Spoiled

by Gianni Holmes

  “Let’s go.”

  He guided me off the dance floor, his large frame parting a path for us in a way I wouldn’t have been able to do on my own. He didn’t say anything else but kept walking with an angry look on his face. I was worried. Worried about what he thought about what had just happened.

  I wanted this to mean something to him. I didn’t want to return to his coffee shop tomorrow just for him to serve me a cup, make nice, then ignore me. The hand job was nice and all, but I…I wanted him.

  “Wait,” I said when he turned us in the direction of the public bathrooms. “There’s a private restroom we can use, but it’s this way.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at me but didn’t protest when I started in the opposite direction down a corridor. “I know the owner of the club,” I said, just in case he wondered about my familiarity with areas of the building that were staff only.

  “I don’t doubt you do,” he replied, his tone so flat I still couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

  “He was my brother’s best friend. He’s almost like a second brother to me. He and my brother had a partnership with this club.”

  “Ah.”

  Frustrated, I stopped justifying myself to him and continued in silence until we reached Luthor’s office. A keypad opened the door, and I punched in the code: my brother’s birthday. The door unlocked, and I pushed it open and entered, expecting Callum to do the same.

  When I didn’t hear the door close behind me, I stopped and turned toward him. I froze, dragging a painful breath into my lungs. He hadn’t stepped in but stood with the door caught in his hand to prevent it from closing. The closed-off look he wore said everything he had yet to say.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” I asked him softly. Even though the sound was muffled this far back, the music was still loud enough to hear.

  “You should clean up.” He frowned. “I’m sorry about—”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.” I was crushed at his apology. “That was hot.”

  “And inappropriate. I should know better by now, even if you don’t.”

  “I know what I want.”

  “I never doubted that.” He stepped back from the door. “But I also know what I want.”

  And it’s not me.

  He didn’t have to say the words. He’d already said enough, and it hurt like hell. I wasn’t used to rejection, but when it happened, it was always by the people who I expected more from. People who didn’t think me worthy enough to receive more or better from them.

  Maybe it was my fault for being lacking. For never being good enough.

  “I should’ve never come, Ashton,” he said, his voice gentle, even concerned. “It’s not you, I promise. I just can’t do this again. Happy Birthday, sweet boy.”

  He left and closed the door behind him with a soft thud. I gulped air and blinked at the sudden rush of tears. He didn’t even mean that much to me. I knew very little about him, but for a month, I’d been around this guy, building up my hopes where he was concerned, convincing myself that I’d have worn him down.

  Sweet boy.

  Clearly, I’d been wrong, and I’d done nothing but hurt myself in the process. But what had he meant by “I just can’t do this again.” Do what exactly? I had a feeling that I was paying for somebody else’s mistake, and I didn’t like it at all. I already had enough of my own to accept somebody else’s guilt.

  Chapter Five

  Callum

  The pounding at my bedroom door woke me up, and I groaned, trying to figure out if the world was coming to an end or what. Why else would someone be knocking at my door with such urgency at this godforsaken hour?

  I was too groggy to process things all at once, but I couldn’t have been asleep for an hour before the knocking started.

  Ignoring the disturbance, I sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp. I found my phone on the nightstand and peered at the time. Close to fucking four in the morning. The short hand had almost been on three when I’d finally climbed into bed and stopped agonizing over what a dick I’d been back at the club.

  I couldn’t get Ashton’s sad face from my mind nor the way he’d felt against me. Holding him to me had filled me with such longing I hadn’t been able to help myself touching him. I’d never meant for it to go that far, but he’d been so hot. So eager. So ready. I just had to know what he was like in the throes of passion.

  Now I knew, and I was even more curious. But I ran like a coward. No, not a coward. I’d run like a sane man who didn’t want history to repeat itself. If Ashton were any other boy, I’d have stayed at the club. But then again, the Ashton it would’ve taken for me to stay wouldn’t have been clubbing in the first place.

  When it became evident that the person at the door wasn’t planning to go away, I crawled out of bed. I didn’t bother to pull on anything. That would mean searching for clothes to wear, and I had very little in the first place.

  The space was too small to keep more than what was necessary. I didn’t intend to entertain anyone anyway. I’d give whoever was at the door an earful and send them on their merry way. At another time, I’d have been polite, but I was grumpier than a bear woken up midhibernation.

  And horny. Apparently, when asleep, my dick didn’t get the memo that Ashton Keyes was off-limits.

  “Somebody has got some fucking explaining to do,” I mumbled, unlocking the door and opening it. I glared at the intruder of my peace and sleep. “You?” I frowned, astonished to find Ashton’s driver standing on the landing.

  “Yes, me,” the man answered. He was always well put together whenever he went out with his young charge, but he had clearly had better nights from the looks of him. His hair was sticking up as if he’d run his fingers through the strands over and over. His shirt was wrinkled and stained, and he smelled like someone had vomited expensive liquor all over him, which would explain the wetness on his shirt front.

  “What are you doing here?” I peered over his shoulder, expecting to see Ashton. This had to be his doing.

  “This was not my idea.” The driver thrust his hands into the pockets of his pants. “He insisted that I take him here, and he became rather belligerent when I refused. Rather than risk him creating a scene his mother may get wind of, I asked myself how much worse can this get by bringing him here?”

  “You brought him here? Why on earth would you do that? He should be back home into his rich, entitled bed.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I brought him here, thinking you may be able to get through to him, which I clearly can’t. I also brought him here because he asked me to. And last but not least, I brought him here because you toyed with him tonight, then shoved him aside like…like…like toilet paper you wiped your ass with, then flushed down the toilet.”

  “Listen.” I pointed at the driver. “Nothing happened tonight that we both didn’t consent to. He’s an adult and should be able to take care of himself. Why don’t you take him home and keep him away from my coffee shop? I can’t be what he needs me to be.”

  “I can’t take him home like this,” the man snapped. “After you left, he wouldn’t stop drinking. I only got him to stop because I promised him I’d take him here. If I bring him home like this, I’m afraid of what his mother will do. She’ll likely disinherit him.”

  “Shit.” I scrubbed at my face with my palm. I couldn’t have Ashton here right now. I was too vulnerable; he was too vulnerable. Nothing good could come from this. Clearly, the boy had issues, issues I was hesitant to get involved with. I wasn’t a fucking therapist, and I’d already made that mistake once.

  A scuffling sound on the stairs grabbed both our attention. I frowned, heart lurching in my chest at the sight of Ashton mounting the stairs, his steps heavy and unsteady.

  “Master Ashton, I asked you to wait in the car,” the driver said.

  Ashton wavered on his next step, and I rushed by the driver to get to him before he plunged backward down the stairs. The cold night air nipped at my bare skin and wo
rked wonders on my erection. I caught Ashton, who smiled up at me sheepishly before drooping into my arms.

  “We”—hiccup—”need to talk,” he slurred.

  “There’s not much talking we can do when you’re like this, Ashton.” But maybe he was right, and we needed to talk. Maybe if I came clean to him, then he’d understand why I could never be the man—the Daddy—he wanted.

  “I’m f-f-fine.”

  “Ashton, you’re drunk.”

  “Then you should punish me and make me a good boy.” He grabbed onto my arm. “Please, Daddy, make me a good boy for you. I want to be so good.”

  This was a bad idea, one that was going to get us both into trouble, but what could I do? I shouldn’t have kissed him, then left him confused at the club.

  I’d known beforehand that nothing could come of us, and he’d made it so clear he wanted me. I should’ve avoided him, pulverized that invitation. And while I was at it, should close the coffee shop and move to another country. Unlikely to happen. I was as attracted to his destructive side as he was drawn to my protective side.

  Even now, as I swung him up into my arms to take him up the stairs, he tugged at my heart. He wrapped both arms around my neck and snuggled against me with his head rubbing on my chest, purring like a kitten.

  “Are you going to let him stay for the night?” the driver asked.

  I shouldn’t. I wasn’t. “Yeah.” The word came out rough, and I cleared my throat. “Might as well. It’s almost light out anyway. I’ll let him sleep it off, then have a talk with him.”

  He nodded, looking relieved. “Have him call me tomorrow when he’s awake so I can pick him up.”

  “Fine.”

  I moved to enter the apartment, but he touched my shoulder, and I turned back to him. “What is it?”

  “Don’t think I made this decision very lightly.” His eyes were troubled as he watched Ashton in my arms. “I circled the block four times before I told myself that if you meant him any harm, you would’ve taken him up on all the other times he came on to you.”

  “I’m practically a stranger.”

  “One who didn’t take advantage of his many vulnerable states over the past month.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Please, handle him with care. Life hasn’t been too kind to him of late, and he’s been a little misguided. Even worse than usual.”

  I frowned down at the bundle in my arms and back at the driver. “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head and walked to the stairs. “If you’re as important as he makes you out to be, then he’ll tell you.”

  I cursed beneath my breath. I had no time to figure out riddles. Why the hell had he said anything if he was only going to leave me curious?

  Once inside my apartment, I closed the door and stared at the guy in my arms. His lips parted, and he snored. What to do with him? I could sneak him back downstairs to his driver and let the man handle it. Ashton was his responsibility, not mine. Except now I felt responsible for him being drunk because he might’ve misinterpreted my words when I told him I didn’t want him.

  I did want him. I just shouldn’t.

  The choices as to where he’d sleep were limited. My apartment was an open flat space above the coffee shop, which was why it had been so ideal.

  After the tragedy, I’d scraped together my entire life savings, quit my job, and moved here to Battersea close to my best friend. I’d invested everything I had into this business with Phillip. We’d gotten a loan and opened Coffee Crave. Until the coffee shop started to spin a true profit, I made do with the little I had.

  I took him over to my bed and laid him down. Apparently, that was enough to wake him up. He opened his eyes but said nothing.

  “Why did you get drunk, Ashton?” I asked.

  “Y-you said you didn’t want me.” His body went limp as I removed his shoes. “You made me sad. Nobody ever wants me, and I thought the way you looked at me meant you saw me differently.”

  His words cracked open the shell covering my heart. His voice was less than steady, and he slurred, but there was no mistaking the sorrow. I’d hurt him tonight even more than I’d intended to.

  “I lied,” I said, avoiding his eyes. “I lied that I didn’t want you. Couldn’t you feel how much I did while we were on the dance floor? I wanted so badly to take you somewhere and fuck you out of my system. But it won’t be so easy to do that, will it?”

  “God, I hope not,” he murmured. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Why don’t you want to be my Daddy?”

  Instead of responding, I rose to my feet and pulled him to his. He sagged against me, but I wasn’t finished with him yet. I walked him over to the bathroom, where I helped him to brush his teeth. When he gagged, spewing his guts, I held him steady, pushing his hair back so it didn’t get in the way.

  I discarded the toothbrush and switched to the mouthwash. His breath stank from the alcohol. When he mumbled that he needed to pee, I had him sit on the toilet while I washed out the sink, but he ended up pissing on the floor. That only made him cry, blubbering that he was sorry.

  He was a fucking mess, and it scared me. It brought back memories that left me sweaty and nauseous.

  I eventually got him back into bed, wearing nothing. His shorts were too soiled, and he kept tugging at the harness so much I feared he’d strangle himself with it. Accidentally, of course. By the time I went to my drawer to find him a T-shirt, he’d wormed his way beneath the covers tucked under his chin and was snoring.

  At the foot of the bed, I stood watching this boy, who I couldn’t accept as mine. No matter what my heart and body said. He looked so innocent and at peace in sleep. He was so beautiful, but I sensed his driver was right. This boy had layers, but how far did I truly want to peel them back?

  And what if I let him into my life? If I were to become his Daddy and he my boy, would he be able to live by my rules when I had no intention of compromising on them?

  Chapter Six

  Ashton

  Waking up in a strange bed was nothing out of the ordinary for me, but somehow this time things felt different as I opened my eyes. I squinted at the light that hit my pupils, frowning at the unfamiliar blinds that were only half-drawn. The bright sunlight streamed beneath the screen and bathed the bed in warmth.

  I glanced around, taking in the small space of the bedroom, trying to place where I was. Across from the bedroom area, I could make out the semblance of a living room area with a television mounted on the wall and only one long sofa. The two walls on either side of the bedroom made it difficult for me to see anything else, but wherever I was, the space was small and nothing at all like I was used to.

  My focus returned to the bedroom as I tried to catalog everything to get a clue as to where I was. Apart from the queen-size bed and the nightstand, it held a small closet with the door hanging half-open. A dresser, with a set of keys, a cell phone, and a wallet, took up the rest of the space.

  I pulled off the bedcovers and rose to my feet, immediately pausing from the dip and roil in my belly. I held my hands out to steady myself and prevent a tumble to the floor. I must’ve been hammered last night to…

  Oh, god, no.

  The memories returned with the force of a sucker punch. I fell back onto the bed. Callum and the club. Giving up that he’d ever show up, then dancing with him, having him jerk me off on the dance floor before him leaving me alone.

  What the hell had happened after?

  “Oh, god,” I groaned, placing my aching head in my hands. I couldn’t recall everything else that had happened, except for me causing such an uproar in the club Rue had promised to take me to Callum.

  Why was I still here? Had I been sober, I’d never have asked Rue to bring me here. The way he’d run out on me at the club, I’d never expected to see him ever again, let alone to let me in.

  Yet here I was. In his bed. Alone. At least that part didn’t come as a surprise.

  But hey, I was completely naked. Had that been before or after
I dropped in on him? My ass didn’t feel like I’d had a dick up there last night. Now if only I could decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “How do you feel?”

  My head snapped up at the unexpected voice. Really, I should’ve known he’d show up at some point, but I’d been too preoccupied trying to recall what had happened.

  Callum stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his face expressionless. My mouth went sandpaper dry, and swallowing hurt. Dressed in a pair of sweatpants that rode his hips low and a tank top that showed off his incredible physique, Callum wasn’t exactly what I wanted to see in my current disheveled state.

  Why did life have to be so freaking cruel? Finally, I was in this man’s bed, and I looked like a hooker who’d bitten off more than he could chew…or swallow.

  “Fine,” I lied, then chuckled dryly as he raised his eyebrows in a challenge. “Yeah, you’re right. I feel like shit.” His mouth tightened, and I groaned. What the hell did he want from me? “I’ve felt better.”

  That earned me a nod. “No doubt, you have. Go have a shower, and then I’ll feed you.”

  “Uh—” So he wasn’t going to mention what had happened last night? “If you could just point me in the direction of my clothes and give me a phone so I can call my driver to pick me up, it’ll almost be like I was never here.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible. You made quite the impression last night.”

  He lounged against the arch, arms crossed over his chest, completely relaxed while I squirmed, itching to grab the sheet and cover my nakedness, but I’d never been ashamed of my body before.

  “I did?” I laughed uneasily. “Of course I did. I always make an impression wherever I am.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  The small talk wore on my already fragile nerves. I rose to my feet, finally satisfied when he stared at my body. The heat in his eyes gave him away. He wasn’t nearly as unaffected by me as he’d like me to believe.