Acrobat

by Mary Calmes

  “Nate.”

  My wandering thoughts returned to the man who held me in his arms.

  “I don’t need words more than this once, but I—”

  “What you need doesn’t matter to me,” I told him, shifting my angle, rising up, and unlocking my legs. Knees on the rug on both sides of his hips, I pressed my bare chest to his, my hands on his face, tracing over his jaw, captivated by his upper lip and the bridge of his nose. “I will tell you things like that, that we just did, you and me… was amazing, and I can’t wait to do it again. I will tell you that I hope you want to sleep in bed with me, because lying beside a lover is one of the great joys of my life. And finally, I would like nothing better than to see what this right here can become. I would love it.”

  “You would?” He seemed so pleased, his eyes wet and dark and filled with happiness.

  “Yes.”

  His smile did the most amazing things to his face, making him a completely different man.

  “I’m glad you’re out of the business you were in with Mr. Romelli.”

  “So am I. So is Sal,” he said, his eyes fluttering for a second. “And Sal knows about me and knows what I want with you, so he and I are good.”

  “You lost me.”

  His gaze was steady as he stared into my eyes. “I don’t like secrets, so I had to tell Sal the truth, that I wanted this with you.”

  “But you never told me what you wanted.”

  “Now you know.”

  I smiled when I felt his hands clutch at my ass.

  “Do you know what I want?”

  “No.”

  “I want to come inside of you and see it leaking out.” He moaned softly, the sound of his breathing and the look on his face both telling me how badly he wanted that. “I went to get tested, and when I get the results back, when you can see I’m good, can I do that? Will you let me?”

  “Maybe I want to fuck you,” I said, even as his fingers slid down my crease and I bucked back into his hand.

  He laughed, and it was deep and rumbling, warm and sexy. “I think you want me back inside of you bad.”

  No games, I never played them. “Yes,” I confessed, dropping my head forward into his shoulder, loving his scent, his sleek olive skin, the sweat and salt.

  He exhaled long and deep and just hugged me, content, it seemed, not to move.

  “We should get up,” I said finally. “Michael’s probably out there absolutely scarred for life. I’m sorry I yelled—I couldn’t help it.”

  “I like that you lost control.” He smiled, hands on my face. “And Michael is still at home. I told him I had to talk to you alone for a few minutes and I would call him when we were done.”

  I stared. “Is this what you had in mind?”

  “Actually, no,” he said, standing up, dragging me to my feet after him. “I did have things to say.”

  “Like?” I asked, watching him as he leaned into my shower and turned it on.

  “Like, would you consider giving us a chance?”

  “But I already said yes to that.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s a lot easier to get the guts to ask it after sex.”

  My smile was huge, and he made a sound in the back of his throat before he bent and kissed me. That he had to grab me, crush me against him and ravish my mouth, was hotter than I could have imagined. I would have to get used to bearing marks and bruises and found the idea very appealing. Men were normally careful with me; Dreo was too hungry to care. I loved it.

  “Jesus,” he snapped, shoving me into the shower and closing the door. “We’re never gonna get out of this damn bathroom if I don’t leave you alone.”

  “I don’t mind.” I chuckled, hearing his growl as I turned under the water and soaped up quickly.

  “You will when you’re too sore to move.”

  “I’ll take that chance.” I sighed, rinsing off and stepping back out, shaking my head, letting the drops of water hit him.

  He reached for me, hand in my wet hair, made a fist, and dragged me close for another kiss. The sound I made pleased him, as was evident from his mouth slanting down over mine.

  Getting out of the bathroom didn’t seem to be in the cards.

  MICHAEL got tired of waiting, walked over to my apartment, and told us to get the hell out to the living room and watch TV with him. He was demanding and loud. I was charmed completely.

  He sat between us, much to Dreo’s annoyance, as the flannel pajama bottoms and long-sleeved T-shirt I was wearing were, he said, the sexiest things he had ever seen in his life.

  “You need to get out more,” I whispered before I got up to make hot chocolate.

  He followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he watched me get out a small saucepan to heat the milk.

  “You don’t just put some water in the microwave?”

  I looked at him over my shoulder. “Real hot chocolate isn’t made that way.”

  “What way?”

  “With water.”

  He nodded, his eyes raking over me from head to toe.

  “Seriously,” I teased. “Flannel pajamas are not hot.”

  “Says you.”

  I swallowed down my heart, concentrating on the task at hand instead of the blood rushing to my groin. How had I ever missed that the man was drop-dead gorgeous? I wanted to lick him all over.

  “You’re all flushed.”

  Because I was about to go up in flames.

  “It’s adorable.”

  “I’d prefer it was sexy.”

  “Oh, it’s that too.”

  Jesus.

  Once I was done and sprinkling the cinnamon on top of the whipped cream that I knew Michael loved, I told Dreo to carry the mug into the living room for me.

  “I want to talk about what clothes you think are a turn-on instead,” he murmured, his breath on the back of my neck giving me goose bumps.

  “I just… there’s leather chaps and thongs and all kinds of things out there, Mr. Fiore.”

  His hand smoothing down my ass made me lean forward and close my eyes. It had only been three weeks since my last nameless encounter with a guy I picked up at a friend’s party, but I had topped, as the guy expected me to, as I normally did because I was not comfortable being dominated by a stranger. As I had not been the one submitting, the one trusting, it had been okay but not great. I had not bottomed since Duncan.

  I had to know a man, be comfortable and confident, before I let someone inside of me. Even though I loved it, craved it, being filled and stretched, I just didn’t have the faith that my friends did to offer that gift to a stranger. All of my relationships had started the same way, with me in control, me being the one dominating another man. Even Duncan and I had begun with him facedown on his bed. But this… this was already different. It already felt closer because of the foundation of friendship that was there to begin with. And Dreo was so confident, so passionate, so utterly secure, that saying no never even entered my mind. He wouldn’t hurt me. Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally. He saw me, amazing as it seemed, like a treasure that he could not believe his good fortune in getting a chance to have. The look in his eyes was carnal heat and awe all rolled up together. There was no doubt in my mind that the man wanted me and more. He was dying to see where it could go.

  So because there had been the domination I craved, what I enjoyed most in bed, about bed, when the man slid his hand over my ass, I lost it just a little.

  I let out a hiss of breath and pushed back against him.

  “Come get in your bed with me,” he pleaded, sliding his hardening cock against the crease of my ass.

  “We have Michael.”

  “Michael will be fine on the couch alone.”

  The man just annihilated me.

  “Mi piaci da morire,” he whispered against my ear, his breath warm and his lips soft and wet as they grazed my skin.

  “What did you say?” I asked. I felt twenty-five instead of forty-five whenever Dreo had his hands
on me.

  “I said I like you a little.” He chuckled, his voice husky and low.

  “You’re lying,” I accused him, my body calming down. I eased free of his hands, walking backward into the refrigerator. It was a testament to how big and solid it was that it didn’t rattle when he pinned me against it seconds later. “You said you’re crazy about me.”

  He didn’t contradict the statement, came after me instead, hand splayed beside me on the stainless steel surface, making sure I couldn’t move again.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Fuck if I know,” he said, eyes fixed on mine. “I just—I love my nephew, but I really wish he would go to bed. I need to talk to you.”

  “You don’t want to talk to me.” I chuckled, seeing the way he was looking down my body before he leaned forward, wedging his thigh between mine.

  “No,” he growled, his voice thick. “Not really.”

  “Hey.”

  His eyes flicked back to mine.

  “We’re going to try, right?” I asked, smiling. “Isn’t that what we said?”

  He nodded.

  “We don’t have to talk,” I assured him. “We’ll just start and hope for the best.”

  “Not hope. We’ll work hard at it.”

  I put a hand on his chest, and he covered it with his own. “Yes. Now take that cup to Michael.”

  We joined the teenager on the couch as an old favorite, The 36th Chamber of Shaolin, came on.

  “Is this a good one?” Dreo asked.

  Both Michael and I did the slow pan to him like he was insane.

  “Jesus.” His eyes got big. “What did I say?”

  “You’ve never seen this?” Michael was flabbergasted.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “There are good kung fu movies besides Enter The Dragon?”

  “For starters,” Michael said, indignantly, “Enter The Dragon is not a kung fu movie. It completely transcends that label. You understand that without Enter The Dragon there would be no Mortal Kombat or Tekken or—”

  “Yes, Christ, I get it,” Dreo groaned. “But we’re not talking about that.” He gestured at the TV. “What is this?”

  “You’re serious.” I looked at him in mock wonder. “You’ve never seen The 36th Chamber of Shaolin?”

  “I think I’ll live.”

  I grunted.

  He made a noise in the back of his throat as the three of us settled to watch one of the greatest kung fu movies ever made.

  “You know the two of you are completely—”

  “Shhh,” we both hushed him at the same time.

  It was obvious he thought we were being ridiculous.

  I must have dropped off at some point, because when I woke up, I had my head on Dreo’s chest and his hand was in my hair, massaging my scalp.

  “Hey,” he said softly, sighing deeply.

  “Where’s Michael?” I asked, groggy with sleep, lifting up only to realize that I was basically in his lap, draped over him.

  He tipped his head, and I saw that his nephew was asleep on the other end of the couch. Dreo and I were cuddled up together on the right.

  I leaned away from him, rubbing my eyes as he smiled. “I’m sorry. We both passed out after we told you how good the movie was.

  “It doesn’t matter; the movie wasn’t the important part.”

  I just looked at him, still half-asleep.

  “I enjoyed being here with you both more than anything,” he told me, his hand sliding around the nape of my neck and easing me back to him. He tipped my chin up with his other hand. “This was right; it felt right.”

  He wasn’t making any sense, but when he drew me forward, his lips sliding over mine, our mouths notching together so perfectly, I forgot what I was going to say.

  “Stay—” He kissed me. “—here. Stop moving away.”

  “Should I get in your lap?” I teased, still groggy.

  “Oh yeah.”

  His voice, the rumble in it, the break it did, all hoarse and wicked, was so hot I could not stifle the moan.

  His hands on my skin, up under the T-shirt, sliding over my stomach, my hips, down inside my pajamas, on my ass, made me whine into his mouth. The kiss was wet and hard and deep, and our lips slid together, mashed and mauled, sucked and nibbled with breathing occurring only in hurried gasps. The mewling sound that came from way down in my chest made his breath catch. Only when Michael stirred did we push apart, both of us panting, staring at each other.

  I got up and went to stand by the mantle as he woke his nephew enough to steer him to the guest bedroom. Watching Michael stagger away with Dreo’s hands on his shoulders was very sweet. I tried to focus on that to calm my racing heart.

  In minutes he was back, wrapping his arms around me, one gently draped around my neck, the other across my chest.

  “Come on, let me take you to bed,” he said after he squeezed me tight.

  It was nice, the way he stepped back and took my hand and gently pulled me after him. He left me to turn off the lights, told me he had to do a quick walk-around like he did in his own loft before he went to bed.

  I was lying facedown when he came back. I heard him close the door behind him before I felt his hand on my ass, pulling down pajamas and underwear at the same time.

  “Dreo,” I whispered as I felt his mouth on my right butt cheek.

  “Sorry,” he said quickly, and I had a moment of panic that he was going to leave me, that he had taken his name for an admonishment when it was instead an invitation.

  I lifted up to turn my head only to find the man shoving his sweats down to his knees and flipping open a bottle of lube, a wrapped condom between his teeth.

  “You can’t sleep yet.”

  I shivered, lying back down, my hand sliding under my hip, fingers wrapping around my cock as he straddled me from behind.

  “Say yes to me, Nate,” he ordered, and I heard the sound of ripping foil.

  “Oh fuck yes.”

  The sound he made, part grunt, part growl, all sex and approval, made me breathless.

  I lifted my ass so I could get him inside of me quicker, then gasped as I felt the long, thick, hard shaft sliding between my cheeks, parting them and pressing against my entrance.

  I had missed it so much, the claiming, the desire, and now the physical marks on my body, evidence that I had been taken, were added to that. It was primal and was not something I shared with anyone outside my bedroom, my need to be dominated. I had begged Duncan to use his handcuffs on me, but he had never believed that I wanted my power stripped away, that I would allow that. He had never trusted me enough to take me at my word.

  There was the burn, the stretch, and then his weight over me, pinning me to the mattress as he pushed and shoved inside my body. The tears were involuntary, the pleasure overwhelming, and I shuddered beneath him and cried out.

  “I want to tie you down,” Dreo whispered as his hand covered my mouth so my howl of pleasure was muffled. “And I wanna gag you. Will you let me?”

  I nodded, barely able to answer, to breathe, squirming and writhing under him, wanting him deeper, loving the rhythm he was setting, the slow, sensual thrust and retreat, as he sucked and bit my shoulder.

  “You wanna be mine so badly,” he groaned, grasping my jaw firmly, his middle finger slipping between my lips.

  I sucked on his finger as he filled my ass, thrust hard and retreated, over and over. The man was huge, and I felt every inch of him inside me.

  “Nate. Say yes… you wanna be mine.”

  “Yours. Yes,” I barely whispered the words.

  And it was just insane. I wasn’t in love; I had barely spoken to the man in the four years I’d known him. His motivations, his thoughts, these were all unknowns, but what I did know of him, of his heart, I was crazy about. He was always there, so close, taken for granted and yet utterly depended on.

  “Lift up,” he ordered and pulled out at the same time.

  I sucked in my
breath, the emptiness almost physically painful as I teetered on the edge of my shattering orgasm.

  Rough hands were on my hips as he wrenched me backward to the edge of the bed, the tops of my feet falling over the side as my face was forced down between my bent knees. I felt like a compressed accordion before I felt the nudge at my opening and he pressed inside of me, burying himself to the hilt in one long, smooth forward thrust.

  “Dreo!”

  My ass was slapped hard, and I felt it hot and stinging on my cheek as his other hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head up and sideways so he could ravish my mouth as he pounded into my body.

  “I can’t—I, Dreo.” I moaned out the man’s name as my balls tightened, as my muscles fisted around his cock, clamping down with the force of my release.

  He hammered me through my shuddering climax and the aftershocks that tore through me. I felt him swell inside of me, but there was no release, no wet and silken heat filling me, flooding me, and I wanted it, missed it.

  “You need to get those test results,” I told him when my teeth stopped chattering.

  “Why?” he asked as he nibbled on my ear, on the skin behind it and down the side of my neck. His soft lips, warm breath, and gravelly voice made me shiver anew.

  “Because,” I whispered, “I want the same thing you do, for you to fill my ass with cum.”

  He jolted behind me, and I knew that the idea of coating my insides was way more than appealing. It was a deep, throbbing need. “I’ll have them next week. I’ll bring them to you as soon as I can.”

  I smiled and he collapsed over me, arms wrapped around my chest, squeezing, pressing, holding me so tight.

  He was still buried inside of me, and that, along with his sweat-slick skin plastered to mine, his mouth open on my shoulder, his heart beating against my back, let me surrender. I finally, completely, let my walls down and took a breath.

  “That’s it, trust me,” he growled, nuzzling my hair.

  I had forgotten how much I loved to just be held tight.

  “Tesoro.”