“You Cameron?” he barked as he walked up, a pissed-off look on his face. I nodded, mutely, trying desperately to swallow past the lump in my throat. I would not run. I would not run…
“Devereaux,” He barked, thrusting his hand at me almost angrily. “Lee Devereaux.”
His voice was deep, a little gravelly. His green eyes glinted like ice, and I struggled to catch my breath as I tried to respond.
“Mason Cameron,” I squeaked, nodding and trying to get control of my racing heart. I glanced at his outstretched hand then back up to his face and shrugged. With my phone, laptop and luggage in my hands, they were kind of full at the moment.
Something seemed to move behind his eyes, and his angry gaze softened. I vaguely noticed he had on a royal blue t-shirt that said “Twin Peeks” on the front. A dim part of my brain remembered that was the name of the sponsor’s store. His store, maybe? I didn’t remember if Lizzie had told me much about the store owner. The blue of his shirt made his beautiful green eyes stand out, the material of the shirt straining across his chest and around the bulging muscles of his arms.
He had short, blondish-brown hair that looked like a grown out military cut and I couldn’t help but think how I’d want his hair to be just a little bit longer so I could hold onto it as I fucked his mouth.
Wait, what? “Fucked his mouth?” Who was this person in my brain? I didn’t contemplate fucking strangers. I didn’t contemplate fucking anyone. In the eight years since I had escaped from my uncle and Dreyven, I hadn’t really felt a sexual interest in anyone, male or female. I mean, of course, I’d touched myself occasionally, but that was a given, right? Just a physical need that had to be taken care of, like eating and pissing. I’d never really thought about anyone in particular during those moments, though. The only image that came to mind had been that of my savior, my Dark Angel.
This guy was no angel, I thought, and swallowed hard. Just looking at him had sent a rush of blood flooding to my dick so unexpectedly, I stumbled and watched in horror as my laptop, which held almost a year’s worth of work on my new series, slid out of my grasp and headed for the floor. Just before it smashed into a million pieces across the airport concourse, Devereaux’s hand flashed out and snagged it. I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped me.
“Fuck me…” I moaned. Devereaux smirked at me as he turned the laptop around and held it out to me. “Thanks! I’ve been working on a new series for months now, and it’s all on this laptop. If that had broken, I think I would have cried.”
“No problem,” he said quietly, his intense green eyes never leaving my own. “Can’t have you crying, beautiful.” I blushed at the endearment, his eyes never letting go of mine. They held a strange, quiet strength. He seemed… familiar? But I couldn’t place from where. Someone this drop dead gorgeous I was sure I would have remembered if I’d met him before.
He handed the laptop to me and as he did our fingertips brushed. In that moment, I thought I literally forgot how to breathe. All the noise of the airport seemed to recede as heat sprang up my hand. My already-hard cock became painful, and I felt my balls pull up tight to my body. I was horrified... and oddly fascinated... at the thought that this man might be able to make me come in my pants. If he could do that with just his fingers, what could the rest of his body do?
The app on my phone beeped and dragged me back to the present. I glued my attention to my phone, and my concentration shrank to a pinpoint as I struggled to manage my reaction. I was dazed and more than a little dumbfounded at the intensity of my physical reaction to Lee Devereaux. Part of me was scared to death being near him. Well, near anyone, really. But another part of me reveled in his nearness. My cheeks felt like they were flaming as I flushed a bright red.
I was trying to use my carry-on to hide the growing bulge in my shorts, and I hardly knew what I said to answer the questions he asked as we walked to the parking lot. I vaguely remembered him saying something about driving and me complaining about the flight, but it was all I could do to focus on trying to breathe and still put one foot in front of another, much less carry on a conversation.
When we got to the car, an older model Jeep, I sprang into the back, relieved that I’d be able to put at least a bit of space between us. I saw him raise an eyebrow at me in question and realized I’d done something odd. It must have looked weird that I just got in the back, but right then I didn’t really care. I was still wrestling with the physical response I was having to this man and I needed the space.
Ever since escaping Ricky, I’d wondered occasionally if I was gay or if sex with men was just all I’d ever known. While it hadn’t been unheard of for Ricky to pimp me out to a woman, it hadn’t been that common, either. Most of the pedos I’d dealt with had been male. In the years since, my body had never responded to women in that way, but I also hadn’t found any guys I was that interested in, either. If the raging hard on in my pants meant anything, I guessed it confirmed that yep, I was gay.
I focused on my breathing for a few minutes to try and get my hands to stop shaking and get the anti-anxiety app on my phone to work. I stuffed the earbuds in my ears and the soothing voices, sounds and images began washing over me. I did my best to ignore Lee Devereaux and the uncomfortable things he did to my body, and buried myself in my phone for the rest of the trip. I knew I was being rude, but I really didn’t know how to respond to the man.
While I did my best to ignore him during the drive to my hotel, it was hard. Or rather, I was. He was either the sponsor or one of their employees, from the shirt he was wearing, but somehow, I couldn’t see this guy standing behind a counter all day selling comics. His body was much too godlike for that. I worked out in my gym at home, but my body was nothing like this guy’s.
An image of a naked Lee Devereaux splayed out across my bed, his hand slowly stroking his cock filled my mind. A groan escaped me at the thought, one I stifled as his piercing green eyes glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. I hastily returned my gaze to my phone and bit my lower lip, hoping maybe the pain would distract me.
Fuuuuuck.
We pulled up in front of a hotel. Some chain I’d never heard of, but nice enough. I didn’t really care about fancy – I still remembered sleeping in rooms with rats and roaches. This looked a far sight better than that had been. I fumbled with my stuff as we got out of the car. Lee helped me unload my luggage and acted like the steamer trunk I could barely move weighed nothing. I snagged a bellboy to help take things inside.
There were a lot of people milling around – a TV in the bar area right off the lobby was playing some kind of sports event, there was a long line of people in front of the check-in desk, and a harried valet was running back and forth with car keys. My anxiety levels were still running high. Being around all these people was a challenge already. Being there with Lee Devereaux, making my body react crazily, was making them skyrocket.
I’d become a little agoraphobic in the years since I’d escaped my old life. I always felt like I was looking over my shoulder, just waiting for Dreyven to show up and snatch me back to Milwaukee. I got really scared in crowds sometimes, and any kind of pressure generally made it worse. I was looking forward to some much-needed alone time in my hotel room: I needed to get away from these crowds and this man and figure out what was going on in my brain... and the rest of my body.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said abruptly to the man beside me. God, his skin was tanned and mostly smooth, but I couldn’t help noticing some odd ridges beneath his tight t-shirt. Scars? What could have caused them?
He looked at me for a minute, annoyance in his eyes.
“Oh, so now you can talk?” He said.
“I talk when I have something important to say,” I snapped back. What an asshole! “I can check into a hotel on my own.”
I watched as a flush worked its way up his neck and his eyes snapped fire at me.
“Riiiight,” he drawled, his voice dripping with derision. “Just like you could figure out how to c
all an Uber to take you to a business commitment,” he said sharply, making it clear he thought my intellect probably hovered around that of a nine-year-old. Goddammit. I hadn’t even thought about looking up an Uber. Fuck.
“So sorry!” I snapped. “I’m used to living in a real city that has a little thing called ‘public transportation’,” I snarked back.
His eyes narrowed at me. He wasn’t used to people talking back to him. Too fucking bad.
“Let’s just see if you can manage to be on time tomorrow,” he said dismissively. “Unlike you, my family works for everything it has. We can’t afford another failure tomorrow.”
He set my bags down on the ground and strode out the entrance, anger evident in his stride. Shit. I’d now managed to piss off the only person that I knew on the East Coast.
Great job Mason.
3
Lee
I knew my face must have been flushed and angry when I’d hollered for Cameron in the airport, but when his tousled dark hair had peered out from behind the support column, I’d frozen. He was beautiful.
He was tall, not quite as tall as me, but at six two I didn’t run into a lot of people my height. My dick, which had been happy to sleep through the flight attendant’s flirting, had decided to sit up and take notice at the sight of him. As I approached, I realized how insanely beautiful this man was, and I felt a stirring in my cock that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. He had hair so black I could swear it had blue in it, with eyes a bright blue with what looked like a gold ring around the pupil. I thought at first that they had to be contacts, but as I looked closer, I realized they were genuine. I stood in shock for a moment. That face… I knew that face… but from where…?
“You Cameron?” I asked, struggling to place his face. Maybe I’d seen it on some promotional materials at the store?
He nodded at me, his face impassive.
“Devereaux,” I told him. “Lee Devereaux.” I stuck my hand out to him automatically, then realized that with his hands full, there was no way he could take it.
“C-Cameron,” he said, stuttering slightly, sounding almost breathless. His voice was soft and clear. We stood there for a moment, eyes locked on each other, then I thought he started to try to reach his hand out and stumbled, fumbling everything in his hands—phone, luggage and laptop—his hair falling down across his face. I managed to grab the phone and luggage, and I snagged his laptop just as it was about to hit the ground.
I wasn’t sure exactly, but when I went to hand him back his laptop, I could have sworn he whispered “Fuck me…”
I couldn’t help it, the whispered plea made me grin.
“Thanks!” he said, looking up at me from the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. “I’ve been working on a new series for months now, and it’s all on this laptop. If that had broken, I think I would have cried.”
“No problem,” I said quietly, handing the laptop back to him, trying to pretend I wasn’t wondering what those soft, perfect lips would look like wrapped around my cock. “Can’t have you crying, beautiful.”
My words coincided with our hands brushing, and that touch was like a lightning bolt racing down my arm, through my balls and electrifying my cock. I thought I had been interested before, but now all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around this man and cover his body with my own. I’d never felt anything like it, not even with Mack. The attraction was so powerful, so intense, that I’d taken half a step toward him before I’d even realized it.
He froze, and his eyes caught mine as he looked up at me through the tangled tousle of his dark hair. It was like looking at some kind of wild animal hiding in the forest. You knew if you even just breathed the wrong way, he would run and be gone. His eyes were open wide, pupils blown, and we simply stared at each other for several heartbeats.
I had no idea how long we stood frozen like that, but his phone beeped and drew his attention away from me, breaking the spell.
“What…” he muttered, keeping his eyes glued to his phone, “…what happened? I’ve been here for, like, hours, and no one showed.” He ventured.
“I’m… sorry about the delay,” I said as I led him to my car. “We were told you had transportation covered.”
“What?” He looked up, startled, his eyes meeting mine for a minute. “Fuck, no. I don’t even drive.”
I couldn’t cover my shock. He was obviously in his mid- to-late twenties. How could he not drive? A wisp of a thought tugged at me.
“Oh! Seizures?” I asked, remembering a friend who had wanted to join the military, but had been disqualified because of his epilepsy. He’d also been unable to keep a driver’s license because his seizures had become so bad. I realized too late that it was probably a pretty personal question and I shouldn’t be asking about his medical history.
“Huh? No,” he said, barely pulling his eyes away from his phone. “I just don’t drive.”
“Um, sorry,” I muttered, a bit embarrassed by my inability to manage an intelligent conversation with the man and totally thrown off balance. I was hoping desperately that my pants would help conceal the bulge my cock was creating.
“Whatever,” he growled, his face glued to his phone.
What a brat! Part of me wanted to turn him over my knee. Another part, perhaps the one tucked uncomfortably into my pants at the moment, wanted me to lick and nibble along his throat and see if that was an erogenous zone for him.
“How… How was your flight?” I asked, falling back on inanities, trying to smile and carry on some kind of conversation with him as I helped carry his luggage to the car. I could do this. I’d faced the Taliban and come out the other side, I could handle one measly comic book writer.
“Long,” was his reply, his eyes still glued to his phone. “And cheap. I’m going to have a talk with my manager. Had three layovers of two or three hours each!” he exclaimed. “Ridiculous.”
His comment burned me up. I was willing to give this guy all kinds of leeway because of whatever fuck up had left him stranded at the airport. Hell, I might have been pissed about it, too, if it was me. But my brother had sold something precious to pay for this guy to fly across the country. He could at least act like we weren’t beneath him.
The rest of the walk to the car was like this, and finally his monosyllabic responses were enough to make me stop trying. This guy was the hugely popular writer and artist my brothers raved over? A huge asshole, in my opinion. Maybe the reason he was so reclusive was because he was such a jerk.
I loaded his things into the back of my car, then watched him shove his earbuds in and climb into the back, like I was some kind of damn chauffeur. Okay, so as an Uber driver, I was a chauffeur. I just wasn’t his chauffeur. I was used to that kind of attitude when I was driving for work, but not when it was a friend. Not that we were friends, but… whatever.
I growled in frustration as I closed the hatch on my Jeep, which I’d named “Hound” when I first got him. Hound was my baby. My brothers showed their geekiness through their bookstore. I showed off mine by naming my car after a cartoon robot and putting my own Autobot sticker on the back window. To each their own.
Before I got back in the car, I texted the twins to let them know I had found their wayward star. They seemed relieved and appreciative. They’d put a notice on their website and Facebook page that he would be there tomorrow to sign autographs.
They had apparently given up for the day and locked up, so I decided to take Cameron directly to his hotel. As I drove, I tried desperately not to sneak looks at my passenger in the back seat.
His body was a walking wet dream. He had the body of an athlete, but not a gym rat. Maybe a baseball player, or a runner? Tall, slim. Well-muscled, but not overly so. He wore a black t-shirt that hugged his chest, outlining every muscle and curve. He had on a pair of cutoff jeans shorts that cupped his ass and looked like they’d been poured on. His legs were toned and defined, like a runner’s, but his thighs weren’t super thick.
I noticed almost absen
tly that for all of his athleticism and that he lived on the West Coast, his skin was very pale. Whatever Cameron did to keep in shape, he did it inside. As I had gotten the last of his gear out of the back, and he reached up to close the hatch, I caught a glimpse of the creamy skin of his stomach when his shirt rode up, and I had to bite my lip not to groan.
I wasn’t anticipating him to just tell me I could leave, but I wasn’t really surprised. Along with his other comments, I figured Cameron wasn’t used to having the “help” hang around when he was done with them. I sat in the car after his rude dismissal, my fingers biting into the steering wheel as I tried to control the insane feelings running through my body.
My temper was definitely running high at the moment, and I couldn’t figure out how this guy had gotten under my skin so quickly. I sighed and forced myself to relax for a minute.
Fuck him. He was here for just a few weeks. He could do his job, then go back to wherever the hell he came from. No skin off my back.
I turned my attention back to my phone and was sitting there texting the twins when there was a rap at the window.
I looked up in surprise to see Cameron’s face outside my window. Damn, he had the prettiest eyes. His dark eyelashes fluttered against his pale skin as he glanced around anxiously.
I rolled the window down and he grimaced at me. “There seems to be a problem,” he said.
We stood in line silently, waiting our turn to approach the front desk. Cameron kept his face glued to his phone, earbuds in. I was beginning to hate that thing. His ears were a bright red and he alternately played on his phone or tugged absently at his hair. Something about his actions reminded me of something, but I couldn’t quite think what. It was driving me crazy, but apparently Mr. High-And-Mighty did need help checking into a hotel, so here we were. Finally, it was our turn, and we approached the agent at the desk.
Mason's Run Page 6