Love Him Free: Book One of On The Market

by Lindsey, E. M.

  His head bowed, tipping Simon’s ear to his shoulder. Rocco’s head was low enough, the most people would see was his profile, was the top of his head, and an open mouth on Simon’s neck. He bared teeth, and he attached his lips—sucking first.

  And then he bit down.

  Simon came like he’d been ordered to. His entire body went stiff apart from his hips that fucked uselessly into the air, straining against Rocco’s hold on him. He cried out, this time too soft for Rocco to hear, but enough for him to feel as the vibration hit through Simon’s back and into Rocco’s chest. His body went flush, and he pushed his neck against Rocco’s teeth, and then his entire body went limp.

  * * *

  Rocco’s initial instinct was to throw Simon to the bed and just take him. Strip them both down completely and fill anywhere Simon opened up for him. He wanted to mark Simon with teeth, with fingernails, with his come. But he had just enough hold on his own control to reach over and stop the recording. Simon was boneless against him, back still to Rocco’s front, clinging to his arm like it was the only thing keeping him up—and maybe it was.

  Rocco turned Simon, then eased him onto the bed and put one knee onto the mattress. Simon spread out, arms lifted up near his head, legs spread into a loose V. Pink flushed up from his groin where his cock lay limp and spent in his dark hair, to his neck which was thrumming with his pulse.

  Rocco wanted to put his mouth there again and see if it would arouse Simon, but he also wanted—no, he needed—to take a moment and just look. He wanted to observe open, raw, unsheltered skin that until this moment, belonged to no one but Simon. And now it was his.

  He lifted his hand and pressed fingers to Simon’s hip. Simon shifted, lolled his head to the side, and his eyes opened just a sliver.

  ‘Water?’ Rocco offered. He had a small bag with granola bars, Gatorade, and water bottles, but Simon shook his head and licked his lips, leaving them shiny with spit.

  Simon held up his hand, his wrist limp, but Rocco pushed his face against it. He took him by the wrist, turning his head to kiss each fingertip, kiss the center of his palm, kiss up his arm to the crook of his elbow. He felt Simon shudder with each press of his lips, felt his body give over, more and more.

  Rocco’s head spun with how much he wanted this man, his cock now ready to burst through the fabric of his jeans. He didn’t let Simon go, but he used his free hand to pop the button and pull his zipper down. His cock sprung out through the slit in his boxers, and he groaned with relief.

  Simon tensed against him, and when Rocco looked down, he saw Simon pushing up on his elbow to look at him. Simon had seen him before—he had seen Rocco’s dick naked, covered in a condom, in lube, in spit, in come. He had seen Rocco fuck more asses than he could really count anymore, but for some reason, it felt like someone was seeing him for the first time.

  A wave of guilt hit him. He hadn’t meant to make Simon wait for him like this.

  His fingers were hesitant. Simon was no stranger to coming, but he knew Simon had never touched anyone else but himself. All the same, Rocco swore in that moment, he would die if he couldn’t feel his lover’s palm curl around him and pull.

  “Please,” Rocco asked, guiding Simon’s hand down.

  Simon’s eyes went wide, irises nearly consumed by pupil. His mouth was pulled into a tight line, the flush in his cheeks making his freckles stand out. He was so, so beautiful. Rocco wanted to kiss him again, but he held off as he watched Simon gather more of that gorgeous courage and finally—finally—reach where Rocco wanted him most.

  His palm was cool and shaking, but it was strong. There were callouses from burns, and it was too dry, but god—it was the best feeling in the world. Rocco let out a grunt, a sharp puff of air when Simon tightened his fingers and stroked upward. His foreskin was pulled back most of the way from how hard he was, but it started to slick up as Simon began to jack him.

  “Simon,” he managed to get out. He knew the consonants and vowels were a mess, but Simon didn’t look like he cared. Simon pushed up onto his elbows, pushed Rocco to the side, then climbed to his knees as Rocco watched, awed. Simon still didn’t let go.

  ‘Lie down.’ His signs were sloppy but Rocco understood them. He let Simon’s free hand push him to the bed, and he fell onto his back. Simon still didn’t let go. He had stopped stroking, and he was holding tighter than Rocco normally liked, but he wouldn’t trade a single second of that moment for anything.

  His shirt was rucked halfway up his chest, and Simon used his free hand to push it all the way to his pecs. His nipples were already tight, hard against the light friction of the fabric as it moved, and Simon’s tongue drew over his lips again, then he ran his thumb over the hard peak.

  “Use your mouth,” Rocco all but begged. He didn’t know how he sounded, if he made sense at all, but Simon’s eyes met his and he knew. He knew Simon heard him in every way.

  Simon let go, letting Rocco’s dick fall to the side—aching for more, but content to wait. Bracing both hands on the bed, Simon lowered his head. The first swipe of tongue was hesitant, too light. But the second pass was firmer. The third had a hint of teeth, and then he closed his lips around Rocco’s nipple and sucked.

  Rocco had been taken to the edge of ecstasy before—but not like this. Not with such a simple touch, such a simple thing. Pleasure shot up his spine, and somewhere in the back of his mind something asked, ‘Is this what it’s supposed to feel like when you’re in love?’

  The thought was terrifying.

  He was brought back to the present by Simon’s hands—braver now, stronger. They pulled his shirt off, Rocco squirming to help, the neck of it totally disordering his hair. He flopped back to the pillows just in time for Simon to attack his jeans in the same way, and seconds later, they were naked together.

  Simon hovered over him, his own dick plumping up, and his lips parted. His chest rose and fell like he was panting, but he didn’t look afraid. He braced himself on his knees, then took his hands to the broad expanse of Rocco’s chest. He felt around them, the curves, the dips, the thick hair in the center. They trailed up to his neck, gripping tight then as he leaned in to kiss Rocco with a full, plush, open mouth and wet tongue.

  He groaned against Simon, his hips seeking friction, and he found it. Simon’s legs spread over him, and Rocco’s cock began to drag against the groove in Simon’s hip. It was too dry, it wasn’t enough—and it was also everything. Simon held his own lower half still, letting Rocco take what he wanted until he was wild and nearly at the edge.

  Just before he crashed over, Simon pulled back, and Rocco felt himself sob. When he opened his eyes, Simon was staring at him. He’d shifted down, straddling lower on Rocco’s legs, and his hand was reaching for Rocco. Tentative fingers traced his balls, traced down closer to his hole. The mad thought hit him—Simon would be inside him soon.

  He almost came again.

  Then Simon’s hand finally curled around him, and he met Rocco’s eyes with a furious look—echoing the possession that had overcome Rocco right before they began. His arm moved, hand squeezing from base to tip, and he didn’t stop until Rocco was spilling in hot ropes between them.

  Rocco watched Simon, who watched the whole thing in wide-eyed wonder. His mouth was half open, his tongue out like he wanted to taste. Rocco reached down with weak fingers and swiped a bit, then held it like an offering.

  Simon stared, jaw tense. He swallowed thickly, and just when Rocco thought it was too much, he closed his lips and sucked the fluid off, swallowing deeply. Rocco felt something on Simon vibrate, his lips barely moving. He thought maybe he’d said something, or maybe he just moaned.

  It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way Simon was staring at him—in love, in wonder, in a little fear. Rocco understood. And it was okay, because as he opened his arms to Simon, he fell into them—willing, without hesitation, without second guessing.

  His cock was wet and soft against Rocco’s thigh, and Rocco realized he’d come again. F
or him—only for him. Not for a video, not for an audience. That climax belonged to the both of them.

  Rocco turned on his side with Simon clutched close, and he nuzzled their lips together. When he pulled back, he had just enough space to ask, ‘Okay?’

  And Simon had just enough space to reply, ‘Perfect.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Simon leaned against the deck, staring at the morning horizon. The sun rose in front of the house, not behind it, and the sky was an ombre blue stretching from rich royal to a fair cerulean high above him. His coffee was warm between his hands, and he tugged Rocco’s sweater tighter around his body, basking in the scent of it, and the warmth. It wasn’t as good as his lover, but it was close enough for the moment.

  Rocco had earned his time to sleep in. Four nights, they had stayed up late—first with Rocco taking Simon apart with the drag of fingers, the press of lips—and then being laid down on the bed and slowly taking his lover apart with his own mouth, with the edges of his fingernails, with the pressure in his hands as he urged Rocco over the edge.

  The first night had been a revelation. Simon had never put much stock in the idea of being pleasured, or pleasuring someone. He understood sex—he had watched Rocco in more scenes than he currently wanted to admit. They were—in a way—forbidden. They were dark and they were erotic and it was the way they were disconnected that Simon related to them. Pleasure without emotion.

  This was so much more.

  He had been feeling, not quite rejected, but a little unwanted, when Rocco admitted he’d taken care of himself after he left Simon’s apartment. Rocco had meant it as a compliment, he knew, but it wasn’t until Rocco had promised himself to Simon that he became aware of what he needed.

  And what he wanted.

  He was desperate to know that he mattered as much, that he could make Rocco feel as much. He couldn’t offer everything. Their tentative agreement that any virginity—given and taken—would happen on camera. He was fine with it—he was grateful. But he no longer felt like a virgin, and that was a lot to process.

  But part of him was grateful for that too. Finally sinking inside of Rocco would be more than he could have ever imagined. He probably wouldn’t last long, but he would last long enough. Each time Rocco made him come, made him tumble over the edge, it took longer. By the third night, it had taken Rocco a full five minutes to coax the orgasm out of Simon without touching his dick, and it was only after he’d dragged sharp nails up the insides of his thighs and rumbled a moan against the back of Simon’s ear did he let go.

  Part of him regretted what he was losing—because it felt special that Rocco could work him up that way. But he recalled an earlier promise, that Rocco would teach him restraint. Through constantly coaxing orgasms, maybe, but it was working. He might last long enough to sink into Rocco’s tight heat before spilling.

  Rocco assured him that’s all the viewers would want.

  Simon knew he’d feel a little better about the video—and whether or not someone like him was worth watching. He knew he wasn’t unattractive, but he wasn’t gorgeous the way Rocco was—and his body was soft around the edges, chubby and curved rather than muscular. He, of course, had seen Rocco fuck all types of bodies and sizes, and none of them were less erotic than the other. But turning that critical eye on himself wasn’t easy.

  He was already struggling to balance his work life with this new personal side, and while the walls weren’t closing in yet, but they were starting to rumble.

  Simon took a long drink of his coffee and sighed. He thought about Collin’s suggestion, about talking to a therapist. Cherry Creek had almost nothing in the way of medical care, but Colorado Springs wasn’t too far away. It might be worth it to have space from the place he’d grown up anyway. Anyone who worked in Cherry Creek would know him, and he wasn’t quite sure he was ready to face up to that yet.

  Simon dug into the pocket of his sleep pants and drew out his phone. It was nearing six, which meant he’d need to slip out and head home. Levi had been far too eager to take over the late night and early morning prep, and Simon knew it was, in some ways, an apology. Simon didn’t know how to really start with his, because he still hadn’t admitted to his biggest sin.

  He wasn’t sure his fragile relationship with Levi would survive it.

  In truth, for it to make sense—for Simon’s lies and the things he’d hidden to be forgivable—he’d have to tell Levi everything. He’d have to confess about his mother, about Bubbe, the full extent of his covenant with Hashem. Levi would laugh at the last one, but the first two would break his heart, and shattering the illusion that their mother would have loved him and doted on him and made things better…Simon wasn’t sure he had the heart, or the strength.

  But it was Wednesday. It was Simon’s last day of filming with Rocco, and it was the beginning of an end. And maybe, the beginning of something else, too. It was the start to existing in a relationship with Rocco that didn’t revolve around the debt hanging over Simon’s head. At the very least, Rocco knew where all of Simon’s skeletons were buried, and what they looked like, and he liked him anyway.

  He finished his coffee, dressed, then left a quick note for Rocco like he’d been doing every morning. He was grateful starting his car couldn’t wake Rocco up, and he headed all the way back into the heart of town. Levi’s car was parked in the back, but Simon skipped the side door to the bakery and went up to the apartment to change. He sat with his cat for a few minutes, feeling a small wave of guilt at neglecting him for his human counterpart, and he wondered if maybe there was a better way to marry their lives together than just stolen nights behind blacked out windows.

  He didn’t really want to invite Rocco to stay with him all the time. He was addicted to it now, but Rocco had been clear he needed to take things slow, and Simon knew that was only fair. He just wished it felt better.

  He headed back down to the bakery after a little while and found Levi finishing up the last of the challah loaves for their final prove. He turned his head when Simon walked in, then rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he was smiling a little.

  “I wish you’d done this earlier.” Levi muttered as Simon grabbed a bag of flour and tipped it onto the scale.

  Simon knew what Levi meant, and he bristled. “I could say the same for you.”

  Levi narrowed eyes at him, then switched to Hebrew. His had never been as good as Simon’s—mostly because he’d grown up in the States. Bubbe had wanted him to immerse in the English language rather than standing apart the way Simon had, but Simon appreciated when Levi tried. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

  Simon tipped cinnamon onto the flour, then moved to the counter where the eggs and butter had been laid out to settle into room temperature. He didn’t answer his brother for a while, instead, tipping what he needed into the metal bowl. He watched the beater swirl through the mixture of sugar, eggs, almond extract, butter… it was hypnotic and cathartic, and helped keep him centered with Levi so close.

  It wasn’t that long ago that they were doing this every day, and yet those months apart felt like years. Levi had moved out. He had moved on—in every way. Simon was left behind, but he was trying to catch up.

  “Simon?”

  He turned his head and offered his brother a smile. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I know you feel cheated out of a real childhood…”

  Levi made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “That’s not…”

  “Let’s call it what it is,” Simon told him. “I didn’t do a good job after Bubbe died.”

  “You were twenty-one,” Levi argued. “I was just as responsible for ruining your life.”

  Simon didn’t mean to wince, but the truth of it stung. Caring for Levi hadn’t ruined his life, but it had ruined Levi’s. He grabbed the scoop and the flour, and began to slowly add it to the mixer. It smelled heavily of almond now, and seasoning. He missed Bubbe more than ever in that moment. She’d at least know what to say to not m
ake the situation worse.

  “I used school as an escape—just like I used hiding here when I got home,” Simon told him. “I didn’t deal with any of my issues, you know? I just…threw myself into what I thought was supposed to be normal. It blew up in my face every time.”

  Levi blew out a puff of air, then hopped up on the counter where all the aprons were waiting to be folded, and he swung his feet a little. Simon’s chest ached at the sight of him—how young he looked suddenly, how very much like the little boy who clung to Bubbe’s skirts and absorbed everything she had to teach him with wide eyes and busy hands.

  “She should have given this place to you.”

  Levi said nothing until Simon turned the mixer off and unhooked it. It tipped onto the cookie table in a lump—just firm enough to shape with his hands, but still tacky. He laid out a sprinkle of powdered sugar and began to divide the dough into sections.

  “Why didn’t she?” Levi’s voice rose over the quiet din.

  Simon looked up at him and saw him now sitting in a stream of morning sun—his hair curly and long, almost aglow like it was lit with flames. Levi had the best of both parents—and for a sudden moment, Simon was overcome with another wave of frustration and anger toward his mother for not giving them a chance—for not being willing to try harder.

  “Simon, why did she leave it all to you?”

  Simon blinked, startled, and it only took a second to realize what Levi was saying. He knew. Swallowing thickly, he scooped a single ball of dough from the pile and began to shape it with his hands the way Bubbe had taught him. “You went through the office.”

  “I was pretty sure you were hiding something—and I knew it had to do with the bakery. I thought maybe it was money, but all the bills have been paid on time.” Simon didn’t look up, but he didn’t need to to know that Levi was chewing on the edge of his thumb. “I mean, it’s all there. Her will is in the safe, I had the combination the entire time. I just never thought to look. I didn’t think I needed to. Were you ever going to tell me?”