For one horrible second, Avery said nothing, his eyes burning holes into Hank’s face. Then, to Hank’s vast relief and utter thrill, he said, “Yes, sub boy. You may come.”
Hank’s orgasm ripped through him as he cried out. He would have sunk into the water if Avery hadn’t continued to hold him upright with his hand on Hank’s throat. Then Avery moved closer, releasing his chokehold to pull Hank against him.
Hank slumped against the big man in a pleasant stupor, a deep contentment permeating his body and soul. After a bit, he was startled by the ping of his phone on the nearby table, but he was way too comfy to move.
A few minutes later, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway in front, its door slamming. Avery’s arms fell away and he gave Hank a little push. “Hey, you. Better put something on. Delivery person must be here.”
“Oh, shit. Right.” The ping must have been Tony advising Hank of the delivery. The breakfast joint was on Hank’s permanent guest list. Hank forced himself to his feet and climbed out of the tub, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist. As he headed back inside, he glanced back at Avery, still lounging in the hot tub. Avery was watching him with an enigmatic smile on his face. It was a face that, while not classically handsome, had power and character.
Hank was suddenly gripped by a peculiar emotion for which he had no name. A strange sort of yearning tugged at the edges of his consciousness and a long-sleeping feeling inside him opened one eye.
Chapter 6
Avery’s cell phone pinged early Sunday evening while he was in the shower. He finished rinsing the soap from his body, turned off the water and pulled back the shower curtain. Grabbing the towel from the hook, he wrapped it around his waist. He picked up his phone from the sink ledge and looked at the screen.
The text was from Hank. Smiling, Avery clicked on the message.
“Hey there. Plans tonight? How about dinner at my country club and then I’ll take you to The Underground. Pack your gear bag.”
Though Avery was certain there was a submissive lurking beneath Hank’s carefully constructed posturing, it was unlikely he’d feel safe enough in that kind of public venue to allow it to show. It was far more likely that he’d adopt the guise of Dom he’d developed like an armor to keep others at a distance. Avery could just imagine Hank marching into his club clad in black leather, his eyes scanning the space for a boy to dominate for the evening. He might even try to dom Avery again, which was not going to happen.
Avery had spent the day working on a construction site, unable to pass up the opportunity for the double pay because it was the weekend. He had planned on getting to bed early, exhausted from the long day of hard labor. At the same time, Avery couldn’t deny that he wanted to see Hank again. Something about the guy had definitely gotten under his skin.
He was an intriguing puzzle that Avery wanted to unravel. Avery couldn’t remember the last time someone had captured his interest and attention so completely.
Yet, while Avery was eager to continue where they’d left off in their exploration of D/s, dinner at some fancy club followed by cruising a seedy BDSM pickup joint did not sound like his idea of fun.
“I had a very long day. Just want to chill tonight. How about you come to my place? Great pizza joint near here delivers.”
While he waited for Hank to reply, he dried himself properly and trimmed his beard in the tiny mirror over the free-standing sink. He grinned as he groomed, thinking his entire bathroom wasn’t much bigger than Hank’s toilet stall. He wondered idly how many bathrooms were in that place. Such a big house for a single guy. Had he inherited it? They really knew very little about each other, but Avery was looking forward to learning more.
Finally, he saw the wavy bubbles on the phone screen that indicated Hank was replying. No doubt, Hank wasn’t used to someone suggesting a change in his plans. Avery let out a small breath of relief as he read the response. “Okay. What’s the address? What time should I be there?”
Avery texted his address and suggested seven o’clock. “There’s a small service entrance to the left of the main doors that leads up to my loft. Just ring the bell and I’ll come down and let you in. Don’t worry about a gear bag or black leather,” he added, grinning as he typed. “I’ve got the gear, and you’ll be naked.”
Hank texted back, “Maybe I’ll turn the tables on you this time, and you’ll be the naked one serving me.”
“Don’t count on it,” Avery typed back, still grinning.
He peered out of a front window when he heard the sound of a car’s engine in front of the warehouse. A sleek, shiny red Mercedes pulled up smoothly to the curb behind Avery’s trusty old Subaru. He smiled in anticipation as the driver door opened. But instead of Hank, a fortysomething guy in a black suit jumped out and walked briskly around the car to pull open the passenger door.
Whoa, it was obvious Hank had money, but a chauffeur seemed awfully pretentious. Don’t leap to conclusions. Maybe he’d lost his license due to a DUI or something.
Hank climbed out, stared up at the old building and then said something to the guy, who nodded and returned to the driver’s seat. As Hank walked toward the building service entrance, the driver eased the Mercedes away from the curb and continued down the block and around the corner.
Avery sprinted down the two flights of stairs to the main level. He unlocked the deadbolt and pulled open the door. Hank wore a very expensive-looking soft black leather jacket over a snowy white shirt that accentuated his pool tan. His black jeans were hipster tight and straight, his feet in black leather loafers without socks. With his dark, bedroom eyes, sculpted jaw and dazzling white smile, he looked like some kind of model out of a European fashion magazine. Avery, in contrast, was in his usual flannel work shirt over faded Levi’s, his size thirteen feet shod in old, comfy sneakers.
Avery pulled Hank close, closing his eyes as he inhaled Hank’s subtle cologne, his cock perking to attention. When they parted, Avery ushered Hank into the small foyer at the foot of the stairs. “What’s with the limo service? Can’t you drive?” he asked teasingly, smiling to soften the words.
“Huh? Oh, that’s just my driver, Carson. He takes care of my cars and drives me places when I need it.”
“Cars? You have more than one?”
Hank had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “I have the Mercedes, plus a Porsche 911 when I want something sportier, and a Range Rover for when I want something bigger. I would have driven myself, but I didn’t want to park the Mercedes in this neighborhood, no offense. This is a warehouse district, for god’s sake. Half the buildings on this street are boarded up. You actually live here?”
Avery snorted. “I actually do, up in the loft above the brewery. It’s a great space and Nolan, that’s the guy who owns the building, gave me carte blanche to fix up the place how I like. Even better, he lets me live up there for free in exchange for working in the brewery. Eventually, we’ll be full partners. It’s a fascinating business. I’d be happy to give you a tour.”
Hank shrugged and smiled. “Sure. I’d like that. I’ve toured wineries all over the world, but I’ve never been in a brewery before.”
“Now’s your chance,” Avery said with an answering smile. “But first, let’s go upstairs. I have a pizza to-go menu up there. We can pick our toppings and then I’ll give you a tour while we wait for the delivery.”
They walked up the well-worn, linoleum-covered stairs to the loft’s entrance, an unprepossessing, scuffed metal door. He opened the door and gestured for Hank to enter. Hank stopped just inside, his mouth falling open as he took in the space. “Wow,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so… so nice.”
Avery chuckled. “Well, it’s not quite in the same league as your Cherry Creek mansion, but it works for me. Here, let me take your jacket.”
Hank slipped out of his jacket and handed it to Avery, who hung it on one of the coat hooks by the door. He was actually quite proud of wha
t he’d done with the space, which had stood empty for many years. Several panes of glass had been missing when he’d first looked at it, and a thick layer of grime and dust had covered all the surfaces. But the place had good bones, with its high ceilings, many windows and wide-planked hardwood floor. He’d stayed in a sleeping bag in a corner of the room for the first few weeks while he got the place cleaned up and the windows replaced. All his spare time his first few months there had been spent cleaning, buffing, painting, haunting estate sales and flea markets and making the place his own.
It was just one huge room, but he’d partitioned the space using rice paper screens to create separate living areas. He’d painted the gray cinderblock walls a soft, buttery yellow. He’d furnished the living room with an overstuffed sofa he’d gotten for a steal at an estate sale, along with a huge old leather recliner big enough to accommodate his large frame. He’d splurged on the handwoven, intricately patterned Turkish area rug, paying for part of it by bartering his handyman services with the sweet elderly woman who had sold it to him.
“Whoa, I’ve never seen so many books outside of a library,” Hank said, waving toward the bookshelves that stood against every wall. The shelves were filled nearly to capacity with thousands of novels including spy thrillers, science fiction, fantasy, biographies, literary classics and a healthy collection of erotic romance. “You actually read all these? Ever heard of a Kindle?”
Avery laughed. “Sure I have. But I still like the feeling of holding a book in my hands.” He shrugged. “Books are kind of sacred, you know? When I enjoy a book, I want to keep it—to honor it by displaying it. I only keep the ones I like. I donate the rest.”
“Pretty impressive. I don’t think I’ve held an actual book since college.”
“Well, we’ll have to remedy that. After dinner, you can take a look around and pick something that appeals. Quiz will be at the end of the week.”
“Haha,” Hank replied. “Where’s that pizza menu? That’s something I’ll read. I’m starving.”
“First, I need to give you this.” Avery moved toward Hank and pulled him once more into his arms, this time taking his time as he kissed those warm, supple lips and slipped his tongue past them. He cupped Hank’s ass cheeks as they kissed, pulling him tight as their cocks hardened and rose between them. He was already visualizing Hank trussed up on his bed, his wrists and ankles bound to the iron bedstead in all his naked splendor.
But first, sustenance. He let a rather breathless Hank go and led him to the breakfast table in the kitchen nook, a wonderful oval teal blue Formica table with its original four chairs he’d found at a garage sale. He drew back a chair and gestured for Hank to take a seat. Rummaging in the junk drawer, he pulled out the Frankie’s Pizza takeout menu and set it down in front of Hank. “What toppings do you like?”
“Mushroom, onion and sausage look good,” Hank said, perusing the menu. He looked up. “That work for you?”
“Like a charm,” Avery agreed. “And they make this great cinnamon sugar dessert pizza with drizzled melted butter. So good.”
Hank patted his sculpted, flat abs. “No sugar for me, thanks.”
Avery shrugged and grinned. “No problem. More for me.” He called Frankie’s and placed their order, and then retrieved a bottle of Victory Vineyards merlot from the wine rack along with a corkscrew.
He opened the wine and brought it, along with two glasses, to the table. “Try some of this merlot. It’s from the vineyard in Napa Valley where I used to work. This particular one has won several awards. I think you’ll like it.” He poured a small amount in each glass and pushed one toward Hank. Lifting his own glass to his nose, he swirled and sniffed, closed his eyes and took a healthy sip and let it roll over his tongue.
“Hmm,” he said approvingly. “I love the way this one opens with aromas of black cherry.” He took another sip. “Then you get the notes of mocha, brown sugar and sweet oak from the casks, and then the lingering dark ripe cherry and plum finish.”
Hank lifted his eyebrows and smiled. “You continue to surprise, Avery Thompson. I had no idea you were such a wine connoisseur.” He tasted the wine and nodded his approval. “This is excellent.” He looked at the label on the bottle. “I’ve never heard of this vineyard.”
“They’re small but starting to get some real recognition. It was a great place to learn every aspect of the wine business. I loved working there.”
“Why’d you leave?”
Avery shrugged. “I’d learned pretty much everything I could. I knew I’d never have the capital I needed to start my own vineyard, which was what I would have liked to do. Then this chance came up with Nolan back here in Colorado. I’ve always been interested in beer brewing, and it’s much easier to break into that market and get started, capital-wise, than the wine business. Plus, you can brew beer year-round and you’re not at the mercy of the weather and that year’s grape harvest.”
Avery almost left it at that, but he pulled himself up short. If he was going to expect openness and honesty from Hank, he should give it in return.
“Also, there was a guy…” he said slowly. He hadn’t told anyone about Jesse since he’d returned to Colorado.
“A guy?” Hank repeated, pouring himself another glass of the merlot. His shoulders came up a little, his body tensing.
“Yeah. His name was Jesse. He was my partner and my sub. We were together for five years.” He waited for that horrible sense of loss and misery that saying Jesse’s name aloud always evoked, but instead only experienced a mild sense of regret. He was, he was glad to realize, finally moving on.
“The breakup was pretty rough,” he continued. “I decided I needed a total change. I’m from Colorado originally—from Boulder—and so it made sense to move back when I had the chance.”
Hank’s shoulders relaxed. He looked up, meeting Avery’s eye. “What happened? Why’d you break up? Did he leave you for someone else, the way Reese did to me?” Hank scowled.
Avery shook his head. “He left me for about twenty someone elses,” he said with a rueful smile. “That is, he didn’t actually leave me, he just fucked around constantly. Turns out he’d been doing it from the start, but I was too clueless or blinded by love or who knows what to figure it out. I knew something was wrong, especially toward the end, but I didn’t know exactly what it was. Then I came home early one day from work and there Jesse was in our bed with not one guy, but two.”
He pressed his lips together for a moment, recalling the painful incident—his initial confusion and shock, and then the cavalier way Jesse had excused himself. “You work too much. I need more than you give me. I need spice and variety and lots and lots of attention. So I get what I need on the side. Come on,” he’d added harshly. “I’ve been doing it for years. You have to have known it, Avery. Not even you could be that clueless.”
“Man, that sounds rough for you,” Hank said sympathetically. “It was different with me and Reese. We had an open relationship. We fooled around with other guys all the time.”
“Whatever works, I guess,” Avery said. “This might sound odd, coming from a sex worker, but when it comes to my personal relationships, I’m a one-man guy.” He fixed Hank with a stare, waiting until Hank met his gaze before continuing. “Do you think that would work for you?”
Hank stared back for several seconds, while Avery’s heart hung in the balance. He was wildly intrigued by Hank, flaws and all, and excited to help him explore his submissive side. But no fucking way was he going to sign on with another Jesse.
“Stranger things have happened,” Hank replied. Then he flashed a brilliant smile.
It wasn’t exactly the response Avery had hoped for, but he’d take it—for now.
~*~
What the hell was he doing? Falling for a big bear who sold his ass for money? For a guy who identified as Dom, for chrissakes? And yet, there it was. He couldn’t deny his powerful attraction for this big, lumbering, ridiculously laid-back guy who had, he was coming to le
arn, a backbone of iron.
Avery seemed genuinely unimpressed by money or power. He wasn’t like anyone Hank had ever met. He lived in a freaking warehouse, for crying out loud, and drove a beat-up old car. And yet he was sophisticated in ways Hank wouldn’t have expected, with his huge library of books, his in-depth knowledge of fine wines and his calm, philosophical take on the world.
But it was Avery’s dominant streak that really intrigued Hank. Avery had awoken feelings in Hank he never would have admitted having, not even to himself. And somehow, he’d done it without making Hank feel weak or humiliated.
What was it he’d said that first, strange night they’d met?
“I won’t allow someone to stand on my neck so they can feel a little taller.”
To Hank, that had been the very definition of domination. Like the alpha dog who bites the neck of those weaker in his pack, Hank had taken control because he could. He’d always regarded maintaining the upper hand as paramount. A weak man gave in. A powerful man took what he wanted. Yet, Avery seemed to approach the whole concept of D/s from a completely different place.
When Avery had first suggested Hank needed to be punished, Hank had naturally balked. No fucking way would he allow someone else to do to him what he’d always assumed was his right as a Dom. Yet, when Avery had had Hank lie over his muscular thighs and stroked Hank’s ass with those big, calloused hands, he hadn’t felt humiliated at all. He’d felt…cared for.
He couldn’t help but compare that experience to his interactions with Reese and other guys he’d been with over the years. Submission was something he’d wrested from his lovers. He took what he wanted because his was the stronger will, and that was the natural order of things.
But Avery hadn’t done that. Avery hadn’t taken what he’d wanted. Somehow, he’d gotten Hank to willingly give it to him. And the crazy thing was, Hank couldn’t stop thinking about the thrill he’d experienced when Avery had held him down by his wrists, or the power of that painfully delicious spanking. Maybe dominance wasn’t just about seizing power. Maybe there was more to BDSM than he’d ever considered before.
Turning the Tables Page 6
