by M. A. Innes
Something about my expression must have gotten to Randall because he shook his head. “They’re not mean, and they don’t have an issue with me being gay. My mother even tried to fix me up with one of their friends’ kids last year.”
Was that how he got roped into a degree he didn’t really want? Trying to please his parents?
“That’s good. Mine were a little surprised when I came out in high school but didn’t really care.” They’d taken it in stride, and recently I’d started getting the “When are you going to bring home a nice man?” lectures. They didn’t know about everything else. They were open and understanding, but there were some things you shouldn’t share with family.
Spankings and BDSM were high on that list.
As we ordered and ate, the conversation bounced around to easier topics: movies he’d seen recently, plans for the winter holidays that would be coming up in a few months, he even talked about wanting to get an apartment, and shared that his mother was dead set against it. She seemed like a founding member of the helicopter parent brigade, that was never told she lost her rank when he went to college. I started to feel more grateful to my parents with every story he told.
By the time we finished dinner, we were both full, and he was relaxed and smiling. The tension and worry from earlier was gone, and I was starting to see the real Randall come through. The confident side of him that reminded me of the flirty twink I’d met at the bar, just without the sexy blushes and dirty old men egging him on.
“And then the professor came up behind him and slammed the book closed beside his head. The guy just about fell out of his chair. I know the ancient Asian history classes can be hard, but the professor does that to everyone who falls asleep in his class. We’ve all had at least three classes with the guy, so I just can’t understand how people are still stupid enough to nod off in there.” Randall’s eyes were dancing with laughter. He was relaxed back in his seat and playing with the straw in his nearly empty milkshake.
“Maybe it was a late night at the strip club.” I said it dryly, and Randall started to laugh.
“We’re not really the party crowd. I’m not sure I can picture him with strippers.”
“Who said he was watching? A lot of people strip through college to pay for tuition.” I loved the way Randall’s eyes would bug out of his head when I said something the least bit outrageous.
“He wouldn’t...” He couldn’t seem to move past the visual in his head. His gaze went foggy, and I could see the idea swirling around.
Was he thinking of the guy? Or picturing himself?
It could go either way, but my little exhibitionist was probably imagining himself up on that stage, pole in hand. “I could see you doing that.”
His hand knocked his cup, almost sending the last dregs of his milkshake all over the table. “What?”
It came out loud enough and high-pitched enough that several people turned to make sure he was okay. His stunned expression clearly had them curious, but I thought his blush gave away the naughty thoughts running through his head.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never imagined it. Up on the stage...everyone watching you...You’d look incredible.” He couldn’t seem to decide if I was teasing or not. But I was completely serious. It was so easy to picture him turning and writhing, that sexy ass framed by a jock that would barely cover his cock. His hard, aching cock.
“I...but...I...” One moment he was laughing and telling me stories about class, and the next, I’d fried his brain. He was so cute when he was turned on and startled.
It was so hard to remember I was supposed to be just getting to know him. Learning what turned him on was still knowledge. Yeah, I was gonna to go with that.
Randall shifted in his seat, probably trying to subtly adjust his growing erection, and seemed to be finally collecting his brain from where it had scattered all over the table. “But I couldn’t...No...that would...”
Couldn’t...not wouldn’t. That was interesting.
“You don’t have to if you don’t find it interesting, but I think you would be incredible.” He was clearly conflicted about the idea. His pupils were wide and his tongue kept flicking out to lick his lips, but it was impossible to miss the storm of emotion running through him. Doubt seemed to war with desire, and I was afraid the doubt would win.
“But wanting something like that...only people who...I just...” His thoughts came out rambling and broken, but it was easy to read between the lines.
I let my voice drop low, and I reached out to take his hand. It was shaky, and I could feel the tension in his body. “Wanting something like that isn’t wrong and doesn’t make you a bad person. You like to be watched. And the idea of having all those men leering at you and calling out dirty things makes you so hot you can’t think. I find that incredibly erotic.”
His brows came together, and his hand tightened in mine. “But wouldn’t you...all those men...”
“Get jealous?” He nodded reluctantly, but I was glad he was able to ask me his questions. “No, because I would know you were coming home with me and that you were my boy. I’d tell you what you could do, and I’d pick out what you would wear...I’d make you practice just for me...”
Randall’s eyes widened again, and his mouth dropped open, but he leaned toward me and I could tell how aroused he was getting, so I kept going. Bad Dom...Bad. “One night I’d spank you, make that fabulous ass nice and red, then send you up on stage. Everyone would know you’d been punished, but they would see how hard it made you, and would know you were my little slut.”
For a moment, I thought I’d gone too far. He just sat there looking at me, shock and desire flashing through his eyes.
One word came out, breathy and filled with need. “Yes.”
My dirty angel.
Chapter 8
Randall
I wasn’t sure how I’d gone from heaven to hell so quickly. Not that sitting in a public restaurant listening to Hudson’s fabulously dirty imagination should probably be considered heaven, but it was to me. The insane things that had come out of his mouth had seemed so incredible...so possible. It was like he could see me up on that stage, and the idea didn’t horrify him or send him running. He’d just found ways to make it even hotter.
How had he known?
I would never actually do something like that. My parents would’ve locked me up and then thrown away the key, but the fantasy was perfect and tempting. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew real life wouldn’t work the same way my fantasies did. But the fantasies were enough to make me wake up drenched in sweat and precum.
It was like he could see right inside me.
That should have scared the hell out of me, but for some reason, it just made me feel safe. If he could peek inside and wouldn’t run, then it should be safe to actually share things with him...right?
“Rand? Are you paying attention?” The voice was too cultured to be shrill, but it came close.
“I’m sorry, Mother. My mind wandered.” Too much sex on the brain. “You know how school is.”
Hell should have been a burning inferno where the damned were punished. Not my mother’s overly fussy dining room. The long, smooth table was stunning, but the layers of silverware and linens seemed to be designed to hide the simple beauty of the wood.
Nothing could be simple in her home.
“We do not require your presence very often. I’m sure you can drag yourself from your studies for a few minutes.” My father looked up from the papers and files that crowded around his place setting. He always said studies like it was a disease. I still wasn’t sure if he realized how he said it or not, but I’d long since given up caring.
Mostly.
“Becoming a doctor is hard work. It doesn’t matter what kind.” My mother had a different approach to my education. Any kind of a doctor would be good for the family tree, so she was going to embrace it and tell everyone how hard I worked, and what a good professor I would be.
I think she pictured me
having tenure at Harvard, teaching something obscure, but I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Hudson’s stripper idea was starting to sound more like a lucrative business plan every minute. “Thank you, Mother. I apologize for my mental wandering.”
“That’s alright, dear.” Her pinched expression smoothed out to something more closely resembling maternal affection, but it was gone too soon. “I was just telling you about a lovely gentleman I met at the planning committee for the hospital charity ball.”
Shit.
“How did the meeting go? Is it better run this time? I remember last year you had problems with some of the newer members not stepping up to their responsibilities.” I was hoping it would be enough to distract her. She’d had a fit last year when some of the younger wives with new money kept trying to change things.
No such luck.
“It’s going fine.” That lie rolled off her tongue, but the flash of frustration in her eyes gave her away. “But Dr. Richards is a pediatrician who works in the neonatal unit. He’s very nice and was a wonderful conversationalist. He had some very good ideas for the party.”
That probably translated to, “He let me talk about myself for hours and didn’t argue with me about how I said things should be run.”
Great.
“I’m glad you found new members who have the same vision you do for the foundation.”
There was no dragging her away from the doctor. I could see the stubbornness setting in. “He’s new to the area. He was working in California up until recently. He said he wanted to be closer to his family.”
He was sounding less and less like a good catch—and that’s where the conversation was heading.
We’d started going through this routine a little over a year ago. There seemed to have been some arbitrary deadline for picking out a partner that I’d missed, and she was making it her duty to find me someone. Preferably a man who was wealthy, boring, and in the same social circle she ran in.
Doctor and Doctor Whoever would be right up her alley.
Any man who worked with kids all day, got along with my mother, and wanted to live closer to his was probably a serial killer. They’d find my dead body buried in a shallow grave on the side of the interstate.
Someone kill me now.
“I’m sure his family appreciates it.” Taking another bit of my too-tiny slice of quiche, I let my mind wander back to the cheeseburger from the night before. Bacon, and cheese, and fries, and words so hot they should have been in an X-rated movie.
That had been perfect.
A small piece of overcooked eggs and fruit that was almost too ripe wasn’t anywhere close to perfect. My mother must have argued with the cook again. Mrs. Middleton was the only person in the world who wasn’t intimated by my mother. She’d had enough offers to work for other families that unless my mother wanted to actually lose her, and my father would put his foot down there, she had to behave and stay out of the kitchen.
Given the sad state of the meal, they’d argued about Mother going on a diet again.
Mother was tiny and delicate-looking, and where I got my metabolism from, so she had to be constantly starving. But there was always something she was looking to change or some fad diet that looked interesting. It made Mrs. Middleton insane.
“He’s going to be at the party next week, and I’ll introduce you.” She gave me a smile that looked surprisingly happy. “He seems very interested in meeting you. He said young men of good breeding are hard to find these days.”
Fuck.
How old was the guy?
I was going to be sold off like a bride from one of those old stories, just so she could look better to her friends. Yes, her son was gay, but he was married to a doctor, so that made everything better. What the hell had she told him about me?
Good breeding?
What was I, a fucking horse?
Of course, none of that came out. I was a rebel in my head, though, so that had to count for something. “I’m sure there are lots of other men in the area for him to get to know. California may have had a bigger dating pool, but there are a variety of places he can meet people here.”
Hopefully, someone who wasn’t me.
I was kind of taken.
Probably taken.
That whole you’re mine thing and actually taking me out in public on a real date seemed to point to me being taken. And then there was the domination part with me calling him Master...yup...probably taken. I just wasn’t going to tell my mother that.
“I’m sure you’ll find him enjoyable.” She smiled over at my father, who wasn’t listening. “I have good taste.”
Fuck.
If he was anything like my dad, I was totally screwed. Stuffy, boring, convinced he was right, and so vanilla he’d probably never heard of anything remotely fun. Spankings? No. Letting me flirt and tease? Hell, no. I could picture my future now. Missionary sex once a week while I laid there and tried to be aroused just the right amount.
Too excited—I’m a slut. Too quiet—I’m a cold fish.
It would be art museums and Sunday brunches with the right kind of people forever.
Even in my head I sounded whiny. I just couldn’t help it. There were a few people my parents knew that I actually enjoyed talking to and weren’t painful to be around, but for the most part, I simply tolerated their acquaintances.
It’d been that way for years. For a long time, I’d been able to avoid it, but now that she thought I was finally an adult, or whatever was going through her head, she was starting to drag me to more of her events and get-togethers.
A few months ago, the last time I was cornered, I’d had to have dinner with some of their friends, and one of the daughters of a business associate of Dad’s tried to keep flirting with me. She knew I was gay, but it was some kind of let’s see if we can make him straight game or just her way of passing the time. Either way, I’d been miserable and there had been no way to escape.
This time would be even worse, I just knew it.
“I’m sure he’ll have a wonderful time meeting more people. You know so many locals that he would probably enjoy being introduced to.” She knew everyone who was anyone. It was tiresome.
I wasn’t the only gay son mixed in with their friends. Maybe I could find someone else to get to know him. Someone who was actually boring, and not just really good at pretending to fit in.
She shook her head. “There is only one person I’m interested in introducing him to. He’ll be snatched up before long if you drag your feet. When a man starts looking to get serious, it’s obvious, and you have to catch his attention right then.”
I was their sacrificial virgin daughter. Just one with a dick.
“I still have too much hard work to get serious now. My doctorate program is going to be very intense. I’m not sure it’s fair to someone to get involved and then put them on the back burner.” Like Dad had done to her for years.
I had to keep reminding myself that she seemed happy, and that it wasn’t my marriage. Thank god.
“I’m sure he would understand. He had his own studies that took up an enormous amount of time. I’m sure he wouldn’t begrudge yours.” She was determined and knew she was right. It was too bad she was completely insane.
“I’ll certainly be polite when you introduce us, but Mother, I’m not promising to date the man.” It was as close as I was going to get to telling her no, and I could see the frustration starting to well up in her.
“We’ll see. I’m sure he’ll find you delightful,” was all she said. Like that was the only thing that mattered.
My father chose that moment to chime in. Evidently, either his paperwork was done, or not as interesting as watching his son being sold off. “Men in his position have a difficult time finding a...partner who belongs in our social circles. He can’t bring home some young punk he met at a club. Those...people are not the sort you marry.”
And evidently, I was boring enough that I was the marrying type. Great.
&n
bsp; ****
Hiding in my dorm room, wrapped in my covers with the TV on, I finally felt like I could relax. They didn’t make me go home often, thank god, but when they did, it seemed to take everything out of me. On those days, studying didn’t get done, and I avoided the real world as much as possible for the rest of the day.
My recuperative obsession of choice for that terrible day was bad fast food that was rapidly getting colder and a marathon on the History Channel about the worst serial killers in history. Not the healthiest combination, but it was perfect for distracting my brain from everything else that was bubbling inside. Besides, there weren’t any Law and Order marathons on.
When my phone buzzed halfway through the show, I frowned and silently cursed the fact that it was on my dresser. It seemed very far away. If it was someone from school or my family, I wasn’t going to even think about answering the phone, but the idea that it might be Hudson was too tempting.
Pushing away the half-eaten burger, I crawled out of my covers and went over to see who was calling. Hudson. The sigh of relief that escaped me was probably ridiculous, but he was the only person I wanted to talk to, and just seeing his name on my phone made me feel better.
I was totally insane and rapidly going head over heels for him, but I couldn’t help it.
“Hello?” I may have sounded a little bit desperate.
“Lunch didn’t go well?” His voice was soothing and warm. There wasn’t the usual trace of naughty teasing that made me squirm, but the concern and tenderness made me feel special.
I sighed and walked back over to the bed, pushing away the wrappers so I could curl up again. “No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” It honestly felt like he would actually listen.
“Not really. You talk to me.” The offer was sweet, but describing my family would sound like the poor little rich kid whining. The few times I’d tried to vent to people, it hadn’t gone well. Money meant happiness, and when you had money you were supposed to ignore the crazy.