by K. C. Wells
I shivered, unable to suppress the reaction. My body jerked forward when Damon gave a particularly hard shove into me, punching the air from my lungs. When he pulled it free of my ass, I wanted to howl with frustration.
“On your feet, and get your ass over to that sling.”
I was too busy scrambling off his lap to punch the air.
Tate lifted me bodily and lowered me onto the wide leather bed of the sling. I was dying to thank him, but I knew he was only thinking with his dick. He stroked over my chest and belly, before wrapping large, thick fingers around my shaft. When he trailed his hand lower over my sac, I tensed.
Damon was on it.
“You can stop right there.” His voice had an edge to it that I’d not heard before, and I shivered. Damon’s hands were warm on my ankles as they fastened the stirrups in place, supporting my legs.
Tate stood beside me, his wide cock jutting out. “Do we get a taste?”
My eyes were on Damon as I waited for him to ask me, as I knew he would.
I never got the chance.
Damon gazed down at me, his hand leisurely caressing my calf. My heart pounded as I waited, my breathing staccato.
He smiled at me, the kind of smile that always turned my insides to jelly. “No, not tonight,” he said finally, not once looking in Tate’s direction. “Tonight Pete is all mine.”
There were groans of disappointment that should have gratified me, but all I felt was sweeping relief.
“Here.” Jake tossed Damon a condom. “But you’re not gonna stop me from watching you plow his ass.”
“Be my guest,” Damon said with a chuckle while he gloved up and then wiped a lube-slick hand over his dick. He placed himself between my spread legs and guided the head of his cock into position. I could feel its heat against my hole. Our gazes locked. “Ready to get fucked?”
All I could think of was the last time he’d been inside me. That had not been fucking. It had felt for all the world like he was making love to me. And much as I loved it when Damon took me roughly, I yearned to feel what I’d experienced the night of his mom’s party.
There was something missing, something vital.
Then it hit me.
“Kiss me?” My voice shook.
Damon smiled and bent over to take my mouth in an all-consuming kiss, his tongue easing between my lips to explore me, taste me. I let go of the chains and wrapped my arms around him, holding his firm, hairy body against mine. He grabbed hold of the chains at my shoulders and slowly entered me while we kissed, unhurried.
I pushed a soft sigh between his lips. “Fuck, yeah. You feel so good inside me.”
He stilled, raised his head and our eyes met. “Are you my boy, Pete?”
I swallowed. “Yours, Sir. All of me.” I meant every single fucking word. I wanted to belong to him, heart, body and soul, like I’d never wanted anything my entire life.
Damon’s face glowed. “Then it looks like I’ve got myself a boy.” He eased out of me and my heartbeat raced. “Hold on to the chains.”
I grabbed the leather straps that hung from them, my breathing rapid.
He thrust back into me, filling me to the hilt, and I groaned. Damon grinned. “Time to claim this ass as mine.”
Before I had time to draw breath, he slammed into me, cock going deep, and commenced fucking me with a steady rhythm. Within minutes I was crying out, my dick so hard it ached. Damon continued his relentless fuck, each time driving his cock into me until he was balls deep. I swear he hit my gland with every thrust.
“Damon, oh, fuck, Sir…” They were about the only words that made any sense.
His hips snapped forward, his dick pistoning in and out of my ass, setting me on fire with each slam into me. His eyes were focused on my face, his cheeks flushed, his body glistening with sweat. My nostrils were filled with his musk, the smell of cum and the raw odor of sex.
Above me, Damon gripped the chains and shoved deep into my ass, his body stiffening. Inside me his cock swelled and he came with a harsh cry. I could feel every throb of his shaft as it pulsed into the latex, and it was this that sent me over the edge with no need to touch my dick.
I trembled as warm cum spattered my torso, some reaching as far as my cheek. Damon let go of the chains and bent over to kiss me, drops of sweat from his brow landing onto my face and chest. His hand curved around my cheek and he stared into my eyes. “Mine.” His fingers traced the leather collar around my neck.
I reached up to cover his hand with my own. “Yours.”
It didn’t matter in that moment that it wasn’t enough. I was Damon’s boy, and that would have to do. I pushed aside my innermost desires and smiled at him, not wishing him to even glimpse what lay beneath the smile.
He wanted a boy.
I wanted Damon. All of him. Twenty-four seven.
WTF?
I pulled the car into the driveway and switched off the engine. The street was quiet and dark, not surprising given the hour. Sunday night and the world lay sleeping, readying itself for the start of a new week.
I didn’t want my night to end.
Pete had been silent the whole trip back to my place. At first I wasn’t concerned. I figured he was still blissed out after the fucking in the sling. But something about the atmosphere inside the car niggled me.
I knew why I hadn’t noticed. I’d been lost in my own thoughts, ever since we’d left RD’s and walked to where I’d left the car. For the first time in a very long while, I wanted someone in my life.
There were times when I told myself I was happier on my own. No hassles, no one to bug me, no one to upset my routines. But there were also times when I wanted more than my own company. I knew why I shied away from the idea of a relationship. Once bitten, twice shy, was a damn good proverb to live by, and I was all too aware how accurate it was. I’d been there, after all.
A shiver coursed through me. Damn him. All these years since he’d been a part of my life and Michael still haunted me.
“Are you okay?” Pete’s hesitant question broke through.
I could hear the genuine note of concern in his voice, a voice that I was steadily growing more accustomed to hearing.
Fuck it. Why was I wasting time? There was a gorgeous man next to me, one who was becoming increasingly more interesting and more important to me. What was the point in being stubborn? What did it get me, apart from loneliness?
My house stood before us, dark and empty. It didn’t have to be that way.
All I had to do was open my mouth and…
I switched on the light above our heads before twisting in my seat to face him. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
Pete’s face lit up. “Thanks for asking me. It was… awesome. And the party was definitely an experience.”
I laughed. “A good one, I hope.”
He chuckled. “An eye-opener, to say the least.” He regarded me in silence, his blond hair almost white in the stark light. “Damon, I…” He stopped, his teeth worrying his lip.
I knew the signs. Funny how quickly I’d gotten to know his quirks and foibles.
“Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Pete blinked. “Oh, it’s nothing, really.”
It didn’t look like nothing.
The weirdest thought flitted across my mind. What if he feels the same? How strange would that be? I pushed it aside. I’d known what Pete had wanted ever since he’d knelt beside his bed and called me Sir. Well, he’d gotten what he wanted.
Too bad I wanted more.
For fuck’s sake. Grow a pair and tell him how you feel.
I was always one to go with my gut.
I reached across and cupped his cheek. The hitch in his breathing got my heartbeat racing.
“Pete, about tonight.” I took a deep breath and prepared to step out into the dark. “How would you feel about spending the night with me?” I didn’t want him to go home. I wanted him in my bed, in my arms, all night long. I ran through my mental diary for th
e following days’ appointments and grinned inwardly. I’d be taking a day off and hoping he could do the same.
I wanted time with him. Maybe if I got that, I’d be able to say what I really wanted.
“I think that sounds wonderful,” he said softly. “Do you have to get up early tomorrow?”
I smiled. “Actually, I was thinking of taking a day off tomorrow. The perks of being self-employed.”
Fuck, that smile…. Hook him up to a generator and it could have powered every street light on the block.
“I don’t have a job on until Tuesday,” he told me. “And ditto with the whole self-employment thing.”
“Perfect,” I whispered, before leaning over to kiss him on the lips. He made a soft noise of contentment and his arm slipped around me, pulling me closer. I deepened the kiss, exploring his mouth with my tongue, savoring the taste of him, the way he smelled, a warm scent that stirred something deep in my belly.
Light flooded the car as the security light under the porch burst into life.
I blinked and peered through the windshield, trying to see.
“Damon, there’s someone on your porch,” Pete said in a low voice.
I frowned. “At this time of night?” Quickly I unfastened my seatbelt, Pete doing the same, and we got out of the car. I locked it and strode toward the house, Pete at my side. “Who’s there?” I called out.
“You always did keep unsociable hours.”
The deep voice sent a lance through me. It couldn’t be. I blinked and shaded my eyes, just as a tall, lean figure stepped out from under the porch.
Holy Fucking Hell.
He was older than the last time I’d seen him, but then so was I.
“Michael?” My voice came out winded. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
FRACTURES
Pete doesn’t know where he stands when Damon’s ex, Michael, turns up out of the blue.
Talk about bad timing.
Damon had thought his wounds long since healed. Yeah, right.
So where do they go from here?
FRACTURES
WTF?
“I’m not upsetting your plans, am I?” Michael asked with a smirk. “From where I was, it looked like I’d interrupted something.” He looked me up and down. “Nice outfit.”
Fuck him. I knew he was angling to know who Pete was—and more importantly, who he was to me—but Michael had lost that right years ago. “It’s late, Michael.” About eighteen years too late, if I were honest.
“Too late to come in for a drink and catch up a little? Come on, just one drink.”
I arched my eyebrows. “For old times’ sake?” I still couldn’t believe he was standing there. He wore his hair a damn sight shorter than he had back in college, and he’d put on a few pounds, but little else had changed, apart from the lines around his eyes.
That smirk sure hadn’t.
Then I realized he hadn’t given Pete so much as a glance, and I bristled. I turned to Pete and put my hand on his arm. “Go home. I’ll be over there shortly.” I faked a smile I certainly didn’t feel: I didn’t want Pete worrying.
Yeah. Fat chance of that.
Pete’s gaze went from me to Michael. “If you’re sure.” God, he held himself so stiffly. Not that I blamed him. I’d deliberately kept my tone devoid of emotion, and while he didn’t deserve that after the amazing day we’d shared, I didn’t want to give away too much about our relationship.
That was none of Michael’s goddamn business.
I nodded. “I’ll be fine. I won’t be long.” I didn’t want to make it more forceful than that, hoping he’d go along with it. I’d explain everything later.
Pete gave Michael one final glance, then nodded slowly. He cut across the lawn, heading for his front door. I waited until he was inside before giving Michael my attention.
“One drink, huh?”
He shrugged. “Something like that, I guess. Plus, I want to find out what you’ve done with your life since college.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to yell, ‘Well, you’d fucking know that if you hadn’t left, wouldn’t ya?’ It took all my effort to choke back the words. Like I wasn’t curious to know what he’d been doing all these years too.
“You’d better come in then.”
One drink was all he was gonna get. Right then I had a boy to hold, a boy who had to be going out of his mind. I wasn’t stupid. Pete had heard Michael’s name at Mama’s birthday party, when I’d been talking to Max, so he knew Michael was some kind of ex, and that he’d been important.
Fuck, your timing sucks, Michael.
I opened the front door and stood to one side to let him enter. I snuck a glance next door, just in time to see the blinds twitch in the front window. My heart sank. What had to be going through Pete’s mind? After the day we’d shared, the… connection between us, he had to be wondering what the fuck was going on.
Well, so was I.
I closed the door behind me and bolted it. Michael was standing awkwardly in the hallway, so I indicated the living room. “Go on through.” He wasn’t the only one who needed a drink. I followed him into the room, and headed for the liquor cabinet. “I got whiskey, rum and vodka. Not sure about mixers.” I wasn’t a big drinker: I got my highs in other ways.
“Whiskey will be fine. Neat.”
I pulled down two squat glasses, and poured about two fingers of whiskey into each one. I handed a glass to Michael, then ignored the empty seat cushion beside him on the couch, and sat in the armchair beside the fireplace. His face tightened, but I didn’t give a shit. He’d burned his bridges with me a long time ago. Right then all I wanted was answers.
Michael took a sip of whiskey and settled back against the cushions. “You’ve got a nice place here,” he said, glancing around the room.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “We are not doing small talk. You don’t get to waltz in here after eighteen years and act like this is a social visit.”
“Can’t I just take a little time and work up to the Q&A?” he joked.
I took a long drink, then put down my glass. “No, you fucking don’t,” I enunciated carefully. “Eighteen fucking years, Michael.” My voice rose, cracking a little.
He blinked. “I don’t remember you as someone who swore a lot.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the same guy you walked out on. I’ve changed. Your leaving had a lot to do with that.” And wasn’t that the truth?
Michael winced. “Jeez, d’you have to sound so dramatic? You’re acting like I disappeared without a word. I wrote you a letter, explaining everything.”
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to breathe, but it was no good. All the rage and humiliation, all the hurt and anguish he’d put me through, that I’d stomped on, pushed down, buried as fucking deep as it would go, was bubbling to the surface, like it had never been away.
“One lousy letter. One fucking letter, saying you’d got this fantastic job lined up on the east coast, and wasn’t it a great opportunity? One letter, saying thanks for everything we’d shared, and how you were sure I’d meet someone who’d make me happy. Well, I got news for ya, pal. I was fucking happy—with you, right up until the moment I discovered exactly how much I meant to you.”
Michael sighed heavily. “You were always way more into me than I was into you.”
God, if I’d been next to him, I think I’d have throttled the life out of him.
“Three years, Michael. We were together three fucking years. Don’t you think you owed me more than one letter? Christ, that last semester before we graduated, we were making plans. We were gonna live together.”
“And that right there is why I took the job in New York!” he shouted.
I froze. “What? What the hell does that mean?”
“We were twenty-two, for God’s sake!” Michael’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed. He dragged in a couple of deep breaths, visibly growing calmer. “Damon, you were getting really serious. It was… stifling, sometimes. And the c
loser we got to graduation, the more you talked about our future.”
“Because I thought we had one,” I gritted out. “Because I thought we were in love.” Only now I was seeing things clearly. I’d been in love with him. Whereas Michael?
I sagged into the armchair as the reality struck with all the force of a sledgehammer.
“You didn’t love me, did you?”
Michael’s mouth fell open, the flush on his chest and neck deepening, visible beneath his shirt, open at the collar. “I… I thought I did, at first. I mean, we were crazy hot together, right?”
I said nothing. I wasn’t about to deny it. The sex had been phenomenal.
Except… I’d thought we were more than that. Apparently not.
“I guess I got cold feet,” he said simply. “I’d applied for the job in New York, not really thinking they’d be interested in someone with the ink barely drying on his degree. But they really liked me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Especially the part about getting cold feet. Instead of leaving the way you did? Didn’t you think that was gonna hurt me?” Now it all made sense. Why he always seemed reluctant when I talked about our plans for after graduation. I’d already decided where I wanted to go with my life. Psychology had been one of my strongest subjects, and I knew I wanted some kind of career in therapy. The sexology part had come later, born out of a burgeoning interest in relationships.
Born out of what had started in the aftermath of Michael’s exit.
“You must have known at graduation that you already had the job, yet you said nothing.”
“I was going to, I swear.”
“But you didn’t,” I stressed. “You left at the end of the semester, went home—and mailed me a letter. I called you. God, I lost count of how many times a day I called you after I read it. But you didn’t answer. I called your parents, but all they’d tell me was you’d moved to New York. No forwarding address, even though I begged them for it. I fucking begged, Michael.” Christ, the pain I’d thought was long gone was right there, constricting my chest, knotting up my insides, and making my head ache.
