Page 14

CHAPTER 14

RIVER

I swear people are staring at me. My paranoia has kicked up a few notches. Years of being in the spotlight have fucked with my head. So, I booked a private dance with Baby Face.

I can’t believe I’m doing this .

If anyone recognizes me, the media will ruin me and my family. I can already see the headline: Ryan Rousseau’s Son Caught Paying for Sex at a Gay Club .

My dad would kill me.

A shirtless blond escorts me, shaking his tiny ass as he walks. “This is the Ruby Room,” he says, waving his hand at the red leather couches lining the space. “Baby Face will be with you shortly.”

The room is aptly named, with a red light glowing on the walls and carpet. Even the leather couches are red. A dance beat belts through the speakers, drowning out the rapid thumping of my heart.

He turns to look at me, hand extended, waiting for a tip. I reach into my pocket and flip open my wallet. I don’t have less than a twenty, so I place one in his palm.

“Thanks, sugar.” He blows a kiss at me, stuffing the money into his spandex shorts. “You’re in for a real treat. Have fun.”

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket as I sit on the closest couch. It’s Nate. I’m shocked he waited this long.

I open the message and see a video attachment.

Nate

Your loss, Riv.

Curious, I click on the short video of Samantha’s hands tied to the headboard, Nate claiming her ass like he’s possessed. He tips his head back, lips parted, blond hair falling onto his forehead. His thick cock pulls out and slams back into her. Over and over, he relentlessly takes her from behind.

His eyes lock onto the camera. He’s staring at me, hoping to gain a reaction. This video has nothing to do with Samantha.

Nate filmed this for me .

What is he doing?

Until recently, Nate hadn’t shown any signs of wanting more than friendship. The handjobs don’t count. He only uses my hand to get off, a way to satisfy his addiction.

When someone clears their throat, I stuff the phone into my pocket and look up. Baby Face stands in the entryway, dark makeup lining his big, blue eyes. Dressed as a sexy football player, he looks like a fucking wet dream. This is the man I know from OnlyFans.

Fuck. Me .

I open my mouth to speak, but the words catch in my throat. He’s ripped in the arms and chest. His spandex shorts are so tight they leave little to the imagination.

I have no idea what to do.

Baby Face leans forward and places his hands on my thighs, eyes pointed at me. He moves his body like a seasoned pro, as if he’s done this a thousand times. I practically drool as he works me into a frenzy, luring me in with his intoxicating scent.

Baby Face unclips the shoulder pads that crash to the floor. Kicking them away, he moves closer. His eyes haven’t left mine since he entered the room. The football player costume is fucking doing it for me. I love strong, muscular men.

Men like Nate.

My dick gets perks up thinking about my best friend and his sexy body. The way his ass tightens when he fucks. I shouldn’t be thinking about Nate when I have the attention of this beautiful man.

He’s a few inches shorter and less built than Nate, but he’s my type. His hands roam up and down his chest, continuing a slow exploration until the spandex shorts are halfway down his thighs.

“Fuck,” I bite out, breathing harder, desperate to touch him. “Take those off.”

With a cute smile, he bends forward and shoves the shorts to the ground. He steps out of them, standing before me in a black thong. His dick and balls are enormous. The fabric can’t contain him.

In person, he’s even bigger.

The screen does not do him justice.

After torturing me for an entire song, he climbs on top of me. He straddles my thighs, slowly moving his hands up my chest and to my shoulders. My cock grows harder, tenting my sweatpants. I want to remove them, but that’s probably against the rules.

Baby Face cages me against the couch with his gorgeous body. When our skin connects, an electric spark glides down my spine—just a simple brush of his fingers over my biceps.

Fucking hell.

He shoves the zip-up hoodie off my shoulders, letting it drop onto the couch. Our eyes lock as he rocks his hips, rubbing his dick against mine. As he grinds on me, his balls slip from the thong’s pouch. His erect cock peeks out from his underwear, the tip leaking pre-cum I want to lick off.

A low growl escapes from my throat, and his eyes meet mine. “Can I touch you?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

I scan the room and don’t see any visible cameras. “We’re alone, right?”

He bobs his head.

“Will some scary bouncer come running in here and cut off my hands?”

He bites his lip, considering my question. “No. It’s just us. No cameras. No bouncers.”

That explains why I paid two grand for five songs. We can do a lot in that short of a time, and no one will stop us.

My erection rubs his stomach. His eyes slam shut, and he lets out a moan. When his eyes open again, he leans forward, our lips so close we could kiss.

The makeup only does so much to conceal his identity, but the more I stare, the more I notice the strength of his jaw, the perfect curve of his nose, and his sculpted eyebrows.

“Fuck, professor,” I choke out, mentally chastising myself as the words leave my mouth.

He stops moving, hands braced on my shoulders. “What did you say?”

“I called you… professor.”

Mortified, he slides off my lap.

I reach out to him, and he recoils, stepping backward. “I won’t tell anyone, professor. Promise. It’s just… I’m a big fan of your work. I watch all of your videos. They’re so fucking hot.”

Professor West covers his face with his hands and sighs. “Fuck.”

I rise from the bench and move in front of him. “Look, I have much more to lose than you if anyone finds out.”

He inspects my face for a lie. “How do I know you won’t tell anyone?”

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

He eyes me up again and shakes his head.

“I’m River Rousseau.”

He scratches his jaw, thinking it over, and mutters, “River? Your dad, he’s… No, I didn’t recognize you. I thought you were?—”

“Straight?”

He nods. “Yeah. But most people think that about me when we meet. Can’t make assumptions, I guess.”

In all fairness, we have never interacted until now. I sit with Nate and barely pay attention. Getting a degree is important to me, a fallback in case I don’t get signed by an NHL team or get injured, but I don’t see either of those things happening. I’m also not that interested in law. I only enrolled in the major to be near Nate.

“I’ll keep your secret,” I tell him. “No one knows I like men. And my dad… he would disown me. It would also ruin my hockey career.”

Professor West steps into his shorts, yanking them up his toned thighs. “I’ll see if the club can refund you. It is highly inappropriate for me to dance for a student.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this with you.”

“I’m one of your top subscribers. You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

He pauses at the door.

“I’m not your student tonight. And you’re not my professor. Dance for me. It will be our dirty little secret.”

My hot professor spins around, his back to the door, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “River, we shouldn’t…”

“I’m not unsubscribing, professor .” Grabbing my aching cock, I lick my lips. “So, how about you dance on my dick for a few more songs, make some extra cash, and we can both walk out of here and forget this ever happened.”

When he doesn’t move, I whip out my wallet and drop a thousand dollars in cash on the bench. “I’ll just go home and jerk off to you, anyway. Might as well let me experience the real thing.”

He bites his bottom lip, staring at the money. Of course, he needs it. What kind of lawyer dances for cash and works as a camboy? He must have gotten himself mixed up in some serious shit to be this desperate.

Holding his gaze, I drop another five hundred dollars on the bench. “That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

I don’t feel like myself right now. Nate would do something like this, which only makes my cheeks flush with heat.

Fuck, what am I doing?

I have lost my damn mind.

Thankfully, my professor doesn’t take the bait, still standing by the door, unsure what to do. So, I scoop the cash into my hand and pocket it.

As I walk toward him, he steps aside. I yank open the door. “I don’t need a refund. Keep it. I’ll see you in class, professor.”

On my way to the parking lot, I feel lost. Tonight was supposed to be about figuring myself out—to see if my feelings for men extend beyond Nate. I enjoy watching gay porn and love Baby Face’s dirty videos, especially his collaborations with a hottie named Dean.

Does that make me gay?

Fuck if I know.