Chapter 12
Ican’t move. Silas sucked my dick so many times and fucked my mouth incessantly last night, and now my entire body aches.
God, what will full-on sex be like with him?
I probably won’t survive. Whoever finds me will find an empty, dried husk of a man. I’ll be left for the crows.
The smell of breakfast wakes me up, and I stretch out on his bed.
I slept here last night, passed out in our mess. God, he probably hated that, I think with a huff as I roll over, the sheets sticking to me. So much cum.
Buckets galore.
I stare down at my chest and run a hand over it, grinning to myself. I wanna do that again.
Silas was true to his word, we didn’t fuck past midnight. But that was fine by me. By the time the clock struck twelve, I was so worn out, I thought I was going to die.
He’s sucked and fucked my soul right out of me.
I’m hoping this morning he forgets about this silly rule he has about keeping things professional because now that I’ve had a taste, I really don’t want to go back to the way things were.
I stand up and walk into the bathroom, taking a quick shower and pulling on a pair of his boxer shorts. He’s not as bulky as me, so they’re a little tight. Perfection. Now he can see the bulge I’m sporting for him.
I stride out to the kitchen, finding Silas at the stove, wearing a t-shirt and joggers.
God, this man is delicious. The way he fills out these casual clothes.
So damn tempting.
“Morning,” I say, my voice low and hoarse. Probably from my throat being fucked.
Silas turns his dark gaze over at me and his eyes move slowly over my half-nude form.
“You’re wearing my boxers.”
“Sure am,” I say as I take a seat at the small island, watching his ass as he moves.
Wanna fuck that too.
“It’s almost ready,” he tells me, his voice cracking slightly. Seems he’s just as wrecked as me. I love that when he goes to give a lecture, every word that spills from his mouth will remind him of me.
Makes me hard just thinking of it.
“Coffee is right over there, if you want some,” he says, pointing to a French press sitting on the stove. Of course he has one of these, I think as I stand and grab a mug. I make sure to brush against him as much as possible as I move about, wanting to respect his wishes, but also reminding him of what he’s missing.
“Creamer?” I ask, and he nods, pointing to the fridge.
I pull it out—organic. Must be nice.
“Think I’ll like living here,” I murmur as I pour a hefty amount into my mug.
“Well,” he begins, clearing his throat. “It should be fine as we both have very busy schedules.”
“Right,” I say, taking another seat and sipping on the hot brew. Silas sets a plate down in front of me, an egg and sausage scramble.
Sure would like to scramble his eggs with my sausage.
I dig in, burning my mouth slightly as I go, but hell, this is real nice. I like this a lot.
“Thanks,” I say around a mouthful. Silas eyes me with an arched eyebrow and nods.
“Of course. I won’t be making your breakfast every morning though. You’ll have to fend for yourself.”
“You just wanted to thank me for last night,” I tease. “I see how it is.”
He huffs and then takes a sip of his coffee, picking at his food.
“Well, we can call it a one-off. Like I said, it won’t happen again.”
I groan, but keep eating. I mean, I really want it to happen again. And again. I won’t pressure him, but I can entice him.
Really let him know what he’s missing out on.
“Are you going to work today?” I ask, and he nods.
“Have some committee meetings to attend.”
“Snooze,” I snort, and he grins.
“Yeah, basically. But it’s part of my contract so….”
We grin at one another and then I focus on shoving the food into my mouth, burping lightly when I’m done. I set the plate in the sink and then decide to wash it. It’s only polite.
When I’m done, I spin around and catch Silas’s eyes on my ass. My teeth bite my lip to keep a smile at bay. This fucker. He knows what he wants.
And he wants me.
“Alright, well, I’m going to get changed and head to campus for a bit, then maybe meet with my dad. Can you drive me to get my car?” I ask, and he straightens up and nods. He opens a drawer and pulls out a house key, holding it up to me.
“For you,” he says, and my heart flutters in my chest. Feels like he’s my boyfriend or some shit, which is ridiculous. I’ve never wanted a boyfriend.
Until now.
Fuck.
This is just my luck. I want a man who has set up strict boundaries.
No more touching. Professionalism all the way.
I can so do that. I can be the most professional.
After class and a short shift at the club, I make my way to my dad’s place. Parking in the lot and groceries in bags around my wrist, I traverse the densely packed trailer park. I can see my dad’s truck and camper in the distance and pick up my pace. He’s been working a construction job here for the past few months before he heads off to the next place. It’s been nice having him here, and with his busy schedule, I realize that he’s probably not been making himself actual food.
Been living off frozen dinners and beer, I’m sure. That can’t be healthy.
My mind flashes to Dr. Sinclair, and I bite back a smile. I wonder if he goes home and cooks himself dinner or if he has a freezer full of frozen dinners too.
Hm, I’ll have to see about that.
Maybe I’ll have to start cooking him dinners too.
Now that’s an idea.
“Ev!” my dad says, exiting his trailer, a beer in his hand. He looks so much like me, wide shoulders and blond hair, but twenty-four years older, and a little more rugged.
He’s always joked that I’m the reason he has wrinkles near his eyes. Apparently, I was a wild child. I got in trouble more than I should have growing up, but then again, it was never anything serious. Just stupid kid stuff. And my dad was too busy to really get angry over it. He usually just shook his head and pinched his nose in frustration.
“Hey,” I say, holding up my arms, the plastic bags dangling there. “I’m making you dinner.”
“Nothing healthy, I hope.”
“Just a side salad. But we’re doing steak and potatoes.”
His lips quirk up. “Deal. Let me get the grill out.”
He disappears around the back of the trailer and reappears a moment later with a portable grill, setting it up and attaching a propane tank to the underneath.
I set my stuff down in a chair and walk inside, washing my hands and taking a look around. This was a trailer my dad bought after I graduated high school when he started to work in different places along the West Coast. It was a cheap, old trailer with questionable choices in upholstery, but my dad, Joe, is a simple man and doesn’t seem to mind it.
I pull the fridge open and grab a beer, twisting the cap off and taking a swig.
My face bunches up as I swallow it down. Never really did like beer, but then again, it’s always what I drank with my dad. Probably when I shouldn’t have. But it’s kind of our thing.
“Got some new seasoning to try with the steak,” I say, and my dad bunches his nose.
“A.1. Sauce is just fine. Don’t need no spices.”
“Dad. If you’re using A.1. Sauce on steak, it’s not good.”
“Works just fine for me,” he says and then grins.
My eyes roll as I get to work, turning the grill on and prepping my space. I know what he’s doing. He’s egging me on, trying to get under my skin. He’s always done this. It’s a subtle art with him, and I try to not let him win.
But I know when he does. His lips quirk up and his eyes twinkle.
Fucking dads, man.
“So, what’s new with you? Haven’t seen you in ages.”
My eyes roll again as I set the steaks on the grill and place a pot on the burner.
“Pour the potatoes in the pot, old man. And I was here last week.”
“Hm, seems my old mind has forgotten already.”
“You’re forty-five. You’re not old.”
“Feel like it,” he says gruffly. “Had a kid who was kind of a brat. Took years off my life.”
I scoff at that and then nudge him. “Quit it. Or I’ll make you eat two bowls of salad.”
“Not two bowls,” he grumbles as he takes another swig of beer and then haphazardly stirs the instant mashed potatoes.
I was gonna go for the real thing, but it would take too much prep work. And to be honest, my dad prefers the instant potatoes anyways. He’s bougie like that.
“Two bowls,” I repeat and then we grin stupidly at one another. “So, how long are you here for? Where are you off to next?”
“Up to Redding after this. Probably stay there through the summer.”
“Gonna be a hot one.”
“Yep,” he says and nods. “But after that, I’ll try to take something closer to you in the fall. Hopefully.”
My heart warms at that. For as unique as my childhood was, growing up with him as my father, he really did the best he could. And he’s always put me first. Hasn’t even dated, probably never even considered it. His focus was on providing for me.
“May even have a bonus check that I can give you?—”
“Hell no. You keep your money. I don’t want it.”
He sighs. “A dad should be able to pay for his kid’s school, son.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got this. I have a good job.” I don’t mention the caved-in ceiling or the fact that I am technically homeless. I know that he’d feel the need to do something, and I can’t have that. He needs to take care of himself. He gave up so much for me growing up, caring for me as a single dad. I need him to not worry about me, to just take this time for himself.
He arches his eyebrow at me. “One where you have to strip?”
“Yeah, but I’m good at it.”
“If your grandfather knew what you did.”
I roll my eyes. “He’d probably cheer me on. He’s just as deviant as me.”
My dad grins widely and shakes his head. “Probably right. He tried to rope me into some kind of sensual ribbon dance at the old folks’ home.”
“What the hell is that?” I ask with a laugh.
“No clue, but I told him no fucking way. I’m sure he’ll ask you next.”
“I would give a good show. Just don’t know if I have the time to commit.”
My dad hums his agreement. “Anything to get out of that shit show.”
“I mean, yeah. I guess I’ll tell him I’m too busy, but we do need to show up and support him.”
“I don’t know what sensual ribbon dancing means, and I honestly don’t know if I want to see my dad shimmying up on stage.”
I let out a laugh as I dish up the steaks on plates and scoop out some mashed potatoes. My dad looks glumly at the salad I hand him, but he eats it first, almost shoveling it into his mouth to get it out of the way.
When we’re done with dinner, we sit outside his camper, drinking beer and just shooting the shit. I tell him about my classes and about my job as a TA. I don’t mention Dr. Sinclair at all, not wanting him to read the expression on my face if I do. He’d read me like a fucking book.
I can already tell he doesn’t like the idea of me stripping. I don’t want to tell him I’m acting inappropriately with the professor I’m supposed to be working for.
And that last night, he got down on his knees and sucked my dick. And I did the same.
No, no that won’t do.
So instead, I keep this entire thing to myself. Out of respect for Dr. Sinclair and for my sanity. I don’t need to be getting all up in my head about this. There’s a very good chance this will all end terribly.
Doesn’t stop me from trying though.
Even if I only get scraps from him, I want it.
After saying goodbye to my dad, I do what any college guy would do on a Friday night and head to Shenanigans, the local bar. My infatuation with Dr. Sinclair is nothing a drink or two can’t solve. As I push my way to the bar top, I see Perry, the bartender, flirting with a guy with a head full of curls. Curly-hair-guy flirts right back, and who could blame him? Perry is hot. All that tanned skin and those whiskey-colored eyes. They’re almost hypnotic. If I wasn’t obsessing over Silas, then maybe I’d be interested.
Seems I only have eyes for a forbidden man.
“Hey there,” Perry says when he catches my gaze. “What are you having tonight?”
I cock an eyebrow at him and tap my fingers against my lips. “How about a whiskey sour.”
“Hm, I like it. Matches my eyes, you flirt.”
“Oh my god. Stop it,” the other guy says.
“Aw, come on, Puppy. I’m cute when I flirt,” Perry tells him.
“You’re always cute.”
“Not as cute as you,” Perry winks at him, then looks in my direction. “He’s my boyfriend. Isn’t he hot?”
I eye the guy. Yeah, I mean, he is, but it seems like if I say that I’ll get in trouble. “Can we get back to my drink now?”
“Oh yeah, the drink that’s like your eyes…” Puppy says. I don’t know what the guy’s actual name is. Clearly, I can tell they’re just being playful, and these two only have eyes for each other.
“I wasn’t flirting with you, just so you know,” I clarify.
He grabs some bottles and starts making my drink.
“Um, are you sure you aren’t flirting with me? When Puppy and I first met, he was flirting with me without even knowing.”
Puppy shakes his head, his curly hair flopping onto his forehead. “No, I wasn’t. I just didn’t know you were flirting with me.”
I let out a loud laugh and then lean forward, making sure they can hear me.
“No worries, really. I have a thing going with someone right now.”
“Oh, really? This is getting good,” the boyfriend says.
“Yep. Someone forbidden.”
Perry’s eyes twinkle, dancing in the lights of the bar. “Tell us more. We do love a good forbidden romance.”
“It’s not romance. It’s obsession.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect to hear that. Sounds fun though. Care to share who this obsession is with?”
I shake my head as I take a sip of my drink. Just like with my dad, I keep that little tidbit tucked away inside of me. I don’t want Dr. Sinclair to get into trouble because of me. I want him to lust after me, not hate me.
“Well, fine. Don’t share with us. But if you ever need someone to talk to, let us know. We’re awesome at relationship stuff.” Perry winks at his man.
I don’t remind him my thing is more about obsession and pocket that friendly suggestion, taking another large gulp. The bourbon hits me hard, and I cough slightly.
“I’ll keep you both in mind. Thanks.”
I reach over to pay, and he accepts it, charging me with a flick of his wrist. A moment later, Perry wanders off to help someone else. My gaze lifts to the mirror behind the bar top, and I see myself reflected back. My eyes are alight, my skin flushed, my stomach fluttering in anticipation of going home and seeing Silas again.
Yeah, seems I’m fooling myself. Seems that this forbidden thing may be a little more than obsession.