Page 127 of Shadows in Bloom

The barman puts a beer down in front of me, eyeing us both. I ignore him as I press the bottleneck to my lips and take a swig. The truth is, I have no intention of finishing this beer. It’s for show—a ruse to make Marshall relax. I’m about to play hero and take him home.

For the first time, I’ll have him to myself, away from curious eyes. My dick lengthens in response to the elicit fantasies swirling like cigar smoke, and I imagine what he’ll look like later, splayed out amongst his crumpled bed sheets with his shirt torn open to reveal his tanned chest and his belt and zipper undone.

Fuck this. I need to do something and act on these desires before they drive me insane. I’ve waited long enough for my turn to come around. Now we’re here.

As he sways into me again, I place the bottle down. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not feeling so well,” he slurs, sliding off his chair. “I need to go home.”

He nearly stumbles into the tables on his way out. I suppress a smirk as I follow behind. The summer air smacks me in the face, hot and humid, while steam pours from a sewer near the sidewalk. Marshall blinks at his car, swaying on the spot, then mutters something unintelligible and sets off down the road, struggling to walk straight.

At least he has the common sense not to drink and drive.

I hurry to my car, which is parked beneath a broken streetlight, and slide inside. After cranking the engine and backing out, I pull up beside him.

Noticing the headlights, he turns, and seconds pass while he tries to place the vehicle. It’s too dark for him to see me through the window.

Leaning over, I push open the passenger door and smile at him with my forearm draped over the steering wheel. “Want me to give you a lift home?”

He staggers closer, settling in the passenger seat and shutting the door. Alcohol seeps from his pores, mixing with his cologne—a scent I’ve come to crave, with delectable notes of bergamot and lavender.

“Don’t tell your dad,” he rasps as he rests his head against the window. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” I assure him, switching on the radio. The seductive rhythm of ‘Babydoll’ by Ari Abdul drifts through the confined space as we roll down the dark street.

Drumming my thumb on the wheel, I steal glances at him. He’s out cold, sleeping it off, tendrils of graying, dark hair falling over his eyes.

All mine.

Anticipation tastes delectable on my tongue as it swirls through my veins, heady and warm. I’ve waited patiently for this day and now that he’s here, asleep in my car with his spread, jeans-clad thighs stretching out in the small space, I know I’ll never let him go.

Now that his wife is out of the picture, he’s mine.

No one else’s.

Squeezing the hard outline of my aching dick, I squirm and flick my eyes to the rearview mirror, but there’s no one behind us. No one to witness my father’s best friend, my professor, drugged in my passenger seat.

When we arrive at his house, I waste no time helping him inside. We stumble into the wall, and he chuckles as I take the brunt of his weight. His bedroom is upstairs to the right. I may or may not have jizzed on his sheets once or twice in the past.

What can I say? He drives me insane without even realizing the obsession I’ve harbored since I hit puberty.

Helping him upstairs is a whole other battle. He’s so fucking out of it that he can barely stand up straight, and my T-shirt sticks to my sweaty back by the time we finally reach the top.

Once inside his bedroom, I slide his arm from around my neck, watching him flop onto the bed. This is exactly how I envisioned this moment.

Marshall looks like a damn vision, surrounded by his unmade bed sheets. Even better than I visualized in class while he sat on the desk, his tie loosened.

I crouch down and remove his shoes, then grab hold of his deadweight legs and maneuver him around until all of him is on the bed. He barely stirs, a soft, drunken chuckle dripping from his lips like a sweet elixir. As I walk around to the foot of the bed, I watch his chest rise and fall, enraptured. The sheer size of him makes my mouth go dry.

After stripping out of my clothes, I climb naked into bed and snuggle up beside him. My fingers tremble with nerves as I slowly unbutton his shirt to reveal his tanned chest. He takes care of himself, but I knew that already. Twice a week, he works out for an hour and a half at the gym before spending a further thirty minutes swimming lengths in the pool.

Exercise, golf, work. Rinse and repeat. That’s his routine. Oh, and he watches his favorite crime show every Monday and Thursday night.

A shiver runs through me as I brush my fingers through the smatter of dark chest hair. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment, Marshall?” I unbuckle his belt and reach for his zipper. “A long time.”

He mumbles something unintelligible when I open his jeans, so I shush him, catching a glimpse of his black boxers. “I’ve always wondered how big your cock is.” Shifting his pants farther down, I graze the soft fabric and trace my fingers over the outline of his hard length, feeling it mold around his bulbous head. He’s big. Even bigger than I thought and fucking perfect in every way.

“When was the last time your wife touched your dick, Marshall?”

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