by H L Day
I had no clue what he was talking about. "What?"
He sighed. "Prep, Paul. Prep. You know, it's the normal way things go. Rather than just shoving it in. Did your mother never teach you manners?"
I slid my hands along his thighs trying to scrape the remnants of my brainpower back together enough to process his words. The bottom half of him wasn't tattooed. Not yet anyway. Perhaps he was working his way from the top down. He was right, though. I was normally much smoother than this. It wasn't as if I was a newbie. I might be versatile but I'd topped enough times to know better. But something about him seemed to turn my brain to mush. Of course I wasn't going to just shove it in. Except that's exactly what I'd nearly done. I sat back, regarding him cautiously. He had every right to be annoyed. The expression on his face said amusement though, not anger. I shouldn't have been surprised. Everything about me seemed to amuse Indy, from my insults to my attempts to push him away. "Do you want me to..."
His eyes sparkled. "Too right, I do. I gave you a grade A blow job. Now, it's your turn."
I couldn't help myself, even though it was an out-and-out lie. "Grade C."
His eyes opened wide and he laughed. "Oh my God! It so wasn't a C. I won't accept anything lower than a B-plus."
I slathered lube on my fingers, accidentally tipping the tube too far and drenching my whole hand. There I went being smooth again. I was beginning to feel as if Russell would have done a better job of this despite his lack of sexual experience. "That's not how grading works. I give the grade and you have to accept it because you're too biased."
His chin lifted. "You need to give me feedback then. Points that I can improve on next time."
"There's not going to be a next time."
"Imagine there was. What could I have done better to get that grade A?"
I should have had more sense than to bait him. Now, I'd forced myself into a position of needing to make something up. I racked my brain. Too rough? No, I could hardly say that when I'd been the one to grab his head and force him deeper and he'd been obliging enough to let me. Too sloppy? That was a possibility. Seemed a bit too cruel, though, considering it wasn't true. Before I could come up with anything, he laughed. "Yeah, thought so. B-plus at the very lowest because I didn't let you come in my mouth. So next time you can do that and it'll be an A. Also, don't think I haven't noticed that you've lubed your whole hand. Just in case you're getting any ideas, you're not sticking the whole thing up me. I'm not that sort of boy."
I flattened myself on top of him, missing the feel of his skin against my own. "You don't want me to fist you? I thought you were up for anything." I slid my hand between his ass cheeks, using one finger to trace around his rim.
"Apart from fisting."
I slid the tip of one finger inside him. He was tight. Really tight. Thank God I hadn't just tried to shove my cock inside him. It wouldn't have had a happy ending, probably culminating in me being turfed out on my ear and having to suffer a serious case of blue balls until I'd gotten home. "I'll get my nipple clamps. Or my sounding rod." I slid my finger deeper, crooking it to press against his prostate. He squirmed and clamped down on it. "Or maybe electro-stimulation is more your bag?" I slid my finger almost all the way out before repeating the same motion, waiting until he'd relaxed enough for me to introduce another.
"You're joking, right?" He didn't sound too sure. I got the distinct impression that the only thing stopping him from leaping off the bed was the knowledge that I hadn't had a bag with me so I couldn't possibly be harboring a secret stash of sex toys. Well, that and the fact he was clearly enjoying what the two fingers up his ass were currently doing to him. I didn't answer. It would serve him right to worry that he'd spent weeks flirting with someone, only to discover they had secret kinks he didn't share. Ha! Hate sex. See! I could do it after all. "Want another?" He nodded and I obliged, sliding the third in alongside the other two. I watched his face as he took the digits, his hips tilting to give me better access. His expression showed pure bliss every time I brushed his prostate. It was strange, but every shaky exhalation of breath I teased from him, every bite of his lip, every squirm went straight to my own cock. I wasn't used to that. I wasn't a selfish lover by any means, but my own pleasure was usually the priority. I'd never experienced this weird secondary gratification before, where despite the insistent throbbing of my own cock, it felt as if bringing him to orgasm would be enough. It was the alcohol. It had to be. It wasn't like Indy was anything special so there was no reason why he should be the one to provoke the unusual feelings.
Our faces had moved gradually closer until we were virtually sharing the same breath. It felt natural to seal our lips together, to taste him again, my fingers still moving inside of him. Our kisses grew wilder, more heated. It was instinct, more than conscious thought when I rolled on top of him, replacing my fingers with the full length of my cock and swallowing the gasp it pushed out from between his lips.
God, he felt good. So tight. So hot. So responsive, his calves already lifting to wrap around my waist. Despite the prep, I knew I should wait, should at least give him a chance to get used to the stretch. But my hips were already moving of their own accord, the call of his body too strong to ignore. I'd come so close to orgasm when he'd blown me that I wanted to be right back there, only this time there was going to be no stopping me. I needed an orgasm like I needed oxygen.
I managed to drag my lips from his. "Is this okay? Need me to slow down?" I could almost picture the bubble above our heads that spelled out hate sex exploding into a million irreparable pieces.
Indy's bright green gaze held mine, his expression glazed. He shook his head before seeming to find his voice. "It's more than okay. Don't stop." His fingers tangled in my hair, dragging my mouth back onto his. For the next few minutes, I completely lost myself in him. There was nothing in the world except for his tongue, his lips, his heat, the feel of his body beneath mine, and the way his ass gripped my cock tightly.
He managed to worm a hand between our bodies, fisting his cock in time with my thrusts. I fucked him harder, trying to do my bit to drive him over the edge. He tore his lips away, throwing his head back and crying out in ecstasy as he came, his abdominals drenched in cum. My fingers dug into his biceps as I strove for that same feeling, my hips stuttering as it finally hit me, a white-hot wave of overwhelming pleasure washing over me as I buried myself deep inside him and emptied myself into the condom.
Collapsing on top of him, I weathered the little twitches of pleasure still running through my body. The orgasm denial from earlier seemed to have made the eventual one that much more intense. I turned my head slightly, the stubble on Indy's cheek as it brushed mine reminding me that we were still intimately entwined, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back, his legs still wrapped around me.
Without letting my gaze stray to his face, I levered myself up. Grasping the base of my shrinking cock, I held the condom in place and pulled out of him, his legs slipping from my back. I leaned over the edge of the bed, dropping the condom into the wastepaper basket I'd noticed there earlier, and rolling onto my back next to him. I closed my eyes while I tried to gather my thoughts, grateful that for once Indy was silent.
Now that the majority of the effects of the alcohol had worn off and the orgasm had cleared the fog of lust from my brain, cold, hard facts started to burrow their way into my consciousness. I'd had sex with a man who'd also had sex with my ex-boyfriend. Good sex. Far better sex than with half of the previous lovers I'd had—Stephen included. And I didn't even like him. I didn't know what that meant. It couldn't be anything good, though. I needed to get out of there. And fast. Retreat to somewhere where I could work out what was going on. This was where keeping my clothes on would have proved incredibly useful. It would have saved me from having to hunt around for them, never mind the time it was going to take me to get dressed.
I opened my eyes, only to find myself looking straight into the grinning face of Indy. He was propped up on one elbow, st
aring at me unabashedly. I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, relieved to spot my underwear and jeans only a couple of steps away.
"You're not going to leave?"
I couldn't bring myself to glance his way. I couldn't take the risk that tendrils of lust might start to snake around my body all over again at the sight of his nudity. He was like some sort of siren lying on the rocks, luring men to their doom. Either that or I was being overly dramatic. "That's exactly what I'm going to do." I reached for my underwear, stepping quickly into the pale blue briefs he'd mocked.
"You can stay, you know."
I risked a glance his way. "I don't want to. This was just—"
He rolled onto his back, pulling the sheet across his naked body. The naked body I'd just become intimately acquainted with. One that had felt so fucking good beneath mine. He sighed. "Sex. I know. You made that really clear. Over and over again. Message received and understood."
I paused from fastening my jeans. "So why push it?"
He leaned up onto his elbows, one eyebrow arched. "Push it? I'm saying you can stay the night. I'm not proposing marriage to you. I'm just trying to stop you from having to make your way home at"—his gaze flicked sideways to the digital clock on his nightstand—"half past one in the morning. But suit yourself. If you want to make life difficult for yourself, I'm not going to stop you."
I pulled my T-shirt over my head, a throbbing headache already starting to take hold in spite of the pint of water the smirking man on the bed had made me drink earlier. God knows how I was going to feel tomorrow when the hangover really kicked in. Although, I supposed that technically it was already tomorrow. Indy continued to watch me silently as I dressed, amusement still present. It must have been a desire to wipe that smile off his face that made me utter my next words. "So how did I compare to my ex?"
I don't know what I'd been expecting. Anger maybe. Or at least some sort of strong reaction, but his expression never changed. There was nothing except a slight headshake. "I'm not playing that game. What happened was a long time ago. I'm not going to keep apologizing for it."
I let out a snort of laughter. "Keep apologizing! You've apologized once."
Indy wrapped the sheet around his middle and clambered off the bed, coming to stand in front of me. I found myself staring into earnest green eyes as he laid a hand on my chest. "And I meant it, Paul. Can't we forget about it? Or at least find some way to move past it? We're good together. I think we just proved that beyond any shadow of a doubt. That wasn't just good sex. That was great sex. And fun, too. Do you know how rare that is?"
I took a step back, dislodging the hand which was making it all too tempting to give in and stay. I'd hoped that having sex with him would have gotten it out of my system, but that didn't seem to be the case. My body was already remembering how good it felt to be inside him, and it was making it pretty clear that it was up for a repeat. "You might be able to. I can't. I'm..." I bit back the word sorry, since I wasn't. I'd done nothing but make it clear where I stood, and he'd agreed to it. Agreed to those terms. So there was no way I was going to let him twist it into something else. Something meaningful, beyond two adult males getting their rocks off together. "I have to go." I strode across the room and grabbed hold of the door handle, trusting I'd be able to let myself out.
"We're not done. You know that, right?"
I froze, fighting the urge to keep walking before turning back. "Yeah, we are." Even to my own ears, the words lacked conviction because I had a sneaking suspicion he was right. If I wanted him again so soon after having had sex with him, what chance did I have to resist him when a longer period of time had passed? Although, I suppose the solution was obvious. I just needed to make sure I didn't set foot in the bar again. No bar. No seeing Indy again. Problem solved. Feeling better, I continued through the door.
Chapter Six
"SO, DAD SAYS YOU'RE coming to work for us in the New Year."
I stared across the café table at my younger brother, Anthony. Anyone looking at us would probably have found it easy to tell that we were siblings. Same blue-gray eyes. Same wavy brown hair. Same build. Same height hovering around the six-foot mark. That's where the similarities ended, though. While I couldn't get far enough away from the family business, Anthony was in it elbows deep, doing anything he could to please our father. "And you believed him?"
His brow wrinkled. "Why would he lie? I mean, you were always going to see sense eventually."
"Was I?" I reached up to massage my temples. This conversation was the last thing I needed on top of the stinking hangover caused by the excesses of the night before. After getting home at two, I'd been able to sleep in due to it being a Saturday morning, but I still didn't feel great. I didn't know which was worse, the headache, or the heavy dose of self-recrimination at the memories of entwining my body so intimately with a certain bartender. My brain kept choosing to recall parts of it at inopportune times. Like now. It would wear off. I knew it would. I just prayed it happened sooner rather than later.
Meanwhile, I had to get through this awkward lunch with my brother. We weren't close. We'd never been close, but nevertheless we met up at least once a month. I had no idea why we kept doing it to ourselves. Although, he did prove useful for tidbits of information occasionally, as was proving the case now as I waited to find out exactly what rubbish my dad had been spouting.
Anthony laughed. "Well, yeah. I mean, your bit of rebellion must have been fun at first, but you must be getting to the age where you've realized working in a dead-end job instead of figuring out how to run a company that you'll inherit shares in is a waste of time."
I sat back in my chair and exhaled slowly. Sometimes talking to my brother felt like talking to my dad in a younger form. If it wasn't for the fact that human cloning was illegal, I would have had my suspicions. "So let me get this straight. In one fell swoop there, you've accused me of..." I held up my fingers to tick them off one at a time. "...being old. Having a dead-end job. And wasting my time." My brother opened his mouth to protest, but I beat him to it. "And just for the record, I don't want the bloody shares. He can keep them. Or you can have them. I'm happy with what I've got." I winced as my animated defense only served to make my headache worse.
Anthony frowned. "So why did Dad say—?"
"Because he's bloody delusional. He thinks if he says it enough times, it will come true. Well, it's not going to... and the sooner he gets that through his head, the better." I held my coffee cup up to demonstrate how empty it was. "Now, maybe you could get your poor hungover brother another coffee, seeing as you're the one with the good job and I've got nothing, including coffee."
Anthony rolled his eyes but went to do my bidding anyway. He probably figured it would give me a chance to calm down while he was gone.
I pulled my phone out, noticing there was a message on the screen.
Unknown: It's absolutely dead in here today. Means I keep thinking about last night.
I gawped at my phone, even in my fragile state able to put two and two together and come up with the obvious conclusion about who the message was from. Except, what I was thinking couldn't be possible because I hadn't given him my number. The timestamp said the message had come through about ten minutes ago. I'd been too busy trying to get my brother to see sense to register the sound or vibration.
I typed a response, racking my brains for another possible explanation even while I typed it. Could it be Cameron? But I hadn't given him my number either, and after the whole girlfriend reveal, he was hardly likely to be sending me messages saying he was thinking about last night.
Paul: Who is this?
The cursor started flashing immediately, giving the impression that the recipient had been watching their phone and waiting for my response.
Unknown: Oh, wow! How many men do you get messages from telling you they're thinking about you? Where did you go after you left mine? I figured I'd worn you out. You must have more stamina than I gave you credit for.
&nb
sp; I rocked back in my seat. Well, that confirmed it. It still didn't make sense though.
Paul: Indigo?
Unknown: Indy.
Paul: That's what I said. How did you get my number?
Unknown: Your blond friend was in here at lunchtime. All I had to do was ask.
I shook my head in disbelief. What the fuck! Only problem was I had two blond friends I frequented the bar with, so I needed to find out which one in particular I needed to take to task.
Paul: Which blond friend?
Unknown: ???????
Paul: Was he nice? Or did he look at you as if he was contemplating killing you for talking to him?
Unknown: He was nice. Very sweet.
That ruled out Dominic then. Which meant that Russell was the snake in the grass who'd happily handed my number out to the last person on Earth I'd wanted to have it.
Paul: He shouldn't have given it to you.
Unknown: Too late for that. Besides, we couldn't have had this lovely chat if he hadn't given it to me.
Paul: When does it start? The “lovely” bit?
Unknown: Ouch! Feeling a bit sore today, are we? I bet your head's hurting. You should have stayed. I'd have woken you up with a couple of painkillers and a head massage.
I tapped my fingers on the table while I contemplated the best course of action. The best policy would probably be to ignore him. Or block him. I watched the cursor flash as he typed something else. Anthony was still over by the counter, having a long chat with a man who I assumed he knew.
Unknown: Anyway, as I said, I was thinking about last night. I was thinking how great it was. That we're VERY sexually compatible. So... I'm just going to say it. When can we do it again?
For fuck's sake, he was persistent. It was incredibly annoying. Except if it was that annoying, why were my palms clammy, and why was my heart beating ten times to the dozen? And why was I already thinking about all the stuff we hadn't gotten around to doing the previous night, such as getting the opportunity to return the favor and suck his cock?
