by Ann Lister
“I’m sorry, but I’m not hearing any threats or serious mind games with the conversation you just described,” the attorney stated.
“What are my legal options to keep him away from me?” Tessler asked. “What can I do to protect myself?”
“Well, we could try to file a TRO with the local police; although, as your lawyer, I have to tell you that I just don’t see enough grounds to enforce that right now,” William said.
“That’s bullshit.”
“Did he threaten you in any way whatsoever, Tessler? Even if he implied such a thing, it would give us some leverage to work with. Did he do anything even remotely in the gray area here? You know I can work magic, but I need something to work with.”
“Of course he didn’t overtly threaten me! He’s smarter than that,” Tessler argued. “I know him, William, and I’m telling you he wouldn’t make that drive out to see me today for nothing. He has a fucking plan. I know it!”
“Let’s give it some time and see if his motives for making contact with you become clear,” William stated blandly. “Until then, I can’t legally process paperwork to stop him from going into a public coffee shop and saying hello to you. He didn’t break any laws by doing that.”
“Yet.”
“Well, when he does break the law—or even bend it a little, you let me know, and I’ll be all over it,” William stated.
“What am I paying you for?” Tessler barked.
“You pay me to keep an eye on your business interests and to protect your name brand,” William said as if he were reciting it from a cue card.
Tessler gripped the longer hair at the top of his head and yanked on it to the point of pain. “I’ll give you a call in a few days,” he finally told his lawyer.
“Yes, please keep me updated, Tessler.”
Tessler didn’t respond to William’s last comment. He simply ended the call and stared at his phone in disbelief. The unsettled feeling rolling around in the pit of his stomach left him feeling shaky. The one person who seemed to know how to calm him down these days was Mason. Damn, just thinking of the man had a way of easing his rattled nerves. Before he could think better of it, Tessler’s fingers began typing a text message.
“Can I see you tonight?” Tessler asked Mason. He didn’t have long to wait before he saw the response he was hoping for.
“What time?”
Chapter Twenty-One
The pit of Mason’s stomach was knotted up and he was blaming it on second date jitters. Truth was, he’d probably be just as anxious if this was their tenth or even twentieth date. The fucking stupid body image issues he had about himself was making him second guess every item he put on to wear, the way he combed his hair, and the cologne he was patting onto his throat. The car service would be arriving at any minute, and here he was fretting over silly shit that he was pretty sure Tessler wouldn’t even give a damn about. Even still, he wanted to look good and smell nice for the man.
He was also nervous for another reason which had nothing to do with how he looked. His head was still reeling over Tessler’s big reveal the last time they were together about his visits to a sex club. As much as he didn’t want it to bother him that Tessler had been to a place like that several times, if he was going to be honest—at least with himself—it did. He’d spent hours putting his mixed feelings about this under the microscope to really examine how Tessler’s past made him feel. He knew he had no right to judge his actions, and he damn sure couldn’t even justify feeling jealous. They weren’t a committed couple, and they may never be, so where did Mason get off allowing thoughts of Tessler’s past to stand in the way of going on a few dates with the guy?
Besides, Tessler visiting that club wasn’t a recent thing. It was something he’d done several years ago, so Mason had no right to feel much of anything about it at all. Mason had been with other sexual partners in his past, and he wasn’t expecting Tessler to come into this new ... relationship with him, or whatever the hell it was, as a virgin.
But being a regular at a sex club? That was another whole thing all together, and Jesus, if didn’t that conjure up all sorts of visuals that had Mason feeling both aroused and also a bit inadequate. What guy wouldn’t feel a little less confident knowing that their partner was a frequent guest at a sex club? It sort of felt like he was contemplating having sex with a porn star, for chrissakes. How did you bring your A game to bed and have that to measure up to? Mason didn’t even have a “game” to speak of, and now with all the scars covering his body, his confidence was lacking in a major way. Any of the so-called tricks Mason thought he had in bed would pale in comparison to what Tessler probably learned at the club. No matter how he looked at it, Mason was going to be lacking in the sex skills department. Wouldn’t that be fair to assume?
Oh, my god! I’m so overthinking this.
The other thing nagging his brain was he wondered if it was cool to ask Tessler questions about his visits to this club. He’d gone to strip joints and even to gay dance clubs, where the random hook-up in the restroom wasn’t unheard of, but an actual gay sex club—where people go specifically to have sex with others in full view of everyone else? Just the thought of it had Mason’s heart thumping faster behind his ribs. He didn’t know of a single person who had done something that adventurous and uninhibited. Was it wrong for him to ask Tessler about the specifics of the place? What had Tessler seen with his own eyes, or what did he participate in? Were there orgies on a regular basis, or was it more about watching others engage in sexual activities? Mason had jacked off twice thinking about this and couldn’t help but wonder if the visuals he had inside his head were as potent as what Tessler might have seen or done himself.
With the images back inside his head again, he needed to figure out a way to settle himself down before he showed Tessler just what an amateur he was in this arena. This was a simple date, and he was unnecessarily complicating it with shit he didn’t need to. They’d sit and enjoy the takeout meal he was bringing with him from his favorite Italian restaurant, which was the least he could do after Tessler had shared such a culinary treat with him during their last date up on the roof.
The restaurant he chose was on the way to Tessler’s, which would make it easy for his driver to stop so he could grab the bags of food before they continued on. He hoped by bringing dinner already prepared, it would leave more time for them to hang out and have that talk. If nothing else, he needed to find out if they were both on the same page with this thing growing between them. Was this a fling or something more? Before Mason gave away too much of his heart, he needed to know what Tessler wanted out of this. From the short time they’d spent together, and the talks they’d shared on the phone, Mason could already tell he was in danger of falling for him, and if that’s not what Tessler wanted, then he needed to know now before he got in over his head.
The driver stopped at the Italian restaurant and Mason went in to pay for the food. Ten minutes later they were back on the road to Tessler’s, and Mason’s gut began to churn over the various ways this night might end. Mason hoped it would end with the two of them in bed, but were they ready for that? Was he ready for that? A few miles before they pulled up to Tessler’s building, Mason’s phone pinged with a text message.
“Did you remember to pack an overnight bag?” Tessler asked.
It was as if they were thinking in sync. Mason grinned as his eyes dropped to the small duffel bag on the floor by his feet. “Maybe . . . maybe not.” He teased Tessler.
Mason’s driver parked the vehicle in front of Tessler’s building, and he was about to step out of the backseat when another message pinged on his phone.
“I’m not letting you go home tonight,” Tessler typed. “So, you either brought your own clothes, or you’ll be wearing mine in the morning.”
Mason grabbed his bag from the car and slung it over his shoulder, then waved goodbye to his driver. Once the driver pulled away from the curb, Mason turned his attention back to his phone. “You’r
e a bossy bastard, aren’t you?” he replied.
“Depends on how bad I want something,” Tessler’s quick response read.
“Are you saying you want me bad enough to demand I stay the night?”
“I had a shit day, and I want you to make me feel better,” Tessler typed back.
“And you think I’m the man for that particular job?” Mason asked.
“I sure hope so because I don’t want anyone else.”
Mason stood at the front door of Tessler’s building grinning like a goddamned fool at the last message. He loved how this felt. The easy banter and the comfortable connection they shared, it was something familiar, yet brand new, and Mason loved everything about it.
“How much longer before you get here?” Tessler asked.
“Pretty soon,” Mason teased again, as his finger hovered over the call button to Tessler’s apartment upstairs.
“Ugh. Hurry it up. I have a serious need to kiss you senseless.”
That message hit Mason right in the chest and had him pushing the button without bothering to type a comeback.
“Is that you downstairs?” Tessler asked.
“It is.”
“Jesus! Thank god. I’ll be right down.”
Mason was still smiling when Tessler opened up his door and literally pulled him inside the foyer of the building. A second later, Tessler had him pushed up against that same brick wall where they’d shared their first kiss, and his mouth was on his again. Fiery, wet, and demanding—much like the man himself, Tessler’s kiss was powerful, and Mason felt it all the way to his toes. His probing tongue had Mason forgetting he was holding the plastic bags with the takeout boxes inside, and one of them slipped from his fingers and hit the floor.
“Shit,” Mason said as he opened wider for Tessler’s tongue to slide inside.
“What was that?” Tessler panted against his parted lips.
“Judging by the weight of that bag, I’d say it’s our Tiramisu dessert,” Mason answered.
“You brought dessert?”
“I brought the whole meal,” Mason countered.
Tessler’s eyes widened, then he leaned closer and dragged his tongue along Mason’s bottom lip. “And here I thought you were my meal.”
“I can be your dessert,” Mason sighed loudly when Tessler’s lips connected to the skin beneath his chin. “You can smear the Tiramisu all over my—”
That’s as far as he got with his statement before Tessler’s tongue pushed back into his mouth, and Mason let go of the rest of the bags he was holding. The food hit the tiled floor with a thump, but neither of them seemed to give a damn. Mason wrapped Tessler up in his arms and opened his mouth to deepen their kiss.
“Oh, the wicked things you make me want to do to you, Mason … with or without the added bonus of having Tiramisu all over my tongue.”
“What are you waiting for?” Mason dared with a tip of his head and a teasing glint in his eyes. The hungry gaze Tessler returned had Mason ready to explode. The ache he now had in his groin was not going to wait much longer, and if he had to beg for release, he had no problem doing just that.
Tessler stepped back but kept his eyes on Mason’s mouth. He wiped the moisture off of Mason’s well-kissed lips using the pad of his thumb, then slid the digit inside of his mouth and moaned. The suckling noises that came next had Mason’s knees ready to give out.
“You taste so fucking good, Mason. You’re addictive and I can’t wait to have the rest of you,” Tessler whispered into the thick air that hung between them.
Tessler bent to collect the takeout food and the duffel bag, which were heaped in a pile at Mason’s feet, and started to walk towards the elevator at the other end of the hallway. Mason watched Tessler move down the corridor with bewildered eyes. The man’s cat-like grace and male swagger had him almost in a trance. He felt flushed and boneless and unable to stand on his own without using the wall for support. Tessler stopped midway and turned around to face Mason still frozen in place by the front door of the building. Mason did his best to push himself up straight and swallowed hard.
“Are you coming?” Tessler asked with a meaningful smirk.
Mason returned the grin and nodded. “I fucking hope that happens sooner rather than later.”
“Then follow me and we can have … dinner—upstairs.”
Mason pushed himself off the wall and adjusted the hard length in his pants so he could walk. Several careful strides later, he was finally standing beside Tessler at the elevator door. When the two doors slid open, they both stepped inside the empty carriage, and Tessler punched in the number for his apartment upstairs.
“I wonder if the food tastes as good as it smells?” Tessler questioned. His eyes darted over to Mason and then he slowly canvassed him from head to toe.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened right into Tessler’s apartment. Mason did his best to get his feet to move forward behind him. “The food is always good from this place,” Mason said as he stared at Tessler’s perfect ass encased in a pair of tight black jeans as they walked towards the kitchen. “I’m certain you’re going to love it.”
Tessler set the bags of food on the counter and turned to face Mason. His palm cupped the side of Mason’s flushed cheek, and his thumb ran over the heated skin and whiskers of his unshaven jawline. “I’m sure I’ll love the food, but I gotta be honest, as good as everything smells, I’d much rather kiss you for a while before we have dinner.”
“We can reheat the food later,” Mason said and leaned in for another hot and needy kiss.
“Much, much later,” Tessler added.
Mason shivered when Tessler’s hand curled over the mound he had in the front of his pants and squeezed. Have fucking mercy, he thought. He had a very strong feeling tonight was going to blow his mind and might very well ruin his control to not fall for Tessler. The desire he had for him was off the charts, even from something as simple as the exchange of a smoldering gaze. Mason could feel Tessler’s need wafting off of him in heat vapors. It was tangible as it floated between them, and Mason wanted to submerge himself in the feeling that came along with it and not come up for air for days.
“I think I should have packed more clothing,” Mason panted against Tessler’s throat. “I have a feeling I might not make it home for a while.”
“I love the way you think, Mason. Now follow me. I’m about to serve you dinner in bed.”
“Fuckkkk me,” Mason sighed loudly.
“Oh, I intend to,” Tessler laughed. “Probably several times.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Having Mason in his bed again felt like the greatest gift of all, and almost naked was even better, but it was the apprehension in his eyes instead of lust that worried Tessler. There was no reason for any insecurities or lack of confidence in this bed. Tessler wanted the flirtatious Mason back, the one who was tossing around food innuendos just a few minutes ago like bats leaving their cave at dusk, but now, he wasn’t sure how to bring that side of the man back to the surface.
He helped remove Mason’s boots, then took off his own shirt and pants before he lay facing him on his side. Mason turned to do the same and they adjusted themselves to share the same pillow. Tessler’s fingertips softly traced over one of Mason’s eyebrows, then ran down the side of his face and eased around the back of his neck, squeezing the tight muscles there. They silently held each other’s gazes. Tessler could sense Mason was holding himself back from completely letting go and fully being in this moment with him. He hated seeing the indecision floating in Mason’s gorgeous eyes and knew he had to change it before the evening shifted course all together.
Tessler reached for Mason’s hand and placed it on his bare chest and held it there. He closed his eyes and allowed the heat of Mason’s palm to sink beneath his skin. “I want you so fucking bad,” he said quietly. “I’m having trouble controlling myself, and I’m about a minute away from pinning you to this mattress and making you mine.”
Mason
smiled weakly. His fingers fanned on Tessler’s firm chest. “Your words are a huge turn-on,” he said.
“Are they?” Tessler asked. “That wasn’t intentional. I was just saying what was on my mind.”
“I know, and that’s what makes it so hot,” Mason replied.
Mason’s statement was the boost of approval he needed to hear. He began to slowly undo Mason’s shirt, one button at a time, followed by an exploring caress of his fingers beneath the fabric of the shirt and over Mason’s smooth, hot flesh. Tessler had never spent this much time on foreplay before in his life, and the slow progression intensified every sensation he was feeling. When his fingers reached Mason’s belly button, he scissored their legs and almost brought their groins together.
Almost.
They were so close he could feel the heat of Mason’s cock and balls burning through the front of his jeans to brand him, and fuck, he wanted more. He wanted to feel that thick cock pulsing in his hand—and then maybe the back of his mouth if Mason was still on board with this. He pressed their foreheads together while his fingers went to work on Mason’s belt and then the button and zipper of his jeans. He spread the flaps of fabric open and eased his fingers into the oven inside Mason’s snug boxer briefs. His fingers found the sticky tip of Mason’s dick, and Tessler moaned. Pre-come had dripped around the head and more pooled at the slit. There was so much of it that Tessler’s mouth began to water. He closed his eyes and slowly inhaled as he tried to regain his self-control.
“Jesus, I can smell your pre-come,” Tessler sighed. “I want you in my mouth. I have to taste you.”
Tessler lifted his head to see Mason’s eyes. His pupils were blown, his expression glassy and desperate—just the way Tessler hoped. He watched Mason lick his lips and then came the subtle nod.
“Yeah? Are you sure?” Tessler questioned. “Can I take off your pants?”
The flicker of doubt only lasted a second, but Tessler didn’t miss it. He tightened his fingers around Mason’s cock and pulled off one stroke. “Mase, it’s just you and me here, and I already told you I have no issue with your scars,” Tessler soothed. “I saw most of them the last time, and I promise you, what I see or feel isn’t going to change how attracted I am to you. Please trust me. Let me show you how fucking turned-on you make me.”
