Guarded

by L. A. Witt

  “Will you fuck me?” he pleaded. “God, Jase. I want… I want you to fuck me. Please.”

  I shivered. I’d never even imagined this side of Jordan before. He was always so in control, giving orders rather than taking them, and now…

  I lifted myself up and moved over him, pressing my cock against his as I whispered in his ear, “Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes. Please, Jase.”

  God, I’d been attracted to him before, but this? This was every fantasy imaginable come to life. “You have condoms?”

  “Yeah.” He gestured to one side. “Suitcase. The black one.”

  I lifted myself off him. “Get one.”

  He got up and dug some condoms out of the suitcase. Lube too. When he went to hand them to me, I shook my head. “You want me to fuck you? You put them on.”

  His eyes widened. Then he grinned and tore the wrapper with his teeth. Carefully—and obediently—he rolled the condom onto my cock and covered it with lube.

  I took the bottle and gestured behind him. “On your back.” I started to put some lube on my hand, but he stopped me.

  Grinning, he said, “I don’t want your fingers. I want you to fuck me.”

  Jesus…

  “Now you’re giving orders?”

  His eyebrows jumped and his back straightened. “I… No, I’m not. But I…” He moistened his lips. “Please. Just fuck me.”

  “Well, since you asked nicely.” I drew him into a kiss, and then guided him down onto his back. Jordan spread his legs for me, hooking one around my hip and pulling me against him.

  I sat up and pushed his legs farther apart. Jordan reached back, grabbing onto the edge of the mattress as I pressed against him. With no prep, he was tight as hell—I didn’t want to hurt him, but as I pushed harder, he released the most spine-tingling moan. If it did hurt, he obviously didn’t mind.

  A little more pressure, and suddenly the head of my cock was inside him. Jesus fuck, he was tight. As I worked myself deeper, he closed his eyes and bit his lip, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he took me an inch at a time.

  “Harder,” he murmured.

  “Harder? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He grinned, but didn’t open his eyes. “Come on, Jase. Haven’t you figured out by now I like—” He gasped, eyes flying open as I forced my cock into him. “Oh my God.”

  “That how you like it?” I asked through gritted teeth as I slowly withdrew.

  Whimpering, he nodded.

  “I asked you a question, Jordan.” I thrust in again, even harder this time. “Is this how you like it?”

  “Yes!” He squirmed and shuddered. “Oh my God, yes.”

  He liked it that way, so I fucked him that way, hard and deep and fast, and it was a struggle to stay in control. The hottest man I’d ever seen was under me, taking my cock and begging for more, and I wanted this to last.

  Something was off, though. As Jordan’s body yielded to me, and that initial pain had probably worn off, his moans softened a little. He liked being fucked, that was for sure, but something was missing.

  I knew exactly what he wanted. He didn’t even have to say it. After what we’d done earlier, after years of learning to read submissives and masochists like him, I fucking knew.

  Except I didn’t dare leave any marks.

  Supporting myself on one arm, I cupped my hand over his mouth and nose. His breath was hot against my palm. He could still breathe freely, but all it would take was a little pressure, and both his airways would be cut off. I knew that. As he looked back at me, pupils blown and eyes gleaming with lust, I had no doubt he knew it too.

  I fucked him faster, and he moaned. He lifted his head a bit, pressing against my hand, though his airway was still open. I pushed him back down and pressed a little harder, covering his mouth and nose completely but not quite cutting off his air. Instantly, his back arched. He was so goddamned tight, I could barely move inside him, but I kept fucking him fast and hard anyway, and if it hurt, he didn’t care. He probably hoped it would.

  Gritting my teeth, I slammed into him as hard as I could. He was breathing faster, hot huffs hitting my palm and rushing between my fingers. He was close now, right on the brink, right on that razor thin line between holding back and letting go, and so I gave him everything I had.

  And I clamped my hand over his mouth and nose.

  And he came.

  His whole body arched beneath mine, and hot semen hit my chest and stomach, and he took me right over the edge with him. I thrust as deep as he would take me, shuddered hard, and came too.

  I released a breath and sagged over him, my hand sliding off his face. He took in a few gulps of air as he wrapped his arms loosely around me.

  “That…” I kissed his collarbone. “Was insane.”

  “The best sex always is.”

  I lifted my head.

  “I knew you were hot,” Jordan slurred, touching my face. “But had no idea you were…”

  “Kinky?”

  Jordan grinned. “Yeah. That.”

  “Surprise.” I kissed him, and then carefully pulled out, both of us gasping as my cock slid free. “We should grab a shower.”

  He nodded, wiping some sweat off his face. “Yeah. Soon as I can stand.”

  * * *

  Staring up at the ceiling, I should’ve been starstruck and floored by the fact that Jordan Fucking Kane’s head was resting on my shoulder.

  And somewhere in the back of my mind, I was reeling from that. At least a dozen of my hottest fantasies had all come true at once tonight.

  But…

  I closed my eyes and tried not to shudder at the memory of Jordan’s body going slack while I’d held his throat. Breath play had never been my thing. Dominance, yes. Sadism, absolutely. Most of my submissives had loved pain as much as I’d loved giving it to them, but no one I’d ever topped had shown an interest in choking. I’d never done it and didn’t even know much about it except that it was supposed to be dangerous as hell, which was half the thrill.

  But then Jordan had come on to me again, and I’d had that comment by his ex in my head, and I’d tested the waters with my hands on his throat, and then he’d egged me on and I’d gotten carried away and…

  Fuck. Fuck!

  There was no way in hell that had been safe. What if I’d really hurt him? Or left a mark? Fucked up his voice?

  What if I’d killed him?

  This time, I couldn’t help shuddering. Beside me, Jordan stirred. Murmuring softly in his sleep, he pulled away and turned onto his side. I followed, draping my arm over him. He found my hand and laced our fingers together.

  Then he was still, breathing slowly and easily against me.

  Eyes closed, Jordan’s hair in my face but not bothering me at all, I lay there with my thoughts. He smelled of soap and vaguely of smoke. Just thinking about the scent of sweat on him from earlier was nearly enough to get me turned on again, but I just drew my hips back from him so he wouldn’t feel me if I got hard, and tried not to think about everything we’d done to make him sweat.

  Or suffocate, I thought with a chill.

  Kinky sex was fine and good. Pain play was great as far as I was concerned. But tonight I’d lost my good sense when we’d both needed it most.

  And yet this wasn’t the first time he’d done it, was it? So maybe there was a safe way. Or maybe it wasn’t as dangerous as I thought.

  Whatever the case, now that I’d done it, I wasn’t comfortable doing it again. I just… I couldn’t. I couldn’t shake the thought that I was really hurting him when I did that, putting him in real danger of real injury.

  I’m supposed to be protecting you, I thought, holding him a little tighter. Not hurting you.

  What the hell was I supposed to do now?

  I nuzzled the side of his neck and kissed beneath his ear. He stirred again, but didn’t wake up.

  And I still didn’t sleep.

  I want you, Jordan. But
I can’t hurt you that way.

  I won’t hurt you that way.

  Chapter Five

  Jordan

  “Jordan, over here!”

  “Jordan, can I get a picture?”

  “I love you, Jordan!”

  “I love you more!”

  Some days I hated the sound of my own name. I was used to being mobbed after a show, but crowds showing up whenever I did an interview were getting pretty fucking tiresome. We didn’t even announce them ahead of time anymore, yet somehow people still managed to find out.

  Jase hustled me inside the radio station, one hand laid protectively on my shoulder. “You okay?” he murmured.

  Not the first time he’d asked me that this morning. Concern looked adorable on him. “Fine.” I twisted around, peering through the station’s front window to make sure we were out of the mob’s eyeshot, then reached for his hand. Barely enough time for a quick squeeze before the receptionist’s gaze flicked our way.

  Rumors had been circulating about my bisexuality for years—rumors I’d helped cultivate. Everybody thought Daniel and I had an on-again, off-again thing going, which explained why we still shared a house in LA. Sure, I liked women too, but big, strong guys like Jase? They were my fucking Kryptonite. God, what wouldn’t I give to be able to hold his hand or kiss those lips again—those gorgeous, lush cocksucking lips—in front of everyone?

  This is who I really am, fuckers. Deal with it.

  The receptionist buzzed us through, and we headed down a bright, fluorescent-lit corridor. A tall, skinny chick in a plaid mini-skirt and combat boots darted out of the station manager’s office. “Jordan! Great seeing you again.”

  “How ya doing, Casey darlin.’” I planted a kiss on her goth-pale cheek. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  She cast a pointed glance behind us, her shiny plum-colored smile dimming. “Daniel didn’t come with?”

  “He’s a little under the weather today, sweetheart. You know how it is.” I flashed my fakest, schmooziest grin. How easily the lies rolled off my tongue these days. It should’ve bothered me, the way it didn’t bother me anymore. “At this point we’ve been exposed to every fucking virus on the planet, except maybe ebola.”

  She laughed, linking her arm through mine. “Aside from that, how’s the tour going?”

  “Not bad. In fact, I think we’re sold out again tonight.”

  “That’s amazing! And I remember when you used to play that little club down on the strip.”

  That little dive, she meant. There were plenty of nights when I wished we were still playing places like that. No money to speak of, audiences more interested in getting shit-faced than paying attention to us, but fuck, making music had been exciting back then. Raw, visceral. The way we used to sound before Millennium sank their claws in us.

  “Chris should be ready for you in about five minutes,” Casey said. “He’ll want to talk about the tour and the new album, and have you play a song or two, if you have time.”

  Good thing I’d had Jase bring my guitar. Most stations wanted a little something-for-nothing, all in the name of publicity. My throat was sore and scratchy after last night, but I’d sung through a lot worse. Hell, on our last tour I got so sick I had to go on complete vocal rest except when I was onstage.

  “No problem, darlin.’” Women usually melted when I broke out the ol’ Texas drawl, but Casey just smiled and led me and Jase back to the studio. Man, I loved radio people. They didn’t get all flustered or starstruck. This was business as usual for them, thank fucking God.

  The control booth was a glorified broom closet with one lone engineer manning the console. Casey ushered us inside, then waved to Chris the deejay, a fortyish guy in a black T-shirt with tattoos up and down both arms sitting behind a thick panel of glass. His studio looked out on the parking lot, which meant there were dozens of fans crammed around the windows, cheering and holding up signs.

  “After the break, we’ll be chatting with our surprise guest, Jordan Kane of No Rules,” Chris intoned. “Stay tuned!”

  That was my cue. Jase got my guitar out of its case and handed it to me. “Thanks.” I turned to Casey. “Jase can wait in here, right?”

  “Of course.”

  I shot Jase a “God, I want to fuck you right now” look, chuckling as his cheeks turned red. Embarrassed, after what we’d done last night? How fucking adorable. Took all my willpower to resist the urge to lay a lip-lock on him. Instead, I pasted on a smile and headed into the studio.

  Chris stood as I came through the door and shook my hand. “Hey, man, great to see you. Have a seat.” He pointed at the chair across from him, a microphone hanging above it. I sat down and waved at the crowd outside. They jumped up and down, mouths open in muffled screams. Thank God for soundproof glass.

  “And we’re back with our special guest Jordan Kane,” Chris said. “How you doing, man? We haven’t seen you around these parts in, what? Two, three years?”

  “Yeah, well, between touring, making a new album, and touring some more, it’s been a really busy, productive time.”

  “How many cities have you hit so far on this tour?”

  “Eight, I think? We’ve got five more stops on the US leg, then we’re taking a couple weeks off before we head to Europe.”

  “Sounds like an insane schedule, but I guess you’re used to it?”

  “A little insanity never hurt anybody.” I grinned, flicking a glance at Jase. His face was still red. The guy was a study in contradictions—hot and dominant in the bedroom, yet so easy to tease outside of it. “It’s a big help in writing songs.”

  “Speaking of, would you mind playing us something?”

  “Sure.” I picked up my guitar and started tuning it. No idea what to play until I saw Jase watching me through the window. Then I knew.

  I launched into “Forth Into Light,” and even through the thick glass I heard the crowd burst into applause. But I wasn’t thinking about them. This was my favorite song—mine and Jase’s. I always thought it sounded a thousand times better in its original acoustic arrangement, all the emotions stripped down. Laid bare.

  When I got to the bridge, I looked right at Jase and sang it to him.

  “I need to be kept bound

  I spin

  The earth falls down

  You smile

  When I can only weep

  Entwine

  The rushing of my heart

  With breaths

  Of the sublime…”

  New lyrics that I hadn’t even thought of until right this moment. Jase’s smile told me he’d picked up on their significance.

  A few more bars, and the final notes faded into silence. Chris leaned in close to his mike. “That was gorgeous, man.”

  “Thanks.” Nodding, I looked at Jase again. His intense green gaze tore right through me. “There you go,” I whispered.

  * * *

  We got back to the hotel by mid-afternoon. Jase escorted me upstairs, shuffling from foot to foot as I opened the door to my suite. Did he think I wasn’t going to invite him in?

  I grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. Pushed him against the wall and kissed him, just like last night. Only this time, he wasn’t kissing me back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, except I’m, uh... still on the clock.”

  I laughed. “Y’know, it’s possible to be too conscientious.” I kissed him again. “You’re off-duty until it’s time to go to the venue, okay?”

  “Okay.” He smiled, but there was something hesitant about it. Nervous, even. “Want me to go pick up some dinner? We’ve still got a couple hours.”

  Usually I grabbed a sandwich or a salad backstage between the soundcheck and the show. But we’d left our gear set up last night, so no need to get there early tonight. Which meant I could have a leisurely dinner for a change.

  “Or we could just relax and order room service,” I said.

  “Yeah, I guess we could do that.” He let out a chuckle. “’We.’ That soun
ds so weird.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re Jordan Fucking Kane, and I’m…”

  “My bodyguard?”

  “Your employee.”

  Now I got it. Last night was... last night. Intense as it’d been, it couldn’t wipe out the reality that, outwardly at least, nothing between us had changed.

  “Let’s leave that at the door, okay?” I cupped his cheek, threaded my fingers through his hair. “In here we’re just Jordan and Jase. No bosses, no employees.”

  “Is that what you said to Mark Galloway and Evan Carter?”

  I froze. “Who told you about them?”

  “The whole damn crew. They said you fucked both those guys, then you fired them.”

  Ah, rumors. How did they manage to get everything fucking wrong, yet still make me feel like a douchebag for trying to explain myself? “I didn’t fire them. They found other jobs and quit.”

  “But you don’t deny fucking them?”

  I fell back a step. “What’s this really all about, Jase? Having second thoughts about last night?”

  “Can you blame me? I could’ve easily—”

  “For God’s sake, you didn’t hurt me!” I lifted my hair to show him my unmarked neck.

  He stared down at his hands. “When I think of what we did, and how close I came to—”

  BAM BAM BAM came a fist on the door. “Jordan, you in there?”

  Milo.

  Fuck.

  I yanked open the door. “Where’s he gone this time?”

  “Oh, he’s still in there. He just won’t come out of the fucking bathroom.”

  My blood started to boil. I couldn’t fucking help it. “Goddamn it, Milo, do I have to keep my eyes on him twenty-four-seven? What the fuck am I paying you for?” And my heart fell, just like Milo’s crumpling expression. Shit. This wasn’t his fault. Poor guy worked his ass off trying to keep Daniel in line. He didn’t deserve me snapping at him like that. “Sorry,” I murmured, patting his shoulder. “Let’s get him out of there.”

  Milo headed back inside Daniel’s suite. I followed, stopping in front of the bathroom door. I could hear the whirr of the ceiling fan on the other side, a sliver’s worth of light escaping around hardwood edges.