L. A. Witt - Rules 1 - Rules of Engagement (23 page)

We exchanged winks, and I left.

On the way out to the parking lot, I pulled his key out of my pocket and turned it in my hand. As far as I knew, he only had one house key on his ring. Now I had it, with the implicit trust that I wouldn’t lock him out of his own apartment or rob him clean.

Most people wouldn’t hand off their key like that to a total stranger or a casual fuck that they barely knew. Of course, we had moved past being little more than strangers, but there was something almost unnerving about the implied intimacy of that gesture.

I wondered if he’d done it in the heat of the moment without thinking about it, or if he really had thought it through. As near as I could tell, Brandon didn’t do much by accident. Everything he did was planned. Analyzed. Calculated in his mind from every possible angle and executed just like one of his combo shots on the pool table.

Maybe I was reading too much into it, but Brandon didn’t strike me as the type to give his key to just anyone and send them to his apartment.

Maybe that meant I wasn’t just anyone to him anymore. And for the life of me, I couldn’t decide how I felt about that.

 

I
KEYED
myself into Brandon’s apartment and left the front door unlocked behind me.

The familiar apartment was eerily quiet. My boot heels clicked on the linoleum of the entryway, echoing in the empty room as I went into the kitchen and set the key on the counter.

My cell phone beeped, the shrill sound startling me in the silent apartment. I pulled it out of my pocket and flipped it open.

New text message.
My heart skipped.
Leaving now. Be there in twenty.

I grinned, checking the time before I put my phone away. It was just before six. Leaning against the pool table, I drummed my fingers, wondering exactly where I should wait for him. He wanted me to stay dressed. Knowing him, he wanted the boots to stay on too, but I’d polished them that morning, so I didn’t dare put them up on his bed. Ditto with his couch.

Looking around, I pursed my lips. Wherever I was when he got home, I doubted we would get much further. If his kiss was any indication, this was going to be a “lying where we fell” fuck. I shivered.

Might as well be prepared, then.
In the bedroom, I grabbed a couple of condoms and the lube and went back down the hall. I set them on the coffee table and sat on the couch. And waited.

The clock above his television announced that less than ten minutes had elapsed since his text message. Seven minutes after six. I shifted. The anticipation—and a hell of a hard-on—made sitting uncomfortable, so I got up. Paced.

 

Nine minutes after six.

I paused and drummed my fingers on the pool table again, wondering if this was part of a devilish plot on his part to make me squirm like I’d done to him in the classroom. For all I knew, he was in his car, in the parking lot, letting me twist in the wind for a while before he came in.

Six ten.
I thought of the way he kissed me in his office. The looks he gave me in the classroom when he didn’t think anyone noticed. The way he gasped when I gave his cock a teasing squeeze.

If he was sitting out in the parking lot, drawing this out to torment me, then he had much, much more self-control than I did.

Six twelve.
Because I was losing my mind.

Gripping the sides of the pool table to stop the shaking in my hands, I closed my eyes and took a long breath, exhaling slowly through my nose. Outside, an approaching car engine accelerated my heart rate. As it passed without stopping, my heart slowed again.

Silence.

 

Another car approached. My pulse raced. The car passed. I exhaled again, willing myself to calm down. He’d be there soon enough Six fourteen.

Soon enough, my eye
. I scratched the back of my neck. Shifted my weight. Drummed the pool table.
Turnabout is definitely fair play, Brandon. Now hurry the hell up
.

Six seventeen.
Any second. Any fucking second. Any—

An engine approached, slowing down. Changed direction. Brakes squeaked. The engine died.
When the car door slammed, my heart jumped into my throat. I held onto the edge of the pool table as my knees shook.

Footsteps outside.

No keys jingling, no testing the doorknob to see if it was locked: He turned it and pushed it open without any kind of hesitation. He knew it would be open, just as he knew I would be there waiting for him.

“About damned time,” I said, pushing myself off of the table and coming to him.

“Got here as soon as I could.” He pulled me into a kiss, his fingers grasping my hair and my shirt. I slid my hands under his shirt, desperate to touch his skin.

He stepped back and took his shirt off, then reached for mine. After my shirt was gone, he went for his belt, and I started with my own, but he stopped my hand, gently grasping my wrist.

“Leave all of that on,” he said, eyeing my remaining clothes. My eyebrows jumped. I looked at him, uncertain.
He grinned and put his arms around me, the warmth of his hands

on my back and his chest against me taking my breath away as he kissed me again. His lips moved down to my neck. “You look so fucking hot like that,” he murmured. “I don’t want you to take it off yet.”

Running my fingers through his hair, I let my head fall back as he kissed my neck and my collarbone. He wanted my clothes to stay on, but I needed to fuck him. Biting my lip, trying to contain my frustration, I watched him step back and strip.

With his clothes out of the way, he put his arms around me again. Kissing me deeply, he backed me up against the pool table, hooking his thumbs in my belt loops and pulling my hips towards him.

“I want to fuck you,” I said.

“I know.” He reached between us and unbuckled my belt. “And you will. But first….” He glanced down, unbuttoning each of the five buttons of my fly, deliberately running his fingers up and down the outline of my cock as he did. He looked up at me, grinning. “I told you I have a thing for camouflage.” His eyes darted to my chest, then back up. “And dog tags.”

I swallowed, putting a hand on his shoulder and the other behind me on the table to steady myself as he wrapped his fingers around my cock. Groaning softly, I let my head fall back and gasped when the warmth of his lips found the underside of my jaw.

“You’re going to fuck me,” he said, kissing my skin tenderly. “Just like this.”

 

“Still dressed?”

 

He laughed. “Absolutely.” He dropped to his knees and put his lips around the head of my cock.

“Oh Jesus,” I moaned, grasping his hair as he stroked and sucked me. With every flick of his tongue and squeeze of his lips, I was coming unglued. I needed to fuck him. Right then. Another minute and I was going to lose my mind completely. Through my intense arousal, I tried to remember where I’d put the condoms and lube. My eyes darted around the room, and my heart jumped when I saw the bottle and foil packets on the coffee table a few feet away.

“Get up here,” I said, not sure if I sounded like I was begging or commanding. Maybe a little of both. Didn’t matter. Needed to fuck him.

He stood and I kissed him, then said, “Don’t move.” I started towards the coffee table.

“What are you—” He paused, evidently figuring out what I was going for.
As soon as the condom was on and I’d put enough lube on it, I turned him around and pushed him up against the table with my hips. The table creaked with the sudden shift of our combined weight. He moaned, almost whimpered, and shivered.

In spite of my own desperate need to be inside him, it seemed I’d gained the upper hand, and I wanted to tease him a bit. Slowly, I ran my hands up and down his sides, kissing the back of his neck as I pushed my cock against him.

“You wanted me to fuck you in your office, didn’t you?” I whispered.
He moaned. “I wanted you to fuck me the minute I walked into the room and—” He sucked in a breath as I flicked my tongue across his spine, working my way down his back, all the while pushing gently with my cock, but not enough to actually get inside him.

I kissed his shoulder. “You wanted me to bend you over that desk and fuck you, didn’t you?”

His breath caught. “As soon as I saw you, I wanted you to fuck me.”
“Then my plan worked perfectly.” I reached around his hip and stroked his cock as I gently nudged him to lean forward. I drew the tip of my tongue up the center of his back and shivers ran up my own spine as he gasped and his muscles rippled.

Steadying him with a hand on the small of his back, I pressed my cock against him, teasing him. I wanted to be inside him, but I couldn’t pass up this chance to watch the way he writhed and trembled with anticipation. He pushed his hips back against me, a frustrated growl emerging from his throat as I pulled away. His shoulders tensed and his fingers clawed at the felt on the table.

A muffled jingle caught my attention. Brandon tensed, moaning softly as my dog tags hit his back. I laughed. “You really do like dog tags, don’t you?”

“God, yes,” he said. “And you just
had
to tease me with them in the classroom, you fucker.”
“I would never do such a thing just to tease and torment you.” I let them run up the center of his spine, grinning as he gasped and trembled. “
Never
.”

“Yes, you would,” he moaned. “And if you don’t fuck me, I swear—” He gasped as I pushed against him, giving him just the head of my cock.

I suppressed a groan, tried not to let him see how badly I was shaking. “You’ll what?”

 

“Fuck me, Dustin,” he pleaded.

 

“I can’t hear you.” Slid in a little more, pulled back. “Say it, Brandon. Tell me what—”

 

“
Fuck me, now
.”

 

I did. We both groaned as I finally gave him my entire cock, his hips moving back to meet me each time I thrust into him.

 

“Oh God,” he moaned.

It felt incredible, but something was missing. When he let his head fall forward and released a soft groan, I realized what it was: I couldn’t see his face. I was
addicted
to the look on his face while we fucked. I needed to see what he was feeling.

“Turn around,” I said through my teeth.
He didn’t protest.

I pulled out, and he turned around, kissing me and taking me down with him as he lay back on the table. We both groaned as I slowly pushed back into him. It was the perfect height for me and raised his hips at just the right angle.

Resting my weight on my forearms, I moved from the hips as we kissed and fucked. He moaned into my kiss as his fingers ran through my hair, and I pounded him harder. When I raised myself up a bit, and I could see his face, I was instantly on the edge. Just watching the way his lips parted and his jaw quivered with each gasp and moan was enough to send me into orbit.

He tried to speak. Couldn’t. Tried again. Finally, he managed a deep groan, then said, “
Harder
.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” I gritted my teeth as I tried to hold my own orgasm back, flattening my hands on the table beside him to hold myself up as I slammed into him, fucking him hard and fast. My dog tags swung in time with my rapid strokes, clicking and jingling in harmony with the creaking of the pool table each time they hit his chest.

He looked down at them, then at me. When he wetted his lips, I shuddered, my body reacting as if he’d run his tongue across my cock.

“I’m getting close,” I said. “Oh God, I’m getting close….” “Oh, fuck, Dustin,” he said, holding onto my shoulders. “Fuck, I’m—” But he didn’t have a chance to finish the thought before his back arched beneath us and he came. I struggled to keep my rhythm steady, my knees weakening as he cursed and called out my name. He

pulled me down to kiss him. The breathless hunger of his kiss and the wet heat of his semen between our chests was too much, and seconds after his mouth met mine, I broke the kiss with a gasp, drove myself into him, and came.
“Oh my God, oh fuck, Brandon,” I moaned, trembling and

gasping for breath as my orgasm peaked and tapered. Slowly, I collapsed against him, letting my head fall beside his. He stroked my hair and the back of my neck with his fingertips, making me shiver.

I finally raised my head and kissed him, running my fingers through his hair as he did the same to me. “Do I get a passing grade for that?”

He laughed. “If this is what happens whenever you show up in my class,” he said, kissing me gently, “you’d damn well better be there tomorrow.”