Page 56 of Bad Boy

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Do I care?

I lean forward and take a bite of the gooey concoction instead. If only to please him. The burst of sweet flavors on my tongue has me closing my eyes and humming while I chew.

“Good boy.”

His voice is low, sounding smooth like honey, and I whimper, forgetting where we are for a moment. No one can hear us over the crackling flames and hushed murmurs of multiple conversations.

“Let’s go home,” I say, feeling brave.

Remi stuffs the entire s’more into his mouth and jumps to his feet in one smooth motion.

I burst out laughing at his antics, drawing attention from the surrounding students. And Dr. Benson. The more time I spend around my new friend, the less I care what others think, including my parents. Well. . . I’m still working on that one. It’s only been a week.

* * *

Remi and I are relaxed on the back porch of our cabin overlooking the ravine. The fairy lights are on, and the hot tub bubbles with an impressive rainbow light display. Steam hovers above the surface, cocooning us in our own little world.

I’m enjoying the rum and Coke Remi made. It’s not too strong this time, and we’re getting high again because. . . well, because Remi insists that he needs it after today. And judging by the black eye that’s starting to darken, I think he’s probably right. And me? I’m just going with the flow for once in my life. If my new friend wants to get high, then so do I.

He licks the joint paper before sealing it, his wet tongue gliding along the edge, teasing me as I visualize what else he can do with it.

Remi finishes rolling the joint and offers it to me, warm water bubbling around us. I hold it with the dry part of my lips as Remi cups his hand and flicks the lighter.

“Take two small puffs until you see the cherry glow red.”

Following his directions, I get the joint going, and I don’t even cough this time.

I pass it to Remi and slink down into the bubbling water, letting the jets soothe my sore muscles from hiking all day. I close my eyes, leaning against the headrest. Pot and alcohol swirl in my system, the steam fogging up my head until I nearly slip under the water as I start to doze off.

“Whoa. Whoa.” Remi slips a strong hand under my armpit and hoists me up, holding the joint up and out of the water with his other.

“Don’t pass out in a hot tub, Preppy,” he scolds before placing the joint between his lips and, using both hands to lift me up, lets the water guide me until I’m straddling his lap face-to-face. I make an embarrassing squeak at being manhandled like this, but my dick starts to fill and presses against his. We didn’t bring swim trunks, so we’re both in underwear, only the thin, wet fabric separating us.

Feeling brave, I take the joint from his lips and stub it out in the ashtray he set on the deck railing. I grab his face and kiss him hard, rocking my hips into him. My cock automatically seeks friction.

The playlist switches to a new song. The slow, sensual sounds of “Push Up” by Ne-Yo and Trippie Redd pour out of the hot tub’s built-in Bluetooth speakers.

Remi takes control, his tongue spearing into my mouth, leaving me breathless. His hand rubs my back up and down, caressing me before going lower, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my boxer briefs.

I pull my mouth from his, trailing kisses along his sharp jawline to his ear. I nibble and bite and grind my dick against him shamelessly.

“Touch me,” I moan.

His nimble fingers descend until they slip between my crease, ghosting over my hole. I spread my legs wider, arching my back and begging for more.

He rubs and circles, and we kiss messily, but he never applies more pressure like I want him to. I want to know what it feels like. Ineedto know what it feels like.

“Remi,” I whine.

“We need lube, Preppy.”

I push back against his fingers. “No. It’s fine. The water’s fine.”

Groaning like it pains him to do so, he slips his hand out of my underwear, resting his forehead against mine.

“You’re killing me, Linc. We need lube. I won’t hurt you.” His voice is deep and velvety, full of emotion stronger than simple lust. It’s a heady feeling.

“Bedroom. Now,” he demands.