He’s not letting go.
He’s meeting my gaze.
We’re not alone behind a locked door and he’s not in emotional agony.
His thumb stroking my hand, the way it’s stroking me, reminds me of—
I blink back the tears that want to fall, which are currently pricking my eyes.
How he’s holding my hand, what he’s doing with his thumb, it’s Leo.
Of course it’s Leo.
How many times over the years has Leo done this with him, too?
Longer than Leo and I have been together.
Were.
Were together.
Not have been.
Because we’re not together right now.
Might never be together again.
“Jor,” he softly says as he squeezes my hand. “Please, talk to me.”
Struggling to control my breathing, I finally reply. Because I promised I’d be honest with him. “I’m just…having a moment. One of those kinds of moments. Sorry. I’ll be okay.”
I don’t have to explain what I mean.
He knows.
Of anyone, Elliot knows the best.
He still doesn’t release my hand. He squeezes again, still looking me in the eyes. “We’ll be home in a minute, Jor.” Names and titles used in certain situations for us are like rituals and protocols etched in stone. He’s willingly stepping out of boy mode to address me as Elliot and, in some ways, it’s a blessing.
In others, I feel like a failure.
“I know.” He’s not calling me Sir, and I feel guilty as hell about that. Even more guilty that I flat-out don’t have the strength to correct him right now and nudge him back into boy. I’m supposed to be the strong one for him.
But who’s going to be strong for me?
That’s why I’m trying to convince myself Leo’s not going to be in the picture like that for me anymore.
Hopefully, I’ll be more stable by the time Leo returns. So I don’t do something stupid like throw myself at him, get shot down, and then fall apart and be unable to take care of Elliot and fulfill my promise to him.
It’s with no small measure of relief we finally reach Number One Observatory Circle and the detail pulls up outside the front door. Only then does Elliot release my hand after one final squeeze.
I let him exit the SUV first, of course. Protocol dictates that.
Not a hardship, either. I can stare at his ass.
Yum.
He’s six-one, a couple of inches shorter than Leo, but he’s also built a little broader across the shoulders and slightly stockier. If Leo’s a slick, sleek panther, Elliot’s a muscular tiger. Since Elliot’s been VP, Leo’s gotten him into better quality suits, too. He was hot even before then.
Now?
He’s freaking drool-worthy.
At least tonight we can go to bed early, because I don’t need to feed him first. We can soak in the tub, head to bed, and he can read if he needs to while I fall asleep in front of the TV.
Very…domestic.
It suits me. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that boring daily minutiae every bit as much as I’d missed the kinky stuff.
Once we’re inside the foyer and we’ve bid the detail good-night, I lock us in and reset the alarm.
When I turn, Elliot’s wearing a dark, determined expression. He sets everything down right there. Before I can react, he’s fisted my necktie. Then he drags me in close and captures my mouth in a toe-curling kiss that nearly makes me forget my own damn name.
Also makes me forget to remind him that’s not supposed to be his role.
His other hand slides under my blazer and hooks around the back beltloop on my slacks so he can pull my hips against his. The firm heat of his body pressed against mine short-circuits conscious thought, and my brain dangerously spins toward a sweet, familiar pool I want to dive headfirst into.
One that I haven’t been able to swim in over the last six-plus months.
Except…I can’t.
I’m not supposed to. This is supposed to be—
“Shut your brain off, Jor,” he whispers against my lips. “Just for right now.” Then he drags his lips over mine again, his tongue gently demanding entrance.
I give it.
And I choose to give myself over to him.
Hell, he is asking. Eh, telling.
Gentle downward pressure on my necktie eases me to my knees before him, and my heart gives that familiar flip-flop I’ve desperately missed for months.
We hold that pose for a long moment—he holds that. I’m on my knees in front of him, and damned if it doesn’t ease some of my stress.
With his other hand, he massages the back of my head.
I softly moan, my eyes falling closed. Fuck.
Of course he knows this secret off switch.
This is us, how we’ve been trained, both of us. Conditioned. It’s a sign of love, of care. Of concern.
It’s one of those “love languages” Leo used—uses, in Elliot’s case—to show us how he feels as much as he can. Or as much as Elliot, or a particular situation, will allow him to express.
And Elliot knows it every bit as much as I do. Because I use many of these same cues with him now. Or variations of them.
I don’t realize I’m crying, at first, until his lips gently feather along my cheeks, kissing.
Licking my tears away.
My breath hitches.
“Let’s get you upstairs, baby,” he whispers, and I’d swear if I didn’t know it was him, I’d think it was Leo.
I gasp, my eyes popping open.
No, it’s definitely Elliot.
The concern on his face guts me and I force myself to speak. “But—”
“Shh.” He massages my head more, driving me hard toward subspace again.
This time, I opt to fall and pray he catches me the way Leo always did.
I don’t really have a choice.
I’ve hit a wall I didn’t know was there. At full speed, even.
My soul feels shattered and strewn about this desolate emotional wasteland I’ve inhabited ever since I left Leo.
Until Elliot came for me.
Tugging on my necktie, he gets me to my feet again and leads me upstairs to the bedroom, where he stands me next to the bed and starts to strip me without another word.
Staring into his blue eyes, I feel my responsibilities struggling to break through the soft mental static settling in.
He’s doing my job.
I made him a promise, and I keep my promises, dammit.
But any time I try to speak, he pulls me in for another kiss and it scrambles my brain and makes me forget what I was trying to say.
Familiar emotions sweep through me, memories assailing me. It’s easy to remember Leo doing this exactly the same way. Now I have my proof that, even when I wasn’t around, this is how Leo was with Elliot.
There’s no other explanation.
In some ways, it’s a comfort. Because it means there truly was more to them than the brutally vicious nights I witnessed first-hand.
I’m hard. Elliot cups my erection, but there’s a decidedly evil glint to his smile. When he snaps his fingers and points at the floor, my knees are unhinging before I even process it.
I kneel there, watching as he retrieves a few things and gets them ready, putting them on the bed behind me, where I can’t see. He’s still fully dressed, including his blazer.
I watch, silent and waiting.
Obedient.
He even puts music on, the same Pandora station Leo favors, and returns to stand in front of me. When his hand settles on my head and massages my scalp, I don’t hold back my moan and my eyes drop closed.
“Good boy,” he whispers.
A shiver rolls through me. If I pretend he’s Leo…
That’s dangerous, I know.
Right now, I don’t even care.
My breath slows and evens out when I feel him buckle a leather collar around my neck. I didn’t realize I was cryi
ng again until I feel his thumbs brush over my cheeks to wipe them away.
“Hands.”
My eyes are still closed, but I hold my hands up for him, the way I used to…before.
The way I’m sure he’s held his countless times before.
The feel of him buckling leather cuffs around my wrists is like coming home. I suddenly long for my leather cuffs and collar, which I left at Leo’s.
I wonder if he even kept them?
If he kept my day collar?
These cuffs and the collar feel different against my flesh than the ones I bought for Elliot, so I’m guessing these are the ones Leo bought for him.
The hand returns to my hair, gently fisting at first, tentative, then growing stronger as he gauges my reaction.
“Look at me, boy.”
I shiver again and blink away tears. His eyes are dark, midnight, and full of lust. His erection presses against the front of his slacks, letting me know he’s not just acting.
Then again, we’re both so well-trained, who knows if it’s real or not?
He pulls my face against his bulge. “You know what to do.”
I reach up and slowly drag his zipper down, looking for any signal that he’s forcing himself to do this…and also looking for validation he’s all in.
The fist in my hair gently shakes my head. “Shut your brain off, boy.” There’s more genuine strength behind his words now. It’s not just rote regurgitation of his experiences on this side of the “slash.”
I unfasten his belt and slacks and fish his cock out of his boxers. He’s definitely hard, and unlike the other times I’ve gone down on him, this time it’s at his command and all for him, not for me. I hold his gaze as I ease his foreskin back and flick my tongue around the head of his cock.
The way he sucks in a sharp breath makes my own cock twitch with interest. “That’s it, baby. You know what I want.”
It’s like Leo’s ghost stands there, looking over Elliot’s shoulder and whispering into his ear, and I don’t even care.
My soul feels parched and arid, and every burning look and responsive sound and perfect touch Elliot gives me feels like cool, quenching water.
Giving myself over to this totally, I go down on him, reveling in the way his thumb strokes my scalp.
“So good, baby. So damned good.”
After a few minutes of that, he pulls me off and to my feet with the hand in my hair. Not being unduly rough with me, but not gentle. After how I’ve seen him play with Leo, Elliot’s definitely toning it down on my behalf.
Then he turns me around and bends me forward over the edge of the bed. With the hand still in my hair he pins me down, and with the other lands several hard, stinging smacks against my ass cheeks, back and forth. Warmth from his body rolls through me every time my leg presses against him, the fabric of his slacks softly coarse against my flesh.
I shudder and try not to rub against the bed, but it feels sooo…
Damned…
Good.
He squeezes my ass cheeks, rubbing the sting in before he gives me another round of spanking. A pause, more soothing, and more spanking. I find myself happily backstroking through a sweetly comfortable pool of subspace, a state of being I’ve missed so fricking much.
By the time he finishes, I’m fisting the covers and my toes are curling again.
“Stay.”
I don’t even think about moving when he releases me.
The sound of him undressing hits my ear. I hear him remove Duck and set it aside. Then he’s back and wraps an arm around my waist and easily hauls me up, scoops me into his arms, and tosses me onto the bed.
I flip over and spot a playful gleam in his eyes that makes my pulse skip. I’m not afraid of him, not really. Although he could easily hurt or even kill me, if he wanted to. I know a few basic maneuvers Leo taught me, more for playing around and self-defense, but no way could I take Elliot like this. I could outrun him, but only if he’s not wearing his running blade.
He slowly stalks up onto the bed, hands and knees, and I know what he wants.
I want to give it to him, too.
When I try to dart to the other side of the bed, out of reach, he casually reaches out, snags me by the ankle, and hauls me back to him. He plays with me like this for a few minutes, a cat toying with a chameleon.
Predator and prey.
I’m reminded once again of his tiger versus Leo’s panther.
When I start struggling, he pulls me under him, on my back, and easily pins me with his larger size. I’m not holding back as I resist but it’s like trying to shove a mountain off me.
I’m also trying to guess when I can quit struggling.
Because I like being pinned. That was my favorite part with Leo, next to the orgasms and cuddling, of course. I’m sweating and breathing heavily and Elliot looks like his pulse has barely blipped above a resting normal. Elliot needs the fight sometimes, with Leo. He needs the struggle, to purge himself, to help evict bad energy and thoughts. He likes to fight and lose honestly, not be allowed to win. Leo is strong and trained and skilled enough to take Elliot down and bring him to heel.
He captures my hands and transfers both of them to his left, pinning them over my head. Drawing his knees up forces my thighs wider. I soon hear the snick of a lube bottle and feel him pressing a slicked finger against my hole. My body wants to melt and welcome him when he leans in close.
“I wouldn’t stop fighting the bad man if I were you, baby.” There’s something positively…evil and dark in his tone, but in a playful way.
Still not scared of him, yet something about it makes me struggle again, and it’s like a light goes on inside him. As he works his finger deep inside me, I’m legit trying to break free of his grip now. The hand holding mine clamps down on my wrists, his weight settling heavier on me as he adds a second finger.
I’m anxious for him to get to the main event. I appreciate the consideration, but it’s not the first time I’ve ridden him, and I have toys bigger than him.
Except I sense this is more for him than me. There truly is a gentle streak within Elliot despite what everyone might think of the combat-hardened politician they see.
That I sense this now spurs me to fight even harder, to give him what he wants and needs from this. Mostly because I know full well how fish out of water the whole situation is for both of us, and how it can drain a person.
He adds a third finger and I nearly come when he hits my sweet spot. Somehow, I hold back. Even when he starts finger-banging me. His lips crash onto mine as his fingers disappear and his bare cock takes their place, shoving in hard and deep in one thrust.
Fuck, it’s goddamned heaven. Somehow, it’s even better than when I’ve ridden his cock.
Now I’m struggling to wrap my legs around him so I can fuck back, except he grabs me by the thighs and pulls me with him as he sits up, so my freshly spanked ass is braced against his legs. Releasing my hands, he arranges my ankles over his shoulders. His large hands wrap around my hips, fingers digging in as he starts plowing me, not even needing to brace himself on the bed. It’s like I don’t weigh anything to him. I’m dripping pre-cum all over my abs, smeared with every stroke that jolts my rigid cock.
“Don’t you come before I tell you to,” he growls.
I start to reach up for him and he easily bats my hand away without missing a stroke. “Hands, over your head, boy. Keep them there, or I won’t let you come.”
I immediately comply. “Yes, Sir.”
Saying that feels sooo fucking right, and he even smirks before slowing his thrusts so he can lean in and kiss me again. His stubble rasps against my cheeks and he sucks and nips my lower lip.
He’s got me bent into an absolute pretzel. In this moment, I start to think maybe finding a new happiness is completely possible. Not just possible, but that maybe Elliot won’t get rid of me after he’s out of office in ten years.
Maybe he’ll keep me around.
Maybe the two of us can
be what we need for each other, and he can have Leo, too. I won’t mind, even if Leo doesn’t want me anymore.
I won’t blame him.
It also hits me that, yes, we’ve fucked bare before, me riding him and him riding me.
But, tonight, he’s marking me.
That’s even more plain to me when he kisses his way down my jaw, dragging his teeth over my flesh, until he reaches the hollow of my throat. There, he nips, bites, sucks, working his way to my left nipple. He’s surely leaving a trail of marks in his wake as he does. Then he moves to my right nipple, also sucking and biting there. Back to my left pec, where he chews on me, sucking hard, right over my heart. Now I’m seeing a measure of the possessive need that infused his actions when he marked Leo all those times, a secret call-and-response between us, with Leo as the message and the messenger.
I’m squirming against him, trying to take his cock deeper into my ass despite already being tightly pressed against his body. He lifts his mouth and stares into my eyes. “You want it, baby?”
“Please, Sir. I need it.”
His predatory smile nearly sends me over the edge. Dammit, maybe he’s a closet sadist, or he’s as good a chameleon as I am.
Either way, in this moment, I don’t have a care in the world. I’m happy to let him do the driving.
Releasing my hips, he leans forward again, bracing his elbows on the mattress and holding my hands down. This time, he laces fingers with me and tightly squeezes.
“Gonna breed my boy’s ass tonight,” he whispers, making me whimper. I’m totally creaming myself, I’m so turned on. “Ask me for it.”
“Please, Sir. Please breed my ass.”
He slowly withdraws and when he pushes in again, his cock glides along my sweet spot, making me moan. “I’ve always thought you were hot, boy. If I’d known how hot you were, I would’ve been fucking you over my desk every damned day. I’m such an idiot.” He smiled. “I’ll make up for lost time with you, don’t worry.”
Deep inside me, something sweet and satisfied curls up and happily purrs.
Leo?
Leo who?
I’ll fight for Elliot, die for him, defend him from anyone who dares breathe so much as a negative thought in his direction.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He takes another thrust, slowing as the head of his cock meets that sweet spot inside me, zeroing in on it. “Better come before I do, baby,” he says before his lips crash onto mine again. His arms have my legs trapped in place, so all I can do is lie there while he fucks me.
Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2) Page 30
