Page 72 of Your Only Fan
Isaac
God, the way his face sinks with just a simple word almost kills me. It’s as painful as it is beautiful to see it.
But I put him out of his misery.
“I would love to be your boyfriend,” I tell him. “But—”
“But what? What is it? Anything. I’ll doanything.”
There must be some real big-ass butterflies in my stomach because the way it flutters makes me sick with the cuteness he’s projecting.
I love seeing this new side of him. I wonder how many more sides he has that I haven’t yet seen.
“Is it my career? I’ll stop it. Just say the word, and I’ll bring my page down right now,” he says.
“Stop, Ezra. Relax,” I tell him, a hand rubbing at his cheek and taking in the joy of being able to hold him, no holds barred.
“I thought you wanted me. I thought you loved me, too,” he says, and my heart breaks at need in his voice.
Boy, how the tables have turned.
“It’s not a bad but,” I explain. “I just… I’d like to do things right from now on. Before we go public.”
“What does that mean? Right?” he asks.
Maybe I can torture him a little longer. That puppy face is too adorable to get rid of it so quickly.
“Right means something that’s correct. Something acceptable,” I say as his gaze furrows. “Fine. Fine.” I laugh. “I want to report our relationship to the dean. So neither of us gets in trouble.”
“Oh,” he breathes out, and I take pleasure breathing him in. “You scared the crap out of me. Jerk.”
“Hey,” I whine and push his shoulder.
“My jerk,” he corrects.
“That’s better. But still. If you want food, you better be on good behavior, mister.”
He smacks his lips shut and smiles, his cheeks balling up in a cute way that makes his face puffy.
“I’ll be the perfect little boy,” he says.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” I slap his cheek a couple of times, and I feel his dick prod at my stomach. “We better get out of bed if I’m going to feed you because I can’t promise I’ll let you go until morning if we don’t go now.”
With a heavy, rumbly groan he gets off me, and I stand up. We both put our underwear back on, and I run off to the kitchen when he starts a tickle war. He doesn’t fight fair. That’s for sure.
My fridge is full of goodies. Since we started sleeping together, I’ve been filling up my shopping cart a lot more than usual. Even on nights we didn’t see each other, I’d whip up a quick dish and eat in front of the TV.
“What does my king fancy?” I ask him when he stands next to me in front of the fridge.
“King?” he wiggles an eyebrow.
I slap his butt and look at the contents.
“Stop distracting me.”
He does the same, and after a few minutes, he turns back to me.
“Can you make that… that rice you made the other week? With the beans and the ham?”
