Curious

by R. G. Alexander

  He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. His skin was hot, but it didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it would after the first blow. And Owen’s touch was a soothing balm. He pressed against the hand, wanting more.

  The paddle returned instead. At first it was slow but firm, almost hypnotic. When his skin began to buzz with sensation, Owen started beating a fast staccato rhythm on his ass that made him cry out in surprise.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” Owen commanded. “Let yourself feel the fire and the vibration of it going through you. Like it, even if you think you shouldn’t. Let go and watch me.”

  Jeremy watched the screen through his damp eyelashes, seeing one man bound and another wielding a paddle in one hand and a soothing caress in the other. Pleasure and pain. Over and over it repeated until he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, only that Owen was responsible for all of it. He had the control in his hands.

  His breath came out like a sob as he let go and started calling Owen’s name with every blow. He wanted him. Loved him. Wanted to please him. “Owen!”

  The man on screen dropped the paddle and Jeremy felt Owen bend over him, felt his lips gently parting over his burning skin and his hands smoothing over his hips and thighs.

  “So hot,” Owen muttered. “You’re responding so well I almost forgot it was your first time.”

  Kiss me, Owen. Touch me. Need you.

  “I need you,” Jeremy whispered. “Please.”

  The fingers on his hips tensed. “Like this? Chained up after I’ve taken a paddle to your ass?”

  Jeremy moaned. “Yes.”

  He felt Owen’s body shudder against him. Then he heard the sound of the bottle of lube being opened again.

  Yes. Take me. Only you, Owen. Need you.

  Owen’s fingers spread his ass cheeks and Jeremy flinched, hissing out a pained breath, but he didn’t tell him to stop. He pressed his forehead into the bench and spread his knees farther apart to brace himself.

  “Fuck, Jeremy,” Owen muttered raggedly. He bent his knees and filled him with a steady, unyielding pace that drove Jeremy wild. It seemed to go on and on, his lover stretching him, owning him with his thick erection. This was Owen. Owen pushing through his tight, resistant flesh until, with one more powerful thrust, he was all the way inside. His hips pressed against him and Jeremy heard him groaning low in his throat. “Yes.”

  “Oh God, Owen!” The chains jangled loudly as his whole body shook with an overload of sensation. Pleasure and pain. His skin was on fire but the feeling of Owen inside him—he couldn’t describe it. He needed him to move. “Owen, please.”

  Owen’s body curved over his back, one hand lifting to grip Jeremy’s shoulder. “Jesus, look at us. Look at us, Jeremy.”

  Through blurred vision he saw the erotic tableau. Blond and dark. Lean and large. Day and night entwined together, both reaching for something. Desperate for more.

  Owen started moaning as he thrust inside him, deep long strokes that made Jeremy see stars instead of their reflection. “You feel so good,” he groaned. “Tight and hot and God, it feels like I’ve waited forever to feel this. To be inside you. Fuck, finally. I can’t believe you lasted as long as you did without a condom. I never want to put one on again.”

  Jeremy was all nerve endings and sensations. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

  Breathe.

  “Hard.”

  “What did you say, Jeremy?”

  “Harder, please.”

  Owen’s hips responded instantly to the request, powering against him. “Like that?” The hand on his shoulder lifted and tangled in Jeremy’s hair, yanking roughly until he was forced to tilt his head back. Tingling electricity shot up Jeremy’s spine at the action. “You want a hard fucking? Want me to pound your ass for a change?”

  “Please,” he gasped. “Please, Owen.”

  “If I didn’t need it so bad, I’d make you wait. Drive you crazy. But you’re too good, Jeremy. It’s never been this—God, yes!”

  There were no more words as Owen took him with a ferocity that might have surprised Jeremy if he wasn’t so lost in his own pleasure.

  Love you, baby. Love you inside me. Love you so much.

  Owen groaned, his hands clenching tight in Jeremy’s hair. “I’m coming. I can’t wait—Jesus, I can’t—Jeremy.”

  He could feel the hot spurts of Owen’s climax filling his ass, loved the stretch as his cock kept pumping inside him as if it couldn’t bear to stop. Then Owen’s hand was on him, stroking the erection that was so hard it hurt, sliding up and down until he came with a shout that rattled the storm-soaked windows.

  Dark spots filled his vision and he started to shake. He didn’t know which end was up or what he was feeling. It was too much. He couldn’t control it.

  “I’m here, Jeremy. I’ve got you.” Owen’s hushed words calmed him, and his gentle hands felt like they were the only things tethering him to the wildly spinning earth.

  When he pulled him into his arms, Jeremy realized Owen must have taken the cuffs off. When he laid him on the bed—how had they gotten to the bedroom?—he rolled on his side and watched Owen disappear into the bathroom.

  He came back with a cool, wet washcloth, lying beside Jeremy and gliding the cloth over his shoulders, his back, the tender cheeks of his ass.

  “That’s nice,” he whispered, staring at the pulse beating at the base of Owen’s throat. He felt a bit like he did the one time he got high at Comic-Con. “When Tasha talked about it, I always thought aftercare sounded strange. But that’s what this is, right? You’re taking care of me.”

  Owen’s lips tilted in amusement and he nodded. “Yes I am. You deserve to be taken care of, Jeremy. You never ask for it, but I don’t think I know anyone who deserves it more. You gave me a gift today. Gave me everything I asked for. It was so good I’m already planning on doing it again. But right now it’s all about you. See how nice it can be when you let someone stick around after?”

  “I can’t believe we did that.”

  “Which part?”

  Any of it. Jeremy couldn’t believe any of it. Not one day since Owen’s birthday. A wave of vulnerability washed over him. Was Owen going to leave now that he’d made sure Jeremy would never be satisfied with anyone else? Was their friendship going to follow him out the door, too shattered by everything they’d done to ever be the same?

  Will he break my heart? Does he want more than sex?

  Calloused fingers gripped his chin and lifted until he was looking into Owen’s light blue eyes. “Where’d you go? Talk to me. I need to know how you’re feeling. The drop can be pretty steep after that adrenaline rush.”

  Jeremy shook his head. “I’m fine.”

  “You can’t fool me, Jeremy. I know there’s something going on up there.”

  “Just a question.” He reached up and placed his hand on Owen’s bare hip, needing to touch him. Needing to distract him and desperate to lighten the mood. “Would it be gay if I asked you to hold me?”

  Owen’s surprised laughter fell on him like drops of unadulterated sunshine. He pulled Jeremy into his arms, still chuckling. “I’ll hold you as long as you need me to, joker. I’m not going anywhere.”

  God, he wished that were true.

  Chapter Ten

  It had been two days and Jeremy could still feel the fading marks on his ass as he walked toward his front door. Running errands today, it had taken all his concentration not to get an erection in public each time he was reminded of what they’d done. He wished Owen hadn’t phoned him at lunch to tell him he would be late. He wanted to thank him properly for his day of frustration. He wanted him home.

  Home. Damned if he didn’t like the sound of that. He’d been thinking about offering a more long-term living arrangement. Maybe under the guise of helping him look for a better place to live. Owen could stay here with him until he found someplace better.

  If it were up to Jeremy, he would realize there was no better place. He woul
d stay. To the world outside they could be roommates and best friends. Inside the safety of their four walls? Owen would be his.

  It was a good dream. One Jeremy found himself coming back to more and more often lately.

  He heard Tasha crying an instant before he saw her leaning against his front door. “Natasha? Jesus, honey what’s wrong?”

  She turned and fell into his arms, sobbing. Jeremy unlocked and opened the door, picking her up easily and carrying her inside before kicking it closed behind them. “Come on, Tash, talk to me. Are you hurt?”

  He walked over to the couch and sat down with her in his lap, crooning and rocking her as if she were a child. He’d never seen her like this.

  She lifted her head and his heart broke. Her beautiful green eyes were red and swollen. She’d been crying for a while. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “I’ll get my shovel and a good lawyer,” he assured her solemnly without missing a beat. “Can you tell me about it? Who are we talking about?”

  Tasha looked down at her hands, her dark velvet curls hiding half her face from view. “It’s all my fault. I still can’t believe it’s really happening. I mean, this is Lifetime movie bullshit, right? This isn’t real life.”

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning of the movie, hon. I’m lost.”

  She nodded. “Last night I went to the pub to talk to Jen about…well, it wasn’t a PG-rated topic.”

  Jeremy nodded, caressing her back. “It never is.”

  “I didn’t realize he was there, that he’d heard anything, but he must have, because he dragged Jen in the back and everyone could hear them shouting at each other until Seamus followed them to kick the bastard out and ban him from the pub.”

  Scott. She was talking about Scott. “He’s going to have to be dealt with,” Jeremy sighed. “I think I’m calling the Finns in for a meeting. We can’t keep pretending we’re okay with Jen marrying that asshole.”

  Tasha looked into his eyes, her own dark with worry. “No, we can’t now. You can’t. I’m so sorry, Jeremy. This is all my fault.”

  “Why are you sorry? You’re starting to scare me now. Tell me what’s going on.”

  She fumbled for the purse that was dangling from her shoulders, reaching in to dig out her phone. “I got a text message a few hours ago. There was a video and a picture attached.”

  Tasha pushed play and tilted her phone toward Jeremy. It was dark inside the car, but he could clearly see a topless Tasha, her expression passionate as she straddled the man whose face was buried in her lush breasts.

  The Finn brother whose name she wouldn’t reveal the last time they’d spoken. Even though they were twins, all it took was one look at the expensive if rumpled suit to know which one she was riding. “Stephen? You had sex with Senator Finn in a public parking lot?”

  Stephen. The man whose career could be, if not ruined, then severely damaged by a sex tape. The public wouldn’t care that they were both single, consenting adults. It would be a scandal. “Shit. You don’t have to kill Scott. I will.”

  She stopped the video and took a breath. “I’m sorry, Jeremy.”

  “For that? Babe, you and I have done much w—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I’m sorry for this.”

  Natasha opened an attached picture and he felt his heart stop then start to race so hard he thought it might explode. How? “Christ.”

  This morning he’d walked Owen to the door in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Owen been teasing him all through breakfast and Jeremy had wanted to make sure the fiend was just as affected for the rest of the day as he was going to be. He’d pushed him against the side of the house and kissed him with all the desire he was feeling. A desire that was meant for Owen alone.

  And Scott had been there, watching. He’d snapped a fucking picture on his phone.

  “Does he want money?” Jeremy asked grimly. He felt like the walls were closing in on him. Like his world might collapse. “Did he tell you how much?”

  Neither of these could ever see the light of day. No one could know.

  Tasha was soothing him now, her hands cupping his face. “If I could go back I would make better decisions. I wouldn’t have given in to Stephen that night. I wouldn’t have tried to show Jen that good a time. I wouldn’t have taunted him, not if I thought for one second it would endanger your relationship with Owen. He’s the one, isn’t he? That’s why you couldn’t tell me.”

  “Stephen is who we should worry about,” Jeremy said, lifting her off his lap and standing, because he felt the need to fight. “I’ve got money, Tasha. I’ll make a deal w—”

  “He didn’t just send it to me,” she interrupted him in a hushed voice that sounded like a shout to his ears. “He sent that text to four people simultaneously. Me, Stephen, Seamus…and Owen.”

  Jeremy swayed as if he’d been punched in the gut, the blood rushing in his ears in a deafening roar. The Finn brothers. All of them had seen him kissing Owen. Seen Owen kissing him back. “Jesus.”

  His legs gave out and he sat down heavily on his coffee table, feeling the ache from Owen’s paddle and knowing he would never get that again. Never touch him again. Not now that they all knew. He reached for his own phone, his hands shaking so hard she could see it, and dialed Owen’s number, listening to the ring while Tasha watched.

  It went to voicemail and he hung up. “Damn it.”

  Tasha reached out, her hands on his knees. “Stephen called me right before I got here. He said they were all together and they would take care of it, but I—we—needed to stay away until they did. Finn business, he said.”

  Finn business. Not his business, but about him. God, Owen. What was he going through? Jeremy wanted to be at his side, to support him and defend him when he faced his brothers, but he knew Owen wouldn’t welcome that.

  It was all his fault. He shouldn’t have kissed him outside where anyone could see. He should’ve been more careful. No one was supposed to know.

  He looked at Tasha, feeling like he was drowning. “God, Tasha, what should I do? What am I going to do?”

  For the first time he saw something that looked like pity in her eyes. “All we can do is wait, honey. We don’t want Scott sending those to a gossip magazine or a news outlet. Stephen is good at this dance. He’ll know how to play this game better than we ever could.”

  Stephen. Jesus. Stephen knew.

  He focused on Tasha to distract him from his own suffering. “Are you finally going to talk to me now that the secret is out? You may as well, right? You know mine. Was that the first time you two were together? Because it didn’t look like it.”

  Talk to me. Talk to me so I don’t think about Owen.

  Tasha leaned back on the couch, wiping her eyes. “Can’t a girl get a drink before she starts swapping sex stories?”

  He stood up and forced his legs to move to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of tequila and taking a slug before handing it to her. “Drink.”

  She did, gasping a little and handing it back. “You’re right, that wasn’t the first time. The first time I was a freshman in college and he was in his fourth year.”

  “You mean we were freshman.” He paused, remembering. “Wait, is that the older guy you were skipping classes for and being secretive about? The one who—”

  “Yes,” she cut him off, glaring. “That’s the guy.”

  “And since then?”

  Her fingers pressed against her temples. “Since then we’ve gotten together every few years. Sometimes for a half hour in a broom closet or a damn car, once or twice for an entire weekend. It varies.”

  “Every few years? Since college? Tasha, how could you keep this from me for so long? You tell me everything, even when I didn’t want to know. And Owen—hell, you could have saved him years of lusting after you with a few words. The Finns don’t go after their brothers’ girls.”

  The Finns protected their own. Finn business. He was shut out from that now and Owen wasn’t answering his phone.
>
  Tasha’s chuckle held no humor. “I’m not Senator Stephen Finn’s girl. I never was. He was already on his do-good path to politics by then, remember? He had very definite ideas about where he was going and how he was going to get there. I was, and am, just a reminder of his good old bad boy days. A kinky itch he needs to scratch before he puts on his super suit to kiss hands and shake babies.”

  She shook her head, laughing again. “I mean, come on, Jeremy. Can you even imagine me as a politician’s girlfriend? The headlines would write themselves. Ravenous Rivera’s Three-Way Weekend. Notorious Natasha Gets Whipped at Fetish Club While Boyfriend Cuts Ribbon on New Hospital Wing.” She snorted and reached for the bottle again. “And those would be the tame articles. Stephen can be a bit of a hypocrite, but I like him—I love all the Finns—too much for that.”

  Jeremy accepted the bottle when she was done, needing the tequila to soothe his frazzled nerves. He loved them too. That hadn’t stopped him from destroying everything by being careless. “Does he know about us? You and me?”

  “Of course. He also knows how important you are to me. And to Owen.”

  Owen.

  “I think my Finn stock is plummeting as we speak.” He covered his mouth, as if he could hold back the emotions going through him. “He’s never going to want to see me again. Fuck. None of them are.”

  They’d send him away, just like his parents. Only this would be so much worse.

  “That’s crazy, Jeremy. You’re not thinking straight. They love you, honey. And if Owen doesn’t tell you so himself, he isn’t the man I’ve been friends with all these years. I saw his face when you kissed him. That feeling isn’t something you give up on at the first sign of trouble.”

  Jeremy buried his face in his hands. “He was just curious,” he whispered. “He never said… He never says anything like that. He loves the sex—wanted the sex—but that was all it was. We aren’t together. We’re not in love. You can’t even call what we were doing dating. Not really.”

  He’d never said anything about them having a future. Never said anything about caring for Jeremy or wanting more from him then friendship and fucking. Jeremy thought…the way he acted…but Owen never said.