Bad Boy Billionaires 1 : The Ivy League Rake
Chapter One
When Elroy noticed the quirky guy in the gray plaid bowtie struggling with a dark green dented footlocker, he was sitting in Harvard Yard under a tall oak, checking out all the guys moving into the freshman residence. He watched them pass through a section called Old Yard not far from Johnson Gate, with a gleam in his eye and two fingers pressed to his chin.
This happened on a brisk September morning. A long heat wave had broken and Elroy wished he'd remembered to bring a jacket. If he had been the type to notice the simple, endearing things in life, he would have seen a few leaves had already begun to turn and he would have smelled fall in the air.
Elroy didn't care about leaves and trees-or the smell of anything but men. He cared even less about emotion and endearment. He had been spying through dark sunglasses at a couple of lean, muscular dudes wearing tight chinos and basketball sneakers, wondering if he'd be able to figure out a way to get into their pants that semester. And while he fantasized about a way to get them both drunk enough at the same time so they'd be willing to do anything, the skinny guy in the gray plaid bowtie tripped over his own feet, fell forward into the two guys wearing chinos, and almost knocked them both to the ground.
Passersby pointed and murmured to each other.
Elroy sat up and gaped at the guy in the bowtie.
The guy in the bowtie wound up on the grass, hands down. His
glasses landed four feet to his left. The guy in navy blue chinos jerked forward and caught his balance just in time. He glared down at the grass where the bowtie guy had landed and said, "Dude. What the fuck?"
The guy in the beige chinos punched the guy in the navy chinos and pointed at the poor soul in the bowtie. "Look at that fucking bowtie and the short-sleeved shirt, man. All he needs is a name tag on his chest."
Then they both shook their heads at the awkward young man and walked in the opposite direction. They didn't offer to help him up, and they didn't ask if he'd hurt himself. While the two guys walked toward the freshman residence, the guy in the bowtie fumbled on the grass for his glasses. It was evident he couldn't see without them. Elroy watched the two guys walk away. He licked his lips and lowered his dark glasses to the end of his nose. The one in the navy chinos had a slim hips and a tight little butt perfect for bending over sideways. Elroy pegged him for an athlete; probably football. The one in the beige chinos had one of those sweet large butts that rounded out and moved just the right way when he walked. He thought about how good he'd look over a barrel with his big thighs spread. Elroy slid his bottom lip between his teeth and considered all the things he could do to him in the future. Though Elroy had always considered himself versatile in bed, with a rock-hard bubble butt like that, the possibilities as a top man were endless.
When the jocks were out of sight, Elroy glanced back to see what had happened to the goofy skinny guy in the bowtie. His footlocker had sprung open during the fall and he was packing his things and trying to close the lid again. The faster he worked, the more confused he became. His hands moved in every direction and the more he tried to fix things, the worse he made them. His face had turned red by then and passersby looked down at him and laughed.
So Elroy stood up and jogged over to him. The pathetic guy wasn't as skinny up close but his gray pants were about a half an inch too short. His brown hair hung a little too long and his glasses rested on the end of his nose. Everything about him seemed offensive, but in an unintentional, harmless way that made Elroy feel a little sorry for him. Even still, his gum-soled shoes and mismatched socks hurt Elroy's feelings. But he glanced down at the guy anyway and said, "You need help, buddy?"
When the guy in the bowtie looked up and saw Elroy standing there in his tight low-rise jeans with his hands on his hips, his mouth opened and he stopped moving. He didn't even nod.
Elroy smiled and said, "You sit on it and I'll take care of the rest." Elroy's heart raced with excitement at the thought of playing a game. He had a feeling this guy was gay. One of his favorite games of all time was flirting with and teasing guys like this one in the bowtie. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone this needy. This one not only needed help with his clothes, he needed a good boning.
The guy in the bowtie continued to stare at Elroy without speaking. Though he made a lame attempt to move his lips, he seemed to have lost his voice.
Elroy reached down and grabbed a pair of the guy's boxer shorts that had been hanging out of the footlocker. He shoved the boxers back into the footlocker and reached between the guy in the bowtie's legs and grabbed his thigh. He squeezed gently and sent the guy his most seductive glance. He spoke in a low, sultry tone. "Sit on it, spread your legs, and I'll take care of everything else, man."
When Elroy noticed the quirky guy in the gray plaid bowtie struggling with a dark green dented footlocker, he was sitting in Harvard Yard under a tall oak, checking out all the guys moving into the freshman residence. He watched them pass through a section called Old Yard not far from Johnson Gate, with a gleam in his eye and two fingers pressed to his chin.
This happened on a brisk September morning. A long heat wave had broken and Elroy wished he'd remembered to bring a jacket. If he had been the type to notice the simple, endearing things in life, he would have seen a few leaves had already begun to turn and he would have smelled fall in the air.
Elroy didn't care about leaves and trees-or the smell of anything but men. He cared even less about emotion and endearment. He had been spying through dark sunglasses at a couple of lean, muscular dudes wearing tight chinos and basketball sneakers, wondering if he'd be able to figure out a way to get into their pants that semester. And while he fantasized about a way to get them both drunk enough at the same time so they'd be willing to do anything, the skinny guy in the gray plaid bowtie tripped over his own feet, fell forward into the two guys wearing chinos, and almost knocked them both to the ground.
Passersby pointed and murmured to each other.
Elroy sat up and gaped at the guy in the bowtie.
The guy in the bowtie wound up on the grass, hands down. His
glasses landed four feet to his left. The guy in navy blue chinos jerked forward and caught his balance just in time. He glared down at the grass where the bowtie guy had landed and said, "Dude. What the fuck?"
The guy in the beige chinos punched the guy in the navy chinos and pointed at the poor soul in the bowtie. "Look at that fucking bowtie and the short-sleeved shirt, man. All he needs is a name tag on his chest."
Then they both shook their heads at the awkward young man and walked in the opposite direction. They didn't offer to help him up, and they didn't ask if he'd hurt himself. While the two guys walked toward the freshman residence, the guy in the bowtie fumbled on the grass for his glasses. It was evident he couldn't see without them. Elroy watched the two guys walk away. He licked his lips and lowered his dark glasses to the end of his nose. The one in the navy chinos had a slim hips and a tight little butt perfect for bending over sideways. Elroy pegged him for an athlete; probably football. The one in the beige chinos had one of those sweet large butts that rounded out and moved just the right way when he walked. He thought about how good he'd look over a barrel with his big thighs spread. Elroy slid his bottom lip between his teeth and considered all the things he could do to him in the future. Though Elroy had always considered himself versatile in bed, with a rock-hard bubble butt like that, the possibilities as a top man were endless.
When the jocks were out of sight, Elroy glanced back to see what had happened to the goofy skinny guy in the bowtie. His footlocker had sprung open during the fall and he was packing his things and trying to close the lid again. The faster he worked, the more confused he became. His hands moved in every direction and the more he tried to fix things, the worse he made them. His face had turned red by then and passersby looked down at him and laughed.
So Elroy stood up and jogged over to him. The pathetic guy wasn't as skinny up close but his gray pants were about a half an inch too short. His brown hair hung a little too long and his glasses rested on the end of his nose. Everything about him seemed offensive, but in an unintentional, harmless way that made Elroy feel a little sorry for him. Even still, his gum-soled shoes and mismatched socks hurt Elroy's feelings. But he glanced down at the guy anyway and said, "You need help, buddy?"
When the guy in the bowtie looked up and saw Elroy standing there in his tight low-rise jeans with his hands on his hips, his mouth opened and he stopped moving. He didn't even nod.
Elroy smiled and said, "You sit on it and I'll take care of the rest." Elroy's heart raced with excitement at the thought of playing a game. He had a feeling this guy was gay. One of his favorite games of all time was flirting with and teasing guys like this one in the bowtie. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone this needy. This one not only needed help with his clothes, he needed a good boning.
The guy in the bowtie continued to stare at Elroy without speaking. Though he made a lame attempt to move his lips, he seemed to have lost his voice.
Elroy reached down and grabbed a pair of the guy's boxer shorts that had been hanging out of the footlocker. He shoved the boxers back into the footlocker and reached between the guy in the bowtie's legs and grabbed his thigh. He squeezed gently and sent the guy his most seductive glance. He spoke in a low, sultry tone. "Sit on it, spread your legs, and I'll take care of everything else, man."