The Professor’s Date (The Script Club #5) Read Online Lane Hayes

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Script Club Series by Lane Hayes
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
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He gripped my shoulders for purchase and pistoned his hips.

“Oh, yes. Oh, fuck. More. Please. More.”

Thomas lifted one leg onto the sofa, thrusting wildly, then bucking when his rhythm faltered. “I’m close.”

“Stop. I want to taste you.”

Thomas froze and next thing I knew, I was on the floor between his thighs. He tore the condom off and pressed his cock against my lips. I breathed in the scent of his eminent release as we both stroked ourselves to oblivion. He looked utterly debauched, wearing nothing but black socks, his glasses slipping on his nose as he pounded his cock. I kissed the tip of his cock, then sucked my middle finger and pressed it against his hole.

“I’m…oh, Noah. I’m…”

I should have taken him in my mouth, but I was too mesmerized to act. This was new territory. I hadn’t touched his ass at all. I didn’t think he wanted it, but…maybe I was wrong. Fuck, the thought alone set me off. I roared as my release hit me a moment later.

Which was pretty much when he covered me with cum. My chin, my cheek, my forehead.

I laughed as I licked the corner of my mouth. Thomas dragged me to my feet and cleaned the rest, sweeping his tongue across my lips before devouring me whole.

“We made a mess,” I commented, resting my head on his shoulder.

“I think there’s cum on the floor.”

“Probably.” I nuzzled his neck and kissed his ear. “Thomas?”

“Mmm?”

“I don’t want to freak you out, but I like you much more than I intended to,” I admitted.

“Oh? How much did you intend to like me?”

“Well, if we were measuring ‘like’ by the cup, I wanted to give you one half or two-thirds tops. You’re at three-fourths of a cup and gaining now.”

“How did that happen?”

“I really don’t know.” I sighed. “You might have noticed that there were a handful of very eligible wedding shower dates at the game today. I didn’t introduce you to any of them. And I’m not going to.”

He chuckled. “Good.”

Was it good? Or was I being selfish?

I should have been alarmed by this slow, steady fall. I could feel my heart expand in my chest and block my lungs. I had a hard time breathing around him, yet he was the one person who kept me centered.

Go figure.

Later that night, we sat with our legs entwined on the sofa, casually sharing pieces of our day like an old married couple. He told me his coworker, Omar, and his wife were expecting a baby and that his neighbor had reversed her car into the fire hydrant across from Chet and Sam’s house. I told him I’d accidentally started a science experiment in my veggie drawer and that I’d had to save a hysterical client from a spider that crawled on his arm mid-haircut.

But I didn’t mention that Stefan’s name came up twice that day or that any reference to his Pride promotion made me uneasy. I thought about it, but you know…it didn’t seem to matter.

That was the past. Everything that felt significant was right here…right now.

Besides, pushing niggling worries aside was what I did best.

Head in sand, baby. Head in sand.

10

TOMMY

“Oh, good! You’re still here.”

I glanced up from my computer, widening my eyes at Holden’s top hat. “Wow. It’s Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Nice, huh?” He tipped the hat and set it back on his head. “I gave a lecture on Darwinian theories and thought a prop or two from the era might make an impact.”

“And?”

“My students think I’m nuts.”

“Mine love me. Chelsea Jimenez brought me another loaf of homemade banana bread today…with chocolate chips. Help yourself.” I inclined my head toward the loaf wrapped in foil on my desk.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Holden reached for the banana bread, then dropped it, straightening his spine as he turned to the open door. “Good evening, Dr. Abrams. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Crap on a corn dog.

Dr. Abrams shuffled through the doorway, his unruly white hair standing on end like feathers on a disgruntled odd bird. Dr. A was a small, round man whose thundering intellect always made him seem larger than life.

He grunted a greeting at Holden before skewering me with a piercing once-over. “Glad to see you’re still here, Hartwell. I’ve noted discrepancies in the lab findings on the molecular sample studies. Students Rodriguez and Cranston missed key components on the assignment, yet you still passed them.”

I frowned and somehow resisted the urge to fiddle with my glasses. Showing any sign of weakness in front of Abrams was like slitting my wrist and jumping into a shark cage.

“Yes, I did. They missed one question each, but overall they—”

“One important question,” he boomed. “I’d hate to think you’re choosing favorites. Science is an exact discipline.”

“I know that, but—”

“We don’t give gold stars for trying.”

“Of course not.”

Dr. Abrams shook his pudgy finger like a schoolmarm scolding the class clown. “Not to struggling students…and to faculty either. You may want to reevaluate those exams.”


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