The Librarian's Rake by Z. Allora

Author:Z. Allora [Allora, Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-63533-886-7
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2017-10-25T04:00:00+00:00

HEY FAG! Get over here & suck my cock.

Phillip was standing in the mall when that particular charming text buzzed his phone. It was from a guy he’d sucked off a couple of times. Thankfully, they’d met in the guy’s car, so he didn’t know where Phillip lived or even his real name.

While someone calling him derogatory names and slurs didn’t bother him—after all, he bought into the take back the word bullshit—he no longer wanted to reward a fucker for assholeic and rather rude behavior. He simply blocked the number…. Gone.

Dammit, that felt great.

Someone caught his gaze. Yum! Tristan strolled toward him, looking delicious in his crisp, white, buttoned-up-to-the-neck shirt and black trousers. Since when did workwear make Phillip weak in the knees and hard in the cock?

They weren’t meeting for playtime!

Tristan’s smile got bigger when he waved at Phillip and didn’t seem to notice the other men and women doing double takes. Phillip wasn’t going to analyze why extreme happiness flooded him when he was out of bed so early on a Sunday.

“Good afternoon, Phillip. Do you want to shop first or eat first?”

“Shop.” Phillip buried the odd need to hug him by putting his hand on Tristan’s back as if he needed a physical guide to the anchor store right next to the food court. Once they were in the men’s department, he asked, “We’re going to start with some basics. What size jeans do you take?”

Tristan scratched his head, then reached into the pile of jeans and pulled out a pair.

Phillip laughed at the tag. “That’s not your size.” He pulled out a smaller size.

Inspecting the label, Tristan concluded, “Those won’t fit.”

“That’s what the dressing room is for. We’ll figure out the size jeans you wear, and then we’ll get different colors and washes. Now, T-shirts.”

Tristan pulled out a tent from the pile.

“You and who else is going to wear this?” He snagged the correct size and one smaller.

Shaking his head, Tristan insisted, “The medium will never fit.”

“The medium will be for clubbing.”

Tristan’s face screwed up as if Phillip spoke a foreign language. “Clubbing?”

“For showing your wares.” Phillip appraised Tristan from head to toe, a nice and slow perusal to make his point.

Tristan’s face turned red, and he folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t have abs.”

“Most men don’t. But tight means scrumptious. Besides, your arms in the medium will show off your muscles.”

“I guess lifting all those books got me a nice set of guns,” Tristan teased and did a cheesy pose.

Instead of laughing on cue, Phillip touched the displayed arm. He couldn’t help but remember feeling safe enough to fall sleep within Tris’s arms. That was a first.

Their gazes met and locked.

Shit, he had it bad. How much trouble would he get into if he dropped to his knees—

Tristan shivered and stepped back.

“Let’s get you into the dressing room.” No one was there to let them in, but as luck would have it, the family fitting room door was ajar. Phillip herded him in and sat on the bench.

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