Page 38 of Full Service

I snort as I unbutton my shirt and move to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of wine. My mind wanders to Everly, and I wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he in class? Studying? Or is he at the club dancing?

I most certainly shouldn’t go there in this weather to check. I drew the line already. With permanent marker. I won’t be crossing it again.

I pull my shirt off all the way and toss it onto the couch, running a hand down my warm skin and straight down into my pants.

I should definitely not get off to thoughts of him again, but I do. I end up on my bed, my leg pulled up to my chest, a vibrating dildo up my ass as I fuck my hand.

And of course, Everly is the one on my mind, his beautiful ass on display, the smell of him, the taste. I explode across my bare chest with his name on my lips and then lie there in my own blissful shame until I finally fall asleep.

I didn’t cross a line doing that.

I most definitely didn’t.

But even so, I won’t be doing it again.

The rain hasn’t stopped. It’s been carrying on like a drama queen, not even letting up for a minute. Just a constant, steady downpour overnight and into the next day. Some professors have canceled classes, but I refuse. A little rain never hurt anyone.

Or so I think.

Until I stride into the library and see Everly at a desk in the corner with a very handsome athletic man in a basketball jersey and shorts. And the man is wet, nearly dripping, looking like sex incarnate. Like he just stepped out of a shower and forgot his towel.

My ass twinges and flexes, remembering that dildo up my ass last night, pretending it was Everly’s cock. How pathetic. I’m thirty-five, old and tired. And here Everly is, not thinking about me at all. No, he’s leaning forward and pressing far too close to another man his own age. I notice Everly’s shirt is wet, his hair too, like he stood in the rain a little too long.

My cock twitches, obviously not getting the hint that Everly is preoccupied with a younger and much hotter man than me.

I force my gaze away and make my way down another aisle, only occasionally peering through the books at him, watching as he laughs softly at something the other man says and lays his hand on his forearm.

Something ugly and mean surges up inside of me.

I don’t own him, don’t have any right to feel this way, and yet I do.

Something in my brain yells that he’s mine.

Mine.

I force my gaze away and continue walking aimlessly down the aisle, having completely forgotten why I was here in the first place. I rack my brain, trying to remember what in the hell I’m doing in the library.

In a moment of clarity, I remember that I was going to request a book from another university and with a somewhat sound mind, I make my way back up to the front desk. But not before glancing over my shoulder and watching as the guy presses his forehead to Everly’s shoulder and Everly gently pats his head.

This is too much PDA for the library. This is a scholarly environment.

I should sound an alarm.

But before I can, Everly glances up at me and I quickly turn away, forcing myself to not turn back around and glower. I refuse. I will not show him how annoyed I am that he’s touching someone else.

I’m an adult.

This is not how someone my age behaves.

So with straight shoulders, I place my order with the front desk and then with purposeful steps make my way through the rain and back to my office, where I sit in my chair and pout.

I should be working, should be answering emails, or even grading, but instead, I just stare at the door and frown.

Stupid Everly and his stupid ass.

Of course that jock is attracted to him. Everly is hot, incinerating. Any and all straightness that guy may have felt would have been burned right off. And of course Everly is interested in a muscled athlete. That’s probably his type. Not boring old me who eats salads and wears ugly ties to work.

My hand runs down my face, and I stare at the clock. I have class in an hour and I need to prep, but I have zero motivation.