More, page 13
I groaned my approval and rocked my pelvis against him.
“Only this time,” he said, “I want to watch Matthew do it. I like to watch him move.”
“He does have a fantastic way with his body.”
“God, yes.”
I glanced at Matthew. His mouth hung open. He didn't move a muscle until he swallowed. Did he like the idea? Did it bother him to tie me up?
He stood. “I can do that.” He gripped my hips and pulled me to the bed with him. Our mouths and tongues collided as he unbuttoned my shirt. Even beneath the garlic and rosemary lingering in his mouth, the taste of Matthew was strong. His touch, his sounds, his tastes were becoming a familiar addiction.
My shirt fell to the floor. He undid my pants and yanked them off. Then he gripped my arms and shoved me onto the bed. The breath caught in my chest. Matthew making such a forward move was erotic as hell. I closed my eyes, and the anticipation flowed through me.
Chains clinked. He lifted a handcuff, pressed my wrist into the leather strap, and slid the buckle in place until the cuff sat snug against my skin. He clicked the small lock shut and said, “I hope you have the key.”
My head flew up.
Richard leaned against the far wall, much like he did our first night at the club. “In the cabinet. Don't you worry, Luke. We'll take care of you.”
I settled back and enjoyed the grip of leather on my flesh and the sound of steel jangling near my head as Matthew finished securing me.
His small hand glided down my chest, along my thigh, and then left me. I heard kissing and clothes rustling. I lifted my head again.
They were shirtless, one leaning down, the other reaching up. Richard's right hand was twisted in Matthew's wavy hair. His other hand was down the front of Matthew's pants and was rubbing him mercilessly. The kissing ended, and they removed their clothes in a matter of seconds. Richard bent his knees and rocked his pelvis. Their cocks slid together. Matthew gripped Richard's arms and threw his head back.
Damn sexy kid.
I could still smell his saliva on my lips. I needed him in my mouth again. His tongue, his skin, his cock. Anything.
Richard whispered in Matthew's ear. Matthew nodded and came back to the bed. He straddled my body. His hands explored me everywhere. His tongue ran over my skin and licked at my nipples.
“Luke, your body is amazing.” He moved farther down and dipped his tongue into my navel. His breath swept over my dick with each word. “I wanna taste you.”
“Someday,” Richard said.
“God, Matthew. I can't wait to shoot into your mouth.” And I meant every word.
Richard stretched out beside me. “Can you imagine it? Nothing in the way of all that hot, wet suction.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Can you— ” The mouth in question lapped my balls, fucking with my concentration. “Can you kiss me?”
Richard's mouth devoured mine with tenderness and slow swirls of tongue over tongue. He always kept me off guard. I never knew if his kiss would consume me or caress me. There was no monotony to him, his touches, or the way he fucked me.
“Matthew's right,” he said. “You've got a great body. We're going to make you feel good.”
I needed to touch him, to feel him. I lifted my arms, and the chains clanked as they wrenched against the bed frame. Frustration overwhelmed me, but I wanted it. And I wanted more. “The cuffs aren't tight enough.”
“They'll have to do. Matthew is going to fuck you. And then I am. Sound good, Matthew?”
Oh, God. One then the other. How did he always know what I needed?
Matthew removed his hot mouth from my body and shot off the bed. Richard kissed me, keeping me distracted until Matthew's slick fingers pushed into me. I spread my legs farther and let him have all he wanted. He moaned, and the sound mingled with my name.
“Matthew, hurry.”
He raised my legs over his thighs and slowly pressed inside me.
The cuffs gripped me tighter as I made a fist with each tug. Richard kept touching me, kissing me, never letting me get too comfortable with any one sensation before moving on to another part of my body.
Matthew's speed and strength built with each thrust. He came before I was ready to have it end, his face strained with pleasure and relief. Being inside me did that to him. I wanted to come with him, but my neglected dick had other ideas. It wanted a touch, a mouth, something to give it pleasure.
When Matthew's body stilled, Richard encouraged him to lie down. “Luke, flip over onto your hands and knees.” He swatted at my hip and helped me turn and slide up the bed.
With the slack in the chains, I crossed my arms in front of me. My head down and my ass in the air, my body shook with need and hunger.
“Hang on.” Richard petted my ass before leaving the bed.
Matthew kissed my back and licked along my spine in a sated, relaxed performance. I moaned and rocked with his touch. I ached. “Matthew, so hard.”
“Yeah, Luke. Richard's going to help you.” His hand rubbed in circles on my back. A fire ignited every place he touched.
Richard returned and wrapped a rope around one of my ankles. He draped it over the edge of the bed and tied it off using a metal loop on the floor. He gave my other ankle the same treatment until he had me tied open.
My legs shook as they held my weight. I needed more. “Tighter.”
Richard knelt behind me. I heard him opening the rubber. “They're tight enough.” He ran a hand along my back from my ass to my shoulder and back down, smearing the sheen of sweat that clung to me. “I won't hurt you.”
Matthew whispered in my ear. “You're sexy as hell, Luke. No one's ever let me fuck them the way you do.” His words both thrilled and angered me. He'd been with too many goddamn selfish lovers. He made a great top. If he had wanted to, he should've been given the opportunity more than he obviously had in the past. I'd have told him how good he was at it, if only they hadn't stolen my voice as Richard entered me and Matthew slid his hand under my body and gripped my cock.
I drifted between them, my body on fire, their touches spot on, hitting all the right places, moving with the right speed. Had they crawled inside my goddamn head and read my mind?
With a few more strokes, I came. My legs trembled. It was all I could do to hold myself up.
Richard's hot breath blew over the base of my neck as he came. He fell forward and said, “I didn't know— I didn't know it'd get better.”
I shuddered. My body needed to stop betraying me.
A moment later, Matthew's hands worked at my ankles while Richard retrieved the key and unlocked my wrists. I shook more as they freed me. Richard caught me and lowered me to the bed. He spread out next to me, and Matthew crawled up and landed on him.
I sank into the mattress and enjoyed the blissful moments between the end of sex and my conscious awareness of what I should or should not be doing.
Warm. Calm. Relaxed. At peace.
I didn't want to move. I wanted to lie there until someone dragged me out of that room.
“Luke, don't fall asleep,” Richard said. “We have a huge bed upstairs.”
Matthew sat up and patted my stomach. “Come on, sleepyhead.”
Richard's large arms enveloped me, and he helped me off the bed. I was wrecked. I had no memory of the walk upstairs. I'd never been so out of it after sex. I drifted toward sleep as soon as I hit the sheets. Richard's low, husky whisper roused me.
“I think we should get tested. Since you'll be staying for a while, huh? We could at least get rid of the rubbers for blowjobs. Then maybe later... ” He didn't finish.
“Uh-huh. Okay.” I'd freak later. For the moment, I wanted it all.
Richard smiled and planted a kiss on my lips. “Tomorrow, then. Test should be back in a week or two.”
“Any place open on Sundays?” Matthew asked.
“I think so,” he said. “I know a place we can call.”
Their voices trailed off as I floated away. All I could think about was taking a taste of something I hadn't had in a long time.
Chapter Fourteen
“I hope you don't mind me using the number you left.”
Monday morning was half over and I was busy reviewing lines of a program that wouldn't run when the phone rang.
I couldn't help but smile when I heard Matthew's voice.
“Not at all,” I said. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He hurried to say the rest. “Richard called, said he's got a last minute dinner meeting. I thought I'd give you a call, find out what you might want to eat tonight.”
“How about we order in? I have a feeling you'll be cooking more than me. Let me treat you.”
“Oh, okay.”
“What sounds good?” I asked.
He didn't respond.
“It's just dinner. Anything you'd like.”
“Okay. Um, Italian? There's a great place on Madison. Dominic's. They have the best ravioli.”
“Yeah, I know it. I'll pick it up on my way home.”
“Thanks, Luke.”
“See you tonight. And Matthew?”
“Yeah?”
“You can call me whenever you want to.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
I hung up and stared at the phone for another minute, the smile lingering too long.
The weekend hadn't gone badly.
In fact, it'd been the best time I'd had in a hell of a long time. We'd continued with the amazing sex the three of us seemed destined to have. I'd come more times than I ever had in one weekend since I'd joined the club. Hell, since I was fifteen. And I'd enjoyed the time out of bed as much as the time in it.
Even the damn tests hadn't freaked me, at least not yet. I couldn't bring myself to tell them no. Matthew and Richard's excitement radiated. They didn't say anything, but the sex when we returned home from the clinic had said it all. I was nearly as incoherent as I'd been the night before. We slept with Matthew between us, his head on Richard's chest, his arm draped over my waist.
I still hadn't freaked.
It would come. When the results came in, I'd be expected to follow through and do something I never planned to give to anyone. Not ever again.
Until then, I let them distract me.
I hadn't even given my father much thought. I still surveyed my surroundings when I went anywhere. I still planned out different routes to and from work. I just didn't let it consume my every thought.
Right after my concentration recalled where I'd left off with my code review, the phone rang again. The stupid, blissful grin spread across my face. I didn't even glace at the caller ID. I had the phone in my hand in a flash. “Did you change your mind on the ravioli?”
“Excuse me?”
I held my breath. That voice. Not Matthew's. It held more familiarity. Even if I hadn't heard it in years.
“Luke, is that you?”
I gulped in a mouthful of air and forced myself to take in another before speaking. “Yeah.”
“How are you, son?” His tone belied the concerned words.
“Fine.”
“Let's not bother with the small talk, shall we?”
“Why are you calling? I already know your men were in my apartment.”
“I'd like to see you. Today. For lunch.”
“Why?”
“Can you come or not? Believe me, I won't keep you long.”
Believe me, I won't stay long. “Where? What time?”
I arrived at Seymour's Diner fifteen minutes early. My father wouldn't be there yet. The man never arrived anywhere before the arranged time— being early was for the insecure. He was never a minute late— being late was for the inept.
I gave my name to the hostess, and she seated me in the back. My father had chosen well. I counted nine patrons scattered about the retro metal tables and red vinyl booths. Most were elderly men and woman— divided into duos by fate or boredom or stupidity— who scrutinized their coffee cups and not much else. Perhaps they'd talked themselves out or covered every last possible topic years ago.
I ordered a cup of coffee and picked up a menu. Food wasn't an option, but my hands wanted something to do. I glanced over the choices and the diner lingo— items like Zeppelins in a Fog and Dough Well Done with Cow to Cover— amused me. Did people really order that way? Or was it all for show?
I tucked the menu behind the napkin dispenser, leaned back, and eyed the front of the diner.
My father strolled through the door at twelve-thirty. He skulked his way around tables and chairs and sat without a nod or word of hello. The scent of his cologne drifted across the table. Fifteen years and he still wore the same damn shit, the same style of suit, the same stupid look of arrogance.
But the man had aged. White hair— instead of the dark brown he sported when I'd last seen him— edged a pale, gaunt face. Visible lines surrounded his eyes. His legs didn't bend as they should with each step. The stiff walk gave him the look of a man who didn't trust the ground under his feet.
Did the old man sitting before me represent what I'd look like someday— hard and ragged, an empty shell of a man?
I opened my mouth, and he raised a hand to silence me. Two men in suits cleared a nearby table of an elderly couple. It took several minutes for the old man to help his wife slide across the booth and swing her legs out from under the table. Once she had her feet under her, my father's men shuffled them off to a booth farther away.
“Let's be frank, shall we?” he said.
“Fine by me.”
“I need to know what you've been up to. To be ready to deflect any negative press.”
He wasn't asking about my work or my voting record. He wanted to know about my sex life. I pressed my shoulder blades into the seat and folded my arms across my chest. My fingernails burrowed into the shirtsleeves covering my biceps. “Why now? You've been in Congress for how long? Why am I an issue now?”
“Answer the damn question. If the press was to investigate your life, what would it find?”
“Oh, Dad, the stories I could tell you. Well, this weekend, I was chained up in a basement and fucked by two guys.”
“Jesus, Luke.” He raked his fingers through his hair, and his face paled more. He glanced around the room. “I don't even want to know if that's true.”
I shrugged. “You asked. I thought you wanted to know what might cause negative press. Wouldn't me tied up, begging for sex from two guys I barely know give you cause for concern?”
“I can see there are things in your life I have to be worried about. Tell me, do you go to any clubs or other sex places? Where people might see you? Take pictures?”
“Wouldn't you love to see pictures? I could probably arrange something.”
“Don't be a shit.” He banged his fist on the table. The two sets of neatly arranged silverware momentarily took flight and clattered as they landed in disarray. The coffee in my cup sloshed and spilled over each side. “Tell me what I'm up against.”
“Well, you're the one who's having me followed. What have you learned?”
“I wouldn't have to have someone watch you if I thought you could be trusted to live a civilized life. I know about that disgusting place you go to. I know you haven't been home in several days. Do I even want to know where you've been staying?”
“Do you think I'm going to tell you? No, Dad. You couldn't understand my life if you tried. Don't worry. I'll stay off the radar. I won't talk to the press. I won't come to see you or Mom. Hell, I won't even vote in the next goddamn election.”
“I would expect nothing less. I'm more worried about something getting out you have no control over.”
“If I have no control over it, then you don't either.”
“We'll see. I warn you, son, do not mess with me. Or I'll make your life miserable.”
“How am I messing with you? I don't talk to you. I don't see you. I'm living my own life.”
“And the way you live is what will cause me problems. I know you all too well. You don't do anything you have to take too seriously. You're all about living in the moment and having your sick, perverted fun. You do not know how to commit to anything. How could you understand my dedication to serving this country?” He paused and made eye contact with me for the first time since he entered the diner. “Can't you leave the city? Live away from your mother and me? Try to live like a normal person? Try to have a goddamn normal relationship?”
My hands clenched around my biceps. “I'm not going anywhere.” My voice was loud enough for the customers at several tables past his circle of henchmen to hear. He shifted in his seat and scanned the room. “Look at me,” I said.
He glared at me.
“I have a life here. A life that isn't made up of any kind of filth, and I'm not going anywhere.”
He squinted. Deep lines formed at the corners of his eyes as if he'd made the same judgmental expression a million times before. “You have one shot to make this work. For you and me. You quit going to that club or you'll see what kind of monster the press can be. And it won't just be me they tear apart.” His palms slapped the table and he stood. “I won't be having you followed anymore for reasons that are my own business, but if I find out you're doing anything to make me look bad, you'll regret it.” He threw a twenty on the table and left the restaurant, followed out by his protectors.
I stared at the crumpled bill and felt like a whore who'd been paid for one of the worst fucks of his life.
I banged my fist on the edge of the table and didn't miss the fact that my father had just done the same thing. A jagged piece of trim framing the metal tabletop dug into the flesh. Blood seeped and streamed down my wrist.
I grabbed a napkin and swiped at the blood over the gash of torn skin. No stitches needed, but bad enough. I focused in on the bite of the pain. Only, the pain didn't irritate me or disturb me or make me angry. It was unavoidable. A physical reminder of the conversation with my father. A necessary token. And I accepted it. I could never let myself forget the man's hatred of me.
I stood and headed for the door. I wasn't going back to work. For once, I could go home and find what I needed.
