“This is why I normally stick to professionals.”
Hop looked at his profile—long, aristocratic nose, sharp square jaw, a tan that never seemed to fade and thick eyebrows. He was far too handsome for his own good. There was no way he had trouble picking up dates.
Rafe must have sensed the inspection because he glanced over with a self-deprecating smirk. “Professional submissives, I pay for the honor of controlling them for a time. It’s safe and confidential.”
“Oh.” He could see how the confidential part would be important to a man like Rafe. Still, his imagination conjured a stereotypical image of a dungeon with Rafe wearing leather and standing over a small girl bound and gagged. It just didn’t fit Rafe at all. It was so wrong it was almost comical.
“Our history and the emotions that go with them would be something we’d have to navigate even if we were just working together.” Rafe shrugged.
“I guess.” The conversation he’d had with his mother the night before came back to him. For so long, he’d felt broken, a strange child without a father who was wrong in every way, but last night with Rafe he’d felt whole for the first time in his life.
He hadn’t felt lost.
He hadn’t felt alone.
More than anything, he wanted to feel that way again, but this was Rafe Marson. Could Hop really trust him?
Could he give Rafe this gift and survive?
Before the universe gave him an answer, they arrived at the shop. Rafe pulled over but didn’t shut off the engine.
“Thanks for the ride.” Hop was already halfway out the door.
Rafe handed him the coffee. “I know you haven’t touched yourself.”
“So?”
“Come home with me tonight. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“Don’t make promises.”
“Just, think about it. After your show, come up to my office. I’ll be waiting.”
Like there was any possibility Hop would be able to think about anything else for the rest of the day. He shut the car door and heard the rumble of the engine as he trudged through the snow into the shop. It didn’t matter how insane it was, how certain the loss, because the lure was too strong.
He’d just have to lock his stupid dreams away, cage his wounded heart, and enjoy the freedom of being at Rafe’s feet.
Chapter Twenty-One
The clock mocked him.
Rafe glared at the minute hand as it snapped into place, marking the passing of another hour with a hollow reverberation. He’d been more than patient and now it was well after midnight. The Sassy Boyz’ last performance ended long ago. Maybe it was time to come to terms with reality.
Hop wasn’t coming.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose to dissuade the budding headache. Fuck, he’d been so sure. The desire in Hop’s eyes that morning had been obvious; he hadn’t been wrong about that. There’d been no doubt in his mind Hop would show up.
Now he felt like a fool.
How could he have been so wrong? It pricked his ego. The temptation to use his position to get what he wanted just like his mentor had taught him was strong—but he wasn’t that guy.
He would never be that guy.
Being the good guy in a bad world was hard fucking work, especially in circles where money counted more than integrity. Rafe brushed his five o’clock shadow with his knuckles as the dangerous urge passed.
He’d made his position clear. If Hop didn’t want to jump into the deep end, Rafe couldn’t really blame him. It stung, sure, but he told himself it was just a pinprick compared to what might’ve been.
He should feel grateful. Hop had likely saved them both a lot of trouble.
He kept telling himself that as he cleaned up his desk, shut down his computer, and locked his office door. It was the song he sang as he made his way out of the club, waving a tired hand at Mark near the bar. It was the background noise to the crunching of snow beneath his feet and the splatter of slush as traffic drove past. It was the ringing in his ears as he turned the corner into the parking lot.
It was the warning siren he ignored as he found Hop leaning against the car door.
Rafe exhaled in a gush. Stupid relief turned his limbs to jelly.
Hop looked up. “What the hell took you so long? I probably got fucking frostbite from waiting in this cold.”
The laugh broke from him in a single, belly-deep chuckle. Jesus. He was absurdly pleased. It probably should have set off alarm bells. His smile was so wide it stretched his cheeks. He unlocked the car with a press of a button on his keychain.
“Why did you wait out here? I told you to come to my office.”
Hop hugged himself tighter and studied the brick wall of the building nearby, its graffiti stark in the glow of a street lamp. “Yeah, well, I was gonna to go home.”
Rafe shoved his briefcase into the backseat. “But?” he asked. There was something in Hop’s voice that made Rafe want to dig deeper until he uncovered all his secrets.
Hop threw his hands in the air. “My willpower is shit.”
“So you froze to death out here to spite yourself?” Now that his hands were empty, Rafe rubbed Hop’s shoulders briskly to warm him. The need to touch him was too strong to deny.
“Well, I didn’t expect to be waiting for fucking three hours. Thanks, by the way.”
Rafe chuckled indulgently. “How was I supposed to know you were out here? I thought you’d stood me up.”
Hop flicked a quick glance at him, then away again just as fast. “I wanted to, but I... I couldn’t.”
Another flood of satisfaction suffused all the cracks in Rafe’s pride and crystallized until he was once again the self-assured man he’d been this morning.
“Come on, let’s get you defrosted.” He guided Hop around the car and opened the door for him.
As Rafe slid into the driver’s seat Hop said, “I have rules this time.”
“Lay them on me.” He started the car and backed out.
“No bruises. No marks of any kind that can’t be washed off.”
Rafe gripped the steering wheel hard. “Did I hurt you?”
Hop’s silence spoke volumes, but then he said, “Not in the way you’re thinking.” So quietly, Rafe thought maybe he’d imagined it.
A thousand and one scenarios flashed like black-and-white snapshots, all of them disturbingly erotic because in each and every one his marks glowed on Hop’s pale skin like a brand.
The tension stretched out between them for blocks, the usually blinding lights of the city muted by snow and ice, but nonetheless beautiful in Rafe’s mind. New York was an unforgiving mistress, but also unforgettable, much like the guy beside him.
“What else?” Rafe prompted.
“Nobody can know.”
“Because you’re ashamed?” Rafe asked. When he glanced over, Hop’s face was hidden in shadow. “It’s who you are, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Says the guy who admits to hiring professionals because he’s worried about his rep.”
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because you’re a big bad club owner it’d be somehow worse for anyone to find out you like to hit the people you’re fucking than it would be for my mother to know I like to be used as the world’s sluttiest sex toy?”
“I don’t get off on hitting the people I fuck. I’m more about the power play.”
Hop waved a negligent hand. “Beside the point.”
“Fine. I concede.”
“To keeping this secret or to the fact that you’re a hypocrite?”
Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Don’t push it.”
“Yes, sir,” Hop said, with zero capitulation in his voice.
Rafe gritted his teeth as he turned onto his street. “Are you done?”
Hop grew serious.
From the corner of his eyes, Rafe saw him fold his hands together.
“One more.”
Rafe slowed enough to pull in the garage where he rented a space. He rolled down his window and entered the five-digit security code and waited while the gate lifted enough to let him through. He parked in his reserved spot, turned off the engine and adjusted his position to look at Hop.
“Are you going to tell me what it is or do you want me to guess?”
Hop licked his lips nervously, eyes on his lap. “It’s just sex. No...not a... I mean...”
“Sex.”
“Yes.”
“But no strings.”
Hop’s lashes fluttered like he was struggling not to look up. “Right.”
“So, we can still fuck other people?”
“Yes.” The fists on his lap clenched.
As if Rafe couldn’t see the war he was fighting—the battle between a strong mind and a gentle heart. “That doesn’t work for me.”
“What?”
Rafe shrugged when Hop finally looked up. “Maybe it makes me a bastard, but I don’t want to share you. If you think it will make it easier to pretend this is just sex, fine, we can—for now. But I won’t agree to fucking other people.”
Hop smashed his lips together so hard they curled inward and rolled his eyes. “Possessive much?”
“Yep, I’m a greedy sonofabitch.”
“As long as you own it, I guess.”
“Any more rules you’d like to lay out before I tie you up and make you come a dozen times?”
Rafe almost laughed when Hop’s eyes widened; he definitely did grin.
“A dozen? I didn’t take you for someone prone to exaggeration.”
“Half a dozen, then.”
“I’m beginning to think you have a problem with impossible promises.”
“Really? Okay. Challenge accepted.” Rafe checked his watch.
“It wasn’t a challenge, just a statement.” Hop paused. “What are you doing?”
“It’s two now and you have to be at work by seven. That leaves me five hours, minus thirty-five for the drive in the morning and ten minutes of recovery between orgasms.” He eyed Hop.
“Twenty, at least.”
“Fifteen, at most.”
“Whatever, that still means you have less than four hours. Impossible.”
“Oh, it’s going to be fun watching that sass melt away when you’re begging for my cock.” Rafe reached for the door but heard Hop curse.
And then an even quieter “You wish.” But there was zero confidence behind it. None. At. All.
Rafe grinned as he rounded the car and helped Hop out. They were quiet on the way to his apartment and Rafe kept his distance even though he wanted to push Hop against the elevator wall and shove his thigh into his crotch. Too bad there were cameras.
The elevator dinged, marking their arrival to Rafe’s floor and he placed his palm on Hop’s lower back to guide him down the hall. Already he was trembling, and he actually thought Rafe wouldn’t be able to pull six orgasms out of him? This was going to be cake.
He unlocked his door and followed Hop inside. Without bothering with lights, he dropped his briefcase on the side table. A second later, he spun to pin Hop against the wood, locking both hands above his head by the wrist, and went in for the kiss he’d been wanting all day.
Hop turned his head. “No kissing.”
Rafe reared back, fighting the protest. Hop looked...what? Apprehensive?
No way was Hop going to hide from him—from this. Rafe would have him begging for everything he’d denied them both. One by one, Hop’s limits would shatter. Rafe would set all of his determination to that single goal.
He released Hop’s wrists and took a step back.
“I have a few rules of my own.”
“Since when?” Hop’s eyes turned wary. Good.
“Since now. Got a problem with it?”
Hop shook his head sullenly.
“First rule, honesty.”
“Seriously?”
Rafe paced away. “Trust is the foundation of this type of relationship, it requires honesty. If you can’t handle that, we might as well stop now.”
“I’m not a liar.”
Maybe not, but Hop hid the truth like an expert when it suited him. “With honesty comes openness. Hiding when it hurts or when you need something I’m not providing won’t help either of us. I can’t do my job if I can’t trust you to be open, which leads to the second rule, constant communication. If I check in, you need to reply as soon as you can.”
Hop rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
“This includes when we’re not in the same room.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I ask you a question, you answer, no matter where you are or what you’re doing.”
Hop’s lips parted and his chest rose as air filled his lungs. His nod was cautious with a hint of curiosity.
“Third rule, you will take care of yourself for me when I’m not present to do it myself.”
A flush rose along Hop’s neck and cheeks. “I don’t need a keeper.”
Rafe closed the distance between them again, leaned forward to bite Hop’s ear. “You are mine and I require you to be in peak form.”
Hop’s fingers curled in the cotton blend of Rafe’s shirt.
“Clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Remaining where he was, Rafe curled a strand of Hop’s hair around his finger. “The last rule is important so pay attention.”
The warm puff of Hop’s breath heated Rafe’s skin through his shirt and branded him right above his heart. With a tug on the lock in his hand, Rafe angled Hop’s face so their eyes met.
“Embrace your nature.”
A torrent of vulnerability clouded Hop’s blue eyes.
“Fighting it is useless, anyway. It’s like trying to contain a galaxy inside a snow globe.”
“I...that’s too... I can’t.”
“I know it’s hard, trust me. We’ll work on it together.”
Hop lowered his eyes to Rafe’s chest, effectively closing himself off. “Why can’t we just fuck?”
“Oh, we will.”
“Your rules suck.”
Rafe smiled, knowing Hop couldn’t see him. “So do yours.”
That got a huffed laugh as tension leaked from Hop’s shoulders.
Rafe retreated again, giving them distance. “Now, I want you naked except for the heels.” His eyes unconsciously lowered to take in the impractical gloriousness on Hop’s feet, a pair of strappy lavender suede stilettos. “On the carpet, ankles by your ears, and presenting that hole for me.”
* * *
Hop didn’t know why he’d expected a fight over the kissing or why he was so surprised by Rafe’s rules. As he watched Rafe’s wide back disappear around the corner, he couldn’t deny part of him had wanted Rafe to force the issue, to kiss him against his will, to make him give in. He was such an idiot.
How was he supposed to live up to those impossible requests anyway? Honesty, communication, and fucking acceptance? Lame. Lame. Lame. Why couldn’t Rafe want him to be naked in his presence or never look him in the eye or something doable like that?
Why did he insist on mixing sentiment in something that was supposed to be purely physical?
He knocked his head against the solid wood door once, not hard enough to hurt, but it still made his ears ring.
Being here was a huge mistake. Yet another in a series of bad decisions he made because he couldn’t control this damned aching, clawing need to be someone’s blow-up doll.
Still, he tugged off his coat and tossed it on the rack nearby and removed his scarf. The hat and gloves went next, followed by his sweater. Then he unbuckled his heels, because there was no way to peel his s
kinny jeans off without removing them first. It took forever, but eventually his cold feet hit even colder tile. He unsnapped his jeans and pushed them down his legs, wriggling until his ass was bare and the chilly air licked his moronic cock.
He stood naked in the dark and unfamiliar foyer with anxious exhilaration prickling his nerves. Goosebumps erupted over his flesh but was it because Rafe kept the temperature low or because he was so fucking turned on?
Likely, the latter.
That was just the kind of hedonistic sex maniac he was.
Heels on, Rafe had said. Hop bent to slip his babies back onto his feet, taking special care to make sure all the delicate straps were straight. His fingers shook as he refastened the buckle, so he took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
Of course, that worked about as well as a fire in a downpour. He might as well get used to feeling unbalanced because he was pretty sure this night was only going to get worse.
And by worse, he meant better. Of course.
Hop stood straight as he could manage with knocking knees and a cock ready to gush. To his left was a small sofa near a fireplace. A shaggy white throw rug covered the hardwood. He crossed to the center of the room and lowered to the floor. Moonlight shone in through the windows, casting the room in a soft silver glow. The thick carpet tickled his skin as he lay back. There was no barrier between his position and the glass, no protection from spying eyes except for the relative darkness that bathed him.
Was that why Rafe had chosen it?
The air was heavy with scents of leather and cleaning oil as he lifted his legs and wrapped his arms around his thighs to grab both ass cheeks and spread them wide.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He squeezed his eyes closed as embarrassment and arousal mixed and mingled into one giant ball of hell-fucking-yes. On display like a possession, Hop couldn’t stop his cock from leaking precome onto his own stomach.
At this rate he’d come before Rafe even got his cock out.
Humiliation swamped him, but that just made his body tremble harder, his breath faster, and his pulse thicker.
It seemed like ages before Rafe’s thudding steps filtered through the pounding of Hop’s pulse. He looked from the corner of his eyes to see Rafe’s black cap-toe oxfords stroll around the corner.
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