Tied to You (Wild Side Book 2)

by Riley Hart

  Quinn trembled. Miles looked down and saw his thick cock leaking and wished they were in the position where he could swipe at the pre-come with his tongue.

  He began to move then, walked toward Quinn’s room before they both lost their nut. He rubbed his finger against Quinn’s hole, petting it like Quinn was his good boy and Miles was giving him his reward.

  He turned into Quinn’s room, and his legs hit Quinn’s bed. He leaned over, tried to drop Quinn onto it, but the other man didn’t let go. Miles went down on top of him and damn it, why the fuck hadn’t he taken the time to remove his pants too?

  He made the motion to pull away and take care of business, but Quinn clutched him, dropped his head back and said, “Play with my hole again. Please,” he let out breathlessly.

  Miles groaned, almost came in his pants. He’d forgotten how much Quinn loved having his ass played with. During the weekend they’d spent together, when Miles didn’t have his cock in him, Quinn at least wanted a finger. He liked his ass red and burning after a good spanking, too.

  “I forgot how hungry your ass was for it,” he said and then sucked on his own finger before pushing it deep in Quinn.

  His eyes rolled back in his head, and Miles smiled because, fuck, he loved getting that response out of a lover. Loved knowing he was making someone lose their mind with pleasure.

  He pushed his finger in deep, rubbed Quinn’s prostate and then devoured his mouth again. Quinn grunted and moaned, grinding his body against Miles’s clothed one, and again, he wished like hell he were naked.

  He thrust against Quinn, rubbed his jean-covered dick against the other man, and then he felt Quinn’s body tense up. “Oh fuck…fuck.” Quinn pulled back, bit his lip, and shot his load between their bodies, come sticking to both Quinn’s shirt and Miles’s.

  “Shit…I’m sorry…” Quinn’s breathing was choppy as he released his hold on Miles. “I didn’t mean to do that. I thought I could hold it off.”

  Okay, so that hadn’t been the way Miles thought it would go down either, but he grinned at the fact that Quinn was so hungry for him. “Jesus, I’m fucking good,” he teased.

  Quinn’s eyes slipped closed before they fluttered open again. “So fucking good. You’re like the king of sex. How did I ever get by without you?”

  “Fucker.” Miles pulled back.

  “Don’t go anywhere. Come here, and I’ll suck you off…or roll me over and have your turn at my ass.”

  He had no doubt Quinn would go for it, and there was nothing Miles wanted more at this moment than a piece of Quinn’s ass. But there was also no way in hell he was fucking Quinn unless he was sure he could get Quinn off again.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes to recuperate, easy trigger.”

  “Fuck you. I don’t usually do that. It’s been a while for me.” Quinn’s eyes fluttered, but then he opened them again as he moved to lie the correct way in the bed. “Gimme twenty, and I’ll be good to go.”

  Miles stood and rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face too. “I’ll be back.” He still grinned as he walked into Quinn’s bathroom and closed the door. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that felt good, getting Quinn off so easily…not quite as good as coming, but he’d do that when he took Quinn’s ass.

  Miles took a quick piss then pulled his shirt off. There was a wet spot from Quinn’s come. He rinsed it in the sink then let it hang on the rack before he washed his hands, opened the door, and… “Motherfucker.”

  He knew even from the distance that Quinn had passed out, leaving Miles’s cock hard and begging for the release he knew Quinn could give him. How the fuck could he have fallen asleep?

  “Goddamn it.” Miles walked over to the bed and climbed in. “Quinn,” he said softly. He really, really wanted to fuck him. “Hey…sleepy head.” He rubbed a hand down Quinn’s ass, squeezed the tight globe.

  Quinn groaned. His lids twitched and…he looked peaceful. It was strange because Quinn was so light, silly, not at all serious the way Miles was, but looking at him now, at the softness to his face and the way his lips were relaxed, and he knew Quinn was getting something he needed. Something he needed more than Miles needed to come.

  “You owe me,” he said softly, then found himself touching a strand of Quinn’s hair, before he moved to stand up.

  “No…” whispered past Quinn’s lips, so damn soft, he wasn’t sure he heard it. When he added an even quieter, “Don’t go…” before his arm wrapped around Miles’s waist and he pulled himself closer, Miles realized he’d actually spoken. And that he was still asleep.

  He remembered the weekend they spent together. Remembered how Quinn didn’t sleep much. How they would fall asleep at the same time, in random hours of the day or night, but Quinn would always wake up before him. When Miles didn’t sleep himself, Quinn never slept over half an hour or so at a time.

  Yet, that whole weekend, Quinn hadn’t asked him to stay or held him like this.

  There was a part of him that wanted to go, that itched to get the hell out of his bed, but he didn’t. He turned to reach for the lamp, killing the lights, and Quinn’s grip on him tightened. He mumbled, groaned, and Miles said, “Shh. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just turning out the light.”

  Quinn relaxed, but Miles didn’t. He lay there in the dark and wondered what in the hell he was doing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Weekend

  Miles slept like the dead.

  He lay on his stomach with his left arm over his head, facing Quinn. It wasn’t the first time they’d both attempted to pass out from sexual exhaustion. Only Miles really slept, while Quinn typically only closed his eyes and rested.

  He was fairly good at feigning sleep—or not letting himself fully succumb so that he could at least rest his body. When he was in moods like this, lost in his past, it was hard for him to sleep alone.

  The problem was, it was also difficult for him to truly let go with someone he didn’t trust enough to allow himself what his body so badly needed.

  Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

  The hardest part? There was no rhyme or reason to it. There wasn’t a pattern or something that triggered him to set him off. It was just the way his body worked.

  Quinn softly brushed his fingers over Miles’s shoulders, but the other man didn’t move.

  Damn it. He could feel his body succumbing, feel it reaching for what was just out of reach. If Miles could make him come again, maybe it would be enough to push him over that edge.

  He was…different. Nothing this weekend had gone the way Quinn thought it would when Miles walked into the bar.

  Sexually, he was exactly what Quinn wanted—dominant, bossy top who knew his way around a man’s body.

  But there were secrets in there, too. Secrets Quinn found himself curious about.

  Why did he walk around skid row? Why did he search out the homeless?

  And how in the fuck had Quinn gotten Miles to share that with him?

  He hadn’t expected it. He would have continued fucking Miles even if he hadn’t shared something with Quinn because he wanted sex and exhaustion just as badly as Miles did.

  But Miles had told him, and now Quinn couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  Miles groaned, rolled on his side, and pulled Quinn closer.

  It wasn’t something he would have done if he were awake. It felt…too close, but Quinn let him. He felt Miles’s breath on his cheek, and somehow, Miles’s rhythmic breathing made his eyes get heavier. Quinn closed them, hoping for what he needed but unsure if he would get it.

  It wasn’t long before darkness took him deeper and deeper. A voice in his head told him to be cautious because he didn’t know Miles very well, but his body just felt too comfortable. He thought about Miles with the homeless again, and that was the last thing he remembered before he lost himself to sleep.

  *

  Quinn could tell the sun was out before he opened his eyes. Still, the burn came as a surprise when his
lids fluttered open before closing again. Jesus, he drank too much last night. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight. With what he had at Wild Side coupled with what he’d drunk with Miles…

  Oh fuck.

  There was warm skin against his hand. A body beside him. They’d stumbled into the room planning to fuck…he’d come too early and… “Shit,” he groaned before pulling away from Miles.

  “You snore,” Miles’s deep, scratchy voice said beside him.

  “Yeah, I do that when I’m drunk. Apparently, I’m an early ejaculator when I’m drinking, too. I hope you don’t think it’s because you’re that skilled at fingering an ass.” He wanted to turn away from Miles, but he forced himself to look at him. Had he really blown his load before Miles even got inside of him? Then gone and passed out on the guy?

  “Oh, so you want to try and bust my balls, huh?” Miles cocked a dark brow at him, and Quinn thought maybe he didn’t want to play this game with Miles.

  “If I were the blushing type, my cheeks might be red right now.” He tried to play it off as though it didn’t really bother him, as though he didn’t care that he’d come before Miles could fuck him and then ended the night before making Miles lose his mind too. “I’ll make it up to you.” Miles had slept in his jeans, which couldn’t have been very comfortable. Quinn reached for the button and somehow wasn’t surprised when Miles’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

  What did surprise him was what Miles said next. “You have trouble sleeping alone?”

  “Fuck,” he groaned. He tried to pull away, but Miles still had a hold of his wrist.

  “I was drunk, and I passed out.”

  “You asked me to stay.”

  Quinn looked him in the eyes, saw questions in Miles’s whiskey-colored irises. Even though Miles kept his emotions on lockdown, Quinn could see the curiosity in him. The way he studied those around him, paid attention to them in ways not many people did. He’d seen it the night they met before they left the bar, seen it in the way Miles looked at him the weekend they spent together, at Wild Side last night, and right now in his bed.

  He was an answers guy. He wanted to know things, even if he shouldn’t. Even if he didn’t share them. Even if he didn’t share anything of himself.

  But then, he did share a few things of himself, didn’t he? He’d told Quinn something no one knew about. He’d told Quinn about walking around areas where homeless frequented. What Quinn didn’t know was why.

  “I asked you to stay because I was too tired to blow you last night and I figured I could make it up to you today,” he said.

  Miles paused, stared at him, still gripping his wrist. “Lying doesn’t suit you. You’re too…light and happy for that.”

  Quinn chuckled to give himself time before he pulled his hand away. “First, that almost sounded like a compliment. You like me, don’t you? And second, who’s busting whose balls now?”

  Miles didn’t reply. Didn’t move. His gaze held firmly on Quinn and damned if he didn’t find it impossible to look away. Miles was commanding that way. Like he wouldn’t take no for an answer even if you found a way to refuse him…because denying him felt impossible too. “I have trouble sleeping alone sometimes.”

  Most of the time he was fine. It pissed him off when he wasn’t.

  “And you struggled the weekend we were together?”

  “Am I on trial for something? At least pretend you’re a cop and arrest me first. We can pretend I resist, and you have to use your weapon on me.” He reached out and ran his hand over the bulge in Miles’s pants.

  Miles let Quinn feel him up but still didn’t move. He had his shirt off, all that smooth, brown skin on display, stretched across firm muscles.

  His dick was hard, but he just continued to eye Quinn, like he knew it would get to him. There were about two seconds during which Quinn was determined to win, but Miles seemed to have a sort of power over him. “I thought you didn’t like to talk?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh, that’s only about yourself. You want all up in everyone else’s business, though? You’re pretty, but you’re not that pretty.” He pushed out of bed, lying his ass off. Miles was really that fucking gorgeous.

  “Tell me.”

  And bossy. Damn it. He liked Miles’s bossiness. “I had a bad night. I’m sorry you got pulled into it, without at least getting an orgasm out of the deal.” He walked into the bathroom and started to take a leak. The bed creaked, and then Miles was there, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

  “Do you mind?” Quinn asked.

  “No. That’s why I walked over here. You were different last night. I could see it when you were drinking on the couch. You would have struggled if I left, and I didn’t because you asked me not to. I’d like to know why.”

  Because staying when asked wasn’t like Miles. Quinn didn’t need Miles to say those words for him to know they were true.

  Quinn finished pissing and began washing his hands. The weekend they spent together, he’d been the one pushing for more information on Miles, not the other way around, and still, nothing he’d asked was like this. He was asking for real information—the why of something. Quinn didn’t ask the why of Miles spending time with the homeless community on the down low. “You really just like to put shit out there, don’t you? At least when it comes to someone other than yourself.”

  “True,” Miles answered simply. “It’s a wonder anyone can put up with me. Most people don’t. I’m brooding, and a little mean, and tell it as it is.”

  The thing was, Quinn didn’t think Miles was mean at all. He thought maybe Miles wished he was or wanted people to believe he was. The why of it, he didn’t know.

  “Coffee,” he replied and shuffled over to his dresser. Quinn pulled out a pair of sweats, slipped them on, and left his room for the kitchen. As he went, he knew Miles didn’t follow him right away. Was he giving Quinn a moment? Giving himself one? Likely a little of both.

  The thing was, this was new territory for Quinn. He was generally a happy guy. He liked to have fun and enjoy life so telling someone why he sometimes had trouble sleeping wasn’t typically something he had to deal with—especially because he didn’t struggle with it every day.

  The strangest part for him? He was normally extremely picky about the people he let his guard down with enough to sleep beside them. For years when he got into funks like this, he used his best friend Christian. There was no one in the world he trusted more. Chris knew Quinn’s past, and he was there for Quinn when he needed him. Christian being in a committed relationship and spending half his time on the other side of the country made things a little harder now. He highly doubted Christian’s boyfriend would understand if Quinn flew to Virginia and climbed into bed with them—though it would be fun.

  He didn’t understand why he felt at ease enough with Miles. It had surprised him during their weekend together and surprised him even more last night. In some ways, he felt like a kindred spirit even though Quinn didn’t know much about him.

  And he still wasn’t sure how much he was willing to tell Miles about himself, either.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “How do you like your coffee?” Quinn asked him as Miles leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.

  Quinn had his back to Miles. His sweats hung low on his hips, showing the top of his ass crack. He had a gorgeous fucking back. Miles had always had a thing for sexy shoulders and for watching back muscles constrict as someone moved. There was a light dusting of freckles painted across Quinn’s, which made them even sexier if you asked Miles. He wanted to taste them, but he kept himself from going over and running his tongue along Quinn’s pale skin and instead waited for an answer to a question he wasn’t sure why he wanted to know. He damn sure didn’t have any right to the information.

  “I’ll make it.” He pushed off the counter and walked across the hardwood floors. “Do you have creamer?”

  “Vanilla is in the fridge.”

&n
bsp; “That works.” Miles opened the stainless-steel door and pulled out a container of creamer. He saw the sugar on the counter beside the coffee pot. Once Quinn filled two mugs, they each doctored their own.

  Quinn took a sip, his eyes rolled back, and he said, “Good as an orgasm.”

  Miles scoffed at that. “Not an orgasm by me.”

  “Oh, look at you, puffing out your chest to show how good you are. I see you, bae.”

  Miles frowned. “Bae?”

  “Eh. Figured I’d try it out, though I think it’s past its prime. I’m always behind on the cool shit.”

  Miles chuckled, then watched as Quinn walked over and sat at the granite table off to the right of his kitchen. “So we’re going to do that, get to know you thing, huh? Isn’t that against your rules?” He sat in one of the chairs.

  Typically, yes, it was against his rules. Or maybe not rules as much as just not something Miles had ever desired before, but there was a part of him that needed to make sense of this. It was the lawyer in him, needing to know everything. Quinn was such a fun, light, free-spirited man—the complete opposite of Miles, himself—yet he’d needed Miles to stay with him last night. He had a feeling that was the whole reason Quinn had taken Miles home with him that first weekend too. Maybe not to sleep, but so he wouldn’t be alone. To distract him from whatever plagued him.

  He could tell Quinn that the last time they were together, he’d shared something with him that no one else knew, but the last thing he wanted was to remind Quinn. It would lead to questions about himself he didn’t want to answer.

  When Miles didn’t reply, Quinn asked, “Does that mean you like me? You like me, don’t you? Last time you promised you didn’t fall in love with me.”

  Goddamn it. Miles couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Quinn was something else. He enjoyed spending time with him, and that was new for him. He didn’t enjoy many people outside of his family, Chance, Ollie, and Matt. “And you’re the one who reminded me there’s a lot of dick in West Hollywood, yet who did you ask to come home with you again?”