He should kick Quinn out, gain back some self-respect.
Except he wanted this. He wanted one last fuck. His dick throbbed at the thought, already thick and hard. That didn’t mean he intended to make this easy on Quinn. Not this time, buddy.
“I, well, I…” Quinn straightened his shoulders. “You look like shit.”
“Why do you care?” Nash kept his emotions under wrap through sheer force of will. His gut clenched, heavy with nerves and tension. This was it. This was crunch point.
Go on, tell me you care about me. Tell me I’m more than a fuck buddy to you. Give me something, damn you.
Quinn gaped at him, clearly pushed off-center.
“You’re my brother-in-law’s best friend.” Quinn crossed his arms over his magnificent chest. He’d closed himself off, his emotions buried deep. Not surprising. Disappointing, but not surprising.
Nash snorted. “You’re a piece of work,” he snarled, switching the TV off again. It was a distraction he didn’t need. “Don’t bullshit me. Just tell me why you’re really here.”
Quinn’s nostrils flared.
Good, get angry. Show me you feel something, damn you. It’s not fair that I’m the only one who’s an emotional wreck.
“Go on, say it. Say you came here to fuck me. Say the words, Quinn,” Nash prodded him, wanting a reaction.
“Damn you,” Quinn swore and, grabbing him, pulled him up, then kissed him harshly. His lips were brutal. Angry. Rough. Nash tore at Quinn’s clothes, stripping him hastily, his hands shaking with need. He grabbed the other man’s wide dick, squeezing. Quinn groaned.
“Say it. Say you want me. Need me.” Nash didn’t know why hearing the words was so important. He planned to leave, so why did he care?
Yet he did. He wanted the words.
Using his other hand, he massaged Quinn’s firm, smooth balls. Quinn grabbed at his shoulders as he flung his head back. Leaning down, Nash bit his chest.
“Shit.” Quinn pushed Nash back without warning. Nash hit the bed with a thump. Before he could react, Quinn climbed over him, smashing his mouth against his. He grasped Nash’s head between his hands as he ground against him.
Violent. Rough. Hot.
Quinn bit down. Nash tasted blood. If anything, it rocketed his need higher. Rolling, Nash forced Quinn beneath him. Sweat coated their skin as he rubbed his cock against Quinn’s. He shuddered with pleasure as Quinn groaned. Dropping his head, he scraped his teeth over Quinn’s nipple.
“Christ, Nash.” Quinn’s voice was raw. Hungry.
Reaching over, Nash grabbed a condom and lube from the bedside drawer. Kneeling, he fitted himself with the condom before slathering lube over his throbbing cock. Quinn looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Roll over,” Nash demanded, not entirely sure the other man would obey. Quinn was used to giving the orders, not taking them.
Quinn watched him, his amber eyes bright. Nash clenched his hands, waiting. Finally Quinn moved onto his stomach. Nash stared down at his firm backside, his muscular thighs, and shook with the need to take him.
He ran his hand over Quinn’s ass. Pulling the cheeks apart, he pressed his thumb against the small, puckered hole. Quinn’s low moan filled the room. Nash’s cock twitched, longing for the tight feel of Quinn’s ass massaging him, heating him.
“Damn, I want you. And it’s like the more I have you, the greater the need for you grows.” He leaned over the other man, resting his weight on him. His skin burned where it touched Quinn’s, searing his nerve endings and sending him into a seemingly never-ending spiral of need.
“Say you want me to fuck you,” he whispered as he pressed his dick between Quinn’s butt cheeks. “Say the words, Quinn.” Slowly he entered him. Every nerve ending came to life, singing in pleasure as he pushed his way inside Quinn’s tight hole. Quinn’s breaths came in ragged pants, indicating how close he was to the edge. Right where Nash wanted him.
“Why?” Quinn asked breathlessly.
“Because I said so.” Nash pushed forward slowly, giving Quinn time to adjust to his thickness. Fully seated, he paused, taking a moment to savor the tight heat surrounding his dick before pulling out at the same lingering pace.
Then all patience fled as he thrust back inside. In and out. Fast. Hard. No retreat. Relentless. Orgasm burned in his balls, needing to break free. He couldn’t come. Not yet. With each pounding thrust, a small part of him shriveled up and died. This was the last time he’d be with Quinn. But he couldn’t stop, he needed this, wanted the sweet ecstasy he could find only inside Quinn.
“Just say it,” he roared.
Quinn must’ve heard the desperation in his voice, or maybe he just wanted to shut Nash up, because he said, “I want you. Come for me, Nash.”
Nash shuddered, rocking his hips frantically before his cock erupted. Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain raged through him.
He withdrew from Quinn’s ass and rolled to his side, breathless, almost shaking with the strength of his orgasm. As Quinn rolled onto his back, his angry-looking cock caught Nash’s attention.
Nash wanted to give Quinn a parting gift, something neither of them had ever done for the other. Not that he really deserved it.
Kneeling, he leaned over and licked Quinn’s dick, then took the head of his cock into his mouth. Sweet fucking God, he tasted good. A small part of Nash would always belong to Quinn. The other man was now part of his soul.
Quinn hissed. “What are you doing?” He rested his hand on Nash’s head. Nash ignored him. It was obvious, after all.
He pulled the other man in deep, sucking on him strongly as Quinn groaned.
“That feels so good. Shit, you have no idea.”
Nash grabbed Quinn’s balls, cupping them, rubbing them together. Quinn shuddered, his hips rising and falling in rhythm with Nash’s mouth.
“I’m going to come,” Quinn groaned. “I’m coming. Nash!”
Nash swallowed Quinn’s cum as the cream filled his mouth. Salty, and not entirely unpleasant. He gave him one last lick before sitting up.
Nash looked down at the only person he’d ever loved. Probably the only person he ever would. “Get out.”
Quinn stared at him, shocked. “What?”
“I’m going to have a shower. I want you gone by the time I get back.”
Nash stood and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He started the shower.
Please be gone when I get out. Please be gone.
Nash didn’t know how long he stood there, hands resting against the shower wall, head bowed as he let the heat of the water try to warm him. It stung his skin, sharp and hot.
But his insides remained cold.
Eventually the hot water started to cool and he forced himself out of the shower. Drying off, he looked at himself in the mirror. A tired, worn guy gazed back at him. His eyes were dull and without life.
This couldn’t go on.
Gathering up his courage, he put his hand on the doorknob. Either Quinn was still there and they’d talk things through, or he’d be gone and in that case so was Nash. He couldn’t stick around, not if he wanted to keep his self-respect. He’d leave on his bike, move on to a new town, find some work, maybe do some traveling.
With a deep breath, he stepped out into the bedroom.
He was alone.
* * * * *
Quinn stared miserably at the crackling fire, his vision so blurred he couldn’t focus without feeling hideously ill.
The slamming of a door barely registered.
“Ah Christ, have you been drinking all day? Again?” Joe asked. Quinn turned to look at his twin as he sat on the sofa across from him, his face curled up in disgust.
“So what if I have?” Quinn replied, taking another sip from his glass. Suddenly the tumbler went flying from his hand, smashing against the wooden floor. Quinn glared up at Joe as he stood over him, hands on his hips.
“You’re pathetic, you know that?”
“
That was my drink,” Quinn yelled, trying to get up. Joe easily pushed him down. “Let me up,” he demanded.
“Why should I?” Joe taunted.
“Listen, asshole. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. And right now, I want to drink. Get out of my way so I can get another.”
“Make me.”
“What?” Quinn glared at him, taken aback by the aggressive stance his usually easygoing brother had taken. “What is your problem?”
“You. You are my problem, Quinn. You’ve spent the last week moping around, feeling sorry for yourself, drinking yourself to oblivion each night and generally acting like an ass to everyone around you. Do you know you had Kayla in tears today? I had to stop Cord from coming around and beating some sense into you. But seeing the state you’re in right now, I’m kind of wondering if he didn’t have the right idea.”
“What?” Quinn asked, shocked. “I made Kayla cry?” He wouldn’t have hurt his baby sister for the world. Would he? Then again, he couldn’t actually remember seeing her either.
“Yeah, big man that you are, you told her to get the fuck out of the house and go apply her meddling to someone who actually gave a shit what she thought.”
“Oh hell.” Shame engulfed him as he closed his eyes. “I’ll apologize.”
“Not enough, Quinn. You need to sort your shit out. You need to sober up, take a leave of absence and go after him.”
“Who?” Quinn asked as Joe sat back down across from him.
“Nash. You’ve been miserable since he left. I don’t know what you did to make him take off so suddenly, but you need to chase after him, get down on your knees and beg his forgiveness.”
“What makes you think this has anything to do with Nash?” Quinn growled. He’d tried to hold himself together, but the pain of Nash leaving was like acid eating away at his insides.
Fuck, I’m a loser.
“If you try to tell me it has nothing to do with him then you’re a liar as well as a loser. You love him, it’s obvious. I’ve known about your feelings for him for weeks. You ain’t never had much of a poker face, Quinn.”
“I’m not gay,” Quinn said tiredly. Same old argument, he was sick of hearing it. Who the hell cared if he was gay or not?
“Who cares if you’re gay or not?” Joe echoed his thought. Sometimes having a twin could be scary. “You love him, that’s all that matters.”
Quinn snorted. “It’s not that easy.”
“Why? Because you’re too scared to admit your feelings? Just like you’re too scared to tell anyone about your need to tie up little subs and flog them?”
Quinn stared at him. “What?”
“Get over yourself, Quinn,” Joe scoffed. “We’re twins. We’ve lived together for years. You think I don’t know you visit that kink club each week? I’m not stupid, brother. What is stupid is you thinking you have to hide it from your family.”
“I didn’t know how you would react.”
“Bullshit. You know we love you. You weren’t ready to come out of hiding. And keeping your emotions and feelings hidden to protect yourself is now harming your happiness. It sure as shit hurt Nash. Is that what you wanted?”
“No,” he whispered harshly, the word filled with pain. “Never. I love him.” A hard piece inside him started to unravel. “I love him.”
Joe patted his knee. “Then go find him, idiot, and tell him.”
“I hurt him. He may not listen.”
Joe snorted. “Dude, when have you ever let that stop you? You’re the most stubborn, ornery bastard I know. Just don’t take no for an answer.”
“Yeah. You’re right. I’ve just got to do one thing first.”
“What’s that?”
“Apologize to Kayla and explain everything to her and Luke and Cord.”
“Yeah, well, wouldn’t hurt to have a shower and a shave as well. Man, I love you, but you look like shit.”
Quinn smiled at his twin. “Thanks, brother.”
Chapter One
One month later
Nash watched Crista Grayson stride across the yard. As she stopped to talk to one of the men, she smiled and his dick went into overdrive. Shit, he had it bad. She folded her arms over her chest, pulling the baggy t-shirt tight across her breasts. What he wouldn’t give to strip that shirt and those oversized pants from her body and lick every inch of her silky skin.
This attraction wasn’t wise. He wasn’t even sure what drew him to her, but anytime she came close his body went into high alert.
Damn it. He’d been working for Grayson & Sons construction for nearly three weeks now, and his interest in Crista grew with each day that passed.
He shifted, trying to ease the uncomfortable ache in his balls as she stepped into the ramshackle trailer she used for an office.
Christ, he had no business looking at her. No business thinking about her at all.
She was his boss’s sister. She was sweet and innocent.
And he loved another. Yep, he definitely had no right to dream about pushing her up against the closest wall and fucking her brains out, or ordering her to her knees and taking her mouth with his dick.
He should stay far away from Crista Grayson. She wasn’t the fuck ’em and leave ’em type. She was a love ’em and marry ’em girl. And Nash wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t over Quinn, wasn’t ready to trust his heart to anyone else.
Nash wished to hell he’d chosen another town, another crew to sign on with, because working with a permanent hard-on was hell.
Crista stared out the small, dusty window, watching as her newest employee helped carry a sheet of ply, his muscles rippling.
Really, who could blame her?
She plopped down on the seat behind her and pressed her thighs together, uncomfortably aware of the moisture pooling in her panties. The temperature was heading up into the 100’s, unusually high for a Utah summer, and a lot of the crew had stripped down to tank tops. Their bare, muscular arms gleamed in the sunshine.
Yet none of them stirred her the way Nash did.
Picking up a piece of paper, she fanned herself. She needed to get some work done. She spent too much time daydreaming about Nash Taylor. His body. His ruggedly handsome face. Even his crooked nose intrigued her. And he had the ability to turn her mind to mush—her clit would throb, her body heating. When he fixed those baby-blue eyes on her, she felt as though she were the only woman in the world. It was an incredible feeling.
And she bet he barely even knew she existed.
Crista knew she would never turn heads with her looks. Short, dumpy and plain, that was her. Well over six feet, Nash loomed over her own five foot two, although he never used his height to intimidate her the way some of the other guys did.
He could have his pick of women.
Oh well, at least she could look all she wanted, even if she’d never be able to touch.
She jumped as the phone rang. Shoot, time to get back to work. Crista grabbed the phone. “Hello, Grayson & Sons.”
The family construction business had been set up by her great-grandfather Jonathan Grayson. Ownership passed to each successive oldest son. When their father died of a heart attack a few years ago, her brother Doug took over the business.
“Hey, Crista, it’s me.” She could barely hear her brother’s voice over the loud music in the background. He had to be in a bar, even though it was only two in the afternoon.
“Doug,” she said sharply. “Where are you? You said you’d come in today. The project manager was here earlier.”
“Sorry, honey. Been busy. I knew you’d handle everything.”
For once she wished someone else would be responsible so she could spend all day drinking. Okay, maybe not drinking. She didn’t react well to alcohol. But running a construction site wasn’t her dream job. She’d much rather be putting her degree in English to good use.
“Listen, honey, I’m sending you a new worker.”
“What?” she asked, certain she’d misheard.
�
��Just met him. Good guy. Plenty of experience. Do your thing and set him up, will you? Thanks.” Before she could protest, he’d hung up.
“Goddamn it, Doug,” she groaned. “That’s great. Just great.”
Sure, if they had some more help they could get the job completed quicker. Yet they didn’t have another job lined up after this one. She didn’t want to take on a man only to have to let him go in another month or so.
Hopefully this guy wasn’t looking for long-term work. Not all the men would move on with them. Some were locals they’d hired when they’d arrived. Three of their crew had been with Grayson & Sons for years, and Crista worried about how she’d pay their wages once they finished this job.
Her cell phone beeped. Picking it up, she smiled as she read the message from her friend Trudy. Crista didn’t know what she’d do without Trudy. When Crista had been at her lowest, confused and scared after what Andrew did to her, it was Trudy who’d dragged her back into the real world. She’d even gone so far as forcing Crista to join a support group.
Crista had tried to refuse, not wanting to sit around in a circle and explain that her boyfriend had tied her up and beaten her because she’d asked him to. She’d soon realized it wasn’t that sort of support group. For a start, each meeting involved wine or vodka or some powerful punch. And the women didn’t sit around staring at each other, they lazed, they slumped, they laughed and ate and drank. And boy, were they dirty.
All of them had one thing in common—an interest in BDSM. Some were already active in the lifestyle. Others were just feeling it out. Some, like Crista, had been abused and were scared to trust someone to dominate them again. Most of the group were remarkably candid about their situation. A lot were submissive in the bedroom—some were full-time slaves. There were even a couple in ménage relationships.
It had been a relief to find she wasn’t alone, that her desires weren’t weird. And that she wasn’t the only person to fantasize about having a man control her in the bedroom.
And some of the stories she’d heard… Wow. Crista didn’t realize such things went on outside of fiction. Some of their sexual encounters made her seem like a nun. The memory of Anna’s threesome story still made her hot. As did Jody’s story about how her boyfriend made her wear a vibrating egg the first time she met his family. He, of course, kept hold of the remote.
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