Cutting Cords (Cutting Cords Series Book 1)

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “You must have had a good day today,” I commented.

  He looked surprised but nodded. “Today was full of little victories.”

  I found his statement rather odd, but I didn’t ask him to elaborate. “So what do you say, Cole? You think you can tolerate a few hours of techno sounds?”

  He shrugged, but Emily kept nodding like a bobble-head doll.

  “Please, Cole?”

  He gave in to her. “Sure.”

  “Thank goodness,” Emily sighed. “Now I won’t be a wallflower.”

  “How are we getting there?”

  “We’ll take a cab,” I answered before standing to retrieve the dishes. “Emily and I will clean up, Cole. It’s the least we can do.”

  “Thanks,” he said gently. “I’ll go to my room and get ready.”

  “Okay.”

  As soon as he walked out the door, I whispered to Emily. “Why did you ask him to join us? I thought you didn’t like him?”

  “I never said I didn’t like him,” she said, looking surprised. “I just said you should forget about him, and you can, now that Max is breathing down your neck.”

  “So why ask him to come along?”

  “He seems lonely.”

  “Does he? There’s a girlfriend somewhere in this picture.”

  “Why didn’t he mention her, then?”

  “How the hell should I know? I don’t know what he’s thinking half the time.”

  “Don’t stress over this,” she warned. “He can be my date for the evening.”

  “What should I do if Max shows up and makes a move?”

  “Bone the guy. Don’t you think he’s sexy?”

  “In a bossy, I-am-entitled sort of way.”

  “He’s got the chops. Those photos of you were unbelievable.”

  “I’m not sure I want to model, Em.”

  “Why not?” She looked astonished as she handed over a clean plate. I was drying while she washed. “Think of all the money you’ll make if nothing else. Being financially independent means you can tell the world to fuck off.”

  “Very true.” I was thoughtful for a moment. “My dad will go into therapy if it ever happens.”

  “You think he’d object?”

  “I don’t even know how much a model earns.”

  “Whatever the amount is, it’s more than you make now.”

  “I live off a pathetic allowance from Dad.”

  “Exactly,” she maintained. “Take whatever Max has to offer. It’s a long slog before you graduate, and even if you ace all your classes, there’s no guarantee you’ll get a job straight away. If there’s someone out there willing to pay good money to look at your face, grab it. Not that there’s anything special about you,” she teased.

  I threw my dishrag at her, and she squawked in mock outrage, retaliating with a spray of cold water from the handheld attachment. Soon we were giggling and splashing each other like cats gone wild.

  “Hey,” Cole said, walking in. “I just mopped the floor. Cool it.”

  I aimed the hose at him. “Stand right there, or you’re going to be sorry.”

  “Sorry, my ass.”

  I squeezed the nozzle and watched him recoil as cold water hit him in the face.

  “Fucker!” He lunged at me, and we ended up in a clinch. Cole tried to yank the hose away, but I knew he’d soak me if he succeeded. Emily didn’t even bother to intervene.

  “I’m going to change,” she announced. “Let me know when you’re ready to tackle this mess.”

  Cole and I hung on like contenders in a boxing match. “Give me the hose,” he growled, “or I’ll pull it out.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I challenged. We grappled for a few more seconds and the close contact kicked off a rush of testosterone that turned our game into foreplay. My heart rate rose exponentially as Cole closed in on me. I could smell the lemon scent of his shampoo and feel his silky hair tickling my nostrils. We were both hard as fuck and grinding shamelessly. The two spots of color high on his cheeks were dead giveaways of his emotional state. Every time they appeared, I could tell he was losing his composure. I seemed to have a knack for knocking him off his high horse, shocking us both with this desperate need to peel off the layers and get to the main event. Rampant lust swirled around us like a mini tornado whenever we got together.

  I grabbed handfuls of his ass and pulled him tightly against my cock. He whimpered and tried to break the contact, but I couldn’t let him go. I was too far gone. I reached for his hand and pressed it to my painfully obvious erection. “Feel that? It’s yours for the taking if you’d just acknowledge who you are.”

  “I know who I am,” he murmured against my neck in a strangled voice. I groped him through the thick denim. It would be so easy to slide the zipper down and swallow him to the root, but I knew it couldn’t happen with Emily in the next room. I slid my hand inside his boxers instead, wrapped my fingers around the prize, and pumped hard.

  He cried out and latched on to my mouth with frantic kisses that made my head swim. My orgasm rose to the surface before I could even stop it, and suddenly, I was coming in hot spurts, soaking my pants. He shuddered and sagged in my arms as his own climax swept through him. I held on tight, feeling the wet heat blossoming between us as he keened softly in my ear.

  “Sloan,” he moaned my name desperately. “You’re killing me.”

  I wanted to fuck him on the kitchen floor, but I had to hear him acknowledge his truth first. “Just say the words, Cole.”

  “What are you talking about?” He was dazed and disheveled but never looked more beautiful in my eyes.

  “Admit you’re a queer like me.”

  Anger flashed in his previously languid eyes, and he pushed me away roughly. “I’ll never be like you.”

  He stormed out of the kitchen while all I could do was shove the pieces of my broken heart back into my heaving chest.

  Chapter 18

  The last time Cole had been inside a dance club was before he’d left San Francisco three years ago. A lot had changed since then. He couldn’t see two feet in front of him for one thing, and as such, he felt completely out of his element. Secondly, he’d never been in a gay club and had no idea what to expect. Sloan disappeared as soon as they walked through the entrance so he stuck to Emily who was commenting on everyone’s attire and level of hotness.

  “What a treat,” she exclaimed. “Too bad none of them will give me a second look.”

  “Perhaps we should have gone to a straight club instead,” Cole remarked. “But didn’t you say there was a boyfriend back in Boston?”

  “Sort of, but it doesn’t mean I can’t feast my eyes,” she admitted.

  He smiled, enjoying her candor. No wonder she and Sloan were best friends. They were watching the dance floor from the side lines close to the bar. She had no idea he was sight-impaired, but it didn’t matter, since she was being his eyes and ears for the night. The club-goers were gay men in their late thirties and early forties. Professionals, Emily remarked, sipping her Cosmopolitan very slowly. Cole was nursing a glass of white wine. He didn’t want to get drunk but needed the liquid courage to get him through the evening.

  Still out of sorts from his encounter with Sloan on the kitchen floor, he regretted his harsh words. How could he have been so cruel? Sloan deserved better. Even so, he refused to admit he was queer. Bisexual, maybe, but Sloan’s ultimatum had pissed him off. In different circumstances, he might have reacted differently, but he was practically engaged, for God’s sake. Did Sloan honestly think Cole would stand up and proudly declare he was gay?

  In truth, Cole wasn’t sure of anything anymore. All the constants and truisms in his life had been yanked out from under his feet. Sexuality was only one of the many problems he was facing. He replayed the events of the evening, trying to determine when he could have made amends. He supposed that a simple apology would have helped, but Sloan had avoided Cole after the incident in the kitchen.

  They’d stayed o
ut of each other’s way until they stood side by side with Emily, waiting for their cab. Sloan was quiet, barely participating in the conversation. He even sat in front with the taxi driver and looked out the window as the cab moved toward the club, which was located at West 51st in the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood. Max, Tin, and a few other people were meeting them there, according to Emily. She had chattered most of the way, which was a good thing or Cole would have never found out about the modeling session.

  “What about his school?” Cole asked, trying to keep his voice from carrying. He was grateful for the divider between the front and back seat but wasn’t too sure about the level of security.

  “He can do both, Cole. Tin does it.”

  “Have you seen the photographs?”

  “Awesome,” Emily gushed, like a true friend.

  “Good to know.” Cole wondered if this career add-on would be successful. He had a hard time imagining Joe Driscoll approving of this unforeseen detour. He was mildly skeptical himself.

  “Who are we meeting at the bar?”

  “Max, the photographer who’s got the hots for Sloan, and Tin, the French kid from Pratt.”

  “I see.” Cole felt an irrational fit of jealousy at Emily’s casual statement regarding the photographer’s personal interest. Sloan had shown up on his doorstep three weeks ago and he was already territorial.

  “Is Sloan attracted to him?”

  “I don’t know… possibly.” Emily sounded stricken, like she’d broken a confidence.

  Cole realized he was intruding on a long-standing friendship, so he backed off immediately. He scanned the dance floor to see if he could spot Sloan, but it was hopeless. Everything was a blur in the heaving mass of bodies, and despair clutched at his throat as he thought of all the obstacles he was currently facing. The good things he’d accomplished today were wiped out by an overwhelming sense of melancholy.

  “Do you want to dance?” Emily asked.

  “I told you I don’t dance.”

  “If you don’t mind my three left feet, I’ll overlook yours.”

  He shrugged, drained his glass of wine in two swallows, and let her lead them out to the dance floor. He didn’t recognize the music, but the electrifying beat boosted his spirits, and the gyrating bodies of the pleasure-seeking crowd cleared the path to momentary oblivion.

  Emily maneuvered Cole through the horde until they were side by side with Sloan and some guy with a beard. He could see the dark shadows on his jaw, but the rest of his face was hazy. Cole could only surmise this was Max, the famous photographer Emily had mentioned in the cab. He wanted to elbow the guy in the ribs and abduct Sloan but reconsidered when he took a closer look. They were intertwined and dry humping like a pair of horny teens. Sloan appeared not to notice either one of them. He might have been caught up in the pulsating music or high on something, but Cole couldn’t be sure without asking. He leaned in toward Emily. “Is Sloan on drugs?”

  She looked over to her right and shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe weed, but he doesn’t do the heavy stuff anymore.”

  Her statement brought Joe Driscoll to mind and the main reason he’d banished his son. Supposedly, Sloan had abused opioids, having access to them for over two years while his mother was battling cancer. The prescriptions were refilled without question, and it wasn’t until Kim Driscoll finally died that Joe realized his son was hooked.

  His police buddies had alerted him the first time they’d picked up Sloan after getting a tip from school security. He was caught with a bag full of Vicodin in his locker after they’d done a random check and had been detained at the station. They’d let him go with a slap on his wrist, in deference to Joe’s celebrity status, but it was the start of an ongoing nightmare Joe had to deal with before Sloan suddenly decided to turn his life around. No one really knew what the catalyst was, but he seemed to have pulled out of it on his own. The only reason the information had been shared was because Joe felt duty-bound to forewarn Ken on the off chance Sloan slipped down the black hole again.

  Cole hadn’t seen any signs of drug use, other than the weed, and he didn’t consider it a problem. But he’d upset Sloan with his mixed messages, and he wondered if he’d trigger some dark memories to make him reach for a pill. Hell, he’d been doing his best to get shitfaced since they walked in the place, so why should Sloan be any different?

  Blood rushed to his head when Max leaned in and kissed Sloan. He wanted to rip the asshole’s head off; instead, he turned abruptly and headed off the dance floor, leaving a surprised Emily running to catch up with him.

  “Cole, what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry, Emily. Sensory overload. I need to get out of here.”

  “I understand. Are you leaving?”

  “Yeah. Do you want to stay?”

  “If it’s okay with you?”

  “No problem. I’ll take a cab.”

  “See you at home,” Emily said and rejoined Sloan and his friends.

  In the cab, Cole reached for his phone and sent Juliana a text. He was angry and horny, a bad combination. Watching the dirty dancing between Max and Sloan brought back the hunger he couldn’t seem to shake. Perhaps his girlfriend could help him forget this irrational need to plow his roommate’s tight ass. She agreed to meet him at the apartment, as he knew she would, even though it was almost midnight. She was nothing but accommodating, and instead of this making him happy, he was frustrated. Why didn’t she grow a pair and tell him to fuck off? The woman was such a doormat.

  He laughed bitterly. The sad truth was not her behavior, which was boringly predictable. It was Cole who’d changed. The only balls he was interested in were back at the club, probably being fondled by that piece-of-shit photographer.

  Cole walked out. Apparently, he’d had enough for the night and so had I. My pathetic need to be loved was clouding my judgment, seeing a spark of emotion on his end when there was nothing but lust. Cole had chosen me to explore his darker side because I was conveniently within reach. The idea that he’d ever consider being my lover in the truest sense was an improbable fairy tale, and I had to come to terms with it.

  Max would help me forget. He was attentive and we had an easygoing chemistry. The best part about being with this experienced gay man was his resilience. He never appeared flustered, and would probably teach me stuff I’d never heard of, rather than me having to guide him as I had with Cole. What did it matter if I imagined Cole in my arms when I closed my eyes? Who cared if Max was my second choice? He was unabashedly queer and proud to be by my side. In fact, he gloated over his success in convincing me to be his model. Max treated me like a rare orchid, showing me off to all his buddies, even calling me Beauty when he made introductions. It was wonderful to be with someone who valued me for a change.

  “Come home with me, Sloan. I want to make love to you.”

  Was I ready to jump into his bed so soon after being with Cole? Why the fuck not. Sex would be the best way to forget my cantankerous roommate and his infuriating excuses. I leaned into Max, whispering yes in his ear.

  As we made our way out of the club, strangers gravitated toward us, doing their best to grab Max’s attention and make small talk. He was clearly famous, a man of substance who chose me over anyone else. I let it go to my head and didn’t stop to think of repercussions. Not my style anyhow. I routinely jumped before looking.

  We stopped at Tin’s table. Emily was chatting animatedly with one of the assistants who’d been at the photo shoot earlier on. They seemed to be having a great time.

  “Max and I are leaving,” I announced. “Do you want us to drop you off at the apartment?”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Tin assured me.

  “Em?”

  “I’d like to stay.”

  I handed her my house keys. “You’re going to need these.”

  “Will you be back tonight?” Emily asked.

  I looked at Max and he smirked. “Your call, Sloan.”

  “No.”
My answer was firm, and Emily didn’t even bother to argue. “I’ll see you sometime in the morning.”

  Max was all over me as soon as the limo pulled away from the curb. I made a conscious effort to shove Cole out of my mind. I planned to enjoy my sleepover with Max and not dwell on what might have been. He was already fumbling with my zipper and let out a shocked intake of breath when he saw the size of my cock.

  “Jesus Christ! You should come with a disclaimer,” he mumbled, seconds before bending down and attempting to take all of me in his mouth. His statement made me smile, and I leaned back against the car seat and closed my eyes, trying to forget other lips and another voice.

  Chapter 19

  “Where were you tonight?” Juliana asked.

  Cole was still draped over her body, sluggishly enjoying the aftermath of his orgasm until her voice cut through. His pulse quickened, and he thought of lying to avoid another confrontation, but opted for the truth. “I went dancing.”

  She shoved him off, plumped her pillows up against the headboard, and crossed her arms over her bare chest. Frigidly, she continued to probe. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

  Cole sighed. “It was a spur of the moment thing.”

  “You seem to be having a lot of those lately.”

  Cole heard the accusation but didn’t engage. Not until he had a chance to think about his response. He tied off the condom and dropped it in the wastebasket on his way to the bathroom. He didn’t really need to go; he was just buying time. When he returned, she was already dressed.

  “I’m going home.”

  “Why?”

  “You tell me.”

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  “There’s a brick wall between us that only disappears when we’re having sex. When was the last time we had fun? Are you seeing someone else?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I was with Sloan and Emily.”

  “I’m your girlfriend,” Juliana continued to rant. “Didn’t it occur to you that I might be interested in joining you guys? You should have called me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cole said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”