Riding for a Fall (Get Your Rocks Off Book 2)

by Sam Hall

  “Get those ridiculous clothes off and get on the bed, Jacob,” Samson said.

  “No.”

  The other man froze, his fingers at the buttons of his shirt.

  “Jake likes those pants, and there’s plenty for you to play with there, but you’re not laying a finger on him until we hammer some basics out. You’re not going to harm him. No blood, no scratches, no bruises, no—”

  “You didn’t tell her what we do here?” Samson said to Jake, shaking his head when he didn’t respond. That smirk was back on his face. “I don’t play the tawdry little games they love out there. I bring Jacob here to make love to him, to wring every little bit of pleasure I can from his body, because that’s what he deserves. He does the same for me, eager and hungry for every drop he takes from me.” His gaze transferred to Jake, who was staring at the floor. “They don’t understand what they have in you, I’ve told you this many a time. Tarrying with some woman won’t change that. They’ll never get you like I do. Remove the clothes. I don’t need props or enticements. I just want you.”

  Ohh fuck.

  I’d steeled myself coming over here, that there’d be a whole lotta kink on display that I had no idea how I’d cope with. Watching shit go down on a phone screen wasn’t the same as being up close and personal, but I quickly realised this wasn’t what the issue was going to be. Samson looked at Jake like he was the most precious thing in the world.

  But Jake’s eyes were on me, when his hand went to his fly, when he started to unfasten his pants and kick off his shoes. They burned brighter, as did his skin when the other man finally reached out to touch him. But he maintained eye contact with me the whole time, when Samson undid the zipper and cupped his arse, when he jerked the pants down. He was clawing to get at Jake, just as I’d asked. He didn’t even let the man get undressed before his hands were on him. Samson pulled Jake against his chest, stroking his hand across it, tipping his head back to bestow kisses on his neck. He only drew back to go for the collar, to unbuckle it.

  “No!” Jake cried when his fingers went to it, closing his own hands on the leather and spinning out of the other man’s grip.

  “Nothing between us, that’s my rule,” Samson said, waving a finger at him.

  “Fuck you and your shit…” Jake muttered as he jerked up his pants.

  “Come here, Jake,” I said, feeling like I couldn’t get any closer to whatever was going on right now, but wanting to. I needn’t have worried. He threw himself at me, wrapping me in his arms and burying his face in my hair. When I stroked him, he was shuddering.

  What the fuck was going on? I was playing these fucking mind games, and I had no idea what I was doing. People could get hurt. From Jake’s response, people had.

  “We’ll get out of here, OK?” I said, stroking his hair, but he didn’t move for the door and drag me after him like I thought he would.

  “He wants what I have to offer him,” Samson said, standing there and staring at me like he’d extinguish me on sight.

  “No, he wants some of what you have to offer.” I thought about it, my mind racing to decipher this situation. He’s a black hole… “You’re intense, know how to make him feel good, but he doesn’t want anything else that comes with it. That’s what this is.” I stopped, putting two and two together, then looked at the man in the middle of all of this. Why would he bring me here? To someone who so patently wanted to take things to another level with him, who he feared as some kind of threat? My eyes strayed to where he fingered his collar, as if taking pleasure from the sensation.

  I met Samson’s gaze, and I think a moment of understanding passed between us. All smirks were left in the dust, and when his hands went to Jake, there was a reverence in them. He smoothed the long spikes of his hair back from his face, revealing that harsh yet somehow boyish bone structure of his. Jake’s jaw worked at this gentle caress, and it took a few sweeps to settle him. Small frowns came and went under the other man’s hands, until Jake’s lips fell open, his body uncoiling and relaxing against Samson’s.

  “I’ve got you…” the man murmured to my lover. “That’s it. Let it go.”

  And he did. Now the rules had been established, somewhat, clothes were removed and they settled, skin to skin, quickly enough. Samson wrapped his arm around Jake’s torso, dropping kisses along the other man’s back, his hands roaming like he was trying to memorise every single part of him.

  And perhaps he was.

  Most of the gay porn I’d seen had quite brutal guys going at it, slamming into each other, fisting each other’s cocks, but this was something else altogether. Jake was surprisingly passive here, as if his role was to be worshipped and Samson’s was to pay homage to him. Jake hissed when those blunt fingers brushed over his nipples, the small points getting harder with Samson’s ministrations. Jake grew restless, his hips twisting, his back arching, like he wanted to force the pace to go faster, but the other man continued with his ghost-like caresses until Jake started to moan. Samson’s hands moved on, like they had achieved their purpose, much to Jake’s distress.

  Samson pushed Jake up onto the bed, holding him still when he was on all fours by placing a hand on the other man’s hip. He ran a single finger down the redhead’s spine, watching the muscles jump and twitch as it got lower and lower. He stopped when he got to Jake’s coccyx, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

  Samson watched Jake with a possessive satisfaction, as if he took the gasps of anticipation as his due, as applause for his performance. He moved to one side, giving his thick cock a few strokes, looking at Jake at all angles, until the other man looked back over his shoulder, his face a mask of need. Samson reached over and pushed his head down.

  I watched the struggle on Jake’s face, the grimace as he fought to hold himself still. With no words, with few actions, Samson held him in place, taut with anticipation. Whatever their relationship, he knew how to play Jake well.

  Which is what he wants you to see.

  Was Samson that guy a lot of people had in their past? Who seemed to know your own body better than your own, but once everyone had come and gotten out of bed, you couldn’t have been less compatible. What made him a black hole for Jake? Was it that he was too much and not enough? My mind raced, but I forced myself to keep watching, to stay in the moment.

  Samson was an artist, carving Jake’s body anew as he traced the line of each muscle and bone. He remapped the other man’s body, innocuous skin became an erogenous zone with consistent attention. And Jake, he had gone somewhere else the longer this went. He still gasped and moaned, but there was no more anticipation now. He just was Samson’s fingertips and his own skin, meeting explosively in an endless loop of sensation. The light changing outside, the increasing chill in the air, all went unremarked, except for the stud of goosebumps on Jake’s skin, only to be chased away. When Samson’s hand dropped down over the globes of Jake’s arse, there was something casual, incidental about it, but attention rippled over his skin. The redhead looked over his shoulder, the movement quick and desperate.

  “Hungry?” was all Samson said, two fingers rubbing along his crack. He was met with a rapid nod. His eyes then flicked to me, holding mine steadily as he played with Jake, pulling long drawn out moans from him. “If I’m to teach you to handle him, then you’ll need to come closer.” I blinked, jumping when Jake let out a rough bark of a moan. “Grab the chair, and sit down over there.” He nodded to a place against the wall, behind his shoulder.

  Moving was weird. It brought rushing back this bloody dress, the room, the men inside it. What was before an almost meditative thing was now raw and real, no distancing piece of glass—my lens or a porn cinematographer’s—between me and them. But I did as I was bid, picking up the heavy chair and depositing it in the spot provided, sitting like a queen before a performance.

  And what a performance. Samson shot me a look as his thumb now moved purposefully over the rosette of Jake’s butt. “Watch it,” he said needlessly, then went back to his w
ork. Back and forth, back and forth, sometimes stopping to press more firmly at the band of muscle, teasing the entrance with the tip of his finger, something that drew gibbering pleas from Jake, the other hand dropping down from time to time to idly fondle his balls. Jake became more and more vocal, his head arching back, as if that would be enough to make the other man relent. “You see?”

  Samson pulled his hand away so I could see the change he had wrought in Jake’s body. His gentle persistence had made the other man’s body relax, the tight ring no long quite so taut. I nodded.

  “He’ll tell you all sorts of stories about what he’s ready for. What he’s done, what’s been done to him. It makes it all confused in that head of his. He had to survive things that others would have found unbearable and still be able to get up and keep going. If you do this, take him on in the way that collar indicates, you won’t have a spontaneous moment again with him. You’ll need to be on your guard, providing him boundaries and restrictions so he doesn’t throw himself into something he can’t get himself out of. That’s how he came to me the first time. I didn’t spend all that time putting him back together for someone like you to fuck it up.”

  He conjured a bottle of lube, and Jake began to mutter at the sound of the cap popping. He poured the thick liquid onto his fingers, then at the slick, tacky contact, Jake was galvanised. He pushed backwards, trying to force the fingers into him, and it took Samson’s other hand slapping down on his flank, the digits burying themselves into the silvery skin, to hold him still.

  “You take what I give you, when I give it to you,” Samson growled.

  “Yes…yes, yes…”

  My mouth went dry as I watched him push one finger into him, the sound of Jake grinding his teeth a counterpoint. Samson’s movements in were as slow and studious as all of his previous caresses, forcing the usually volatile Jake into stillness, quietness. That came again as the next finger was pushed inside, twisting, stroking, dragging as Jake’s body opened for him. The only soundtrack was the steady rhythmic slick of Samson’s hand and Jake’s answering low groans.

  He added another finger, letting Jake adjust to that, then tried another, but shook his head when it seemed a forced thing. Finally, he pulled away, wiping his hands on a rag he conjured and then coated his dick with lube with his other hand before patting Jake on the rump, directing him forward, waiting until he’d shuffled up a bit before settling between his legs.

  “Come on,” he said, gentle and coaxing, lifting the other man until he was almost sitting back on his heels. His focus was entirely on the two of them, working his dick into Jake in tiny little increments.

  “Just fuck me already,” Jake snarled, his face a mask of exquisite agony, but Samson held him fast. He couldn’t move, the other man’s arm like an iron band across his bright glowing chest. Samson’s hand slid to his throat, holding him still, and then he surged forward.

  I shifted in my chair, scared he’d hurt Jake with the sound that came out of him, like his soul was being ripped free, but it soon became clear that the opposite was true.

  “Don’t move,” Samson warned him, keeping him pinned, helpless as he did, sliding slowly into Jake and then out again. His pace was so measured, so controlled, it was kinda frightening to watch. Nothing got past Samson, not even his own pleasure. But he seemed to relish the way Jake came apart in his arms, his mouth on the back of Jake’s neck almost breathing in his cries.

  “Kira…”

  My ears pricked up at the faint sound, little more than a sigh, but when Samson’s eyes went to me, I knew I hadn’t misheard. That mask of deliberate sensuality faltered at that, because of course it did. He was balls deep in someone he wanted more than a fuck from, and his lover was calling someone else’s name. Fuck, this was a shitty game we were playing.

  “Get in there,” Samson gritted, not altering his pace.

  I scrambled over to the other side, not sure what I was rushing towards. I crawled onto the bed before an open-mouthed Jake, not knowing what to do. Samson watched my indecision over his shoulder and shook his head, speeding up his strokes.

  This is not hard, I told myself. It’s weird, and different, but Jake’s still Jake. He wants to get off. I reached out and put a single fingertip on his glowing chest.

  His hand slapped over mine and shoved it down, reaching out and pulling me closer, slamming his lips on mine. He was all teeth and open-mouthed hunger, like he wanted to swallow me whole.

  And right now, I wanted him to. Samson, his cottage, whatever this place was, fell away and there was only Jake. His sharp scent clogging my nose, the heat coming from his body, the hard, thick length of him filling my palm, his fingers closing around mine, working him faster and faster. His other arm dragged me closer, crushing fabric against him.

  “I think my part in this is over.”

  Our heads jerked up to see Samson pulling out of Jake. He grabbed his rag and wiped the cum off his dick, then threw it down on the bed. His eyes scoured the two of us, and then he nodded to himself.

  “This will stay up until you finish…whatever this is. The magic will then come back to me, and you’ll be left on your own. Look after him. He doesn’t realise what he is, how precious he is.”

  I waited for Jake to react, to call him back or protest, but I saw Samson’s pain when his gaze swung straight back to me, his lips kissing the corner of my mouth. With that, Samson disappeared in actuality.

  “Kira…” Jake groaned as his hand went to the slit in my dress and burrowed under it, slipping between my parted legs, then pausing when his fingertips slipped through my wetness. Those green eyes searched my face, his head twisting to one side, as if he couldn’t believe what he felt there. “You’re so fucking wet.”

  “Y-Yeah, well…” I stuttered. How the hell did anyone think I could be a Dom? “That was fucking hot. You were fucking hot, Jake.”

  “Yeah? You aching for me, babe?”

  His words, his fingers, yanked my awareness back to my own body, something I’d felt a million miles away from as I watched the two of them. I felt that sharp, deep need inside me as his fingers began to flick at my clit. All I could do was nod as he pushed me higher.

  He pulled me closer, his fingers never letting up, and he caught my moans as his mouth covered mine. I was the one shifting and twitching, held pinned, forced to be pleasured. He wouldn’t let go until I finally gasped his name, unable to get anything coherent out.

  “Now?” he asked, some of the boyishness back. He asked me for permission like someone used to being knocked back, and all of a sudden, it wasn’t just my cunt that was aching.

  “Yeah, Jake. Now.”

  I pushed him down on the bed, flicking the dress out to hopefully stop the fabric from creasing too much, and he unfastened those pants. He held himself away from his body for me, ready for me to impale myself on. His eyes raked me as I moved, always roaming, as if he wanted to store this away for later. Until I shifted and then sank down.

  Our gasps were synchronised. He was thick, forcing me open, the process slow and careful, something that only seemed to drive us wilder. His body was held stock still except for the rapid shift of his abdomen as he sucked in breath. He grabbed my hand, our fingers tangling as I felt it.

  Fuck. Maybe it was the position, maybe it was him, but my eyes closed as I felt so damn full. There was a rich, luxurious pleasure to it, like I had everything I needed and more. And as if to provide a counterpoint to it, his hand slid under my dress and went to my clit, my cries only egging him on. My cunt spasmed around him reflexively, a hint of what was to come. Human Kira didn’t do enough squats to make this position a comfortable one, but it appeared fae Kira had no such problems. I forced my eyes open, wanting to see and be in the moment as I worked us closer, and I was rewarded.

  He’d said this would destroy him, he just hadn’t said when. He studied me like a long lost text, seemingly more focussed on my reaction than his own pleasure, but he watched it rush through me, making my nipples ti
ghten unbearably within this damned dress. The sharp ache inside me flared harder, and I planted my hands on his chest and began to move in earnest. His free hand covered mine, his lips reaching up to meet my kiss as we fucked, the shift in angle letting him slam into me as I bore down. We worked as a team, creating something fucking beautiful together, eyes only for each other, tasting each other’s mouths, tangling in each other’s bodies, our skin glowing brighter and brighter and brighter until…

  I tumbled into Jake, his body, his mind, his heart. I could feel it now, along with the spurt of his cock, my orgasm washing through me with an intensity that had me howling. It was as if in this moment, all barriers came down, our sense of self dissolving as we fell. It all came rushing at me along with the waves of pleasure.

  Jake was desire, need. A need to be seen, stroked, held, hurt, anything to fill that overwhelming ache inside him. It was a rapacious maw, one that turned away people at every turn, or drew them to him, to use it as a means to mould him into what they wanted. It was so deep and abiding, it didn’t seem to have a focus. It was just want.

  But then it’d been refined.

  I was hit with the sight of him meshed with the others as they came into my dreams, over and over. His hand working his cock, aching during his invasion of me. His lips moving dream Liam’s.

  When my eyes opened, his arms went around me, dragging me down onto the bed with him, keeping my leg over his hips so he stayed buried to the hilt in me. Coming didn’t stop that frantic energy inside him, his kisses falling on my skin like snow, stinging a little as they faded. The light just flared brighter until he was almost unbearable to look at.

  And then he was.

  How did he do this? I thought, looking into those green eyes. He flicked from open and guileless, to wild boy, to this. That collar seemed to allow him to unlock the other side, where something just as hungry as Billy’s beast rose, but with no teeth, no claws to get it. Instead, he was much more devastating. He just asked.