Lovely in Red, page 8
“So—” Atticus bumps his knee against mine and I look over. “Are you a tiny garbage disposal?”
I laugh. It’s a fair question. “I can eat. But normally, when I overindulge, I eat sweets.”
He wraps his arm around my back, pulling me flush against his side. I close my eyes, having zero desire to escape, and lean into him as he whispers in my ear. “Dessert is probably best left as a private affair where we’re concerned.”
My cock hardens rapidly even as I blush.
How in the hell am I going to make it through a meal with him?
Chapter Nine
ATTICUS
The blush staining Calix’s cheeks begs to be touched and I can’t help myself. I cup his smooth jaw in my palms, tip his head back and stroke my thumb over the pink as I search his face.
He’s everything to me. The reason I breathe. I know it’s not the same for him and I should back off, give him time to adjust to me, to our new reality. The thought of slowing down makes me physically sick. He’s here, literally in my grasp, so close to being mine in all ways and I’m never letting him go.
“I can tease too, you know.” The words are a warning I can’t possibly take seriously, not from him.
“Go for it,” I rasp, my lips next to his ear as I hold him as close as I can in a public space without getting kicked out. We need to look at the menu but it can wait. “Do your worst. But keep in mind, I’m not above taking revenge.”
“Revenge on little old me?” His voice is small and soft as he peeks at me from under his lashes. He looks as innocent as he is. And cute as hell in my leather jacket. It damn near swallows him, but I have no doubt he’s warm.
“Yes,” I assure him as I brush my fingers down his throat and nip at his jaw. He tips his head back when I wrap my fingers around his neck, pants under my hold even as he continues to blush. The sound is even sweeter in person than I imagined it would be. “I’ll make you beg for mercy.”
“Are you going to use this to do so?” He brushes the front of my pants, right over my hard cock, with his slender fingers before he withdraws. The stain on his cheeks grows darker but the fact he dared touch me so explicitly in public . . . I shake my head and grin. He’s such a bold little shit and I love it. Truthfully, I love him. He’s not ready to hear that. Maybe one day. Hopefully soon. I’m not sure how long I can refrain from telling him.
I laugh low before I nip his ear. He shivers as I whisper, “Among other things. But that will have to wait. Let’s see what you want to eat.”
“You started it,” he whines as I pull the menu close so we can both see it.
What will Calix enjoy?
“I can’t help myself where you’re concerned,” I admit, tucking my arm around his back and pulling him almost into my lap once more.
“I’ll be the bigger person and behave then.” He huffs as he unzips my jacket and attempts to shrug out of it.
I turn to help him free his arms even as I tease him. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”
He’s a good five, maybe six inches shorter than me, and if I had to guess, almost fifty pounds lighter. If I thought it wouldn’t scare him this early on it would be easy to hold him down and take whatever I want. But what I most want is for Calix to submit willingly.
“Do you have brothers and sisters?” he asks once he’s free of my jacket.
I shake my head as Calix bows his over the menu. “No. Just me. My mom died when I was young. When my dad remarried, I guess neither of them wanted to try for a kid. You mentioned a brother. Older, right?”
Ten years older, actually. I know all about Stephen Litten.
“Yeah. I have an older brother. My parents are still around too.”
Dad is retired from construction. Mother still works part time as a hairdresser.
“Hello,” a young man pops up beside us with a smile. I have no doubt he waited for Calix and me to stop making moon eyes at one another before he approached. “Welcome to The Curry Bowl. I’m Neill and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you to drink?”
We both order beer because why not? Neither of us are driving.
“Do you have a good relationship with them?” I ask.
My father and I get along well, always have. My stepmother is a different story. I avoid her as much as possible. If things continue as they have been between her and my dad, she won’t be my stepmother much longer. No real loss there.
“My brother and I keep in touch,” Calix says as he pushes the menu away and turns. His knee bumps against my thigh and I reach under the table to squeeze his leg. He presses into my hand but doesn’t stop talking. “He’s ten years older than me so we didn’t really grow up together. He landed a scholarship and started college right after he graduated high school.”
From what I learned during my internet research, Calix grew up in a rough neighborhood that catered to low income families like his. I can’t fault his older brother for fleeing the poverty stricken area at the first sign of something better.
“I think I’ve told you before my parents were pretty upset when I decided to start my channel instead of going to college.” It fractured their relationship, he’d said. “My brother is a lawyer now—no real thanks to them. I was supposed to be the doctor of the family.” Calix shakes his head and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he meets my gaze.
Does he see the hilarity too? He isn’t a doctor but if I have my way—and I often do—he’ll spend his life with someone who has an MD. Does that count?
“I never really liked school. Stephen was pissed when I used my college fund, meager as it was, to get my first apartment and start my channel but—” Calix shrugs and reaches for the beer Neill places on the table.
He takes a sip as Neill asks, “Are you ready to order?”
“Calix?”
“The Goan curry, please.”
“I’ll have the dum biryani. Can we get an order of pakoras as well? Thank you.”
Neill writes our orders down. “I’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready.”
I turn my attention back to Calix when he’s gone. “I’m still listening.”
He smiles and lays his hand over mine on his leg. I turn my palm over and lace our fingers together. “Stephen stops by from time to time with his wife Quinn. Mom calls at least once a week. And my dad . . . He’s as stubborn as I am so we don’t talk anymore unless we have to.”
I press a kiss to his temple as I squeeze his hand. “You’re the best person I know so it’s his loss.”
“Thank you for saying so.” Calix leans over and presses a chaste kiss to my cheek. The heat of his mouth has me leaning into him, chasing the warm feeling his innocent peck inspires. “He thinks being a camboy is the same as working a street corner. And the fact I’m gay—” He huffs and shakes his head. “Old people, man.” I laugh and pull him close. Old people, indeed. “Are you close with your parents?”
“My dad and I get along but I was closer to my grandmother, when she was alive.” She was the first person to notice I was different and urge my father to get me in to see a therapist. He didn’t object; he wasn’t blind to my reality despite the long hours he worked.
“I’m sorry.” Calix tightens his hand around mine.
I shake my head and bump my shoulder against his. “It’s been a few years now but she was my main caregiver for a number of years. My father works even more than I do, always has. I loved her.” As much as it was possible for me to love her anyway. “She was . . .” How best to describe why the pair of us got along so well? “She was aware of my differences so stern, but fair. I needed that. I had rules and if I broke them, there were consequences. But otherwise, she left me to my own devices.”
We had been content to come and go, two ghosts haunting the same house and sometimes sharing a meal.
“Is that what you’re looking for in a relationship?” Calix chews on his bottom lip.
“No.” I cup his chin and tug his poor abused lip from between his teeth. “I don’t need to be the center of someone’s universe but I want whoever I’m with to want me, to take up room in my life and allow me the freedom to do the same.”
He leans into my side and I give him a soft squeeze. “That sounds really nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says. I bury my nose in his hair and breathe him in. Just his existence calms the monster that lives inside of me. “So were you one of those only children—a private school, spoiled, rich brat?”
I laugh and fist his hair, giving a sharp tug. His pupils dilate, the black nearly swallowing the green. I slot my mouth over his and dip my tongue between his parted lips for half a second before withdrawing. “I was actually homeschooled until my senior year.”
“What happened in senior year?”
How honest can I afford to be at this point? Too much and he may run for the hills. Of course, I’ll chase him down and drag him back kicking and screaming, just to reassure him I mean no harm, but I don’t want to sour what has thus far been a nice day.
“My father wanted to see how I would function outside of a controlled environment—in the real world, among my peers,” I explain, because without lying there is no other way to explain. “It was a test run, to be sure I could meet and maintain social expectations.”
His brow furrows for a moment before his expression clears. “Since you went to medical school I take it you passed with flying colors.”
“I did.” Eight hours a day in a classroom was still a controlled environment. Even college was, in a number of ways. It was structured around set tasks—get up, go to class, do the course work, go home, rinse and repeat. Most of life is like that. I can operate within those boundaries to a certain point, but I don’t like it.
“Did you go to a lot of wild parties? Join a frat? No.” Calix shakes his head as he laughs under his breath. “I can’t picture you in a frat.”
“Yeah. No.” I’d have murdered the whole house with zero regret. “I kept to myself, did what was required and nothing more. People exhaust me and college kids—” I shake my head. I wasn’t built for that kind of stupid, didn’t relate to it on any level, even as a younger adult. Or maybe it was better to say I wasn’t raised for it.
“But with your looks I bet you were popular,” Calix says.
Neill appears beside the table, holding a plate. “Your pakoras. Another beer?”
“Thank you,” I say. “And yes—two please.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I turn to Calix again to carry on our conversation as we both start to pick at the pakoras. “Pretty to look at and approachable are two vastly different things. I made myself seem as unapproachable as possible.”
Calix hums as he inspects me. “You do give off an air of admire from afar.”
I lean into his space and whisper in his ear. “You can admire me as closely as you like.”
“So, how do you normally lure your playmates in?” he asks.
Neill delivers our beers. I reach for mine, taking a sip. The first bottle disappeared without me even realizing.
“I frequent a club of likeminded individuals,” I finally say. Calix already knows I’m a freak. I’ve talked about tying him up, and countless other things I’d like to do with him, a number of times. “It’s not hard to find someone who enjoys what I do and expects nothing more than a few hours of my undivided attention.”
Lately, all my attention has been on Calix. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.
“I’ve never done the whole club scene,” he says, plucking at his sweater.
“I’m not talking about your typical gay bar,” I tell him.
“You mean a sex club?” His eyes widen. He pauses in reaching for food. “I didn’t think . . . I mean . . . How do you even get an invite to a kink club?” I can’t help but laugh, even under my breath. His face falls and he looks away. “You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not. I promise.” I reach out and tuck a strand of red hair behind his ear, begging him to believe me with my eyes. “I wouldn’t make fun of you for something you don’t know or aren’t familiar with. I’ll happily fill in the gaps in your knowledge. It’s just another dichotomy of your personality.” One more thing I really like about him. A sex worker without comprehensive knowledge of all things sex. In his profession, shouldn’t he know how to score an invite to a kink club, even if he isn’t kinky?
His shoulders slump. “Is it dumb that I’m a sex worker who has zero sexual experience?”
“It’s not.” We all learn and grow through our experiences. Calix’s experiences are only with himself. “As a camboy, you know what you need to know to entice your viewers. Everything else hasn’t been important until now.”
He looks up, some of the tension leaving his face. “Can I ask you something, Atticus?”
“Of course. Anything. I’ll do my best to answer.”
He wiggles in his seat, crossing one leg over the other as he frees his hand from mine and pulls at his bottom lip. Dread pools in my stomach but I remain silent and wait. It’s not a long wait.
“I . . . I’ve always wondered why you’ve stuck with me, you know? You’re kinky as hell and . . . my shows are pretty tame. I know most of my fans like the whole innocent angle but you’ve never obsessed over it, as far as I know. You’ve never treated me like . . . I don’t know. Like I’m untouchable. Or as if you want to taint me. So I guess I want to know . . . why me? Just me?”
I run my fingers down his throat, the food on the table ignored now. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing under my fingers. “I’ve liked watching you learn and grow, find your footing as you get comfortable with yourself and having an audience. I’ve enjoyed being a part of that, seeing you blossom when your shy innocence is brushed aside by your sure confidence, and you forget yourself for moments at a time and just enjoy your own touch.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth as my cock starts to harden. “And then you remember—what you’re doing, who you’re doing it in front of—and I want to drag you close, tell you how well you did, how proud of you I am, protect you while you catch your breath so you can do it all again.”
He brushes a kiss across my cheek. “Thank you, Atticus. You have a way of saying just what I want to hear.” I wrap my arm around his body and pull him against my chest, holding him close, breathing him in for a long moment before I force myself to let him go so we can eat and get out of here.
“Let’s eat. You’re going to need your energy later. I do have plans to taint you.”
He laughs as we reach for our beers.
Chapter Ten
CALIX
Atticus’ fingers are laced in mine. He’s walking me home. I pull on my bottom lip as I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
Should I really invite him into my home? Or should I say I had a wonderful time but I’m not ready for more? If I do that, it will be a damn lie. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my whole life. He won’t have to work hard to get me naked. But is it too soon to have sex? We may have been talking online for months but we only just met in person.
“I already know where you live. Are you interested in seeing where I live?” Atticus asks, pulling me to a stop. We’re still several blocks from my apartment. He’s going to take me home with him?
“Really?”
“Really.” He releases my hand and pulls me into his side. I have no clue how he’s not freezing. I’m wearing his coat and still feel the chill in the air as the sun dips towards the horizon. “It’s totally up to you though. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Yeah.” Where does he live? What does his house look like? I can’t picture his home at all. If it’s anything like his office, it will be a hodgepodge of colorful art. I’m equal parts excited and curious. “Do you live nearby?”
“You’ll see,” he says, urging me down the street again.
We’ve only gone a few blocks past my apartment when he pulls me across the street, towards a row of modern townhouses with colorful doors and empty flower boxes at the bottom of the stairs.
“You live here?” I ask as he pulls a set of keys from his pocket. Obviously, he does. “We’re practically neighbors.” From the rooftop of my apartment, I can probably see his home. “How long have you lived here?”
How long has he known we’re a stone’s throw away from one another?
“A little over six months.” Atticus opens the door and steps to the side. I glance at him, a little surprised, but don’t hesitate to cross the threshold.
It’s a nice place—spacious, with lots of natural light. Every wall is covered in art, which is no surprise. Neither is the rest of the townhouse.
There are multiple abstract rugs on the floor. An orange couch—seriously, who has an orange couch?—with a bunch of colorful pillows and throws looks like the kind of place anyone could fall down and never want to get up again. There’s so much color it should be nauseating, but the way the paintings are arranged it’s almost serene.
From the doorway I can see straight through the living room to what most people would use as a dining room, but he’s clearly using it as an art studio of some sort, and into the kitchen. A set of stairs leads to what I assume are bedrooms. I turn towards him.
“Your home is amazing, Atticus.”
His smile is warm as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thank you. I don’t usually bring anyone home so excuse the mess.” I look around. If he thinks his home is a mess my apartment is going to horrify him. Before I let him through the front door I’m going to seriously need to clean. When is the last time I even washed clothes? “If you want to get comfortable, or look around, I’ll get us something to drink.”
He unlaces his boots and pulls them off. I take my shoes off and set them beside his. “If you really don’t mind, I’d like to check out the art.”
“Go ahead.” He presses a kiss to my temple as he passes me. I watch him, my chest warm, like a tiny sun is alive and well inside of me, before directing my gaze to the walls. I’m not sure where to start but my attention is snagged by a black wolf with piercing blue eyes across the room. I head towards it, getting lost in the painting.
