked eyes, and that was it.

“Fuck,” I groaned. “I’m gonna come.”

The words were barely out of my mouth before I did, shooting into the tight, wet tunnel of his mouth. He kept working my cock, sucking and squeezing every drop out of me, until it became too much.

“Oh fuck, I can’t—I can’t—” I began, and Quinn pulled off, knowing what I needed even when I couldn’t say it.

I looked down at him in wonder. “You’d better not ask me if that was good, because you know it was fantastic.”

He smiled shyly. “I may have been told that once or twice before.”

“Well, I’m telling you again now. Come here.”

I took one of his hands and pulled, waiting until he was lying next to me to lean in and kiss him. I could taste my cum on his tongue, but I could also taste Quinn, the sweetness of his mouth, the slight tang of sweat and musk. It was intoxicating.

When I pulled back, he looked a little dazed.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Can’t a guy kiss another guy for giving him a mind-blowing orgasm?”

“I guess. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Quinn laughed. “I wasn’t expecting you at all, Ryder.”

“Neither was I.” I felt a little vulnerable, saying that. Exposed, but blissful, at the same time. “But I’m really glad you’re here.”

I brushed a kiss across his lips, then wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, cuddling him to my chest. I buried my face against his neck, grateful he couldn’t see me right then, couldn’t see how much he’d undone me.

Casual , I reminded myself. You’re keeping it casual .

I just had to remember that.