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  EXTRACURRICULAR ACTIVITIES #4

  NEVE WILDER

  Copyright © 2019 by Neve Wilder

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Art by Neve Wilder

  Copy Editing by One Love Editing

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical

  means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written

  permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  F O R E W O R D

  WARNING: This episode of Nate and Eric’s story ends on a big ol’

  cliffy. I mean, the others did too, but this one’s a humdinger. So if

  you’re the kind of reader that absolutely can’t take the angst plus the

  wait, you might want to just hold out for Extracurricular Activities #5,

  which I am hard at work on right now. It will be out February 23rd.

  Then you can read #4 and #5 back to back. :)

  Otherwise, onward!

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  E P I S O D E 4

  I woke out of a dead slumber with a jolt, my eyes flying wide

  and automatically wincing against the assault of morning

  light. Confused, I fumbled to get my bearings, fingertips brushing

  against soft cotton and then bumping up against warm skin as my

  vision adjusted. My heart beat wildly in my chest, and I wasn’t

  entirely sure why until a knock sounded and I jumped all over again,

  fight-or-flight instinct lacing my sense of bewilderment.

  A warm hand slid over the center of my chest and splayed,

  pressing me back into the mattress as Eric’s voice came low and soft.

  “Relax, it’s locked. I made sure earlier when I came back from taking

  a piss.”

  His fingers trailed in a sluggish caress over my skin, a heat he took

  with him as he slid off the end of the bed and ambled toward the door,

  shoving one hand lazily in his boxers as he went. In my still half-

  asleep state, I did the only logical thing I could think of: I flail-rolled

  myself off the other side of the bed, landing heavily on the floor, out

  of sight of the door just as I heard the lock pop as Eric opened it. I

  twisted around and rested my head on my forearm so I could peer

  around the bottom of the bed like I was back in fucking high school

  hiding from some girlfriend’s parents. It’d happened a couple of times.

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  “Why bother with an alarm clock when there’s your ass,” Eric

  groused, and I had to silently agree with him; why the hell were

  people in this house such early risers? But when I glanced over my

  shoulder at the clock on the bedside table, I was surprised to find it

  read 10:00 a.m.

  “You seen Nate?”

  I froze, and there was a brief pause before Eric replied, “At the

  thing last night, yeah. He was still there when I left, though.”

  Mark made a disgruntled noise. “Weird. His door’s cracked and—

  dude, can you leash that thing or something? I feel like I need to salute

  it back.”

  “You interrupted my morning briefing.” Eric laughed, and the

  husky sound of it slid across the room like a shaft of light and pooled

  in my stomach. I shifted around as my dick got hard at the mere

  suggestion that his was, too. Great, my Pavlovian instincts had

  reached even creepier heights. If Eric popped wood in the middle of a

  forest and no one was around to see it…

  I must have made some noise, because Eric shot a look over his

  shoulder, and I tried to stave off the snicker that was bubbling up in

  my chest by pressing my mouth to my forearm.

  Mark snorted, then continued. “Anyway, he came home with me last

  night… Guess he could have gotten up really early. Whatever. If you see

  him, will you remind him that we have chapter today? He’s been flaky as

  fuck lately, and it’s weirding me out. You think he’s up to something?”

  “Like what?” I could hear the skepticism in Eric’s voice and was

  duly impressed by his acting abilities. I’d have been stuttering.

  Mark hedged for a second, trying to come up with something, I

  guess, and completely clueless that his answer to what I was “up to”

  was standing in front of him sporting morning wood that I was very

  interested in giving a happy ending. “I dunno. Maybe banging some

  chick he doesn’t want us to find out about?”

  Eric broke into loud laughter, probably because his thoughts were

  running along the same track mine were.

  Mark joined in. “Like that butterface from Kappa?”

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  Eric’s laughter trailed off. “I have no idea who you’re talking

  about.”

  “Yeah, guess you wouldn’t. Speaking of chicks, that redhead you’re

  always hanging out with, Amelia?”

  “Amanda,” Eric corrected.

  “You hitting that? Because daaaaamn.”

  “Nope.” There was a long pause, and I knew Mark well enough to

  know he was waiting for more. An offer for a hookup or some further

  explanation. Eric’s tight-lipped game was stronger, though, and for

  whatever reason, he apparently didn’t want to give anything else up to

  Mark. After a moment, Mark must have relented with a gesture or

  something, because the next thing I heard was a quiet, “Yeah, cool. I’m

  out,” and then Eric shut the door again.

  I heard the lock click and dropped my forehead on my arm in

  relief. I had a singular moment of wondering what the fuck I was even

  doing—on so many counts—before a billow of air puffed over me

  when Eric flopped back on the bed and peered down at me as I rolled

  onto my back to stare up at him. The residual adrenaline running

  through me made me antsy.

  “Don’t need coffee anymore this morning—maybe a tranquilizer

  instead.”

  Eric gave me a tight smile as he eyed me. “This is like a scenario

  out of a bad after-school special.”

  “Jesus, what kind of after-school specials did you watch

  growing up?”

  He flipped some hair from his eyes and folded his forearms over

  the edge of the bed, resting his chin on top. He looked…nice in the

  morning. A little softer, and it wasn’t like I was intimidated by him—

  not physically, at least—but his presence seemed so vivid and

  commanding in the places we got off together that just the ordinari‐

  ness of being with him in his room somehow felt weirdly intimate. I

  kinda wished we hadn’t had such a rude awakening, that…

  “None, actually. My parents didn’t believe in TV.”

  “How can you not believe in TV?”

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  “The old ‘it rots your brain’ argument.” He shrugged one shoulder

  lazily. “So I was left to my own devices.”

  “And look how you turned out, getting guys off in libraries and at

  fundraisers.”

  “I think you were there, too, so not exactly an equal argument in

  favor of TV either.”

  “P
oint.” I laughed and rubbed a hand over the scruff on my jaw. I

  ached for a shower, and I really needed to go to the gym, but damn,

  Eric’s mouth was right there, silently telling me what I needed instead

  was to fill it with my cock. I licked my lips and pushed the heel of my

  hand against my boxers as I met his eyes and I saw it, that shadow

  passing through the olive-green tones, the darkening of want making

  its presence known.

  He took a quiet breath, gaze drifting down to my boxers, then back

  up again. “You threw me for a loop last night.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve been throwing me for about a month now.” I

  could have worded it better, but it came out as a blurted confession.

  He touched the corner of his mouth with his tongue, gaze raking

  over my body again. It really was a raking, too, like he had the power

  to drag furrows down my body, leave welt marks behind, hot and

  pink. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded and swallowed hard, hoping like fuck I wasn’t

  blushing, even though I felt the creep of heat over my neck and my

  cheeks. What was it about the way he looked at me that could turn me

  from tepid to hell-fire blaze in seconds? Eric scraped his teeth over

  his lower lip, making it pop out all shiny and slick, reminding me

  what he looked like when he was sucking my dick.

  Silence fell, this kind of tension-heavy pause like a finger hovering

  over a taut rubber band. And I felt like I was waiting for him to snap it

  against the inside of my wrist. One of us was supposed to fill it, prob‐

  ably with words, probably with conversation about what the fuck we

  were doing, and it defaulted to him since I’d been the last one to

  speak, but it was obvious after a handful of seconds that he wasn’t

  going to.

  Instead, Eric pulled himself forward over the edge of the bed,

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  fingers tensing to brace his weight on either side of me as he slid from

  the mattress and straddled me in one long, sinuous movement that

  rolled over me like rippling water. That light, that liquid. His breath

  on my lips was faintly minty; he must have brushed his teeth earlier. I

  hadn’t, and probably should’ve been more self-conscious, but I wasn’t

  because his closeness absolutely fucking consumed me like nothing

  else. My entire body was suddenly on alert, my nerves prickling with

  awareness and the hairs on my damn forearms lifting as he dipped

  down and licked my lower lip slowly while the bottom half of his

  body pressed into mine, everything about him hard and warm.

  Fuck, he had a sexy mouth, and his lashes lay dark against his

  cheek as his tongue made another pass before he opened his eyes to

  find me watching him. I opened my mouth to him, let his tongue flick

  lightly over mine. Not exactly a kiss, but a wet, repetitive caress that

  was strangely fucking hot and exciting in its weirdness.

  He rolled his hips once against me and drew back by an inch when

  I groaned.

  “Want me to throw you again right now?”

  “Trick question.” I knew the second I said yes, he’d take me all the

  way to the edge, then leave me hanging. And besides, the loop

  throwing was already well in progress. A foregone conclusion. I mean,

  Jesus fucking Christ, I’d crawled into his bed last night like some

  desperado. In the light of day, it was more than a little embarrassing.

  I’d never really been the kind of guy to give chase. Could I blame it on

  those last several beers?

  I rolled upright and intercepted him, pushing him onto his back

  and catching his startled expression a second before I straddled his

  knees and yanked the band of his boxers down, exposing the thick

  cock lying along his thigh. By the time I looked back up, he’d regained

  his composure, and that smooth amber chuckle came out to spur me

  on as I lowered my mouth and licked up the length of his thigh, dark

  hairs tickling the tip of my tongue until I reached his crown and

  circled it. With a groan, his hands flew to my hair and he arched

  into me.

  “All of it, Sanders, don’t be a tease.”

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  I played along, wrapping my lips around him, filling my mouth

  with his cock, and there was something insanely sexy and gratifying

  about feeling him get hard in my mouth, about all that soft skin tight‐

  ening and stretching just for me when I bathed it with my tongue.

  Maybe this was exactly why he liked fucking around with me so

  much. The sense of control was as much an aphrodisiac as the aware‐

  ness that it could shift any moment.

  And it did, because a second later, Eric anchored his fist tight in

  my hair, holding me still while he fucked my mouth, drawing back

  just enough for me to catch my breath when I choked before plunging

  in again, hard and fast, the muscles in his stomach strained and

  defined, his thighs like granite underneath me. The scattershot rough‐

  ness of his exhales urged me on as he propped himself up on one

  elbow, kept the other hand tight in my hair, and dug his nails almost

  painfully into my scalp.

  “Look at me,” he demanded. “Yeah, just like that.”

  I felt my moan vibrating against his cockhead as I met his eyes.

  What a fucking way to start the morning.

  I tasted his precome, lapped the saltiness from his slit as he hissed,

  his eyes shuttering closed like a cat blinking in the sunlight, and just

  as soon opening again, because he was a greedy bastard and liked to

  see his dick between my lips. I kept my gaze locked on his and, just for

  his benefit, opened my mouth and let him watch the flat of my tongue

  running up and down his glistening shaft.

  He snapped out a curse, and when I felt a telltale quiver of his

  thighs beneath me, I closed my mouth over him again, gave him one

  last hard suck, and popped free, leaning back on his thighs.

  I half expected him not to let me go, to drag me back down onto

  his dick and fill my mouth with his release. If he had, I’d have finished

  him, would’ve been helpless not to. Instead, there was a flare of frus‐

  tration in his eyes, then dawning understanding and amusement.

  “That’s how you’re gonna play it, huh? A little tit for tat?”

  “That’s about the size of it, yeah.” I licked my lips clean and wiped

  my chin with my hand. “You could always ask me nicely to finish you

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  off.” I arched a brow, and he rolled his lips inward to fight off a smile.

  “But that ain’t happening, is it?”

  His eyelids drooped to half-mast, all confident ease as he gave his

  cock a few light strokes. “Nope. I’d tell you to. And you would,

  wouldn’t you, frat boy? You’d come right back and open that sexy

  mouth for me and let me blow my load all over your face.”

  “Probably.” Yes. No point in trying to deny it when my dick

  presented all the evidence in the wet patch that had darkened the

  front of my boxers. Asshole. He could twist something in a second

  and it was crazy how addicted I was to it, how much I looked forward


  to it, even when I tried to test the invisible boundary lines we danced

  around.

  I was so hard it fucking hurt, and I wasn’t even sure why I felt the

  need to challenge him. He was underneath me, ready to give me

  exactly what we both knew I wanted, but there was something about

  the unspoken stalemate and constant anticipation between us that

  stoked my arousal. I knew I’d spend the rest of the day—hell, what‐

  ever amount of time elapsed between now and when we next hooked

  up—thinking about it, wanting it, playing it in my head, aching for it.

  Eric pumped his cock a few more times, so fucking swollen, the

  crown fat and leaking. I could practically feel his jizz ready to pop off.

  And goddamn I wanted it. My palms were getting the tops of my

  thighs wet where I clutched them in an effort to keep from touching

  myself, determined to carry this out. Not that Eric was making it easy,

  of course. He never did.

  And he didn’t now.

  He rolled upright, unseating me from his thighs and wrestling me

  onto my back where he hovered over me and rubbed his cock against

  mine in one long, serpentine, nerve-spiking thrust. “You’d let me fill

  you with my fingers. My tongue. My dick. Whatever I wanted. Wher‐

  ever I wanted. However I wanted.” Each word spilled like an incanta‐

  tion, a primal rhythm to it that had me spreading my legs wider, only

  half realizing that I was opening myself up to him. I swear the fucker

  could cast spells talking like that. He reached down and pinched the

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  head of my cock until I winced, then let go. Blood rushed back in,

  bringing with it a tingle that made me light-headed. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Check. Check. Check. Check. My dick twitched and leaked. I balled

  my hands into fists to keep from reaching for it or for him. I knew

  what he was doing. He wanted to see if I’d beg without asking or

  being prompted, without telling me to do it explicitly. And damn, I

  was close, feeling his dick hard against mine, his body surrounding

  me, overtaking me, the hard rise and fall of his chest, and that crazy

  penetrating, unflinching stare of his, like he’d never been ashamed in

  his life, like he’d always been perfectly, incautiously fucking filthy and

  relentless about what he wanted.

  I didn’t even have the instinct to try to wriggle free.

  “Yes,” I admitted on a moan, digging my nails into my own palms.