…I’m going to live with him, I’m going to be with him. You’ll see. As my little stalker rises from his knees, I sigh, zipping up my pants, my gaze fixed on him. He has a satisfied smile on his face like he’s done something he’s proud of and I wonder, is this the same virginal kid I fucked not that long ago? Where’d he learn to give head like that? Fucking unbelievable. I mean, am I that good a teacher? Or is he a quick learner? I hope he didn’t learn it from some other trick although, why the hell should I care? Matter of fact, maybe his doing tricks would be a good thing—it’d get him off me. Maybe I ought to encourage it. I look around Michael’s room. It occurs to me that maybe this isn’t the fine idea I thought it was a few minutes ago, at least it won’t be to Mikey. Oh, well, too late now. “You can’t keep turning up like this.” I say to Justin, trying to sound firm. “It’s fucking annoying.” He smiles and, up on his toes, brushes my face with his fingertips, leaning close, his lips almost atop mine. His tongue flicks out and wets his lips in a way that makes my dick twitch. “Yeah, I can tell.” Shit. When I see the flash of red on the back of his hand, I grab it, examining the mark there: The male symbol—a circle with an arrow coming out of it—drawn in red. The letter B has been carefully inscribed in the circle’s center. My gaze returns to his. “You are fucking dreaming.” Again, the smile. “Maybe.” He’s insufferable, knows it, and doesn’t care. “Do you have any idea how many relationships I’ve had in my life?” I press my forehead against his, my voice a growl. “None.” I take a quick step away from him. He flashes me his sweetest smile. “Up until now.” He says it with an eerie calm. Then, without so much as a backward glance, he heads for the door. I watch him leave, standing there, hands by my side. Fuck me. Somehow, I’m screwed.