by Alexa Land
I hadn’t exactly grown up sheltered. Maybe that was why I wasn’t particularly alarmed by the fact that he carried a concealed weapon, even if it pointed to some uneasy truths about his life when we were apart. When we’d first met and I’d asked what he did for a living, he’d responded with, “You really don’t want to know.” He was probably right about that, and I hadn’t brought it up again.
But the fact that he let me see the holster was a choice. It could just as easily have been stashed along with the gun and I’d have been none the wiser, but he didn’t hide it from me. It was as if he wanted to make it clear he was no saint, and he needed to know I was okay with that.
Like every time before, when my gaze dropped to the holster, he waited for my reaction. It was an unspoken part of our ritual, and to me it always felt both like he was baring his soul and expecting rejection. The fact that he repeated it every month was part of it too, an ongoing reminder of who he really was. And every month, I reassured him wordlessly that I trusted him with so much more than just my body.
I slid between his parted thighs and made quick work of his belt and the button and zipper on his trousers. Lust shot through me as I pulled down the front of his black briefs, exposing his thick cock. I wrapped my lips around it, and when I met Leonidas’s gaze, I noticed some sort of strong emotion flickering in his eyes, but only for a moment.
He let himself relax, and he stroked my hair while I sucked him. Since he avoided the crown of my head, it told me he knew the scar was there and that I was self-conscious about it. I wasn’t going to think about that now, though.
His pleasure became my sole focus, even though my cock throbbed and demanded attention. I put everything I had into that blowjob, not only my skill but all I’d learned about his likes and dislikes over the course of a year. He could only stand being touched in certain ways, and it always had to be on his terms. I often wondered what had happened to him in the past to close him off like that, but I didn’t ask. Not only was it none of my business, I was pretty sure the answer would break my heart.
It was easy to tell when he was close to orgasm. His breathing became fast and shallow, tiny sounds of pleasure slipped from him despite his best efforts to contain them, and his hand stilled on my hair. I eased him back down slowly, since I knew he preferred to finish in me. When I let his cock slip from my lips, he tucked himself away and zipped his trousers. While he took a few moments to catch his breath, he removed his tie and the holster, unfastened the button at his throat, took off his cufflinks, and rolled back his sleeves. I knew he wouldn’t get naked. He didn’t do that.
What he did was make himself wait. I used to think it was a form of self-punishment. But after a while, I theorized that his need for control even extended to his libido.
I shifted from my knees to a seated position on the shaggy, white area rug and rested my cheek against his thigh. There was so much going on in his eyes when he met my gaze, including a vulnerability I would have bet no one but me ever saw. The fact that he allowed me glimpses of it always astonished me.
Once he’d gotten himself under control, he helped me up and guided me onto his lap. When he ran his hands down my back, a little mewl slipped from me, and I rested my hands on his broad shoulders to steady myself as I straddled his thighs. I was desperate for his touch, and I needed him to fuck me more than I needed anything else in the world right then. A month between our weekends together was far too long.
He watched me curiously as I whispered, “Please, Leonidas,” and tried to force myself not to rub my cock against his. It wasn’t that he needed me to beg. What he needed was to know I really wanted this, and him.
As he ran his big hands down my back again, he said, so quietly that it was almost a whisper, “Tell me what you need, Beck.”
“I need you to tie me up and fuck me. Please.” Saying those words out loud spiked my desire, and when he ran his thumb over one of my nipples, I whimpered.
He said something to me in Greek, something that sounded gentle and loving, and then he produced a bottle of lube from a drawer in the end table. As he broke the seal, he said, “Try to relax, psychi mou.” I had no idea what that last part meant, but I got in position quickly with my arms around his shoulders.
Leonidas slicked his finger and slid it inside me. Then he did far more than work me open. He fucked my hole and massaged my prostate while I held on to him and buried my face in his neck. My cock throbbed as pleasure and sensation pulsed through me, and by the time he slid his finger from me, I was barely coherent.
He retrieved a clean, folded washcloth from the same drawer and wiped his hands, and then he took out a pair of leather cuffs, which were lined in soft fleece. The part of my brain that was still capable of rational thought appreciated the planning that had gone into stocking that drawer.
I sat up and held my hands out to him, and he buckled the cuffs around my wrists. They’d been brand new when we’d first met, but by now they were broken in and comfortingly familiar.
Leonidas was about six-foot-three, and his body was solid muscle. Still, it always surprised me when he picked me up like I weighed nothing. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, and he carried me across the room and out onto the wrap-around balcony. When he flipped a switch, recessed lighting came on along the edge of the deck, and so did a series of patio heaters. That was a nice touch.
When we reached the front and center of the deck, he kissed me tenderly, and then he put me down and caressed my cheek as he said, “Turn to face the railing and bend over.” There was no demand in his voice, no harshness. It was a request issued by a man who had no need to bark orders, because his authority was based on trust, not fear. I rushed to comply as my cock twitched.
Leonidas got off on having sex in places where we could potentially get caught, and I found that incredibly erotic. The balcony was wide open, although the way the building was positioned on the hillside meant there wasn’t actually anyone in our line of sight. Even so, just the thought of being discovered gave me a thrill.
He took my hand and clipped the cuff to a short chain, which was already fastened to the railing. I loved the fact that he’d planned ahead. Then he stepped around me and did the same with my other wrist, so they were a bit more than shoulder’s width apart. I grinned and grasped the railing, and then I took a step back so my arms were fully extended and widened my stance.
He asked, “Are you okay in this position?” When I assured him I was, he ran his hands down my sides before crossing the balcony and opening a storage box, which was on a small table beside a lounge chair. Given how thorough he was, I didn’t need to glance over my shoulder to know what it contained.
A few moments later, he stood right behind me and worked more lube into my ass as he jerked himself off. He took his time, pleasuring me with his fingers as I moaned softly and leaked precum. Finally, he put on a condom and worked his thick cock into me, pushing forward until his hips rested against my body.
I whispered, “Yes,” as he slid in and out slowly. When I relaxed, he started fucking me in a steady rhythm, and before long, he was absolutely pounding my ass. My grip on the railing tightened as my body swayed beneath him. He grasped my hips and pulled me back to meet each thrust, and I moaned as sensation overwhelmed me.
It was perfection. I loved knowing there was nothing I could do besides surrender and let him make me feel wonderful. Even better was knowing how much he was enjoying it. He always tried to be quiet, and he always failed. The sounds he made as he surrendered to his primal side were totally gratifying to me, and the yell that tore from him when he came was the hottest thing imaginable. He slammed into me again and again until he was totally spent, and then he bent over me, gasping for breath, and wrapped his arms around my body.
I whimpered when his cock slid from my ass. It took him just a few seconds to dispose of the condom and zip up, and then he unclipped my cuffs from the railing. I straightened up and leaned back, pressing myself against him, and he wrapped an arm
around my chest as he grasped my hard-on. He jerked me off while he kissed my bare shoulder, my neck, my cheek, and then he whispered in my ear, “Come for me, Beck.”
My body obeyed him, and I cried out as I shot across the decking. I came so hard that it made my head spin and my vision blur. It felt as though my entire body was convulsing as I pushed into his fist. My hands came up and grasped the strong arm across my chest, which was the only thing keeping me upright, and a sound close to a sob slipped from me as another wave of that orgasm tore me apart.
It was so intense that by the time it was over, I was dizzy and trembling. Leonidas picked me up again and carried me inside, and then he curled up with me on the couch and draped a blanket over both of us. He held me and spoke to me reassuringly in his native language, and I clung to him and buried my face in his shoulder.
Once I’d leveled out a bit, he asked, “Are you hungry?” I looked up at him and nodded, and he kissed my forehead before saying, “I brought us some soup. It’ll just take me a few minutes to heat it up.” He shifted around and settled me onto the couch, but I stood up with the blanket wrapped around me and took his hand. Leonidas asked, “Don’t you want to rest?” When I told him I’d rather go along, he scooped me up and brought me with him, then deposited me on the long, marble counter that separated the kitchen from the living room while he prepped the meal.
Once he’d emptied a container of soup into a pan on the stovetop and placed a rustic loaf of bread in the oven to warm it up, he said, “Come on, let’s go find you something to wear.”
I hopped off the counter, and he took my hand and led me down the hall. Once I was sitting on the bed, he unbuckled my cuffs and put them on the nightstand. Then he went into the closet and found a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt among my belongings. “Those aren’t very nice,” I murmured, as he handed them to me. “I brought them for Sunday night.” He always went home Sunday evening, but I stayed over. It gave me a chance to switch gears again before returning to the ranch on Monday morning.
“They look warm and comfortable, and I think that makes them perfect.” I let the blanket slip from my shoulders, and as I got dressed, he glanced at me and noted, “You’re not your usual upbeat self tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”
“That’s not what I meant. I just need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” I said that automatically, but after a pause, I admitted, “I just…I feel like I really blew it tonight. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, or make you wait for me, or to act like a scared little kid because of a bad dream.”
“I didn’t have a problem with any of that.”
“But you deserve better.” I almost added especially for what you’re paying me, but I was too ashamed to mention the money.
“And you should cut yourself some slack.” He ran the back of his fingers down my cheek and said, “I’m sorry if I rushed things tonight.”
“You didn’t. I needed that as much as you did.” He searched my face, as if he was trying to decide if I was being sincere. I hoped he realized I was telling the truth.
After a moment, he took my hand and said, “Let’s make sure the food doesn’t burn.”
When we returned to the kitchen, he served up two bowls of soup and thick slices of bread, and we sat down to eat at a little table for two beside a picture window. He’d told me months ago that he enjoyed cooking and found it relaxing, and I loved it whenever he brought things to share with me.
The hearty tomato soup was made with white beans, herbs, and diced vegetables, and it was delicious. I thanked him for bringing it and asked what it was called, and he said, “Fasolada. It’s a staple in Greece.”
“You must miss your home country. When was the last time you visited?”
He sat up a bit and didn’t look at me as he replied, “I was brought here when I was ten and haven’t been back since.” That stirred up a bunch of questions, but I let it go, because his body language told me loud and clear that he didn’t want to talk about it.
After we finished eating, I helped him clean up before asking, “What would you like to do now?”
“It’s been an exhausting week. What I want more than anything is to curl up in bed with you.”
He retrieved a black leather overnight bag that had been left near the front door, told me he’d be right back, and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I sat on the bed and waited, but then I remembered my robe and fetched it from the living room. We both returned to the bedroom at the same time, and I held up the robe and said, “Thank you for this. It’s wonderful.”
“You’re welcome.” He gestured at the wrapped gift on the bench and said, “You didn’t open your other present.”
“I think I’d like to save it for later, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course. In fact, you should take it with you when you go back home and open it whenever you need some cheering up.”
I told him I’d do that, and then I went into the bathroom and hung the robe on a hook. After I got ready for bed, I joined him under the covers, and he turned off the lights.
We both rolled onto our sides so we were facing each other. He’d changed into his usual sleeping clothes, which consisted of a V-neck T-shirt and cotton lounging pants, both in black. His arm was on top of the duvet, and the edge of a large tattoo was partially exposed by the short sleeve.
I started to reach for it in the semi-darkness. When I stopped myself, he caught my hand and moved it to his bicep. I traced the edge of the tattoo with my fingertip, and after a while, I met his gaze and asked, “Do you think it’d be alright if I called you Lee?”
He considered that for a few moments before saying, “If you want to, then sure. No one ever called me that before.”
“That’s what I was hoping. Leo is the more obvious nickname, but I like the idea of having a name for you that’s mine alone.” He drew me into his arms, and I settled in comfortably with my head on his chest. After a while, I said, “I’m sorry I lied to you at first. About my name, I mean.”
A lot of time had passed, but it still bothered me. When he’d initially contacted me through the website for my escort service, I’d told him my name was Connor. I maintained the lie for four months, even after we started our weekends together. That was the name I’d used for all my clients, but eventually, I told him the truth. I didn’t like hearing the lie repeated back to me over and over. More importantly, I didn’t want to be Connor with him. I wanted to be myself.
“You were just protecting yourself. I hope you’re as careful with your other clients.”
“There are no other clients,” I admitted quietly. “There are no dates, boyfriends, or hookups, either. There’s only you. That’s been true for a year, ever since we started these weekends together.” I really didn’t expect him to believe me, even though it was the truth.
He kissed my forehead, and I snuggled against him. The warmth of his body and the security of his arms around me were wonderfully reassuring. It always took me a long time to fall asleep, and after he dozed off, I kissed his jaw and burrowed deeper into his embrace.
Things were shifting between us. There’d been a subtle change over the past few months, as bit by bit, he started letting me in. Tonight, it had been more noticeable than ever.
Maybe it was just because of the apartment. Being on his own turf instead of in a hotel might explain why he seemed so much more relaxed and open. Hell, maybe it even had something to do with the nightmare. Maybe seeing how desperately I needed him to take care of me had knocked down some of his walls.
Whatever the cause, it was almost impossible not to get my hopes up.
I’d been dreaming about starting a relationship with Leonidas for months. I knew I should be leery about the part of his life that necessitated carrying a gun, but it didn’t change the fact that I’d developed real feelings for him. No matter what he was, no matter what happened outside of our weekends together, I wanted him
more than anything.
At the same time, I knew I was setting myself up to be devastated, and I really should have known better. I’d been disappointed in countless ways by so many people over the course of my life, and I was sure this wasn’t going to go the way I hoped it would. I was his dirty little secret. His whore. People like me didn’t get the happily ever after. We just got our hearts broken.
3
The next morning, I awoke to the sound of Lee rattling around in the kitchen. I spent some time in the bathroom getting cleaned up and put on a sexy, black jock strap, but then I felt like I was being too obvious and added my new robe.
He smiled at me when I joined him in the kitchen. “I’m attempting Hollandaise sauce,” he explained, as he vigorously whisked something on the stove. “It really wants to separate on me, but I’m determined not to let it.”
The kitchen counter was covered with food, including homemade English muffins, and I said, as I poured myself a cup of coffee, “You’ve been very ambitious.”
“I decided to treat today like a holiday, and that’s going to include a lot of good food.” It was rare to see him so cheerful.
“Is it a special occasion?”
He shrugged and tried to play it off as he said, “It’s my birthday.”
“How wonderful! Happy birthday!”
“It’s not a big deal. But since I knew you and I would be spending it together, I decided to celebrate for once.”
“You don’t normally celebrate your birthday?” He shook his head, and I came up to him and kissed his cheek. “Well, that changes today. Can I ask how old you are?” It was impossible to guess, mostly because he was always so serious, which tended to age him.
“I’m thirty-four. I just realized I’ve never asked your age.”
“I’m twenty-six, which is one of those neither here nor there ages.”
“I suppose the same could be said for mine.”