Somebody to Love (Crazy Little Thing Book 3)

by Serene Franklin

  “You look hot as fuck with a beard, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you clean shaven.” Remy picked up the scissors, and I froze. “What’s that reaction for?”

  I tried, and failed, to swallow the lump in my throat. I hadn’t been clean shaven since I was eighteen; it drew far too much attention to my scar. I couldn’t do that again. Having everyone stare at me would be too much to bear again. Panic began to lance through me. My pulse raced, and my skin felt too tight. I went to stand and was immediately pushed down by Remy’s hand on my chest.

  “It’s all right, Max. I’m not going to hurt you.” He let his fingers dance through my chest hair, down the middle of my pecs. He leaned in close and kissed me before dragging his lips to my ear. “I know you’re scared. Do you still trust me?”

  It was the second time he’d asked me that in the last few weeks, and my answer hadn’t changed. “Yes.”

  “Then close your eyes and stay still for me.”

  I did as he asked and was lavished in kisses and caresses that went a long way toward easing my mind. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he made the first trim. The falling hair tickled my chest and shoulders when it fell, but I kept my eyes closed as Remy had instructed. The clink of the scissors on the edge of the sink caught my attention before I heard Remy stand up and step away. He ran the water at the sink—hot, based on the steam making the air thick.

  When he returned, he draped a warm, wrung-out towel around the lower half of my face and neck. Once it cooled, he removed it and rubbed my face and neck in a thick lather of shaving cream. The crinkle and rip of tearing plastic let me know he’d opened one of the razors. I waited for the first sweep of the blades, tense and still.

  I jumped when Remy’s weight settled in my lap. “Easy, big guy. Is this comfortable for you?” he asked, rubbing my sore shoulder over my sling.

  I bowed my head once.

  He dropped a quick kiss on the tip of my nose, then angled my head up to the side. The grainy scrape was loud in my ears as Remy made the first pass of the razor on my jaw. His weight shifted in my lap and I heard him rinse out the razor in the water-filled sink. He leaned back toward me and made another caring downstroke, and I felt myself wanting to melt against him.

  With every pass of the razor, I sunk further and further from reality. I found myself underwater with Remy, holding him close, and kissing him like nothing else mattered. And nothing else did. He nipped my lower lip, and I whimpered, hungry for more—for everything.

  “Where’s your head right now?”

  My eyes snapped open at Remy’s question. His blue eyes stared into mine with amusement and something else I recognized. Lust.

  “You must’ve been thinking about something good.” He reached between us and squeezed my dick, which had hardened while my mind wandered. “Wanna share what’s got you so hot?”

  “You,” I blurted out. “I use a nickname for you because it distinguishes you from everyone else. You’re not just Remington to me. You’re my Remy. My Rem. My love. No one else gets to have that but you.” It was more than I’d meant to say. Once the words started, I couldn’t stop them. This was his chance to run.

  “Fucking hell, Max,” was all he said before his lips collided with mine in a frantic, bruising kiss. His fingers worked through my hair and pulled my head back. Tears prickled the corners of my eyes from the sting, but my focus was solely on the man in my embrace. “You can’t say shit like that to me.”

  “Take my sling off. Please.” My voice dripped with desperation and need that had nothing to do with my shoulder.

  Remy knew. He was so close now, just holding me still. His breath mingled with mine, and our foreheads touched, as if we couldn’t get enough contact. “Max, we—”

  “Take it off. Now.”

  His fingers fumbled while he unfastened the sling without looking. Before it had hit the floor, I had both arms tight around him and rose to my feet. Remy sucked in a breath and hooked his ankles behind me. With our faces so close together I couldn’t help but kiss him, despite not being able to see where I was going.

  I tripped on what had to be Remy’s jeans from earlier and slammed him against the wall next to the bedroom door. Before I could think to pull back and ask if he was okay, he moaned low and deep and rolled his hips against my stomach. If Remy was in the mood for rough, I’d give it to him as best I could.

  We made it to the bed without further incident. I threw him down and watched him squirm a moment before I was overwhelmed with one thought: his skin on mine. I stripped off his pants while he took care of his shirt. His hard cock still tall and straight, already glistening at the tip. I fought the urge to taste him long enough to shed my clothing and crawl between his legs. He’d showered this morning before he left, but his scent was still strong. My eyes rolled back as I nuzzled the junction where thigh met groin. I was instantly seventeen again—back on the first night I had Remy naked beneath me.

  “Don’t go daydreaming on me now,” Remy said with his voice strained. He threaded his fingers through my hair and guided my mouth to his cock. “Make me scream, baby.”

  My lips closed around his tip and I sucked. Over the last week I’d rediscovered what Remy liked, and I pulled out all the tricks. Remy liked to be worked over slowly when it came to blowjobs, and I planned on giving him something to savor.

  My tongue swiped over the sensitive underside of his cock just below the head while I kept up the light suction. Obscene sucking sounds mixed with Remy’s moans filled the room and spurred me on. I took more of him in, slowly sinking down until he hit the back of my throat. The angle was off, and I was still too rusty for him to throat-fuck me, though I kept on pushing myself.

  Remy’s thighs trembled beneath me, and his breathing picked up. He was going to come soon, but I wasn’t ready. I pulled off and was met with a frustrated cry and dagger eyes.

  “What the fuck? Why’d you stop?” He started to sit up, and I pushed him back down.

  “Don’t move,” I said as I rolled over to grab the lube from my nightstand. I came back and knelt between Remy’s legs, rubbing one of his knees while I took in the gorgeous sight before me.

  A grin turned up the corners of his mouth when he saw the lube in my hand. He fisted his cock at the base, then slid his hand up and down his length.

  Not wanting to be distracted, I managed to tear my gaze away, then rubbed two pumps of lube over my index and middle fingers. Remy moaned louder, this time purposefully teasing me. His grin had grown wider and was now a self-satisfied smile, complete with a bite to his lower lip.

  He was trying to rile me up, but it wasn’t necessary tonight. I didn’t think I could have taken him slow and gently if my life depended on it.

  His smile morphed into a gasp when I pressed two fingers into him without warning, stealing the air from his lungs. I was fast and rough stretching him, but neither of us could wait. When he bore down and rode my fingers in time with my thrusts, I withdrew them.

  “Maxim,” he moaned, spreading his legs wider for me.

  Remy was barely ready, but it had to be enough. I pumped out more lube and quickly slicked up my cock, then lined up at his entrance.

  “This is going to hurt. You can hurt for me, can’t you, love?”

  “Fuck, yes. Do it, Max.”

  The fire in Remy’s eyes was on the verge of engulfing me. I knew the risks of being with him, of what he could do to me. My whole world could go up in flames on his whim. I closed my eyes, pushed inside, and willingly chose to burn.

  Perfect was the only way to describe how good it felt to be inside Remy again. The tight heat surrounding me was almost too much. His blunt nails digging into my back helped ground me, pulling me back into the present. Remy was tense under me, the tendons in his neck taut and strained. I shifted back slightly, and he sucked in a sharp breath that nearly matched the one he’d released when I penetrated him.

  “Fuuucking fuck.”

  I nuzzled into his neck,
nipping and kissing his tender skin until I made my way to his lips. “You feel so good, Rem.” I pushed further into him and kissed him when he cried out again. “So damn good. Get ready to scream for me, love.”

  I snapped my hips into Remy fast and hard, and he did scream. I worried that I’d misread his wants after so long, then he hooked his legs together and his heels dug into my lower back. He wanted this just as much as I did, so I didn’t hold back. I set a relentless pace that had him moaning and clinging to me with all of the strength he had, and which had my muscles burning with exertion.

  Remy responded to every powerful thrust so beautifully. His voice had gone ragged from moaning and calling my name, but he didn’t stop. I kissed him one last time then pulled out, causing him to wince.

  With little effort, I flipped him onto his stomach and dragged him to his knees. After slicking myself with another pump of lube, I was back inside him, buried until my balls rested against his ass. I stayed up on my knees and used the leverage to give my shoulder a break while I nailed his prostate. Remy’s hands scrambled for something to brace against, though I didn’t give him the chance. I slammed into him hard enough to move him several inches up the bed with a loud cry. He fisted the sheets, arched his back, and turned his head to the side. He was smiling.

  “That’s it, baby—fuck me.”

  I leaned over him, pinning him with my weight, and wrapped my right arm around his neck. My shoulder ached from the action, but I could bear it. This would be over soon. I tightened the choke as I fucked into him, reveling in the feel of him shoving up to meet my thrusts. My skin prickled, and I felt myself racing toward the edge with no hope of stopping.

  My teeth scraped along Remy’s jaw before I bit down on his lobe hard enough for him to gasp. “Mine,” I growled moments before Remy shouted and clenched around me with the rhythm of his body’s spasms.

  The added pressure and the pleasure of seeing my love so overcome and blissed out pushed me over the edge. My whole body ignited, and I shook with the force of it. I emptied everything I had into Remy through gritted teeth and twitching limbs.

  When the last of the aftershocks ceased, I eased my grip on Remy’s throat and peppered his cheek and temple in feather-light kisses, uncaring that his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. Still inside him, I began to move back, only to be stopped by his trembling hand on my thigh.

  “Wait. Just another minute, okay?”

  I kissed the back of his neck and smoothed a hand over his glistening back. “Are you okay?”

  He hummed. “Understatement of the year.”

  A smile tugged at my lips, and I kissed between his shoulder blades and anywhere else I could reach. My cock had softened and slipped out of him, and Remy whined, as if he mourned the loss of me inside him.

  I fell onto my back next to him, then pulled him into my embrace. He rested his head on my chest and lazily traced his fingers through the hair there. Our hurried breathing evened out without either of us daring to break the silence. There was a lot I wanted to say, though one subject gnawed at me the most. I rubbed my hand up and down Remy’s spine, trying to find the right words to explain my actions, or at the very least apologize.

  “I can hear your heart beating,” he repeated my own words back to me with a playful lilt. “Pretty sure I know why you’re panicking.” He paused—I didn’t take the opening to speak. “You fucked me without a condom, and without us talking about it first.”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You were. Just not about the present. We’ve never once used condoms in the past. There’s a reason I didn’t stop you, Max. I knew you wouldn’t endanger me in any way, nor would you fuck me without telling me you had something.” He said it so matter-of-factly, without a hint of worry.

  “I should have said something.”

  “Yeah? And what about me? The onus is on us both. I didn’t volunteer that I’m on PrEP. My point is, we were both caught up and acted kinda…”

  “Foolishly,” I finished.

  “Nah, not quite. We didn’t talk about it because it was implied. How many times have I asked you if you still trusted me? That goes both ways, Max. I don’t want you feeling guilty about this—not after how fucking mind-blowing it was.” He gazed up at me with wonder in his eyes, then he brushed his thumb over my scar. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

  I hummed to let him know I heard him. Inside, I couldn’t help but realize that I was wrong before; I never had a choice with Remy. I’d always been and always would be consumed by his flames.

  Eleven

  Remy

  I feared things between me and Maxim might have become strained after we had sex; no such thing happened. The only source of tension came from me scolding him after I found he’d hurt his shoulder while choking me. Instead of doing the responsible, adult thing and taking sex off the table, I added a rule for it: he had to wear a sling or brace for the next two weeks for the act. Like I said before, I wasn’t a fuckin’ saint.

  The result has been me riding him, or him bending me over a piece of furniture and fucking me until I can’t stand. I didn’t exactly have much to complain about in that department. We acted like we were making up for lost time, and it was fuckin’ great. If I ignored the last decade and the mess I’d become, I could almost pretend that Maxim and I could do this again. I knew he wanted it, no matter how much he tried to hide it—which really wasn’t much lately. I didn’t think he realized how easily he’d slipped back into that old role. As easy as it seemed, I never let myself forget that it was temporary.

  Along with gym visits, we included a trip to Ricobene’s at least once a week in our plans, which was better than VIP Coachella and Christmas combined. Speaking of, the latter was mere days away. We’d already agreed to spend it much like we did Thanksgiving—only with Chinese takeout. Maxim and Roz had also persuaded me to go see my parents.

  To say that I was dreading it would be an egregious understatement. We were living in a bubble—in our own little self-contained world. It was perfect, but it was temporary. In a few short months, Maxim wouldn’t need me around anymore. The allure of fucking and binge-watching TV shows with his worthless ex would lose its appeal, and then we’d be done. The alternative was worse; if he still wanted me, I’d have to say no. The best outcome would be seeing Maxim get better, and move on. I’d accepted that I was too selfish to stay away from him in the meantime, which only further enforced that I needed to leave before I ruined him for good.

  Seeing my parents was another step toward bursting that bubble.

  Roz had to work and thus wouldn’t be home to serve as a buffer. Maxim had offered, but I wouldn’t do that to him; my parents blamed him for the failures in my life, after all. I had an hour and a half to plaster on a smile when my Uber pulled up to the front gates of my family’s Barrington Hills estate. It wasn’t enough time. I hopped out of the car and opted to climb the fucking gate instead of using the intercom. The few minutes it’d take to walk up the ridiculously long tree-lined driveway would have to give me enough extra time to calm my thoughts.

  I sent Maxim a text before I’d gotten out of the car to let him know I’d arrived safely and hadn’t bribed the driver to sink us in Lake Michigan. The thought had crossed my mind. As snow crunched under my boots and the wind from the lake didn’t chill me to the bone, I was once again grateful for Maxim’s kindness and generosity. He’d bought me some other clothes as well, stating that I couldn’t live in his pajamas and two outfits. I’d expected my pride or some manly bullshit in me to revolt, but it hadn’t happened. I figured the whore in me was stronger.

  I was far too used to getting everything from others. I went from my parents, to my friends, to sponsors, then Stan. And now Maxim. He wasn’t like the rest, and I felt shitty for letting my mind go there—even for a moment. Maxim cared about me. He didn’t give a shit about my image or what I could do for him, which, honestly, wasn’t much.

  I had a defined role
with everyone else in my life. For my parents, I was supposed to be a good son—one that didn’t publicly embarrass or tarnish the family name. I’d failed at that. My friends expected me to be reckless and fun. I’d kept that act up long enough to gain followers, though the people closest to me figured out what a sad, vapid piece of shit I truly was. And my sponsors? Guess you could say I’d let them down the most. People like me were the reason why contracts for public figures—or the dreaded “influencer”—had morality clauses. One hint of a scandal and you’re fuckin’ done.

  Before I could muster the fucks to give for how I’d let Stan down, I was standing on the cleared-off porch of my “home.” It hadn’t ever felt like it, though. That shitty little studio apartment with Maxim was my only real home.

  As I contemplated turning around and running back down the driveway, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I took my gloves off, then fished it out and grinned like a fool when I saw a new message from Maxim.

  M: Have you gone in yet?

  R: … how’d u kno?

  It was a stupid question, but I needed the distraction.

  M: I know you. It’s been a long time.

  M: And your parents can be a lot to take.

  R: my dad isn’t home. Roz said he was on a trip

  M: Go inside, love. It’s cold out. Call or text if you need me.

  R: I can think of a few ways u can warm me up 2nite

  I used the eggplant and winking emojis in case I wasn’t being cringy enough already with that reply.

  M: Go see your mom. There will be a box of fresh sweets waiting here for you.

  M: Then maybe I’ll give you some dessert.

  Maxim’s attempt at sexting left me both snickering and wickedly excited.

  R: sounds fuckin perfect

  I pocketed my phone and rang the bell.

  My mother’s shocked expression at seeing me lasted well past what I’d consider awkward. She eyed me from the couch adjacent to the floral linen armchair I sat in. She’d been pleasant enough when she greeted me, though she was staring at me like I was a stranger. In a way, I supposed I was.