by Jo Raven
Is that why I’m weirded out? Because I fell asleep on his sofa twice? I don’t do sex for free, that’s for sure. Earlier, that was just lust talking, no matter how beautiful he is.
Maybe that’s the problem. As I catch myself staring at him again, admiring his taut ass in those jeans, the long legs, the strong line of his back and the glossy dark brown hair, I decide that’s why. I’m not used to feeling attracted to customers.
But it doesn’t matter. I need the money. I need to pay Simon, and eat, and pay for Adam’s ticket out of town. No shame in it.
And yet , as we approach his pick-up truck and he glances at me, I find myself sweating, my face and neck too hot. My cheeks are burning, and my dick is getting hard, just like Raine’s was before.
It bothers me.
Which is nuts. It has always bothered me that I can’t get fully hard with sex, though over the years I sorta came to terms with it. With Raine, though… It troubles me that I get excited. And it annoys me that I can’t get it up all the way.
Even if I’d probably panic if I did. Christ, talk about a Catch Twenty-two.
It doesn’t help that my heart is pounding like I’m about to have a fucking heart attack when Raine’s arm slides around me, and he walks me the rest of the way to the passenger door.
Why do I have shivers skittering up and down my spine? The good kind of shivers, the kind that shoot straight to my balls and make me stare at his lips like a starving man.
I turn, and we’re chest to chest, and damn, his mouth is right there, and I want… I want more than I’ve ever wanted before.
His hand lands on the truck beside me, and he leans in, pressing his hard-on into my hip. “Ready?” he whispers.
His mouth trails on my jaw for a second, and my whole body tightens, zapped by electric shots that lead—where else?—to my dick. His scent makes my mouth water.
“Yeah.” I’m so fucking ready. For anything. For more.
He yanks the door open and draws back to smirk at me. “Then get inside.”
Mute, I watch his broad back as he walks away, vanishing around the truck. The driver’s door opens and closes.
Fucking cocktease.
My dick aches as I climb inside the truck, and my head is spinning. I glance at him, and he’s busy revving up the engine and pulling off the curb. His profile is a dark outline, and the way the muscles shift in his forearms as he turns the wheel, fucking God… so damn hot.
He tosses me a wink as he eases into traffic, and I just stare at him, my mouth dry, my pants way too tight.
Oh yeah, I’m so fucked.
By the time we stop and I get out of his pick-up, I’m more or less under control. He doesn’t take my hand or put his arm around me, and it’s better that way. No mixed signals. They always get me confused.
Or does it mean he’s upset with me?
Why should that matter, anyway? I carefully avoid looking at him as we ride up the elevator to his floor, and he unlocks the door to his apartment.
“Come on in,” he says, flashing me a smile, and fuck, if it wasn’t for the money in my pocket, I’d think we’re on a date or something.
Yeah, talk about mixed signals.
Okay, Jason. Work time. Stop fucking around. And with that thought, I feel a smirk pull at my lips and a calm descend over me.
Much better.
“Why sure. Since you ask so nicely.” I saunter inside as if I don’t have a care in the world and unzip my jacket. “Where do you want it?”
Yeah, so much better. I’m back in control. Not like before, on the street.
Or like last time, here, when he washed me, and fed me, and held me like something precious. When he told me I was worth it.
Fuck.
“Want what?” Raine closes the door and rakes a hand through his hair, then tugs at his jacket sleeves.
“Me.” I run my hands over my chest, down, until I reach the hem of my tank top—a tame one today, since a john ripped my glittery one yesterday—and drag it up. “Where do you want me?”
“Whoa, wait.” Raine’s right in front of me in two strides—boy’s got damn long legs—and puts his hands over mine.
Which is fine by me. I keep pulling, and he doesn’t try to stop me. We remove my tank top together, but when I try to lower my hands, he won’t let me.
He presses my hands together over my head, locks them together in one big fist, and the look he shoots me has my breath going out in a whoosh.
Shit.
“I wasn’t gonna…” He licks his lips, eyes going dark and deep. “Oh fuck me. You look…” Another sweep of his tongue over his lips, and my control is shattered, that easy. I press against his hold, arching into him, crushing my mouth to his, a moan escaping me.
God, yeah. His hold on my wrists tightens. His other hand drops to my hips, and he jerks me against him, his hard-on jabbing into my crotch, and a different sound escapes me, a deeper groan. The pressure against my cock feels so fucking good, the way his chest rubs against mine, my pierced nipple throbbing in time to my frantic heartbeat, it all feels amazing.
He walks me backward until my legs hit the back of the sofa, and he props me against it, his hand going to my zipper.
Holy shit my mind is chanting, this ain’t no good, hold on…
His hand is inside my pants. On my dick. I should stop him, touch him, be the one who unzips his pants and—
His fingers curl around my cock, and fuck, oh yeah… His grip is hot and strong, and he sucks on my tongue as he strokes me, the pressure building fast in my gut.
It’s… Oh God. What was I thinking about before? That I should… I should be… Shit, I’m running out of air, and it only ratchets up the pressure. My vision is etched in black by the time Raine breaks the kiss and draws back, panting harshly.
Or is it me? Can’t catch my breath. Shit, I’m leaning against him, off balance.
Out of control.
Lost.
No, dammit. I can’t let this happen, not again, but he has me literally in his hand, my throbbing dick wrapped in his fingers.
“Raine,” I whisper, and his focus shifts to my face. “Let go.”
His hand on my dick stills. Then it lets go, as I asked.
I lean heavily into him, forcing him a step back, then bring my hands down. He releases my wrists, too, and I slide my palms under his shirt.
Defined muscles, clenching tightly under my touch, his stomach hollowing, his breath coming out in a huff. I push his shirt up, bending my head to lick a trail over his abs, his pecs, shoving the fabric higher and higher, and he yanks the T-shirt off him with a curse and throws it away.
It hits the wall with a soft thump and falls.
I smirk against his skin. Yeah, baby. Your turn to lose control. He’s been holding himself so damn tightly tonight, keeping the upper hand, not letting a crack show.
Until now.
My mouth waters at the taste of his skin, salty and musky, and my dick tries to burst through my pants. Such a good, crazy-ass sensation. Makes me wanna jack off while tasting his skin.
But no way am I letting that distract me. I nip and lick and suck my way to his neck, pressing our bodies back together, and he’s rock hard inside his jeans. I gasp at the feel of his hard-on against mine, resist the urge to grind myself on him, wondering if I’m getting fully hard for the first time ever with a guy—
He grabs my hips and does just that, rubbing our hard-ons together through the fabric, and my vision sparkles from the pleasure of it. How would it feel skin to skin?
Focus, Jason, goddammit.
Gripping his muscular forearms, I walk him backward until we bump into his armchair. I push until his knees bend and he sinks down on the cushion, then I straddle him.
His eyes widen.
Heh. This is more like it. I kiss him, long and hard, sucking on his tongue until he groans in my mouth. I rub his nipples until they’re tiny hard points, then twist them and he gasps in my mouth.
He’s so hot.
He’d look even better with his nipples pierced. Probably get more sensation out of it, too.
I wonder if he’s ever had anyone play with his nipples. Bite his earlobe as I’m about to do now. He curses the moment I break the kiss, then his hands clench on my hips in a bruising grip when I breathe on his ear and tug on the soft flesh with my teeth.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, and he trembles. “I’m ready, lubed and everything, and there’s a condom in my pocket.”
His cock thickens more. He can’t hide his reaction to my words, how much he wants it, not with the way I’m sitting on top of him. I rock my hips and he groans, his body tensing.
“Christ, Jase. What you do to me. Can’t hold back.”
“Why would you wanna hold back?” I frown, and straighten as a doubt strikes me. All this hemming and hawing… “You’ve done it before, right?”
Red splashes over his cheeks. He opens his mouth but ends up saying nothing.
Holy fucking shit. “You’ve never done it? Like, ever? Jesus, Raine. We playing at the whore and the virgin now?”
I’d laugh, but it’s not funny.
“I didn’t say I haven’t.” The tips of his ears are bright red.
Phew. Shit, my heart almost stopped for a moment there. Not even sure why. Maybe the idea that I’m so fucking jaded, though I can’t even come from fucking—and he has never even gotten his dick wet.
“Good,” I purr and pick up where I’d left off. Sure, my dick has mostly deflated—it doesn’t take much—but his is still diamond-hard, and I have plans for it. “Just sit back and enjoy then.”
I’m not sure what I was planning to do when I first entered the apartment. He only paid for a blowjob. I wasn’t thinking of sex, and certainly not in any position where he can see my face or my dick and lack of a satisfying hard-on.
But here’s where we ended up, on the armchair, and I’m reluctant to move in case he changes his mind again.
I just need him to fuck me. Don’t ask why. I’m not really a masochist. It’s not like I love my job, no matter what I claimed in front of Raine before. Fuck, no.
But a good, hard fuck will jolt me out of this confusion, right? That and… it’s Raine. When he pulls my head back down for a deep kiss, another sparkle of pleasure runs through me, and heat gathers at the base of my balls.
It’s Raine, and he’s all I’ve ever wanted and could never have.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Raine
So many reasons why this is a damn bad idea. Reasons I’ve repeated to myself over the years, weeks and days as I tried to convince myself I was pissed off at Jason, annoyed by him, suspicious of him.
Trying to avoid the truth: how much I want him.
But who cares about reasons when you have Jason Vega half-naked in your lap, sucking on your neck and telling you he’s lubed and ready for your cock? Every man has a breaking point, a weakness.
Mine is Jason.
Not only that, but he’s a man on a mission. Out to kill me, probably, if the way he’s rocking on top of my hard-on is any indication. I’m seconds away from coming in my pants, and when he does it again, I can’t fucking stand it anymore. My control snaps.
“Jase, fuck. Get on my dick right now.”
He hums on the skin of my neck, lifts his head, an emotion passing behind his eyes—amusement? calculation? fear?—then he’s climbing off me and shoving his pants down.
No underwear. So hot. His cock hangs down between his legs, long and beautiful, half-hard, the silver barbell peeking out on the sides. He’s so sexy with his upper body covered in ink, his fine face, the large, dark eyes.
Makes my heart ache. And damn, I’m so hard I could burst.
“Come here,” I whisper, my voice like gravel. He grabs his dick, gives it a few strokes. “Jason.”
Can’t wait any longer. I start unzipping my jeans, but I don’t get further than that when he kneels at my feet and takes over, removing my shoes, my socks, pulling my pants down. The tent in my black briefs is obscene. He gets up, a condom foil in his hand. He tears it with his teeth, and I swear, the sound of foil tearing goes straight to my dick.
At this point, I bet any sound would. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.
And tonight I’d planned to talk to him, really talk. Get that apology in. Tell him how I feel… how I want to do better. By him.
Damn.
He rolls the condom on my dick, and I grit my teeth and dig my nails into the armrests. If the condom feels so good, I can’t imagine his ass.
Yeah, I’ve fucked a guy before. Didn’t blow my mind. But Jason just might.
He tugs on the tip of the condom, then the base, making sure it’s snug, and trails his hand up my chest. He leans over me, eyes so serious and dark I can’t stop staring into them.
“Now lean back,” he says, his lips brushing over mine, scorching, “and let me ride you.”
His words are softly spoken, normal, everyday words, but I groan against his mouth, robbed of coherent thought.
Please, I think. Yeah, do it. Fuck yourself on me. Take what you need. What will give you pleasure.
I can’t put the thoughts into words, so I grab his face and kiss him hard, my tongue fucking his mouth, and I hope he gets the message.
He licks his lips when he pulls back, his gaze unfocused, and his dick is definitely firmer between us. “Raine…”
“I wanna see your face as you come,” I finally manage.
His brows knit. “No, it’s… I can’t, okay?”
Before I ask what he means, what he can’t do, he turns around and sits in my lap, his firm ass pressing against my dick.
I see stars. “What…?” Nope, can’t form sentences, or questions. “Ugh.”
He pulls his legs up on either side of me, braces his hands on the armrests and lifts up. His thighs ripple with muscle. His ass cheeks spread.
He positions himself over my dick. “Do it,” he says roughly. “Fuck me.”
My hand is shaking. I grip my dick, clench my jaw, and push into him. Hot. Tight. So fucking tight.
Then he sinks down, taking in my dick the rest of the way, and I moan, unable to help it, the pressure around my dick sending pulses of pain-pleasure to my balls and my ass so that everything clenches tight.
Ready to shoot.
Ah fuck.
“You’re so damn hard,” he breathes, and the faint whisper sets my blood on fire. He rises up, sinks back down, and I rock my hips up, slamming into him.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. No, it wasn’t like this ever before. My hips rock up again, without any instructions from my conscious brain. I grip the armrest with one hand, Jason’s hip with the other, and just fuck into him, grunting a garbled version of his name in time to my thrusts.
Oh God. Pressure is condensing to a bright point as his body pulls on mine like a gravitational force. His ass clenches around my dick, his leg muscles tremble, his movements growing faster, sharper.
“Jase…” I’m gonna come so hard. Need him to come with me. I reach around him to jerk him off. “Damn…”
His movements slow down, his panting harsh. “Wait.”
I find his dick and grip it. He’s still half-hard. My brain grinds to a stop until I process this—the fact that he’s not enjoying it as I am. “Jason.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re not into it, dammit.”
“Damn you, Raine, just fuck me.” He glares at me over his shoulder, long dark lashes throwing shadows over his angular face. “Fuck me hard.”
This is fucked up. I shouldn’t. I should push him off me, demand we talk. Demand the truth, and no more of these veiled lies and pretenses.
But he lifts off me a little, sliding off my dick until only the head is inside him, cutting off my breath. His face is turned to the side so that I can see his beautiful profile, the full lips, the feathery lashes, the shiny spikes of his dark hair.
Then he sinks down, slowly, rocking those slim hips, his ass milking my d
ick, and my back arches off the armchair.
Hot damn, this is… off the charts good, I’m gonna come, oh shit… The pressure crests, my body jerks, and I shoot, the release so fucking strong it’s painful. I hold on to him as I ride it, jaw tense against a cry, the pleasure ripping me apart, turning me inside out.
Whoa. I slump back, aftershocks running through my body, small quakes of pleasure. Jason shifts, and I moan as his ass massages my spent dick.
Can’t move. Can’t talk. I mean, fuck, I can barely breathe, my muscles turned to jelly and my eyelids too heavy.
Jason shifts again, and grunts something. I blink at him. He puts his hand over mine where it’s resting on his hip.
Well, not resting. More like gripping. And he’s trying to pry it off.
My fingers are cramped. I unclench them one by one, lift them off him, and I find red fingerprints underneath.
They mingle with older, yellowing bruises, and suddenly, I feel cold and sick.
What the hell have I done?
The question won’t leave me in peace as I pull on some old sweats and stumble into the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face, struggling to gather my thoughts, to ground myself, when he appears in the doorway.
