Page 64 of The Summer Intern

Casey's fingers dug into my shoulders as I established a rhythm—deep, measured thrusts that had us both panting.Each stroke was a rediscovery, a reminder of how perfectly we fit together, how his body welcomed mine as if designed for it.

I angled my hips to hit that spot inside him that made his back arch off the bed, made his cock twitch and leak onto his stomach.The noises he made—half-curses, half-pleas—drove me wild, urged me to move faster, thrust harder.

"Touch yourself," I commanded, voice strained with the effort of maintaining control."Want to see you come on my cock."

Casey's hand moved between us, wrapping around his length, stroking in time with my thrusts.The sight was erotic beyond words—his flushed face, his hair wild against my pillow, his talented fingers working his cock while I fucked into him.

"Feels so good," he gasped, the other hand grasping at my bicep, feeling the flex of muscle with each movement."Your piercings—fuck—so good, Matt."

I increased my pace, feeling the familiar tightening at the base of my spine that signaled my approaching orgasm.Casey's breathing grew more erratic, his strokes faster, clumsier.He was close too.

"Come for me," I urged, grinding deep, making sure my piercings dragged against his prostate."Let me see you, Casey."

His body tensed beneath mine, his back arching impossibly higher as his release hit him.Hot stripes of cum painted his stomach and chest as he cried out—a sound so raw and unguarded it pushed me right to the edge.

"Missed you," he choked out in the midst of his orgasm, the words clearly escaping before he could censor them."Missed you so fucking much."

The admission, more than the physical sensation, sent me over.I thrust deep one final time, holding myself there as pleasure crashed through me in waves.I emptied myself inside him, marking him in the most primal way possible, claiming him even as I knew our time was limited.

As the intensity faded and our breathing began to normalize, I carefully lowered myself beside him, gathering his sweat-slick body against mine.Neither of us spoke for several minutes, content to exist in the afterglow, in the simple fact of being together again.

Casey's head rested on my chest, his fingers tracing idle patterns through the light dusting of hair.I stroked his back, feeling each vertebra, marveling at how someone so sharp-edged could feel so soft in my arms.

"I didn't think you'd use the keys," I admitted finally, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He stiffened but didn't pull away."Yeah, well.Your place is warmer."

I smiled against his hair, recognizing the lie for what it was—a shield against vulnerability."Of course.Very practical."

Casey huffed but snuggled closer, contradicting his own performance of indifference.And in that moment, with his warm weight against me and the scent of sex hanging in the air, I admitted to myself what I'd been avoiding for weeks: I was in love with him.Completely, utterly in love with this prickly, brilliant, beautiful man who would be leaving at summer's end.

twenty-five

Casey

Theweeksofcampwere flying by, much faster than they had any right to, and the raucous sounds of the bonfire's singalong—an end of session tradition—still rang in my ears, reminding me of the passage of time as I slouched on the worn wooden bench, watching the bonfire spit and crackle.

Matt's shoulder pressed against mine.The touch was casual and familiar, making my skin buzz beneath my sweater.Not that I'd let him know.Around us, the last stragglers of campers and counselors filtered away, their excited chatter fading into the woods like smoke.The night had gone better than I'd expected—my music students hadn't completely butchered their performances—but the satisfaction curling through my chest felt dangerous, like something that would hurt when it eventually disappeared.

"What's that face for?"Matt asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

"I don't make faces," I muttered, kicking at a pinecone near my boot.The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks into the night air.They danced upward, little orange comets against the darkness, before winking out.

Matt chuckled, the sound rumbling through the small space between us."Sure you don't."

I watched the last group of junior counselors herd their chattering campers toward the dormitories, their flashlight beams bobbing like fireflies among the trees.The talent show had run later than planned—my fault, partly.I'd let my guitar students add one more song to their set, and then the dance group wanted to perform their encore, and somehow we'd stretched past curfew.

Matt didn't seem to mind.He'd stayed planted on that bench through every performance, clapping louder than necessary whenever one of my students took the stage.Now he was extending that same patience, waiting for the area to clear before dousing the bonfire.

"We'll be here a while," he said, glancing at the thinning crowd."Fire this size needs to burn down before I can safely put it out."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak when he shifted closer and draped his arm across my shoulders.His palm curved around my upper arm, thumb absently stroking the worn fabric of my cargo sweater.The heat from his body rivaled the fire's warmth.

"Cold?"he asked.

"I'm fine," I said automatically, though I leaned into him.The dancing flames cast shifting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, softening the creases around his eyes.Those blue eyes that somehow managed to look right through my carefully constructed armor.

"I was blown away by the progress your music students made just over the course of this session," he said, his eyes reflecting the fire as he turned to look at me.

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