In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(51)

I cry out, and Rex pulls me up, locking his arms around my shoulders to maintain his angle. Every thrust bumps my prostate and I have no control over my body. I feel lightheaded, like every nerve is being strummed with Rex’s strokes. He rotates his hips and drives into me, then freezes there for a long moment, letting me feel the pulse of his erection, letting me feel how completely he fills me.

“Please,” I gasp out, and Rex moans. I can feel him shaking above me.

“Daniel,” he says shakily.

Then he rears back and slams into me, grabbing my cock for the first time since he began his massage. The second he touches me, I’m done for. He pumps my shaft once, twice, three times, and then I’m coming in his hand, the pleasure washing through my whole body. My orgasm seems to go on even after he’s wrung every jet of come from me, echoes of pleasure pulsing in my balls and through my ass. Then Rex is coming, his strokes growing short and hard. He thrusts himself deep inside me and moans brokenly, freezing in orgasm. Then his hips pulse a few more times as he presses the last of himself inside me.

I’m trembling from pleasure and can’t catch my breath, but as Rex lowers himself on top of me, still softening inside me, I realize that I’m more relaxed than I’ve ever been.

“Jesus,” Rex mutters as he slides out of me and drops the condom into the garbage can. I can’t even open my eyes. I’m still on my stomach where I collapsed, Rex’s sticky hand trapped between my belly and the bed. I roll onto my side a little and Rex wipes his hand on the flannel sheets. He snugs up behind me and kisses the back of my neck avidly, then slides his arm under my neck so he can wrap both arms around my chest. “Fuck,” he says, as his spent cock brushes up against my ass and gives a little twitch. I moan absently and tuck my knees up. Rex nestles his groin against my ass and squeezes me tight.

I want to thank him for the massage, for relaxing me, and for what was definitely the best sex of my life, but I’m too relaxed to say a word.




I FEEL like my head is going to explode out my eyeballs and, when it does, I’m not even going to move; I’m just going to lie here with no head and no eyeballs. I’ve been in the library since I finished teaching at 2:00 p.m. I’m starving and there’s no way I can do even one more hour of work on this conference paper. It’s only Wednesday, and the week already feels endless, the relaxation of Rex’s homey cabin and warm hands nothing but a memory.

I need to get some dinner, go home, and put myself the hell to bed if I want to finish this tomorrow. I gather my stuff and trudge downstairs.

“Daniel?”

I spin around and find myself face to face with Rex—well, face to throat; damn, he’s tall.

“Hi,” I say, smiling at him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m just picking up some things, and I needed to look up some stuff.” Well, that was specific. I nod, though, too tired to press him. “What are you working on?” He guides me over to the bench next to the wall and brings me down next to him. I lean into him a little.

“I have to give a paper at this conference in Detroit on Saturday. It’s the biggest annual conference in my field and my panel got accepted over the summer, which is great, but I kind of forgot about it, what with moving and teaching and everything. Then this morning I looked at my calendar and realized it’s, you know, really soon.”

Even as I’m telling Rex this, my stomach is tightening. It’s the first panel that I’ve proposed that has been accepted at a really prestigious conference, and I was jazzed about working on a new project when I wrote the abstract. Of course, sitting down this morning to start writing it, realizing I only have a few days, is a different story.

“I’ve got to finish it tomorrow so I can practice it and time it. Then I’m driving down Friday afternoon and coming back Sunday. I can’t believe I left it this long. I just started it this afternoon. It’s going to be crap because I’m throwing it together.”

My stomach lets out an audible rumble even though I’ve moved past hunger to sheer anxiety. I’m blocking out hours in my head as I talk—three hours for teaching tomorrow, then I can work on the paper, then I need to do laundry so I have clean clothes for the conference; I should definitely check my car before I leave—and I miss something Rex says.

“Sorry,” I say, “what?”

Rex narrows his eyes at me.

“I said when was the last time you ate?”

“Um. Breakfast?” I say. Which is technically true, even though breakfast was half a bagel I found in my bag from yesterday.

“Daniel, it’s after seven.” When Rex gets worried, that damned wrinkle in the middle of his forehead comes out—the one I can’t help but associate with his face clenched in pleasure. I reach out absently and smooth it with my finger. His expression softens.

“Hi,” I say, and I kiss him. I don’t generally kiss in libraries, it’s true, but no one can see us, and I can’t resist touching him when he’s this close.

He smiles and squeezes my hand. “Hi. So, can I take you to get some food?”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I say. “I was just going to grab something on my way home. I’m gonna crash out early, I think, since I have to try and finish this tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he says neutrally. “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow?”