Page 81 of Filthy Little Secret

I chuckle.

“I bet you do, you filthy bastard,” I say.

“But I’ve worked it out, and I can get on top of the bills as long as I pay them off little by little. Might spend the rest of my life in a hole, but it’s fine.”

“As long as it’s my hole.”

He chuckles.

“Your dirty little brain can just make everything nasty, can’t it?” he says.

“That’s how I prefer it.”

“I bet.”

He kisses me, and even though my bruise is still tender where I got punched, his kiss feels good. Soothes the pain.

“What are you going to do when you’re not sneaking around with the drug dealer?” he asks. “You’re gonna be with a guy making an honest living as a lowly bartender.”

“An honest living, providing people with their legal highs? Oh, my.”

“And then I have my boyfriend, who’ll be providing people with legal prescriptions when he’s a physician assistant.”

“True.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, Mark, but I’ll make it work. I’m going to show you that I can do this.”

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I believe you can do anything you want, Tim. And I’ll be here for you for whatever you might need. Especially if it involves blowjobs.”

I’m trying to make light of the situation, but I can tell by the way my covers shift my joke has turned into an invitation—one I need to honor. I kiss down his torso to his cock, eager to give him the satisfaction he deserves for what he gave me in the cellar.

* * *

I search through the library in the area where Keith typically comes to study. I’ve met him here a few times before we’ve headed out for coffee or dinner.

He didn’t respond to my text message about hanging out—probably since he was pissed after Greg told him about me and Tim. But I figured I couldn’t just say,Sorry for stealing that guy you were totally into for so long. So, I have to find him and clear the air in hopes it won’t ruin any chance we have of ever being friends again.

I see Keith sitting at a desk along the wall, earphones in as he keys away on his laptop.

I approach him and wave near him to grab his attention.

He starts to smile, but as he sees it’s me, frowns.

“You mind if we slip into a meeting room for a minute?” I ask.

He takes out his earphones. “What?”

“Mind if we chat?”

I can tell by his apprehensive expression that he doesn’t want to talk to me. He sighs and grabs his latte. “Sure, man.”

I guide him into one of the nearby meeting rooms. There’s a table with six plastic chairs placed around it. He grabs one and turns it around, spreading his legs as he sits in it. Like he’s waiting to hear what great story I have for why I was an asshole to him.

“I assume Greg told you about me and Tim.”

“Yup,” he says, sipping his latte. “So let me get this straight? You were fucking letting me cry about my issues and then running off to fuck him?” His forehead wrinkles as he glares at me.

“No! No! That’s not what happened. We didn’t start doing anything until you were getting better. We didn’t have a single conversation about him when I started messing around with him. And I didn’t think anything was going to come of it. It was this fun, crazy sex, and then it got out of hand.”

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