A Perfect Game

"May I come in?"

Kit ran his fingers back through wet hair and pulled the door open wider. "Sorry. Come on in." He closed and locked the door, leaning back against it after Liam stepped inside. "What changed your mind? It's almost one in the morning. Gomer not put out after all?"

"I never called him." Liam had his back to Kit, one hand making a nervous sweep through thick, windswept hair. "I went to a club. Stared at my cell phone, drank too much, and decided I knew what honestly interested me. It wasn't him."

Kit's dick flexed, and his heart thumped so hard he could hear the thud. He had talked the talk all day to this man, and now the time had come to walk the walk. Batter up. "Turn around."

Liam complied, gaze fixed on the carpet.

Kit cleared his throat. "Look. At. Me."

Likely on reflex, Liam looked up. His focus danced around after the initial locking glance until finally settling back on Kit.

Interesting reaction, Kit thought, looking hard into those green eyes. "If it wasn't him, what was it?"

A muscle visibly twitched in Liam's neck. "You." Again Liam struggled with remaining attentive, but in the end he behaved. "I felt something this afternoon at school, but tonight, seeing you in that place, seeing you surrounded by—I want to know the real you."

"The real me?" Kit fingered the knot in his towel and took a step forward. "I'm not sure you're ready for the real me, Professor Dalton." With a flick of his thumb the knot gave way, and the towel slid to the floor in a whisper. Kit wrapped a fist around his thickening cock and gave a firm tug. He took another step closer to Liam. "Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it."

The smallest sound slipped from Liam, a sigh of defeat against poor odds. He swallowed, making no effort to hide where his gaze fell. "I want you to do what you said when we were behind Newport Hall. The fuck of my life. Tonight."

Kit moved in on Liam like a predator on captive prey, circling. "You have me at a disadvantage, Professor Dalton," Kit said, hand still on his dick, coaxing a reprise erection, enjoying the fact he had the refractory period of . . . well, a twenty-year-old. "Strip. Everything."

"You're quick to assume your position of power." Liam pulled his polo shirt over his head, unveiling a smooth, well-built chest, and nipples more pink than tan. The shirt crumpled into a black pile on the floor at Kit's feet. Liam began work on his belt buckle.

Kit walked behind him, took the Marlboros and lighter from the nightstand, and lit a cigarette while he watched Liam disrobe. Liam seemed somewhat angry, and Kit knew from experience agitation wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Whatever got the job done, whatever got the blood pumping in the right direction, worked just fine for him. He took a deep drag off the cigarette as he walked back to Liam, kicking away the discarded shirt. He blew smoke toward Liam's face, offering the cigarette held between thumb and forefinger. "I recall you wanted one of these?"

Like a parched man on a sea of sand, Liam licked his lips. He leaned forward and took a strong drag off the cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs before snorting it out like a rampaging bull. "I had to quit for the job at your school. No smoking anywhere on campus, remember? Fuck, it's been almost a month." Pants hanging loose off his hips, Liam moved in for another puff.

Shaking his head and smiling, Kit pulled the cigarette away, putting it to his own lips and taking a good long draw. His other hand went back to work on his cock, so hard now the swollen head pointed obscenely at Liam. "You want another drag, you're going to have to earn it."

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