by Lynn Lorenz
Donovan had started a portfolio of photographs of Sammi. He’d pose Sammi on what had once been their bed and snap shot after shot, each more graphic than the next. Sammi understood that he was being used, but he didn’t understand why. Donovan had told him they were his private photos of Sammi. At first, Sammi had believed him. But one day, he’d gotten a peek at the photos on the computer.
His were mixed in with other young men.
Although Sammi was uneducated, he wasn’t stupid. He had enough street smarts to realize what was going on.
The first time that Donovan had brought several older men to the penthouse, Sammi had thought it was just a party.
And Sammi was the party favor.
When he’d tried to protest, Donovan had dragged him into the bedroom, thrown him against the wall and explained it to him, with a tight grip around Sammi’s throat. “Time to earn your keep.”
That night, each of the men had taken turns fucking Sammi, and when they hadn’t been fucking him, they’d been watching someone else fuck him. At least Donovan had insisted they wear condoms. Sammi had never seen it, but he was sure money had changed hands. He’d been a whore before, on the dark streets near the park, but at least he’d made some money then and had been able to come and go as he pleased.
After the men left, Sammi had asked Donovan about his share of the money. That was the first time Donovan had put Sammi in the closet. Whether during some intimate bed talk or in conversation, Donovan had found out about his fear of small places, and used it to punish and control him.
The closet was so small. And there was no light. The bulb had been removed and the doorframe weather-stripped so that no light shone around the edges. Sammi could stand or sit, but not lie down.
The sides of the closet had been too close around him. Walls had brushed his arms as he’d sat with his knees against his chest and his head resting on them. He’d tried shutting his eyes, pretending he was somewhere else, but that had only lasted so long before the walls had closed in on him.
Tears had flowed and his mouth had contorted in a wasted scream as his lungs had struggled to get enough air—his chest had tightened and his heart had pounded as if it would explode. Unable to keep control, he’d beaten his fists on the wooden door until they’d been bruised and aching, but Donovan had never released him.
Not until Donovan had been ready and Sammi had been beaten into a pliant, obedient creature, begging to be good. To let Donovan do whatever he wanted with Sammi. He’d never complain or ask for money again. Pleasepleaseplease.
Donovan’s creature.
Then the next customers would arrive.
Chapter Five
As they drove back to Mitchell’s, Sammi rolled his window down. The warm night breeze blew through his hair and he could see glimpses of stars. Mitchell rested his hand on Sammi’s leg, and the weight of it felt so solid, warm and comforting. An incredible man loved him. Just for being him. It was a beautiful night.
Then a Mercedes pulled alongside. Sammi glanced at it briefly, then over at Mitchell. “How soon before we get home?”
“Not long. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Sammi shrugged and slouched lower in his seat.
An odd feeling came over him, as if someone had run a sharp fingernail down his spine. He glanced out of the window, but the Mercedes had dropped back. They couldn’t get home fast enough for Sammi.
He glanced in the side mirror.
The Mercedes was two cars behind them now.
“I can’t wait to get you home where we can have some privacy.” Mitchell gave Sammi’s thigh a gentle squeeze.
“I know.” Sammi turned and smiled at him.
Mitchell’s profile was strong and handsome. His hair tossed in the wind and the slight shadow of his beard made him look sexier than sin. Sammi wanted to feel that stubble on his skin as it rubbed across his chest or on the tender skin of his cock. Sammi reached over and caressed the crease in Mitchell’s leg where it met his hip. The beginning of Mitchell’s erection was a lump under his trousers.
“That feels good.” Mitchell groaned. Sammi continued to rub and Mitchell continued to harden.
Sammi glanced at the side mirror again.
The Mercedes had moved to only one car behind.
The fingernail ran down his spine again, but he pushed it away. What was he worrying about? Donovan had a Town Car, not a Mercedes. Sammi relaxed and smiled at Mitchell.
“You feel good to me.” Sammi rubbed harder.
“I’m going to have an accident if you keep that up.”
“Oh, sorry.” Sammi snatched his hand away as if he’d been burned.
“I didn’t mean for you to stop, just not be so intense.” Mitchell chuckled.
“Okay.” Sammi returned his hand to its place. Trying to stay on Mitchell’s good side was like second nature to him. He’d spent the last year walking on eggshells and trying to please Donovan had become a habit.
They passed the bar he’d met Mitchell in. Sammi recognized the name of the street and knew Mitchell would be turning the corner. He focused on the mirror and the Mercedes that loomed in it, now right behind them.
Mitchell signaled, slowed and made the turn. Sammi held his breath, his grip on the door tightening, ready to throw it open and run, if that’s what it took to escape.
The Mercedes glided past the street without turning.
Sammi let out his breath and relaxed his grip on the door. After pulling up outside the house, Mitchell parked, and they got out and went upstairs.
Once inside, Mitchell pulled Sammi into his arms. “Come here, babe.”
Sammi slid into his embrace. A perfect fit. Lifting his face to Mitchell, he opened his lips and took the kiss. Mitchell tasted of heaven, pure and warm and like spring rain in his mouth.
Another finger ran down his spine. Sammi pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Sammi went to the window and peeked out of the curtain.
The Mercedes pulled up outside.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck.
Swallowing down his terror, Sammi turned to Mitchell. “Does this place have a back door?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because we need to get out of here. Now.” Sammi tried to keep his voice calm, but by the widening of Mitchell’s eyes, he hadn’t succeeded.
“What are you talking about?” Mitchell’s arms flew to his hips.
“Remember that guy I told you about? The one who beat me?”
Mitchell nodded.
“Well, he’s been hunting for me and if he finds me…” Sammi lost his words. He wasn’t ready to tell the truth, not yet.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you.”
Sammi shook his head. “Mitchell, he’s really big and strong. And he carries a gun. We need to go. Now.” Sammi grabbed Mitchell’s hand and started for the kitchen.
Mitchell followed, pulled along by the sudden strength in Sammi’s grip. “Easy, babe, easy.”
Sammi found the door and tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge.
A loud pounding on the front door began.
“Now! Open the door, Mitchell!” Sammi tugged on the knob in a near panic. They had to get out of there or Moretti would find them. Sammi would be returned to Donovan and he refused to think about what Moretti would do to Mitchell.
Sammi’s ramped-up fear flooded Mitchell, triggering a primal flight-or-fight response. He flung himself forward and flipped the top deadbolt. The door flew open and Sammi lunged down the stairs in the dark. Mitchell clambered down the stairs, as his front door exploded open with the shriek of splintered wood.
“Shit, what the hell is going on?” Mitchell clambered down the stairs.
Sammi didn’t answer. At the bottom of the stairs, he opened the door and as Mitchell hit the bottom steps, they tumbled outside. Mitchell shut it and stood in the dark of the backyard staring at Sammi.
Sammi’s eyes were white-rimmed, his pupils huge.
&nb
sp; “What’s over that fence?” Sammi pointed to the rear fence. “Any dogs?”
“Dogs?” Mitchell filled with his confusion and Sammi’s panic. “No.” He shook his head.
“Come on.” Sammi he ran for the fence.
Mitchell bolted. They reached the wooden fence and Sammi leaped, caught the top of the laths and vaulted over. Mitchell did the same. His heart hammered as he cleared the boards, landing on his feet. He squatted on the ground in the darkness. Sammi knelt beside him and put his finger to his lips. Mitchell nodded. In a running crouch, Sammi made his way to the back gate as Mitchell followed. They were through the gate and onto the sidewalk of the next street before Mitchell even had time to catch his breath.
“What now?” Mitchell darted his gaze up and down the street.
“We need to get away from here. Is there any place around here we can go? Someplace safe. Private?” Sammi’s soft voice still trembled. This guy must be a big son of a bitch to have Sammi so scared. Mitchell caught his breath and looked around.
Brian.
“Come on—I have a friend who lives about six blocks away.” Mitchell started running down the tree-lined street with Sammi on his heels.
Mitchell set an easy pace and Sammi jogged alongside him. They stuck to the sidewalks, but Sammi kept glancing over his shoulder, despite tripping a few times.
“Get down!” Sammi grabbed him and pulled him to the side.
Mitchell veered off and crouched behind a minivan parked in a driveway. Sammi clung to his side as if seeking shelter. Mitchell wrapped his arm around Sammi’s shoulders and hugged the trembling man to him.
What the hell was going on? As soon as they got to Brian’s, Sammi was going to have to answer some questions.
Headlights flashed and a pickup truck passed them. They exhaled, stood and continued their jog through the neighborhood. At last, Mitchell turned down a street and slowed to a walk. They strolled the last block and climbed the short steps to a bungalow with the porch light on and an SUV parked in the drive.
“Are you sure we’ll be safe?” Sammi hung back.
“Yes. It’s going to be fine. Come on, babe.” He held out his hand, Sammi took it and they walked up to the front door.
Mitchell glanced at his watch, then knocked. It was late, but Brian rarely went to bed before midnight.
The door opened and light poured out onto the porch. “Mitchell? What are you doing here?” Brian stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders taking up most of its width.
“Glad to see you too.” Mitchell grinned at his best friend.
“Sorry. You usually call. Come in.” Brian stepped aside and Mitchell entered, clasping Sammi’s hand in a tight grip.
“I know it’s late, but I think I need some help.” Mitchell grimaced.
Brian nodded at Sammi. “Introduce me.”
“Sorry. Brian, this is Sammi. This is my best friend, Brian Russell.”
Brian’s eyes flicked to Mitchell and Sammi’s entwined hands and smirked. “And Sammi is what to you?” He shut the door and followed them into the living room. Plopping onto a brown leather couch, he motioned for them to sit.
“Sammi is my lover. He’s living with me.” Mitchell fell onto the loveseat opposite the couch and dragged Sammi down with him. Sammi slid under his arm and snuggled against Mitchell’s side.
“Your lover? When did this happen?” Brian raised his eyebrows and cocked his head at Mitchell. Brian was the first person Mitchell would have told about Sammi, but there hadn’t been any time before tonight. He’d been so lost in Sammi for the last—oh God, had it only been two days?
“We met two nights ago. At a bar.” Mitchell gave Brian a wry grin. “I know, I know, I swore off bars and everything, but…” He glanced at Sammi and shrugged.
“Wow. This is kind of sudden, isn’t it?” Brian sat back and crossed his leg over his knee.
“Yeah, I know, but it just feels so right. I never thought I’d feel like this again.” Mitchell flashed Sammi a smile.
“I’m glad, Mitchell. It’s been too long.” They exchanged a glance that said too much. It had been five years since Steve had died, leaving a hole in Mitchell that had never healed.
“It’s wild.” Mitchell raked his hand through his hair. “Anyway, someone broke into my house tonight.” He didn’t want to go into the entire mess because it sounded so sordid, and there would be enough time in the morning to go into it all. “We need a place to spend the night. I have to go to work in the morning.”
“Sure. Not a problem. You two can take the back bedroom.” Brian stood. “Looks like you could use something to drink. Coffee or wine? Or do you need a shot of whiskey?”
Mitchell checked Sammi. He was still on edge, but calming down. “Make it two glasses of wine. The good stuff, too, nothing with a screw top.”
“You insult me, Mitchell. I thought you knew me better than that.” Brian laughed and went to an antique painted cupboard that had been converted into a bar. He pulled out a bottle from the small wine cooler fitted inside. Like an expert, he pulled the cork and poured two glasses. Then, he reached for the whiskey and poured a drink for himself.
Sammi reached for his and took a tentative sip. “It’s good.”
Mitchell sipped, letting the dark red liquid dance over his tongue. “Thanks.”
“Now.” Brian settled back on the couch. “Tell me everything.”
“Not much to tell.” Mitchell shrugged.
Brian nodded at Sammi. “Is that so?”
Sammi peeked up from over the lip of the wine glass, a smile just touching his full lips. His bangs obscured one side of his face. “Do you want the details or just the gist?”
Brian laughed and Mitchell joined him. “Just the gist. Spare me the details.”
“We met at a bar two nights ago.” Sammi’s eyes flicked to Mitchell. “We’ve been fucking ever since.” He grinned.
Mitchell groaned and rolled his eyes.
Brian barked out a laugh. “Well, it’s good to know you’re back in the game.”
“He’s not back in the game. He’s off the market.” Sammi held up his hand clasped firmly in Mitchell’s. “He’s mine.”
Mitchell took a quick gulp of his wine. “You tell him, babe.” He chuckled.
Sammi leaned back and lifted his face to Mitchell. Mitchell sank into the kiss. Delicious. He sighed.
“Get a room, you two!” Brian laughed and stood. “You know where it is, the bath’s down the hall. Help yourself to whatever. I’m going to bed.” He tossed down the rest of his whiskey, gave them a nod and disappeared.
“I like him,” Sammi said.
“Me, too.”
“He’s your best friend?” Sammi’s brow furrowed.
“Yeah, but we never slept together. We’re strictly friends. I’m not his type.”
“What is his type?” Sammi frowned.
“Brian prefers big blonds with more muscles than brains.”
“Oh.” Sammi nodded. “Does he have someone?”
“Not right now. But I sure hope he finds the right guy, like I did.”
“A soul mate?”
“Yeah, babe. A soul mate.” Mitchell took Sammi’s mouth in a deep kiss and let Sammi’s arousal wash over him. “Let’s hit the sack. And by that I mean just sleep. I’ll be worth nothing if I don’t get eight hours.” And with the night’s excitement, he had no idea how long it would take to relax enough to fall asleep.
“Right. Probation.” Sammi stood and pulled Mitchell to his feet. “But, after work, you’re mine.”
“Absolutely. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you.”
Mitchell led them down the hall to the back bedroom. After showering separately, they slid under the covers and held each other. Sammi fit so perfectly tucked against his body. Mitchell felt the rise and fall of Sammi’s chest, his soft breathing, the steady pounding of his heartbeat. Contentment filled Mitchell.
This was too good to be true.
When would the bub
ble burst and reality surge over them? More than anything, he wanted forever with Sammi, but even he had to admit their situation was odd.
What would the shrink have to say about it?
And who the hell had kicked open his front door?
Being with Sammi might just prove…fatal.
Chapter Six
In the morning, Mitchell sat with the guys at the breakfast table, sipping coffee. Sammi wore the same clothes he’d worn since they met. Mitchell, unshaven, wore only briefs and a T-shirt he’d been lucky to find in a drawer. Brian, dressed in jeans with a white dress shirt over them, totally handsome, as always. Mitchell envied Brian’s knack of knowing how to put himself together.
“I need to borrow some of your clothes, man.” Mitchell gave Brian a shrug.
“No problem. Take what you need. Won’t be the first time.”
Mitchell smiled at him in thanks. “Now, I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Ask away. Doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” Brian took a sip from a mug that said ‘Cowboy Butts Drive Me Nuts’.
Mitchell opened his wallet, pulled out two hundred dollar bills and handed them to Brian. “If your schedule is clear, would you take Sammi and buy him some clothes? Jeans, shirts, briefs, socks, the whole works.”
“Where are your clothes?” Brian turned to Sammi.
“I don’t have any. I left them when I left the jerk.” Sammi took a sip.
“You must have really wanted out.” Brian’s eyes narrowed.
“You have no idea.” Sammi grimaced.
“You need my car?” Brian asked Mitchell.
“No, I’m calling a cab. Back in a few.” Mitchell stood and headed off to find some clothes. He planned to have the cab stop by his apartment to check it out. At least secure the busted door, that was, if there was anything left to secure. The thought of his place open all night long made him sick. No telling who had been in there.