Gentle Hand, page 1
part #2 of Perfect Hands Series
Gentle Hand
Nora Phoenix
Gentle Hand (Perfect Hands series book two) by Nora Phoenix
Copyright ©2019 Nora Phoenix
Cover design: Sloan Johnson (Sloan J Designs)
Editing: M.A. Hinkle
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All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without the written permission of the copyright holder, except in case of brief quotations and embodied within critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.
This book contains sexually explicit material which is suitable only for mature readers.
www.noraphoenix.com
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Untitled
Books by Nora Phoenix
More About Nora Phoenix
Prologue
Five Years Earlier
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“What’s wrong, Raf?”
He was a total wuss, of course, for starting to cry all over again at that simple question. It was just that Rhys’s voice was so warm and understanding, like it always was. The guy had the patience of a saint to put up with him. Fuck knew he was one of the few people who did.
“Raf?” Rhys said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Raf leaned into his touch, like he so often did. It helped Raf focus, that simple hand on his shoulder. Rhys was good with the touching thing, not caring if others thought it was weird or gay. He was out and proud, though not loud, as he always told Raf. To Rhys, being gay was who he was, and he saw no need to shout it from the rooftops. Rhys went about his life and ignored the occasional homophobic remark slung his way, something Raf desperately wanted to learn from him.
Not that he was out. God, no. He wanted to be, if only because pretending was so damn exhausting, but he couldn’t. He had to graduate first and be off to college, away from his father. Because there was no telling how the man would react to Raf coming out, though his guess was the meltdown would be of catastrophic proportions.
But he was getting distracted again instead of telling Rhys what was going on. Right. Focus, Raf.
“I got the diagnosis,” he said, raising his eyes to meet those of his best friend, Rhys. Hell, his only friend. Many people liked him at first sight, but it never seemed to last. Rhys was the only one who’d stuck with him, and he didn’t even made it feel like it was a sacrifice. Raf felt that Rhys genuinely liked him, which was amazing and baffling at the same time.
Rhys lowered himself on the bleachers next to him, where Raf had found a spot, pretending to be watching the cheerleaders practice. Their slim bodies twisted and turned, their faces always smiling as they practiced their tumbling and complicated routines. He’d watched them for a long time, his mind going to a hundred different places.
He watched them often, their practices somehow a comforting routine for him that beat the hell out of going home. No one looked at him twice on those bleachers. The cheerleaders barely noticed him anymore by now. Not that anyone believed him to be interested in girls in the first place. Still, it was all part of the pretense he had to keep up, at least until he graduated. If he even stood a chance at graduating after this. God, high school sucked.
Rhys’s hand found his and gently squeezed it. Right. Focus. Raf had to explain. “ADHD. That’s what I have. ADHD. They can give me pills or something which can help, but that’s it.”
“It’s not the end of the world. Those meds can be very effective, so they may help you function much better than you do now. Get more sleep, maybe, be able to focus better.”
Raf looked sideways at Rhys, who studied him with kind eyes. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not. It’s not uncommon, you know, and I’ve had a suspicion for a while now.”
Raf slowly shook his head. “You never said anything.”
“No, because we both know that would’ve not gone over well. I’m your friend, not your fucking counselor or doctor, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
As much as Raf hated to admit it, Rhys had a point there. “Sorry,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time he wished he was more like his best friend, and it wouldn’t be the last time either.
“What did your parents say?”
Boy, there was a loaded question. Raf cringed as he remembered his father’s reaction. He’d always been of the yelling variety, but that outburst had taken it to a whole new level. “My mom was very sweet and understanding,” he offered, but of course, Rhys could read between the lines. He always did.
Rhys’s eyes softened as he put a hand on Raf’s thigh and squeezed. “Wanna come hang out at my place for the weekend? My mom is away with some friends on a wine-tasting weekend or some shit, so it’s just me and my dad.”
Raf nodded instantly, gratitude flooding him.
“Awesome. Let’s leave your car here and I’ll drop you off Monday morning.”
Raf let out a sigh. It was so much better when someone else made those practical decisions for him.
“You know what’s so frustrating?” he asked a few minutes later when they were driving to Rhys’s house. “When my dad gets so angry with me, it only makes things worse. Thinking is hard enough for me as it is, but when he starts yelling, it’s like my brain shuts down. I become this stuttering, fumbling idiot who can’t string two coherent sentences together and who drops everything he touches.”
Rhys’s right hand left the steering wheel for a second to squeeze his thigh again. “I know. Just a few more months, Raf, and then you’re off to college.”
Raf bit his lip. “What if my grades aren’t good enough? What if I don’t get accepted because of this?”
Rhys shot him a quick look sideways. “There are many guys like you who get into college. If they’d start rejecting everyone with ADHD, they’d have barely anyone left.”
A smile broke though on Raf’s face. “That’s BS, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
“You’ll get into college, I promise,” Rhys said.
Raf sighed. “You always have more faith in me than I have in myself. God, sometimes I wish I could love you, you know?”
Rhys brought a hand to his heart and faked being shot. “Are you saying my undying love is unrequited? You’ve mortally wounded me!”
Raf grinned. Rhys was so funny and sweet at the same time. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, you’re saying if I were twenty years older, you’d totally do me.”
“Dude, if I were twenty years older, you’d be all over me,” Raf fired back.
They grinned at each other, both comfortable knowing what they liked. Oh, they’d kissed once, back when their friendship was new and they discovered they were both gay, but they’d agreed that had been an experiment they would never, ever repeat. Nope, they shared an affinity for older men and were unashamed about it—at least to each other.
“Oh, Cornell is here.” Rhys pointed at the car that belonged to Cornell Freeman, his father’s best friend. Raf, who wasn’t the most perceptive, noticed an edge to his voice. Usually, he would’ve blurted something out about Rhys liking him, but because Rhys had been amazing enough to offer him a safe haven for the weekend, he held back. With effort, because holy crap, Rhys liking his dad’s best friend was interesting.
“Nice,” he said because he had to say something and dammit, Cornell was nice.
Rhys’s father—Jonas—and Cornell were hanging out on the deck with a couple of cold beers, the barbecue already fired up. Their conversation stopped abruptly when Rhys and Raf walked in, and Raf wondered what they had been talking about.
“Hey Dad,” Rhys said. “Is it okay if Raf stays with us for the weekend?”
Jonas’s eyes were kind as he sent Raf an encouraging smile. “Sure. It’s always a pleasure to have you around, Raf.”
Now why the fuck couldn’t he have a dad like that?
“Thank you.” It was the polite thing to say, even if he knew it wasn’t needed here. They wouldn’t ream him out here if he forgot to say thank you, or forgot to turn the lights off, or forgot to close the garage door, turn the sprinklers in the yard on, or any of the hundred things he was supposed to remember but his brain refused to.
“Hey Cornell.” There was that edge again in Rhys’s voice. Raf bit his lip from saying anything, because that would be unforgivable.
“Hey kiddo,” Cornell said, shooting both of them a lazy smile. Gah, he was hot with his lean body, those gray hairs that peppered his dark hair, and a pair of blue eyes that were always kind. Then again, Jonas wasn’t bad looking either, though Raf would never admit that to Rhys, There were things you shouldn’t say about someone’s dad, that much even he knew.
“We’ll be in my room, Dad,” Rhys announced.
“I’m making ribs, so come down in an hour or so ‘cause they’ll be ready,” Jonas said.
“Cornell is hot,” Raf said as soon as they were in Rhys’s room, his attempt at being subtle. Rhys, of course, saw straight through him.
“You picked up on that?” he said with a hint of panic. “Oh god, I hope he didn’t notice. If you saw, that means I wasn’t being very subtle about it, crap.”
Raf’s face broke open in a wide smile. “You really like him.” He kept his voice low.
Rhys rolled his eyes at him, but then settled himself on his bed, with Raf finding a spot to lounge on the floor like he usually did. He could never sit long anyway, and the floor offered more room to move.
“I do.” Raf felt a flash of triumph that he’d called it. “But please, promise me you won’t say anything to anyone. It’s crazy, because he’s my dad’s best friend, and he’s way too old for me. It’s just a crush.”
Raf held up both hands with his index and middle finger crossed. “I swear. I know my filter malfunctions often, but I’d never embarrass you like that. But why would he be too old? I thought you liked older guys?”
Rhys let out a groan. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I really like him, and it’s annoying because he’ll never see me as more than his best friend’s kid, you know? He’s known me since I was a baby.”
“He’s single, though, right? And gay?” Raf was proud he could remember Rhys had told him as much, even if the exact details were lost on him.
Rhys nodded. “His boyfriend dumped him after cheating on him. I heard my mom and dad talk about it.”
“Poor guy,” Raf spared a short thought for his father who’d he’d seen banging their neighbor, the one with the fake tits that didn’t even bounce when she played tennis. She was nice enough, though a little too perky and happy for his taste, and she baked the best chocolate chip cookies in the world, but he didn’t get what his dad saw in her or why he had to cheat on his mom like that. Then he shrugged. Not his problem, and he wasn’t stepping into that mess if only out of sheer survival instinct.
“You never know what could happen,” Raf said. “Things can change.”
As cliché as it was, it did seem to cheer Rhys up a bit. “You’re right. I shouldn’t give up.”
That made Raf sad, for some reason. Maybe it was because he knew that even if Rhys didn’t end up with Cornell—and he had to admit, the chances were slim—he’d find someone else who was great and perfect for him. There was no way a guy like that would stay single.
“Who would ever want me?” he said, the sadness flooding him now. “I’m such a hot mess.”
Rhys lifted a single eyebrow. “Yeah, with the emphasis on hot. Have you seen your ass lately? Dude, give it time. You’ll find your way through this diagnosis, through life. You just have to find how and where you fit in.”
“What if I don’t fit anywhere?” Raf asked, his voice trembling a little. “The only person I’ve ever felt at home with is you. What if I’ll never find that with anyone else?”
Rhys lowered himself to the floor on his belly as well, their faces close. “If I tell you a secret, can you promise me to never, ever tell anyone?”
Raf nodded instantly, but Rhys reached out and out a hand on his hand. “I’m serious. This is not something you can blurt out at any given time, okay?”
Raf hesitated at Rhys’s serious tone, then nodded again, but more much slowly. “I promise.”
“I think my parents are getting a divorce.”
Raf’s eyes widened. “Oh no!” he whispered.
“But that’s not even the secret. I’ve found out that they’re in an unusual relationship. They’re Domme and submissive.”
This time, Raf’s mouth dropped open, and he didn’t close it until drool started pooling in his mouth. “They’re what?”
“My mom is a Domme and my dad is her submissive. And Cornell is a submissive as well.”
Talk about a bombshell. Raf shook his head, something he often did to force himself to follow one line of thought and not let the chaos in his head overwhelm him.
“So your mom, like, whips your dad and stuff?” he asked, his vice filled with awe.
“I don’t know what they do exactly, but maybe? Not sure I want to know. But I overheard them talking about it when they didn’t know I was home.”
Yeah, Raf wasn’t sure he wanted more details either. Sex was weird enough to think about, let alone sex like that. And yet, at the same time, the idea tickled him. “How do you know they’re getting a divorce?”
Rhys’s face grew tight. “They’re always fighting lately,” he said softly. “It’s not much fun to be around them. They try to pretend everything is fine, but it’s not. I think they’re waiting for me to graduate and leave for college.”
Raf leaned in to rub Rhys’s hand against his cheek. “I’m sorry. That must make you sad.”
“It does, but this fighting drives me crazy as well, so by now I’m over it.”
“But why did you tell me this? Not the divorce thing, but the whole Domme thing.”
“Because I thought you’d find comfort in knowing that even if it turns out you don’t fit in with the vanilla folks, there’s a whole world for you to explore.”
1
He was getting too old for this. Brendan sighed as he found a quiet spot in one of the club’s booths where he could sip his Coke and contemplate his social life. Or lack thereof, as fate would have it. The club was busy enough for a Saturday evening, and he’d spotted a number of boys he’d played with before as well as some cute-looking newbies, but he wasn’t feeling it.
He’d known it for a while, but tonight had made it clear. At forty-three, he was done playing. Weekends in the club, the occasional boy who wanted something more for a few weeks or a few months, it no longer appealed to him. He wanted a boy to call his own, someone to wake up with and tuck into bed every night. His house was ready for it, a gorgeous room awaiting the perfect boy…but Brendan was starting to lose hope he’d ever find him.
Oh, he’d thought he had when he’d met Henry, but that had turned out to be nothing but heartbreak. It had made him gun-shy to even try again, and for a while he’d stuck to quick encounters in the club. But that wasn’t him, and it wasn’t what he wanted. The question was: would he find what he was looking for in the club? It seemed doubtful, but where else could he encounter someone who was into the same things as him?
He took another sip of his Coke, then sank lower in the booth and closed his eyes for a second. These booths were perfect if you wanted a little privacy, whether for yourself or because you wanted to engage in some activities without everyone watching. Though, in this club, someone was always watching because that was kind of the point. If you didn’t want that, there were private rooms available.
“I’m sorry, Rhys.” A crystal-clear, young voice carried over from the booth next to him. “I tried, I swear. I really tried.”
“I know. Don’t worry about it,” someone else said, his voice a bit more hushed. Rhys, Brendan assumed, since that’s what the other voice had called him. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” the young guy said again.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Brendan loved how reassuring this Rhys guy was, his voice so warm and kind. He wondered what his young friend was so upset about.
“Of course there is. This is, like, the tenth thing I’ve tried, and none of them worked.”
Brendan frowned. Tenth thing? And what did he mean, it didn’t work? Unlike what people assumed sometimes, BDSM or kink in its broadest sense was not a cure-all for problems that people struggled with. Sure, they could help find release from certain tensions, but it wasn’t a fix for anything.
