Rafe watched the shadows play across the room as he puzzled out his feelings. He wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, hadn’t been since he’d fully accepted his preferences. He’d had one serious girlfriend his entire life and that had ended a long time ago. He should have been devastated, but it hadn’t hurt as badly as he’d expected. Ever since, he’d figured he just wasn’t the type to get tied up in emotions.
Yet here he was with a big lump of glitter snoring on his chest and all he wanted to do was hold onto it for dear life.
Shit, that’s what he was in. Deep fucking shit. Because the only thing this attachment would bring was trouble. He still couldn’t make himself care as much as he probably should, not while Hop’s soft breath tickled the hairs on his chest and he rubbed his nose into Rafe’s skin like he wanted to burrow underneath and never leave.
There’d be time to think about it tomorrow, no need to worry tonight. Tonight, he’d made a promise and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t see it through. Proving to Hop that he could be trusted, that he kept his word no matter how ridiculous, was his most important responsibility at the moment.
The weight of it settled on his shoulders, but it wasn’t heavy like all the others he’d carried for so long. It didn’t press down on him and make him feel like he was drowning.
It reminded him of his first tailored suit—lush fabric with substance, fitted to him like no other had been before. Wearing it had filled him with confidence.
Earning Hop’s unconditional trust would feel like buying that new suit, hard-won and triumphant.
He dozed off for a while, leaving Hop to rest on his shoulder. They’d both had a long day and needed to work in the morning. He woke to a thud followed by a loud curse.
“Hop?”
“Shit, sorry. Gotta piss and I can’t see a goddamn thing.”
Rafe smiled in the dark and flicked on the bedside lamp.
“Thanks,” Hop said, disappearing into the bathroom.
Rafe sat up and leaned against the headboard. His stomach grumbled. He glanced at the alarm clock, then out the window. It was still pitch dark outside if you didn’t count the perpetual glow of the city. They’d only slept for about an hour, but it’d done its job. He felt semi-rejuvenated. Ideas whipped through his mind, each kinkier than the last. By the time Hop returned from the bathroom, Rafe had found a pair of boxers and was pulling them on.
Hop stopped in the doorway, once again wary.
“Hungry?” Rafe asked.
“Uh, I could eat.”
Rafe strode out of the bedroom without another word, expecting Hop to follow him. He wasn’t disappointed. A telltale nervous shuffle of bare feet trailed behind. In the kitchen, he chose not to use the recessed lighting, instead flipping on the modern chandelier that hung above the kitchen island. It wasn’t bright, but it created the right mood.
He pulled the stools out, grabbed Hop around the waist and lifted him to the counter.
“Not very sanitary.”
Rafe ignored the taunt. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
“What?”
“Jerk off, finger yourself, whatever you like, but you’re not allowed to come.”
Hop’s Adam’s apple bounced. “What will you be doing?”
“Cooking. You like scrambled eggs?”
* * *
Hop barked a laugh. “Eggs?”
“Yeah, why? Would you rather have French toast?”
“No, eggs are fine. Are you seriously going to make breakfast while I’m jerking off?”
Rafe’s crooked smile was deadly. “Yep. Better get started. I want you as my appetizer.”
Unbelievable. Just when Hop thought he was one step ahead, Rafe changed the fucking game. It turned him on better than porn, better than his own damned imagination. Compared to Rafe, he was vanilla.
He was, unquestionably, already hard. All his cock needed, it seemed, was that heated stare and it became petrified wood. Rafe raised a brow at him, daring Hop to disobey. It was so sexy, Hop gripped his cock. As soon as he did, Rafe turned to rummage in the cupboard and came out holding a frying pan. Strange how the sight of it provoked such excitement—like, the fact that Rafe was doing something so mundane while Hop was spread out on the counter like a dirty tramp made the whole scene extra obscene.
He fell under the spell Rafe had created so easily. His strokes were languid and lazy because he’d already come three times and he was sensitive. But even that added to his excitement, the way being forced to endure agonizing pleasure could send you into spasms.
He tried to keep his eyes on Rafe, curious to watch him work. Plus, the guy wore boxer briefs like they were fucking couture. To say he was a work of art would not be an exaggeration. The more he touched himself, the greedier he became. Soon he no longer cared where he was or why. He propped his feet on the stools and used his free hand to tug on his balls. He wanted to lie back because his head was too heavy for his neck, and he’d die for a dildo to fill his ass, or something, anything.
God, he was empty and aching.
A frustrated moan escaped his throat, followed by Rafe’s sexy chuckle.
“Bastard,” Hop gritted out.
“Do you want cheese on your eggs? I have Monterey and Gouda.”
Cheese? Fucking, cheese? His toes curled on the hard plastic seat. “Both.”
Rafe whistled as he cooked. The sound wormed its way beneath Hop’s skin until he found himself matching his strokes to the rhythm. His was the bass drum to Rafe’s melody. His heart thundered and his eyes opened only to find Rafe watching him with a soft little curve on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.
“Almost done,” Rafe said, placing a couple plates near the stove.
The scent of onions and herbs mixed with the pungent aroma of sex, keeping the normal abnormality of the whole situation in the forefront of his mind. It was absurd. And also, perfect.
He rubbed his taint and sped his strokes as Rafe plated the eggs with the kind of deftness that only came with years of practice. It was impressive.
But not as impressive as the bulge in Rafe’s briefs.
“Breakfast is served.”
Hop wanted to laugh at it all, but he couldn’t because he was completely lost in the tide of Rafe’s wishes. So he simply panted for his master and offered himself as a carnal sacrifice.
“Please, sir.”
Rafe set the plates down far enough away that they weren’t in danger of being knocked off, and took Hop’s erection into his mouth. It wasn’t the most skilled blowjob Hop had ever received, but it was, by far, the most satisfying. Rafe’s hands roamed everywhere he could reach, twirling Hop’s nipples and squeezing his thighs. Then he entwined their fingers and held tight as Hop shattered, bucking up into Rafe’s mouth and releasing with a guttural cry.
Before he’d even had time to think, Rafe straightened. He licked his lips and said, “After that, eggs will be disappointing.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A plate of eggs and another orgasm—for Hop—later, they were back in the bedroom tangled up in each other. Sleep was pulling Rafe under fast—he wasn’t exactly a young guy anymore and fucking took a lot of energy, even when your lover did most of the work.
All he wanted to do was slip under the covers and sleep until noon.
But there was still one more orgasm to give and only forty minutes until they needed to be out the door.
He’d been kicking his stupid pride for the better part of an hour. As much fun as it was torturing Hop like this, he knew he’d be feeling the strain for days.
Even knowing that, he wasn’t ready to give up.
He’d come this far, he might as well take it home. He nudged Hop’s calf with his foot.
“No sleeping, we’re not done yet.”
Hop grumbled and rolled away to lie on his stomach. Rafe chuckled.
>
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, it’s time to fuck.”
“Go away,” Hop said into the sheets.
Rafe swatted his ass lightly. “Your sixth is waiting.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I take challenges very seriously.”
Hop groused adorably. “It wasn’t a challenge. Please let me sleep.”
“After I fuck you into oblivion.”
“I can’t come again, I’m dead. You’d be fucking a corpse.”
Now Rafe was wide awake and charged with a bubbling energy that lit him up from the inside. He rolled to his knees. He straddled Hop’s hips and leaned forward, taking a fistful of Hop’s hair. He lifted Hop’s head with that grip while he slid his other hand around Hop’s throat.
“Who do you belong to?” he whispered into Hop’s ear menacingly.
There was a sexy little catch in Hop’s breath before he said, “You, sir.”
“That’s right. So what do you do when I want to fuck you?”
Hop didn’t answer with words, but he wiggled. Rafe got the message and moved. Hop bent his knees and arched his back, presenting himself. He was still flat on the bed, but now he was open and willing.
Even expectant.
“That’s a good pet.” Rafe smoothed an approving hand down Hop’s spine just to watch him quake. “Now let’s see if I can’t make a liar out of you, shall we?”
“Yes, sir.”
Rafe was sheathed and coated in short order. Miraculously, he’d gotten hard just by squeezing Hop’s jugular. But it wasn’t the steel-pole-hard he was used to, more like a water balloon, and it hurt too. His body would definitely be punishing him for the rest of the week.
But Hop’s pucker was gaping at him like a hungry little mouth and nothing in the world would keep him from that tight, hot paradise. He was as gentle as he could be, but Hop still mewled.
“Hush, I’ve got you.” Rafe stretched out on top of Hop’s back, pushing him into the mattress and surrounding him with his body. It was a slow, shallow grind and the whole time he kissed and nibbled Hop’s neck and ear.
“I love fucking you,” Rafe said between grunts. “God, you feel so good.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Rafe scraped his teeth across Hop’s shoulder. “Every time you call me sir, I lose my mind.”
Hop’s ass ruthlessly strangled his cock and a low moan escaped from the bottom of his chest, like the air was expelled from the deepest parts of his lungs. It was a never-ending incentive and it drove Rafe wild. This lazy, sleepy fuck would be the highlight of the entire night.
Rafe lost all sense of time as he moved against Hop. Each thrust brought them a little closer to the finish line, but it was such a gradual climb, the escalation didn’t register. They undulated together as if they were listening to the same song, their whole bodies pressed tightly and slick with sweat.
“Rafe,” Hop sighed. “Oh, God.”
“Let go. I’m right behind you.”
And then Hop came with short quiet gasps and no tension in his muscles whatsoever. It was such a peaceful orgasm, Rafe wouldn’t have believed he’d come except for the rippling muscles around his buried cock.
It was blissful, rolling over him until he succumbed to the pleasure. He clutched at Hop, face pressed into his hair, and rode the current as his body shuddered and spent. It was long moments before he disposed of the condom and cleaned Hop. By the time he was through, Hop was fast asleep, still on his stomach with his legs stretched out. Rafe climbed next to him, covered them with the duvet, and kissed Hop’s forehead.
“Liar,” he whispered.
* * *
“Will you tell me about your family?” Hop asked.
Rafe’s eyes were closed but Hop could tell he wasn’t sleeping. At some point over the past twenty minutes, Hop had rolled into Rafe’s side. Now he was perched on Rafe’s arm with his face tucked into Rafe’s neck. Pale rays of sun filtered through the windows. The room was warm and smelled of sex.
But Hop couldn’t sleep despite his physical exhaustion. He had to stay awake to enjoy every moment in this strange bubble while he could. Because soon the bubble would pop and reality would hit them hard. Rafe would realize Hop wasn’t worth the effort and disappear again.
“What do you want to know?” Rafe’s voice was rough from sleep.
“You mentioned your sister had an accident. What happened?”
Rafe exhaled. “She was a gymnast.” He paused and adjusted his pillow. “During a competition she lost her grip and fell. It caused severe nerve damage around her spine.”
Hop heard the pain in Rafe’s voice. He squeezed tighter. “How old was she?”
“Fifteen.”
“Fuck, so young?”
Rafe’s answering hum was broken. Hop didn’t know how to comfort him.
“She’s a fighter. You’d like her.”
He couldn’t let Rafe’s offhand statement sprout foolish wings. He was smarter than that. Theirs was not a meet-the-fam situation and never would be. For one thing, Hop’s mother associated Rafe with all the times Hop had acted out. If she knew where he was now she’d be convinced he was going to end up in the hospital again.
After a long stretch of silence, Rafe asked, “How’d you meet the Sassy Boyz?”
“Z got injured and they needed a temporary replacement so they held auditions.”
“Z’s the snarky one, right?”
“Well, they’re all a bit snarky but he holds the crown for sure. He twisted his ankle and couldn’t dance for a while.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Like five months ago, I guess.”
“You’ve only known them a short time. I don’t know why I thought you’d been friends for longer.”
“We’ve been through a lot. They’re like family now.”
“I can tell.” His arm curled around Hop’s shoulders and pulled him tighter to his side.
“When did you discover you were a Dom?” He’d been wondering since their first encounter. Rafe had always been intimidating, but the way he could strip away Hop’s defiance with one word was new.
“I started experimenting around the time we met, but didn’t get in deep until I was twenty-five.”
“Did someone bring you to a club or something?”
Rafe chuckled. “No, I had a girlfriend at the time—”
“I remember.” He didn’t bother covering his displeasure. He’d hated that brunette angel from a distance.
Rafe paused briefly. “There was always this darkness in me whenever we had sex. I wanted to do all these kinky things to her. One night, I tried. It did not end well.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“No, I called her my little slut and ordered her to kiss my feet. She slapped the crap out of me and called me a pervert.”
“Oh.” Hop giggled. “Yeah, I can see how that might not go over well with someone vanilla.”
There was a smile in Rafe’s voice when he continued, “I learned my lesson. After that, I vowed never to mix emotions and sex again. It was too messy. I sought out experienced subs, males at first because they were more willing to give a newbie a shot. Eventually, I gained a reputation and found a professional ring that I’ve been using ever since.”
No emotions. Just sex. If that wasn’t a clear reminder that Hop better keep his feelings on lockdown, he was an idiot. But it was fine. It was good. It was exactly what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?
Chapter Twenty-Five
“See you tonight.” Rafe sounded smug as Hop slid out of his car in the same outfit he’d worn the night before.
Work appropriate, it was not. But he’d be damned if he was going to do the walk of shame with his mother as witness. “It’s Monday, we’re not dancing.”
Rafe’s brow pinched. “
Oh. Right.”
“Do you even look at the schedule when Mark passes it out?”
“I’ve been distracted.” His dark eyes seemed to bore into Hop like a diamond-edged drill digging deeper and deeper. Hop felt like the exposed side of a mountain quarry.
“Well, bye,” Hop said, pulling away from the door so he could close it.
“Hop.”
He poked his head back in.
“Have a good day.” It was an order.
Hop licked his lips. “Yes, sir.”
The farther he walked away from the car, from Rafe, the more winter cold seeped into his bones. As much as he’d like to say last night hadn’t affected him, he couldn’t. Rafe seemed to know exactly how to push him past his boundaries, and something about that edgy vulnerability was highly addicting. But it hadn’t only been the perfection of their kink. There’d also been quiet moments, those soft looks, the unexpected tenderness and sharing their life stories while the sun rose.
“Heads up, Samantha is on a tear.” Andrea slung an arm around Hop’s shoulders and walked with him to the back room.
“Fuck my life.”
“Yours and mine too, babe.”
“Do you have an extra T-shirt?” If not, he’d have to sneak home and change while his mom was at work. He’d texted her late last night just to let her know he was fine. Otherwise she would have worried about getting another call from the hospital.
“Sorry, I already raided my just-in-case bag.”
Hop grimaced as he pushed into the employee area of the store.
“Looks like you had fun last night. Dish.” She sat on the table, legs swinging.
Hop eyed her. “Find me something to wear and I’ll give you all the dirty deets. And by dirty, I mean something not even a whole bottle of Clorox could clean.”
Her eyes went big. “I bet you could borrow something from the samples.”
“You just said Samantha was out for blood.”
“She’s only mad because the sports section looks like a herd of toddlers ran through it and no one bothered to straighten the racks last night.”
“What else is new?”
“Right?” She narrowed her eyes. “Stop trying to distract me from your juicy adventures. You know I live vicariously through you.”
Mad & Marvelous Page 15
