by J. A. Rock
was, and you knew Case had accepted me?”
“I wanted to make sure your opinion of yourself
didn’t hinge on whether or not a school had accepted
you.”
“Bullshit! You just wanted me to feel bad because
you were pissed at me.”
Keaton took him firmly by the shoulders. “You
know that’s not true.”
“You knew since last night!”
“I’m sorry I kept it from you. And if you’d asked
me for your phone anytime between then and now, I’d
have given it to you. I am so, so incredibly proud of you.
But I would be even if you hadn’t gotten into Case. And I
want to know that you’d be proud of yourself either way
too.”
“You jerk,” Aiden muttered, giving Keaton another
halfhearted bump on the chest. Then he put his hands on
Keaton’s shoulders and leaped, wrapping his legs
around Keaton’s middle. Keaton groaned and held him
up, laughing. “You asshole. You total bastard.” Aiden
nipped the side of Keaton’s neck.
Keaton gave him a light swat on the butt.
“Ow.” Aiden slid to the ground.
“I might be all of those things,” Keaton said. “But
you’re an MFA candidate.”
Aiden grinned. “I am.”
“You’re going to accept their offer?”
“Um, let me think for a minute—yeah.”
“Cleveland,” Keaton said slowly. “I think I could
adapt to big-city life.”
“What do you mean?” Aiden demanded.
“I called my friend at Cleveland State last week.
They’re still looking for a studio arts professor. The pay
is modest, but I’m a modest man.”
“Yeah, right.” Aiden couldn’t keep the smile off his
face. Was Keaton really saying what Aiden thought he
was saying?
“Plus there are venues in Cleveland that might be
more amenable to some of my abstract pieces than the
galleries here.”
“So you’re coming?”
“I’ll give it a try.”
“Keaton, are you serious? You’ll come with me?”
“I’m serious.”
Aiden tackled his partner again. Keaton chuckled,
squeezing Aiden back.
“You said Little Italy’s close to campus, right? Just
don’t let me gorge myself to obesity on Italian food.”
Aiden pulled back suddenly. “Classes go from ten
to six every day except Sunday. And there are rehearsals
in the evenings. We’ll never see each other.”
Keaton brushed the hair back from Aiden’s face.
“Aiden. Let yourself be happy. We’ll work out the
challenges as they come.”
“You’re way too calm,” Aiden grumbled.
“And you’re too quick to rain on your own
parade.”
“It rains in Cleveland. Like, every day.”
“I like the rain.”
“You like everything.”
“I don’t like to see a barely touched dinner plate.”
Keaton nodded at the supper Aiden had sworn he’d eat
before starting on his lines.
“I’m working on it!” Aiden insisted.
Keaton laughed. “Don’t think I won’t take you over
my knee again, brat.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Keaton grabbed him playfully and spun him
around, bending him over a chair and whacking his
bottom with a rolled-up magazine. Aiden giggled and
tried to struggle away. “Ow! Keaton, don’t. I’m too sore.”
Keaton leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Too
sore for me to fuck you?”
Aiden let out a breath and wriggled against Keaton.
Keaton wouldn’t let him up.
“No,” Aiden gasped. “Not too sore at all.”
“Good. Because as soon as you finish your dinner,
I’m going to take you upstairs and ravish you.”
“Nooo!” Aiden protested. “Ravish now! I promise,
that’ll satisfy my appetite better than this.”
“You have a problem with my stir-fry?” Keaton
tapped Aiden’s butt warningly with the magazine.
“No! I’ll eat; I’ll eat. Let me go.”
Keaton released him. Aiden sat down and began
shoveling forkfuls of stir-fry into his mouth. “Now that’s
what I like to see,” Keaton said. “Eat your vegetables,
and you’ll get dessert.”
Aiden made a face at him. He’d barely put the last
bite of dinner in his mouth when Keaton lifted him out of
his chair and flung him over his shoulder. Aiden
pounded on Keaton’s back with his fists, a display
Keaton answered by casually swatting Aiden’s bottom.
Aiden was breathless with laughter by the time they
reached the bedroom.
Keaton lowered him onto the mattress, mindful of
his sore rear, and kissed him deeply. “I’d better take
advantage of this while I can,” Keaton said. “Once you’re
a big star, you’ll forget all about the little people.”
“Not so little,” Aiden said, stroking the bulge in
Keaton’s pants. “Besides, I’ll still need you around to
keep me in line.”
“You really think you can live by my rules?”
“That’s the only way I want to live.”
“All right, brat. Here are the rules for tonight. You
let me undress you and stare at your gorgeous body
until I can’t take it anymore.”
“Yes, Keaton.”
“You spread your legs and take me deep inside
you.”
“Yes.”
“You let me hear you while I take you. You don’t
hold back. You let yourself be young and happy and
beautiful in front of me.”
“Yes,” Aiden whispered.
“You don’t worry about a thing.”
Aiden smiled, reaching up and snagging Keaton’s
collar with his fingers, pulling Keaton into another long
kiss. When they parted, Keaton’s breathing was rough
and his cheeks were flushed. Aiden stroked his face.
“How could I, with you here?”
Loose Id Titles by J. A. Rock
By His Rules
J. A. Rock
J.A. Rock lives in the hot, humid wilds of Alabama
with a dog, Professor Anne Studebaker. A lover of
alphabet soup, J.A. writes LGBTQ BDSM romances with
a D/s focus.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
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