Page 53 of Dear Mr. Brody

“Hey… look at me.”

He shook his head, his shoulders falling.

“Please, Van… I need you to.”

“It’s done, Parker.” He slowly turned to face me with weary eyes.

His hair was messy, like he’d taken out his frustration on the dark strands. A few stray pieces had fallen over his forehead, and like it was a normal everyday thing to touch him, I lifted a hand and brushed them away.

His breath hitched and he took a step backward. “Park…”

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his jeans hugging his thighs. Donovan was the picture of perfection. His sharp jawline pulsed under the short, dark stubble that dusted his flawless skin. The stormy gray color of his eyes darkened as he stared back at me. The desire was there, the need I’d tapped into over the past week when we’d interacted online. He wanted me.

“It doesn’t have to be done,” I said, keeping my tone as even as possible.

“You’re my student.”

“Yeah, I know… you keep saying that.” I smiled, quiet and easy, but it hadn’t changed the strict edge to his posture. “And I get it. It’s against the rules, but Van—”

“This is my job… my life. I can’t just do whatever the fuck I want because it feels good.”

I risked taking a step closer and he swallowed as my eyes fell to his mouth. I should’ve listened to him, respected his concerns, but his tongue darted across his bottom lip, and I swear the phantom touch of it tingled across my lips.

“And what do we do on Monday?” I asked. “Look at each other from across the classroom and pretend we haven’t said the things we have… pretend I’m not dying to know what you taste like?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” he said, his face flushing a deep crimson. “There isn’t any other alternative.”

“I could drop the class.”

“No… that’s not an option.” He shook his hands at his sides, and I wondered if he was fighting himself, wondered if he wanted to reach out and touch me as much as I wanted to touch him “This is why we can’t do this. I can’t expect you to upend your life because of me. It’s an abuse of power, Parker. It’s unethical. You can’t do that… You’re too good of a writer to quit.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at his compliment, or how his voice had softened when he’d said it. “It’s an introductory class… I could take it again next semester with a different—”

“No.” He shook his head, his tone taking back it’s hard line. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m an adult the last time I checked. I can do what I want. And I want you.”

I drew in a breath and moved in even closer, crowding him in, leaving only a few inches between us. Donovan’s hands lifted, and for a moment I thought he would push me away, but his fingers curled into the fabric of my t-shirt instead.

“I can’t do this.”

“Then, don’t.” I held his stare for one... two… three seconds. “If you don’t want this, then let go.”

His grip tightened as his pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling, his hesitation and want warring inside the silver ring of his irises. Static buzzed along my limbs, waiting for him to make a move, aching for it.

“Parker,” he whispered my name, but all I heard was his submission.

I leaned in, and the invisible barrier he’d tried to maintain snapped as his mouth plunged into mine with violent precision. My hand found the back of his neck, using the heat of his skin as an anchor. The burn of his stubble etched its way across my lips, my chin. He released his hold on my t-shirt, and the palm of his hand made its way up my chest to the side of my neck. His thumb rested on my pulse point, my frantic heartbeat giving away how gone I was for this, for his kiss. My tongue slid into his mouth, grazing his tongue, and when he moaned, I pushed in deeper, tasting him like I’d wanted to since that first day of class. He was sweet and pliable, with a hint of beer lingering on his lips. I should’ve slowed down, taken a breath, taken a second to savor this, but I was afraid, any minute, he’d remember all the reasons why we shouldn’t do this, and reality would come crashing down on both of us.

His thumb grazed the length of my jaw as he tilted his head, taking more as I pushed him against the car. Panting, he gasped as I pressed my hips into his. My fingers twisted in his hair as the evidence of his arousal pressed along the length of my hard dick. There was no question of whether he wanted this, no more hesitation as his hands fell to my ass, grabbing and grinding his body against me.

“Fuck,” he whispered against my ear as I bit his jaw and sucked on his neck.

His skin was salty, the thin mist of sweat heavy on my tongue as I licked the hollow below his Adam’s apple. I wanted more. I wanted to bury my nose in his groin, inhale his musky scent, taste the first drops of pre-come as they leaked from his slit. Intoxicated by the thought, I forgot myself, and lowered my hand to the bulge in his jeans. I forgot we were standing in the middle of a parking lot, forgot that he could come to his senses, and I’d never get a chance to be with him like this ever again. But his forehead fell to my shoulder, his hands grasping at the sides of my shirt as he moaned and pushed his erection into the palm of my hand. The evening sun had set, casting us both in the muted light of the streetlamps like we were the only two people left in the city, even if that was far from the truth, this was private. It was for us. For him.

Donovan shuddered against me as I worked my hand up and down, taking his mouth with mine, his teeth sinking into my bottom lip as he hissed out a low groan.

“Come home with me,” I whispered, and immediately wished I hadn’t said a fucking word.

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