Academic Pursuits

by Harper, Lou

  I swallowed and nodded. Luckily, Roger was not as big as Bryan, although not small either. Roger took me by the hips and pulled me to the edge of the bed. Kneeling between my legs, he proceeded to give me the most thorough and expert rimming I’d experienced in a long time. I gave into the sensation, lazily tugging my cock with one hand, threading the other in Roger’s hair.

  By the time he pulled away and scrambled for his jeans, I was fully hard again. A crinkle and sound of foil ripping later Roger stood between my legs, his sheathed and slicked cock nudging my hole. It was a slow and steady invasion—small advances and withdrawals, till I was filled and fully claimed. I loved being fucked by Roger; I delighted in the way his hips drove back and forth, the muscles of his ass clenching at every forward move. Most of all, I savored the unadulterated lust in his eyes as he looked at me. Roger leaned forward until we were chest-to-chest, skin-to-skin. I wrapped my legs tight around his waist and my arms around his back, and we made the beast with two backs. We started slow and gentle and finished hard and fast.

  Afterward, when we lay on the bed, sticky, sweaty, and trying to catch our breaths, I realized I had no idea where this turn of events left Roger and I. For some reason it mattered to me, unlike ever before. I turned my head toward him, only to find him watching me intently.

  “That was the best rogering I had in a long time,” I said, aiming at a light tone. I was not used to feeling off-balanced.

  “Funny,” he replied drolly and pushed himself up on an elbow. He put a hand on my chest, his middle finger landing lightly on my right nipple.

  “I bet you’ve never heard it before.”

  “Hardly ever. But, of course, I rarely bed rabid anglophiles.”

  “Jo talks too much. Her lips could sink the entire U.S. Navy.” I said, screwing up my face.

  He was rubbing my nipple ever so lightly, and by all appearances without being aware of doing it. It was very distracting.

  Somewhere, not far enough away, a door slammed.

  “Under the covers, quick!” I yelped.

  Roger looked at me puzzled, but did as he was told. Not a second later, the door banged open, and Jo burst in with the force of a stray shrapnel.

  “Hey, Jamie—“ Her eyes got big. “Oh hi, Roger!”

  “Hi, Jo,” he replied unfazed.

  “For fuck’s sake, Jo, do you ever knock?”

  “Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t seem contrite one bit. She had a grin on her face so big it would’ve given the Cheshire Cat a deep sense of inadequacy. She didn’t show any intention of leaving either, just stood there staring, like she was fixing the picture of us into her memory. Knowing her, she probably was.

  “Some privacy, please?” I asked pointedly.

  “Yeah, sure.” She blasted out of the room just as she came in—leaving the door open, of course.

  “Sorry about that,” I said turning to Roger.

  He shrugged. “It’s not like she hasn’t seen either of us naked before.”

  I took the bathroom first, Roger next. While he was cleaning up, I wandered into the living room. Jo was sitting sideways in our sole armchair, pretending to read. She looked up from her book as I entered.

  “Well, it didn’t last long!” she said, eyes sparkling like glitter. I knew she was referring to my so-called celibacy.

  “You wouldn’t have anything to do with Roger showing up here, would you?” I asked, accusingly.

  “Me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her innocent expression was as genuine as a Gucci handbag from the trunk of a car. “Anyway, Roger’s a good guy…very dependable. You could do worse,” she added.

  “You’re a devious woman.”

  “Yeah, but I only use my evil for good,” she said and stuck out her tongue.

  I would’ve grilled her, but Roger walked in, instantly filling the room with his masculine presence. He had his jeans on, but was shirtless and barefoot. He was also clearly shameless, stopping behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

  Jo gave him a speculative look. “You won’t be using your studio today, will you?”

  “Not likely. Do you want to?”

  “If you don’t mind. It’s a pain to share space with others, and I want to get started on a painting of Wayne.”

  Roger pulled his keychain out, took off one of the keys, and tossed it to Jo. She hopped out of the chair and right onto Roger. Pulling his head down, she gave him a sloppy kiss. A moment later, she was rushing out of the room.

  “Have fun, boys! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she shouted before the door slammed behind her.

  “I wonder what it is she wouldn’t do?” Roger mused.

  “Not much, I’m afraid.”

  Roger pulled me close. “Good. Let’s go back to bed and do something exceptionally naughty then.”

  Epilogue

  It’s hard to turn to your other side when a couple of your bedmate’s limbs are lying across your body. And Roger had limbs like a tree. A warm, somewhat hairy tree.

  “Stop fidgeting,” he grumbled sleepily.

  “I’m not fidgeting. This bed is narrow,” I explained.

  He made a growly-groan, like grizzly waking from hibernation, as he rolled onto his back and stretched. “It’s all right. Time to get up anyway.” He tossed the blanket aside and scratched his naked chest.

  I took a peep from under the blanket—early morning light filtered through the small windows. In mid-December it meant somewhere between seven an eight a.m. Way too early for me. “I’m staying right here. It’s too damn cold in this cabin,” added and pulled the blanket tighter around me. Roger lit up the stove the night before, but the fire must’ve died hours ago.

  “It’ll be warm again in a few minutes,” he said and hopped out of bed.

  I closed my eyes, but didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, I listened to the sounds of Roger moving about, lighting the fire, putting on clothes, and other noises of comfortable domesticity. I decided the weekend wouldn’t be so bad if I could spend it all in bed. The door opened and closed and for a few minutes I heard only the wood crackling in the stove. Then came boots stomping outside of the door, and Roger tromped back inside. He came all the way to the bed, leaned down, and smushed his face to mine. His nose was cold as an icicle.

  “Bastard! Stop!” I wailed, but he just laughed and next thing I knew, icy fingers tickled between my ribs. “Sadist!” I complained.

  With a final pinch he let go. “I’ll make coffee.”

  I huffed and pushed the blanket off. “I need to take a whizz.”

  “The outhouse is in the back. Just follow my trail.”

  I sat up grumbling, “You know, when you suggested to spend a weekend in your uncle’s cabin, I expected something a little more civilized. Indoor plumbing, at the minimum.”

  He chuckled and put the stove top style coffee pot a strange looking coffee maker—at least I assumed that’s what it was—on top of the stove. “Nah, that’s for city slickers. Roughing it is good for you—builds character, makes you resourceful. When I was little, my parents and us kids spent a couple weeks out here every summer.”

  “Here?” I looked around with disbelief. The cabin barely seemed big enough for two people.

  “Only when we were small. Once we knew how to swing a mallet, we kids stayed outside in tents we put up ourselves.” His eyes glazed over with nostalgia. “Best memories of my childhood.”

  I pulled on some clothes and a pair of boots. “Gawd, no wonder you’re such a macho man,” I said and trudged up to the door.

  I d stepped outside and immediately froze in place, but not just because of the cold. Beautiful was a feeble and inept word to describe the landscape stretching out in front of my eyes. We’d arrived after dark the night before, so it was my first view of it. A couple of inches of snow had fallen overnight, covering everything in pristine white frosting. Trunks and branches of trees stood out in dark contrast. Nothing moved. It was so very quiet and peaceful. I stood still
, who knows how long, simply taking in the scenery.

  Finally, I couldn’t resist the urge any longer. I ran out to an open spot, threw myself on the ground and swung my arms and legs in the snow. God it was cold, but fun.

  Satisfied with my creation, I hopped up and quickly hoofed it to the outhouse. I did my business and ran back into the cabin. Compared to outdoors, the it felt outright hot.

  “Finally! I was about to send out the search party,” Roger joked as the door banged shot behind me. He was facing the stove, wearing red long johns and a flannel shirt. Damn the man. I already had a kink for flannel shirts because of him, and I was about to develop one for long winter underwear.

  Warmth flooded my body, from my heart to my toes. I stepped close and wrapped my arms around him.

  Roger turned in my embrace. He framed my face with his big, calloused hands and kissed me on the lips. “You have snow all over your back. What did you do?”

  “Snow angel.”

  “Ah. Hard to resist the temptation, isn’t it?” His eyes sparkled like the snow as he smiled.

  “Impossible. Roger?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m glad we came.”

  “So you don’t hate it here?”

  “I love it. And love you. I mean it.”

  “I love you too, Jem.” His voice was warm and wrapped around me like layers and layers of thermal underwear, scarves, and puffy coats. Warm as his body through cotton and flannel. Warm as home.

  THE END

  If you liked the Story, please leave a review.

  More books by Lou Harper

  Secrets and Ink

  © 2013 Lou Harper

  When Karma writes you a ticket, pay up or else…

  If life was like the movies, Jem Mitchell’s wouldn’t be such a mess. In LA’s glittering world of dreams, he works an unglamorous job at a gourmet grocery store. His past is so deep and dark, the details are lost even to him. All he knows is he was once cursed by a meter maid, and ever since, his love life has sucked.

  When Detective Nick Davies becomes a regular at the store, Jem dares to hope he’s un-hexed at last. He should have known that sex with a remarkably normal guy, devoid of weird fetishes and fatal personality flaws, was too good to be true.

  During a post-encounter cuddle, Nick recognizes the tattoo on Jem’s back—and remembers him as a young hustler he arrested nine years past.

  As Jem’s memories come crashing back, he flees from Nick, but fate contrives to keep pushing them back together. And when Jem’s old partner in crime is found murdered, the stakes are raised for life, for love, and a dangerous drama with no guarantee of a Hollywood ending.

  Warning: Stars a mild-mannered store clerk with a shady past, a hunky cop whose passion in the bedroom is as big as his passion for justice, and celebrity sightings you won’t see on TMZ.

  Last Stop

  © 2012 Lou Harper

  Sam Mayne’s life is as dull as the dishwater in his small-town Montana diner, and that’s just how he wants it. Quiet, uneventful, safe from his shadowy past. The breezy young drifter who answers his help-wanted ad makes him uneasy in ways he dare not examine too closely. Except he can’t help but be pulled in by Jay Colby’s spunky attitude, endless stories, and undeniable sex appeal.

  Fresh off yet another romantic disaster, Jay doesn’t understand his attraction to the taciturn line cook, but there’s no fighting the chemistry that lands them in bed together. Where Sam’s subtly dominant streak takes command, and Jay delights in discovering the pleasures of his submissive side.

  Safe in the assumption their relationship is temporary, neither lover holds back when the heat is on. Until Sam’s deadly past catches up with them with a vengeance, forcing him to drop the life he’s built, pick up his lover, and run. As danger cuts closer to the bone, Sam and Jay are forced to face the truth. About themselves, about the depth of their love—and the newly forged bonds that are about to be tested to the limit.

  Warning: Contains enough sparks to ignite a sexual fire, ably fanned by the judicious use of some interesting props, as well as some butt-warming spanking. Sizzzzle.

  Spirit Sanguine

  © 2012 Lou Harper

  Is that a wooden stake in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

  After five years in eastern Europe using his unique, inborn skills to slay bloodsuckers, Gabe is back in his hometown Chicago and feeling adrift. Until he’s kidnapped by a young, sexy vampire who seems more interested in getting into his pants than biting into his neck.

  Harvey Feng is one-half Chinese, one-hundred-percent vampire. He warns Gabe to stay out of the Windy City, but somehow he isn’t surprised when the young slayer winds up on his doorstep. And why shouldn’t Gabe be curious? A vegetarian vampire isn’t something one sees every day.

  Against their better judgment, slayer and vampire succumb to temptation. But their affair attracts unexpected attention. When Chicago’s Vampire Boss makes Gabe an offer he can’t refuse, the unlikely lovers are thrust into peril and mystery in the dark heart of the Windy City. Together they hunt for kidnappers, a killer preying on young humans, and vicious vampire junkies.

  However, dealing with murderous humans and vampires alike is easy compared to figuring out if there’s more to their relationship than hot, kinky sex.

  Warning: Fangalicious man-on-man action, a troublesome twink, cross-dressing vampires, and role-playing involving a fedora.

  ***

  About the Author

  Under a prickly, cynical surface Lou Harper is an incorrigible romantic. Her love affair with the written word started at a tender age. There was never a time when stories weren't romping around in her head. She is currently embroiled in a ruinous romance with adjectives. In her free time Lou stalks deviant words and feral narratives.

  Lou's favorite animal is the hedgehog. She likes nature, books, movies, photography, and good food. She has a temper and mood swings.

  Lou has misspent most of her life in parts of Europe and the US, but is now firmly settled in Los Angeles and worships the sun. However, she thinks the ocean smells funny. Lou is a loner, a misfit, and a happy drunk.

  Web site +++ Blog +++ Pinterest +++ Goodreads