by Lane Hayes
“I want to be inside you,” he whispered and kissed my thumb sweetly.
I gulped. Oh. Wow.
We stared at each other in a heated standoff. I had the oddest sensation my world was shrinking around me. Nothing and no one existed beyond this moment. It was empowering in a way I couldn’t begin to explain.
“You want me?” I asked as I propped my arms over his shoulders and fell backward on the sofa, pulling him along so he covered me completely. God, he felt perfect. Heavy but safe. Like unexpected shelter in a storm.
Adam lifted himself onto his elbows and stared into my eyes. Then he shifted his weight and thrust his denim-clad crotch against me. I grunted and widened my thighs to give him more room. It was almost laughable that he felt the need to ask for anything when it was pretty fucking obvious I was a lush bent on making questionable choices. I hooked my legs over his ass and pumped my hips upward. He growled, then crashed his mouth over mine, and met me thrust for thrust.
“Adam, say it,” I hummed in his ear.
He licked my earlobe, then bit it before whispering, “I want to fuck you.”
Holy shit.
I nodded vehemently. “Do you know how to—I mean, you’re—I haven’t done this in a while.”
Adam stood to quickly yank his T-shirt over his head. I gulped audibly at the sight of his toned abs and biceps. The man was a fucking god. My mouth watered at the hint of V-line when he hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and lowered his Levi’s and briefs to finally expose himself to me. I let out a decidedly undignified whimper and licked my lips, then sat up and stared shamelessly at his impressive erection.
He was big, long and thick, and fuck, I wanted him. I’d happily take whatever he’d give, but I selfishly wanted it all. I glanced up when I realized he was talking.
“I know what I’m doing. I’ll be gentle.” He reached for his discarded jeans and then, with a pirate’s smile, held up a condom and a packet of lube.
I supposed that was my cue to ask how the fuck a straight man knew anything about gay sex. But curiosity didn’t stand a chance against the tsunami of lust. The responsible version of me might insist on an in-depth conversation before we went any further, but not this me. I was buzzed and horny as hell. Bad decisions were my evil specialty.
He tossed the supplies on the coffee table and looked down, let his gaze travel over my body, and lingered at my hand on my dick. His nostrils flared appreciatively as he moved toward me, cupping his balls with one hand while holding his thick member at the base with the other. The gesture was nasty, provocative, and sexy as hell, but I doubted it was calculated. Adam wasn’t the kind of guy to pose or tease. His brand of sensuality was innate, which potentially made him more dangerous.
I glanced up at him before tentatively running my thumb over his slit. His deep sigh was all the encouragement I needed. I held him firmly and twisted my wrist to stroke him with my right hand while I jacked myself with my left. Adam let out a loud groan, then threw his head back. I tightened my grip and leaned forward to lick at the precum gathering on the wide mushroom head.
“Fuck!”
I looked up again when he set his hands on my head, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. One taste and I was hooked. I lapped up the clear fluid and sucked on the tip of his dick, then opened my mouth wide to swallow him whole. Adam cried out and set a hand on my shoulder to steady himself as I licked him up one side and down the other, fondled his balls, then sucked them one at a time before starting over again. He made a strangled sound and pushed my forehead until I released him.
He gave me a searching look before climbing over me and grinding his hard-on against mine over and over in a delicious tease. When he moved lower, his cock nudged my entrance and I swear I saw stars. He gasped with pleasure, but he couldn’t seem to stop. I pushed at his shoulder and then pointed meaningfully at the condom.
Adam bit my lip, then sat up to obey. The sound of a package opening had a Pavlovian effect. I stroked myself while he slid the latex on and lubed up. He settled between my thighs and gave me an uncertain look. It was mildly unsettling considering what we’d done already, but I figured his hesitation was rooted in nerves rather than regret. At least I hoped so, because the idea of putting on the brakes now was almost painful.
“Are you okay?” I made myself ask.
“Yes. I just hope I can go slow. I want… too much,” he choked.
Fuck, I knew the feeling. I wanted everything at once. His hand on my dick, his fingers in my ass. I pursed my lips and nodded.
“Keep your eyes on mine, okay? You’ll know when I’m ready,” I instructed as I licked my middle finger.
Then I pulled my knee to my chest to give myself room to work. I hadn’t done this in a long time. I was going to be tight and—
“Let me,” Adam commanded in a hoarse tone as he set a lube-coated digit next to mine.
He waited for my nod of approval and then pushed inside. I whimpered when our fingers breached my entrance together. It was uncomfortable but bearable. He smiled weakly when I inclined my head. Then he let out a ragged breath before pushing farther inside. Adam stroked my dick with his left hand while he stretched me, twisting and probing, until the sting of discomfort receded and pleasure began to build. I removed my finger and placed my hand over his.
“No more. I want—oh fuck!”
I bucked my hips off the sofa when he bent to lick me while he worked a second digit inside me and rested the tip of a third at my entrance. The onslaught of sensation brought me precariously close to overload. I yanked at his hair as I flung my feet over his shoulders. Then I tilted my hips to meet his talented mouth, until he let go of me with a popping sound. He knelt back to reach for lube and poured some onto his hand before massaging my hole like a freaking expert. Then he set his rigid cock at my entrance and pushed.
I froze, wincing at the first twinge of pain. I tried to back away, but he stilled me with sweet nothings as he tenderly swept his hand across my cheek. He didn’t push. He didn’t move. He stared into my eyes and caressed me sweetly. My brow, my ears, my neck. I felt myself slowly begin to relax and melt under his touch. He held me like I was something fragile he didn’t want to crush. It was very at odds with the tension visible in his muscular arms as he held himself over me.
“You good now?” he asked in a low, raspy tone.
I rolled my hips, tentatively testing my body’s readiness. A wave of pleasure chased away the lingering pain. I knew it would only get better when he moved. “Yes. Just… go slow.”
Adam inclined his head, then carefully pushed forward. A slow and gentle push and pull. At first I appreciated his restraint, but I knew I’d miss all the best parts if I didn’t encourage him to let go. I lifted my ass off the sofa and dug my heels into his back. Our skin made a slapping sound as I thrust upward to ride his shaft.
“Whoa. Relax. I—”
“No. I changed my mind. I’m ready and I want everything. Fuck me. Do it!”
He opened his mouth and closed it comically before picking up the pace with steady, even strokes. It didn’t take long ’til I was ready for more. I raked my nails over his back and smacked his ass hard. Adam paused. Then he let out a feral-sounding growl as he drove into me with enough force to make the sofa move. I gasped and held on. Then I captured his head in my hands and bit his bottom lip. Hard. His immediate frown morphed into a grin. Message received.
Adam let go. There was nothing moderate, controlled, or tentative about him now. Every thrust was primal. It was about a connection driven by a carnal quest to the ultimate finish. We sucked on each other’s tongues, licked at lips, and scratched and clawed like animals.
I couldn’t remember ever surrendering to a moment like this. Maybe I did with music, but not with a lover. This part of me wasn’t free. I’d made a point of maintaining control in every facet of my private life. I didn’t give myself away easily. And unfortunately sometimes that included sex. Tonight I’d given the reins to someone else. Someon
e I trusted with my life. Sure there was alcohol involved and probably a slew of regret coming my way, but in this moment, it was sublime.
He molded his sweat-slicked chest against me and glided his tongue over mine. Then he reached between us to stroke me. His balls smacked my ass as he pistoned his hips. When his rhythm faltered, I pushed his hand away to take over. Adam grunted his approval and then held me still as he bucked furiously, hitting my sweet spot at each frenetic pass.
White light clouded my vision as a powerful orgasm hit me like a gale-force wind. I shook uncontrollably and tried to rise to the surface, only to be pulled under when Adam came right behind me. He roared and slammed himself into me as he clutched my shoulders for support. His tremors reverberated through me, making it hard to tell where one of us ended and the other began.
A beautiful quiet descended. It chased away doubt and didn’t allow for any questions like “what the hell did we just do?” I closed my eyes when Adam gently pulled away. I think he spoke, but I couldn’t hear him above my racing heart. I listened as he moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I envisioned him standing naked in the refrigerator light, drinking orange juice from the container.
I wished I could find my voice. I might have cracked a joke to ease any oncoming strain. Instead I concentrated on familiar sounds: running water, ice cubes hitting a glass, and finally his footsteps coming toward me. I looked up when he tossed a warm cloth on my stomach. He set a carton of juice and a glass of water on the coffee table before turning back to swipe at the mess of sweat and cum on my chest. Then he grabbed the red throw lying over the nearby chair and gently covered me.
“You okay?” he asked in a light tone.
He seemed content. Maybe even happy. There was no trace of regret or recrimination in his gaze, which was a relief. And a puzzle.
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yeah. We should probably talk.”
My smile faltered as I shook my head. “We will. Later. Here… come lie down next to me.”
When Adam didn’t respond, I braced myself for rejection or an argument. I closed my eyes, half expecting him to leave. But he didn’t. He lay next to me and gathered me in his arms before adjusting the blanket to cover us. I snuggled against him and sighed happily.
We must have fallen asleep. I had a hazy memory of Adam mumbling, but I was too tired to move and vaguely aware it might not be a good idea anyway. I wasn’t ready to lose the mystery. It could wait.
OF COURSE, when it came, I wasn’t ready at all. My brain pounded relentlessly against my skull in an offbeat tattoo that made me feel instantly nauseous. I squeezed my eyes shut and shifted carefully onto my side, but I didn’t get anywhere. Something was in the way. It was too hard to be a pillow. I groaned and tried again, pushing at the warm, impenetrable wall next to me to no avail. That was weird. Weirder still was when the wall spoke. Or grunted. My eyes flew open.
Oh no, oh no. Please don’t let me find—holy fuck!
I turned my head cautiously and locked eyes with an equally freaked-out Adam.
“Argh!” we screamed in unison.
This time when I shoved at Adam’s shoulder, he fell off the sofa in a heap and hit his head on the coffee table. I scrambled to cover myself with the red blanket and sit up. He grabbed at the corner in a last-ditch effort to hide his impressive morning wood.
“I’m… naked. Give me the blanket,” he croaked.
“I’m naked too, and it’s my blanket. Find your own.”
“What did we—”
“You don’t know?” I asked incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. I mean, I know, but I—” Adam raked his hands through his hair and bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’m sor—”
“Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry!” I hissed.
“I’m not. I wasn’t… I—”
My heart was beating like a jackhammer in time with my throbbing head. I couldn’t do this now. I wanted to be sick. Not only from the memory of last night or the fact that my lover looked like he was hoping he’d wake from his nightmare any second… but because I’d consumed a rock star amount of alcohol… with a cookie. I was fucking wrecked. And his erect penis a mere foot away from my face was not helping matters.
“You’re still naked and I’m… really hungover. I… bed….”
I pointed in the direction of my bedroom and then gingerly stood. I made sure to gather the blanket around me securely before shuffling toward my room. I didn’t run or panic and I didn’t look back. I maturely waited until the door was closed behind me to cover my mouth and let out a silent scream.
What the fuck had I done?
When I resurfaced a few hours later, Adam was gone.
Chapter 4
AT FIRST I assumed he’d left for the gym. But when I headed into the studio around noon, he still hadn’t returned. He wasn’t around that evening. Or the next day or night either. I figured his well-timed absence meant he needed space. Or he needed to pretend nothing had happened. I was annoyed but relieved at the same time. The combination was troubling. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I had the come-to-Jesus conversation mapped out in my head. I’d tell him not to worry. We could pretend it never happened. And I’d promise never to say a word to anyone.
Of course, a few minutes later, all I could think about was how fucking amazing he felt moving inside me. For a guy who’d cautiously kept lovers at arm’s length, I was suddenly consumed with the best sex I’d had in years. It was probably no mistake it was also tied to the worst idea I’d ever had. I had so many questions, though I wasn’t sure how I felt about the possible answers. There was no way to forget what we’d done. And knowing Adam was sleeping in the next room was beginning to wear on me.
He left his red Converse lying around or the occasional glass of water sitting on a coaster on the coffee table—reminders he hadn’t gone anywhere yet. It was making me crazy. The sight of those damn shoes sent my pulse skittering with excitement. Then I’d wonder if he’d invited a girl over to remind both of us he was straight. I listened for the sound of a female voice or any indication he felt the need to reset expectations and prove that night was a product of a whiskey-induced spell. But there was only silence. I’d been looking forward to reclaiming my own space after months on the road, but the quiet was no longer satisfying. In fact it freaked me out.
Thank God for Spiral.
SWEAT DRIPPED from my brow as my guitar screamed beneath my fingers. It cried plaintively in a fitting accompaniment to Rand’s soulful voice as we moved in easy harmony onstage. Everyday life unraveled at varying degrees of speed and voracity, ensuring no one saw anything the same way. The aura of desperation in the human condition could be debilitating. We had multiple ways to communicate in the modern age, but so much was language based. And when mere words failed, I was grateful for music.
Rand sang with a passion and fiery intensity that sometimes made lyrics superfluous. Not that it mattered. The audience knew every word to every song. They sang along, some playing phantom drums or air guitar, while he danced, strutted, or gyrated to a suggestive beat. Our fans loved Rand. But they loved me too.
I might not wear wigs, makeup, or heels anymore, but Benny made sure I stood out in wacky print pants and blousy tops, and that I never wore the same thing twice. I was usually featured alongside Rand in the media because I was as “eye-catching” as he was, though in a completely different way.
Initially I credited my confidence onstage to the cosmetics hiding my identity, but the truth was in the music. There was something soul stirring about a well-played guitar. The audience was in tune with their emotions through the strings under my fingers. I was a catalyst for a connection that didn’t require speech.
When I lost myself to the art of bending notes, I became someone closer to the real me. The me who didn’t shy away from the demons of my youth, or the joys and frustrations of my life now. Emotions played themselves out in song. Good, bad, and everythi
ng in between was on very public display. Unlike in real life, onstage I was in complete control. Tim and Cory set perfect rhythm on drums and bass behind us while Rand sang in his signature raspy, soulful style. And me? I let my guitar sing, scream, and cry with frustration and joy. And on nights like tonight, when every piece came together, the results were awe-inspiring.
The lights bathed us in an eerie purplish glow while thousands cheered and catcalled from the audience. Throughout the floor, the mezzanine, and up to the nosebleed seats, illumination from cell phones flickered like moonlight glittering across an undulating sea. No matter how many times we played to sold-out crowds like this, the magical vibe didn’t fade. Hell, we were magic.
Rand set a hand on my shoulder as the familiar notes of the final song reverberated through my body. He chuckled into the microphone when his fingers got stuck in the folds of my shirt.
“We may need a volunteer to get Isaac out of this thing. Any takers?” he asked the screaming throng of concertgoers.
I strummed a warning sound on my strings, then backed away from him, wielding my guitar like a weapon. He gave me a devilish sideways glance and lunged for me and wrapped his arm around my waist. I kept my head down as though I needed full concentration to work the complicated fretwork on my impromptu song. Then I nodded to the crowd and turned to lick Rand’s cheek in retaliation. It was gross, but it was something he was known for doing to all of us. The audience went nuts. They cheered wildly at our antics and chanted my name. I gave them a Cheshire cat grin and moved offstage with my guitar slung over my shoulder. I could still hear them as I walked behind Tim and Cory down the wide corridor.
“That was fucking hysterical,” Tim said with a laugh as we made our way farther backstage. “Payback is gonna suck, though.”
“It was worth it,” I assured him.