Playing with Fire

by K. C. Wells

  “If it means anything, my folks gave me a lot of shit about how I treated you.”

  “Good,” I blurted out. “Now tell me why you’re here.” When he blinked again, I speared him with a look. “It’s been eighteen years and you just decide to pay me a visit on a whim? At this hour? Not buying it. For one thing, you found where I’m living. That speaks of intent. So why now?”

  He swallowed. “I guess I owe you that much. And I’m sorry about being here so late. I’ve been sitting on your porch for hours, hoping to God you hadn’t gone away or something. I was gonna give it another hour when you showed up.” He took a breath before continuing. “I’m still in New York, still working with the same company, and… I met someone.”

  “Good for you,” I said bitterly. “You’d better not be here to invite me to your fucking wedding, because you do that, and I’ll spit in your face, so help me God. Even you wouldn’t be that crass.”

  His face fell. “There’ll be no wedding. He…” He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  Something deep in my stomach roiled. As much as I didn’t want him to be happy, to make up for all the shit he’d put me through, I hated the idea that I’d made that last remark about a guy who’d died. That seemed… petty. Mean.

  Michael raised his chin. “He left me, a couple of months ago. After ten years together. He left me for someone else.”

  For a moment, I was nonplussed. “I don’t understand.” What the fuck did that have to do with me?

  Michael drained his glass, wincing briefly. “I’ve been seeing a therapist. I wasn’t coping well after Nate left. I wasn’t sleeping, I had no appetite, and eventually I figured I needed help. One of the things that came up in my therapy sessions was you. More importantly, how I’d treated you.”

  Oh my fucking God. “Closure? You came here for closure? You finally got to be on the receiving end, and it made you realize what you’d put me through?”

  Judging by his startled expression, I’d nailed it.

  I got up and walked over to where he sat, staring down at his upturned face. “What did you think was gonna happen, Michael? You were gonna walk in here, ask for forgiveness for treating me like shit, and I’d put my arms around you and say, ‘there there, baby, it’ll be all right?’ I mean, really?” I gazed at him in disbelief. “You have no fucking idea, do you, of what you put me through? How you made me doubt every relationship that followed, because I always wondered what the hell I’d done to make you leave like that? How I hated the fact that every single thing about your exit from my life was beyond my control?”

  That was the one blessing to come out of that horrific episode. The need for control. To be the one in control. Not that I was about to share that knowledge with Michael.

  Then it hit me. I finally had the answer to the mystery of Michael’s disappearance. This was over. I could leave the years of wondering and doubt behind me, and move on. Because now there was someone in my life who had the potential to mean more to me than Michael ever had.

  There was a boy next door who needed me. A boy I needed, like air.

  “I’m sorry he left you. I’m glad you finally realize what it feels like to be hurt. Really hurt. I’m glad you’re getting help.” I breathed in deeply, then expelled a long, drawn-out sigh. “But I’m not gonna forgive you. Not that you’ve even asked to be forgiven.” I tilted my head to one side. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it? You didn’t come to apologize or ask forgiveness. You just came to make yourself feel better.” Michael stiffened, and I knew I’d hit my mark. “Right now you need to leave. I don’t expect to see you again.” Another breath shuddered out of me. “I’m sorry if it’s not the outcome you expected, but right now? I don’t give a fuck. I have a life to lead, and you’re not in it.” Then I relented. I could afford to be civil, right? After all, I had Pete.

  I softened my voice. “Goodbye, Michael.”

  Michael gaped at me liked I’d lost my mind, and I stared right back at him. Finally, his shoulders slumped. “I deserve that, I guess.” He got to his feet and handed me the empty glass, before walking dejectedly toward the front door. When he got there, he waited for me to unbolt it. He glanced down at my leather pants and vest, my shiny black boots. “You never did explain the outfit. Or tell me what you’re doing now.”

  “And I’m not going to,” I said quietly, trying my damnedest to keep a lid on my emotions. I felt… stretched, like any second all hell was going to break loose.

  Michael opened his mouth as if to add something, and I held out my hand. We shook, which was about as civil as I was capable of being right then. I watched him walk slowly along the driveway, past my car, and turn left onto the street. I waited until he was no longer in sight, before sagging against the door frame, wrung out.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement, and turned my head in time to see another twitch of Pete’s blinds. I locked my front door and cut across the lawn to Pete’s house.

  I had unfinished business with Pete.

  After The Party’s Over…

  I glanced at the clock for what had to be the twentieth time, and tried not to think about what was going on in Damon’s house. I’d already peeked through the blinds two or three times, before forcing myself to step away from the window. As the minutes passed, I told myself a lengthy conversation was to be expected. What little I knew about Michael led me to think it had been many years since he and Damon had seen each other. Of course they had a lot to discuss.

  I was trying very hard not to think about Michael being Damon’s ex. And even harder not to recall Damon’s dismissal of me. Because that was what it had felt like. A fucking dismissal, and it was robbing me of every joyful moment I’d experienced. Up until the moment when that damn porch light came on, the whole weekend had seemed… idyllic. Awesome. Amazing. All of it. Shopping for leather. Sucking Damon’s cock on my knees in the middle of a crowded street, while a complete stranger fingered my ass. And that goddamn party…

  As exhilarating as it had been to have Damon fuck me in that sling, my heart pounding as I waited to find out whether he’d allow one of his friends to join in or not, one moment stuck in my mind, and I couldn’t shake it. Those fragile minutes before that porch light had blinked into existence. That bubble of time when I’d been this close to telling Damon how I really felt about him. If he was serious about me being his boy, that was great—only, I wanted more.

  And I was scared to death in case I asked him for what I wanted, and the answer was no. Him sending me home like that was only adding to my fears. Then I pushed aside that thought. It only got me riled up. Logic told me Damon had to have a reason for speaking to me like that.

  I really wanted to believe that.

  Funny how this had all started. A bet I’d been determined to lose, if it got me what I wanted—Damon, in whatever way I could have him. The kinky side of me rejoiced at the direction events had taken, but there was more to it now than the kink. There was the night in Damon’s bed, that had been so far removed from a fuck, it was unreal. Damon had shaken me to my core, and left me with a hunger I’d never experienced.

  Another glance at the clock. How much longer are they gonna talk? My bag was still in the trunk of Damon’s car, my leather gear inside it. I was grateful I’d changed into a pair of sweats before we’d left the party. Damon had snickered at me not wanting to walk out to his car in my teeny leather jock. That collar was still around my neck, however, and I wanted it to stay there.

  One more peek through the blinds. Forget about that damn watched pot… Only this time, Damon’s porch light was on again, and there was movement. I let go of the blind and stepped away in a hurry. I didn’t want him to think I’d been spying on him. Besides, just because it looked like Michael was leaving, didn’t necessarily mean Damon was gonna come straight over here, right?

  When I caught the sound of feet on the gravel path, my heart raced. Finally. I was at the door by the time he’d finished knocking, yanking it open, my hand
s clammier than they had been seconds before. Damon stood there in his leather pants and vest, hands by his sides, his expression…

  Oh God. His eyes. Such a look of naked pain.

  “Are you okay?” I stood aside to let him enter and closed the door after him, cursing myself for asking such a pointless question. Of course he wasn’t okay. Any fool could see that. Then all such thoughts fled as Damon invaded my space, his body pressing me against the wall, his lips seeking mine, his hands on my face.

  I didn’t question why. I melted into his kiss, opening for him, welcoming the ferocity of that sensual assault. I wanted to drop to my knees, bury my face in his belly, and wrap my arms around him, clinging to him, with the intention of never letting go. My head hit the wall with a dull thud, and still he kissed me, his tongue exploring my mouth, hands gripping the sides of my head to hold me there.

  Like I wanted to be anywhere else.

  Damon broke the kiss with an abruptness that stole my breath, pulled back, and looked me in the eye. “Christ, I need you.” He traced the line of my collar with his fingertips.

  “You got me,” I breathed. “Take what you need.”

  He stilled. “Boy, I intend to.” He grabbed my wrist and pinned it against the wall above my head, before taking the other wrist and doing the same. He pressed his body against mine, and his lips claimed my mouth in another searing kiss. Fuck, the heat from him… I moaned into his kiss, wanting more. When he paused and stared into my eyes again, the skin on the back of my neck prickled.

  “Remember the other day when we talked about limits? Trust? Testing?”

  I nodded, swallowing.

  “I’m negative. You’re negative.”

  Holy fuck. I couldn’t breathe.

  Damon speared me with an intense gaze. “Silence is not consent. You know better.”

  Oh God. I dragged air into my lungs. “Fuck me, sir. Fuck me bare.” What breath I had was punched out of me when he spun me around to face the wall, pushing me against it. I pressed my palms flat to the painted surface, my head turned so my cheek met the cool plaster, shivering as he yanked down my sweats, all the way to my ankles. I caught the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered—and the equally distinctive sound of him spitting.

  Damon’s breath warmed the back of my neck. “That’s all you’re getting. I figure you’re still slick enough in there. It wasn’t that long ago I was inside you.” He swatted my thigh. “Put your foot up on that chair arm. Spread yourself.”

  My skin erupted in a swathe of goosebumps as I complied with his instructions, kicking off my sweats and pushing my ass out toward him in anticipation of the penetration I knew was coming. He didn’t make me wait long before Damon’s hot, bare cock pushed slowly but insistently between my cheeks, not stopping until he was buried in me up to the hilt, his fat dick stretching my hole. Damon’s hand was on my neck, holding me still while he gave a couple of leisurely strokes in and out of me, the initial burn fading quickly.

  His breath tickled my ear. “This hole is mine,” he ground out, before placing his foot next to mine on the chair and stabbing his cock into my body in a sharp thrust. He slammed his body against me, fucking me with short, quick jabs. The only sounds were my own cries and the harsh slapping of flesh against flesh. Damon pushed my head to the wall, his other hand on my hip as he pulled me back onto his dick to meet his thrusts. The zipper bit into my ass cheek with every stroke into my hole, I slammed into the wall as his body connected with mine—and it was fucking glorious.

  “Fuck, yeah,” I groaned. “Fucking use me.” If this was how he wanted me, no more than a hole for his cock, then he could have me. I was his, body, heart and soul.

  Damon slowed down, his lips on my shoulder as he kissed me there, before biting gently, the pain just shy of exquisite. I tried to turn my head further to meet his lips, but he held me steady, still pinned against the wall. He kissed me again, an unexpectedly soft brushing of lips against my neck. “Time for me to come in this ass,” he said quietly. Then it was back to fucking me, filling me with his hot shaft as he set up a punishing rhythm, not slowing once. His hand stayed on my head, holding me there while he sped up, slamming into me faster and faster, grunting with each thrust, the sounds growing louder and harsher, until I knew he was there.

  Damon speared me with his cock, and I felt it throb, the first time I’d ever had someone shoot their load inside me without a rubber. All my worries about Michael, all my fears and doubts, ebbed away as Damon covered me with his body, his hands over mine, and still I felt him pulse inside me. I didn’t matter that I hadn’t gotten off. I wasn’t stupid. This was for Damon.

  His breathing slowed, his chest slick against my back. “Mine,” he murmured, kissing my shoulder again.

  “Yours.” I took hold of his hand and brought it to the collar around my neck. The collar he’d placed there. “Yours,” I repeated.

  Like there was ever any doubt.

  His cock still wedged inside me, Damon leaned forward to kiss me on the mouth, one of those sideways kisses that always looks awkward when you see it, but one that I’d craved ever since I’d felt that first warm load inside me.

  When he eased his dick out of me, I shuddered as he slid a finger into my now aching hole. “Gimme that cum.”

  I pushed it out of me, and Damon dropped to his knees behind me, pulling my cheeks apart as he buried his face between them, his warm tongue lapping my hole, licking over my sac where his cum had trickled down. His stubble scratched my ass, his tongue soothed my well-used hole, while he kept me spread with his fingers. When he was done, Damon got to his feet and turned me around.

  I didn’t wait for further instructions, but put my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, the taste of his cum still on his lips. Damon returned the kiss, clutching the sides of my head as though preventing my escape.

  Yeah right. I was where I wanted to be. I wanted to ask if he was feeling better, but some innate sense told me to keep quiet.

  Damon broke the kiss and gazed at me, his brow furrowed, and my heart sank. We’re not out of the woods yet.

  “Pete, I…” He swallowed.

  For a moment I was lost, until it hit me. Oh my fucking God. Damon’s nervous. I froze, my stomach churning, unsure what was coming right at me. One thought struck me, and I went cold. Don’t tell me that was a goodbye fuck. Then I reasoned I was being stupid. He said I was his, didn’t he? So whatever he’s got to say to me, it sure isn’t ‘Adios, Pete’.

  “I love you.”

  I blinked. I blinked again. My brain didn’t seem to want to fire. “You…” I lapsed into silence. Whatever I’d expected, that was not it.

  Damon tilted his head to one side. “You’re gonna make me say it again, aren’t ya?”

  “Only because I think I was dreaming the first time, because for a minute there, it sounded like you said you love me.”

  Damon snorted. “I can spank your ass and love you at the same time, you know that, right?”

  There was my Damon. “I’m counting on it.” But I couldn’t leave him hanging, not when he’d just taken a huge step outside his comfort zone. “And I can take whatever you have to give, and love you too.”

  God, he was so still. “You mean that?”

  My arms were locked around his neck, so I pulled him a little closer. “That’s what I wanted to say earlier, before we got… interrupted.” Closer. “I love you. Yes, I want to be your boy, but I want to be your man too, whether or not I’m wearing your collar.” Our lips were almost touching. “Do you want that too?” Fuck, I was trembling, and my head was reeling. This was…. Damon, telling me he loved me. Damon, acting like he couldn’t believe I loved him back.

  “Fuck, yes.” Then his lips collided with mine, and I melted once again into a toe-curling kiss, only this one was different.

  This was a kind of seal-the-deal kiss, and I knew it.

  Even those kinds of kisses have to end eventually. Damon drew back with a sigh. “Okay. We need to
clean up.”

  “And then?”

  He smiled. “And then we sit on the couch, and we have a talk. I need to tell you about tonight, but… I can do that now.”

  “Because you fucked your anger away?” I joked.

  He shook his head. “Because now you know how I feel. And if we’re going to make this work, then we both need to know where we’re going.”

  “Limits?” I said with a smile.

  He laughed softly. “Exactly.” He reached down and smacked my ass. “Bathroom. Now.”

  I attempted to glare at him. “Excuse me? Whose house is this?”

  He grabbed my butt and squeezed it. “Whose ass is this?”

  “Yours.” I had no argument on that score.

  Damon nodded smugly. “Then whether it’s your house or mine, what I say goes.”

  When he put it like that…

  “Yes, Sir.” The words came out quietly, but I uttered them with all my heart.

  A Time To Talk

  It had been a long time since I’d shared a shower with a guy and we’d not ended up fucking, but I had to admit, I liked it. Pete washed me with a care that was almost reverential, and my throat tightened. I told myself it had just been an emotional night, that I was tired…

  That was total bullshit. This guy had gotten under my skin and into my heart in a way no man had done since—

  Nope. I wasn’t gonna think about him. Not when there was a beautiful man in my arms, who’d just told me he loved me. There was no contest.

  When we were dry, and wrapped up in a couple of robes, I led Pete into the living room, sat on the couch, and patted my lap. “On your back, your head here.”

  Pete moved slowly, taking his time to get comfortable. When he was ready, his feet resting on the far arm of the couch, I stroked his hair. “Thanks for staying up for me.”

  He gave me an incredulous glance. “You think I could’ve gone to bed, not knowing what was happening?”