STORY EXCERPT

Flint McIntyre had to stop making up excuses to come into the library. Stalking the totally sexy librarian was only going to end with him jacking off in the shower. Again. No way would super cutie Mr. Donatello get involved with a student. He simply wasn’t that kind of guy. But damn, if he was, what fun they could have.

Mr. Donatello looked like the kid who played Harry Potter all grown up. Way grown up. Into a Clark Kent kind of guy who was pretending to be mild mannered when underneath his conservative clothing he was really a superhero—of lust. He also had a Sherlock Holmes thing going on with his incredible memory.

Flint was aware of the fact that in his brain, he mixed his literary, movie, and graphic-novel heroes. Having muddled through adolescence with all three modes of media, he simply couldn’t help himself.

“Have you finished your report?” Mr. Donatello pushed up his glasses then finger combed his longish brown hair back. He performed this gesture about every fifteen minutes. By the end of the day, Flint just bet his hair smelled like the hand lotion he used. It had a scent that Flint couldn’t identify but totally made him bonkers. Flint would give his left nut just to be close enough to smell the man’s hair. As it was, Flint was sitting at the table nearest to the main desk so he could pretend to study when he was really checking out his crush and debating whether or not to follow through with his crazy plan. Mr. Donatello was still sitting behind the main counter that encased his desk.

“Uh, yeah. Well, I guess I need to check a few more facts.” Flint had done various reports for classes he wasn’t even taking. Mainly, he just came into the library to aggravate his hormones. In his lusty dreams, Mr. Donatello told him they needed to get down to the really important research, and then he dropped to his knees to suck Flint’s cock. After an exclamation of pleasurable surprise, Mr. Donatello would pull off and toss his glasses aside, saying he wouldn’t need them to see something as big as Flint’s prick. According to his teammates, who nicknamed Flint’s penis the rectum wrecker, his dick was one of the seven wonders of the world and visible from space. Of course, Mr. Donatello would never say anything so crass. Mr. Donatello would probably say something in Italian, something that sounded sexy but was raunchy as hell. And then he’d open that beautiful mouth of his and—

“Can I help you find something?” Mr. Donatello rose from his chair and moved over to where Flint was sitting. Rather than talking to him across the table, he came around to the side where Flint was sitting. Mr. Donatello was now standing right next to him.

For a moment, Flint just stared up at the librarian. Keeping his mind split between fantasy and reality was not as easy as it should be. Not when it was late, it was dark outside, and Mr. Donatello was so close Flint was able to smell that his breath was flavored from the peppermint tea he favored. If only the man would lean closer, Flint could test his theory about Mr. Donatello’s hair.

“Mr. McIntyre?”

“Flint. Uh, everyone calls me Flint.”

Mr. Donatello grinned and nodded. “Is it all right with you if I do?”

“Yeah.” Fuck yeah was what Flint really wanted to say, but he held himself back. Hearing this man say his name would give him all kinds of new elements to add to his fantasies, but swearing would garner him a reprimand. He smiled wryly. Maybe that could be fun, too. Flint imagined himself bent over the main desk as Mr. Donatello lightly paddled his ass with a yardstick.

“It’s such a unique name.” Mr. Donatello smiled and then waved good-bye to Jeffery O’Dwyer, who worked part-time in the library for work-study.

Flint would just about kill to have that job. Well, having that job would probably kill him. What with his hang-up on—“What’s your name?” Fuck! He couldn’t believe he’d just asked. Students did not casually call their teachers by their first names. Technically, Mr. D wasn’t a teacher, but still. Twin Pines College was pretty hip and all, but that was not how faculty was addressed.

“My name is Victor.”

“Victor.” Ah, yeah. To have a name to add to the wicked dreams was like giving a crack addict another rock. Before he could drift off into his rich fantasy land, Flint kept his focus on the here and now by talking. “I like it. It suits you.”

“Does it?” Victor pulled out the chair next to Flint, turned it so the seat faced Flint’s direction, and then he sat. He kept his knees together and crossed his legs at the ankle. This made Flint’s gaze run from his leather loafers, up his sleek woolen trousers, right to the bulge—“I’ve never given my name much thought. May I ask why your parents named you Flint? It’s so atypical and interesting.”

When most guys asked, Flint told them he was so dubbed with the name because he was hard and unyielding, just like stone. Usually, after delivering that line, he grasped their hands and showed them what he meant. At six foot eight and three hundred pounds, there weren’t many men Flint couldn’t pin to the nearest wall. But he barely got his mouth open to tell that little story to Victor when he blushed madly.

Up went the brow over Victor’s right eye. “Is the tale an iniquitous one?”

Normally chattier than a sixteen-year-old girl on espresso, Flint found himself utterly tongue-tied. Mr. Donatello was close enough for Flint to see that there were golden rings around the warm brown of his irises. Flint could fall into eyes like that and just stare at them for days. Especially if they happened to be below his thrusting body. Watching Victor’s eyes widen, narrow, and then roll back as orgasms ripped through him would be the best sight Flint would probably ever see.

But Victor Donatello was part of the faculty.

That made him off-limits.

It also made him three times more desirable.

ADULT EXCERPT

“If I do anything to you that you don’t like, I want you to tell me to stop.” Flint opened Victor’s belt, popped the button on the waistband of his pants, then eased down the zipper of Victor’s trousers. Pushing the edges of his pants apart, Flint stroked Victor’s prick through the thin fabric of his boxers.

Victor drew a deep breath through his nose and pressed into the seatback to steady himself. He tried to say something along the lines of ‘I don’t like this,’ or ‘I don’t want this,’ but no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t make his mouth obey his brain. Somewhere along the line there was a short circuit. Or maybe the truth of the matter was Flint was doing exactly what Victor wanted.

Encouraged by his silence, Flint pushed down his briefs and stroked Victor’s cock directly. The rough texture of Flint’s hands was a marvelous contrast against the smooth skin of his shaft.

“Uncut. What a wonderful discovery.” Flint lowered his head and teased his tongue along the sensitive foreskin, sucking the flesh into his mouth, slipping his tongue underneath.

To stop himself from bucking, Victor grasped the seatback in one fist and the door pocket in the other. He squeezed with all his might. Just like in the library, his urge to climax gripped him fast and furious. His balls were high and tight. As if he knew, Flint eased back on the intensity of his torment.

“Lift up.”

Instinctively, Victor obeyed.

Flint pulled Victor’s clothing down. Now he had total access to Victor’s cock and balls. Between his talented tongue and teasing fingers, Flint had Victor whimpering in mere moments.

“You’ve proven your point!” Victor thought he would stop, but he didn’t. Flint kept right on tormenting him. Before Victor knew it, Flint had pushed his pants down to his knees so that he could spread his legs apart. Flint lifted him up and slipped his finger between Victor’s cheeks.

“Oh, God!” Victor climaxed in a torrent. Flint drank him deeply by using his lips to apply unrelenting suction to the head of Victor’s cock as his finger toyed with the sensitive flesh of his bottom. Just when Victor thought he’d sucked him dry, Flint pressed his big finger inside and roughly fucked Victor’s hole, releasing another gush into his mouth.

Drained, Victor slumped against the door.

Grinning, Flint rose up until he was looking right in Victor’s eyes. Deliberately, he licked his lips. “I didn’t hear you say—”

Victor grasped his head, yanked him close, and kissed him. The taste of his own pleasure on Flint’s tongue was sublime. Possessed with superhuman strength, Victor held Flint to him and kissed him until they were both breathing hard through their noses.

Tearing his mouth away, Victor gasped, “I want to taste you.” He released the button at the top of Flint’s jeans then pulled down the zipper. His massive cock slipped out of the flaps of fabric, totally unhindered by any kind of underwear. Victor’s mouth watered. He licked his lips. And he descended on Flint’s cock like a man finding an oasis after a week spent wandering the desert.

“Fuck!” Flint clung to the seatback just like Victor had. He didn’t need to see Flint grasp the bench seat, because Victor felt Flint’s powerful hands gripping so hard he tightened up the seat cover against Victor’s body.

Into his mouth he sucked the head of Flint’s glorious prick. Victor loved the sweet taste of pre-cum around the tip. God, he was so big he could barely get the circumference in his mouth, but Victor was pleased and determined to try. The rumors he heard were more than true. Flint’s prick was beyond big. And yet, when Victor held the picture of Flint in his mind, his prick was in perfect proportion to his body.

“Suck my cock. Ah, yeah. Wrap your beautiful lips around my prick and drink me.” Flint lifted his hand from the seatback and settled it against the top of Victor’s head. He didn’t force him, but teased his fingers through his hair. “I want to watch you.”

Victor had no idea what he meant until he turned the overhead cab light on. At first Victor panicked, worrying that anyone passing by would see, but they were in the middle of nowhere. The odds of anyone driving by were slim. The odds of anyone passing them who knew either one of them were slimmer still. So Victor kept on going.