by Riley Hart
TIED TO YOU
A Wild Side Novel
RILEY HART
Copyright © 2017 by Riley Hart
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
Published by:
Riley Hart
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
All products/brand names mentioned are registered trademarks of their respective holders/companies.
Cover Design by X-Potion Designs
Cover Photo by John Karrer
Edited by Prema Editing. Proofread by Nathan at Indigo Marketing and Judy’s Proofreading.
Artwork by Sarah Jo Chreene
Dedication
To Devon. Thank you for dealing with all my craziness and for being my friend.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Note to Reader
More from Felice Stevens and Cardeno C.
Acknowledgement
About the Author
Other books by Riley Hart
PROLOGUE
Miles Sorenson lay in a bed that wasn’t his own. A soft, steady snore came from the man beside him, his arm thrown over his face, his spent cock flaccid in a nest of dark pubic hair. Hair that Miles had felt scratch his face as he’d taken Quinn’s dick deep into his mouth—the scent of sex, musk, and man as he’d blown him.
He should get out of this bed right now. It was late Sunday afternoon, and Miles didn’t make a habit of hanging around after he fucked someone. He sure as shit didn’t make a habit of spending a whole weekend with someone the way he’d done with Quinn the past couple days.
Still, he didn’t get up, instead trying to figure out why, other than the fact that Quinn was sexy and a good fuck, he still lay in this bed after meeting up with him late Friday night.
He’d separated from his friends at the corner outside of Wild Side, the bar they met up at every Friday night. But instead of going home, like he usually did, he’d made his way to another bar, where he’d seen a man sitting at a table by himself.
They’d made eye contact, and the second they did, Miles saw the interest in the other man’s face. He’d walked right over, sat down with him, and now he was in Quinn’s bed two days later, listening to Quinn sleep the most soundly Miles had seen him sleep.
Quinn rolled over and slung his arm over Miles’s torso. He only knew the man’s first name, the same way Quinn only knew he was Miles. They hadn’t bothered with surnames. What was the point? Neither of them planned to see each other past this weekend.
They’d both needed to fuck, done that, and there wasn’t much more to the story. Only, they hadn’t just fucked, had they? They’d talked too. Not about important shit, but they talked more than Miles spoke to most people other than his best friends, Chance, Oliver, and Matt.
“You’re thinking hard,” Quinn mumbled into Miles’s side. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping so soundly after all.
“How do you know that? You met me two days ago, and you can read my moods now?” He spoke with a smile, but it was a serious question. Maybe they’d fucked and talked for two days straight, but they didn’t really know each other.
“I feel it in your muscles. Your body’s tight, and your breathing changes. I pay attention to these things.” Quinn sat up, his elbow on the bed, looking down at Miles. He had these soft, compassionate, brown eyes. It was one of the first things Miles had noticed about him when they met in the bar—his kind eyes. Such a fucking cliché—meeting a man at a bar and banging his brains out all weekend.
“Yeah? And I’m pretty sure that’s the first time you slept for more than half an hour at a time. I pay attention to shit, too. Wanna talk about that?” Miles cocked a brow at Quinn and saw him frown.
“No, no I don’t.”
“Didn’t think so. Don’t call me on my shit, and I won’t call you on yours.”
“Yes, sir. Jesus, you’re a bossy bastard. That is so fucking hot. I sort of want to go ass up for you again.”
Miles chuckled. He and Quinn had fit together that way. They both enjoyed the same kind of sex—a little rougher, some spanking, Miles giving and Quinn taking.
The thought made Miles want to play with Quinn’s hungry little hole again too. He was something else, that was for sure. But instead of taking Quinn up on his offer he said, “I should go.”
“Finally,” Quinn replied and then winked at him. “I never thought I’d get you out of here. You didn’t fall in love with me, did you?”
Miles chuckled. “Fuck no. You didn’t fall in love with me, did you?” he teased back. Something about Quinn brought out a playfulness in him, and there wasn’t much that made Miles feel that way.
“No, baby. There’s plenty of dick in West Hollywood.”
“Yeah, but I know how to lay the good pipe,” Miles replied, almost feeling like he was stalling, which was ridiculous. He had no reason to want to hang around.
“You’re a fucking machine. I’ve never had it so good. Although, my head still stings from how hard you pulled my hair.” Quinn rubbed a hand over Miles’s chest, his white skin a contrast to Miles’s darker tone.
“You liked it,” Miles countered. He sure as shit had liked it.
“Did I say I didn’t?” Quinn replied.
Instead of keeping their teasing going, Miles again said, “I should go.”
Quinn nodded and sat up straighter. Miles made his way to the edge of the bed, sitting there with his back to Quinn. His bones felt like they weighed a million pounds. Like he couldn’t hold himself up, but then he realized he was being incredibly dramatic for no fucking reason and pushed his ass out of bed and got dressed. There was a rustling sound behind him, and he knew Quinn was doing the same thing.
Five minutes later, they stood at the front door of Quinn’s apartment.
“I know the two days weren’t really in the plan, but it worked out okay,” Quinn told him. He looked tired, like he needed some more sleep.
Miles glanced around the apartment. There were computers and video game shit on an L-shaped desk in the corner. Dishes sat on the kitchen counter. They’d taken breaks between fucking to eat, but that was about all they’d done—fucked, rested, eaten, showered, then repeated the process again and again. Quinn’s ass had to be killing him, but
they’d opted for blowjobs too. He didn’t know how either of them had managed to get it up as many times as they had.
“Yeah, it did work out okay,” Miles finally answered him. “Thanks for a good time.”
“Thank you for the same thing,” Quinn replied. Miles leaned forward and took his mouth one more time—their tongues tangled before Miles took control. When he’d had his taste, he pulled back, winked at Quinn and then walked away.
That had been just the distraction he’d needed.
CHAPTER ONE
Miles could feel Quinn’s eyes on him from the bar. He tried to ignore him while listening to Matt, Oliver, and Chance joke and tease each other. They’d finally dropped the conversation about Miles’s sex life, which they’d been annoyingly focused on when they discovered Quinn staring at him. What they didn’t realize was that Miles had met him before. He’d had him before—more than once. Matt, though…he kept glancing Quinn’s way, then back at Miles again. He had a feeling Matt could tell Miles knew him, even though he’d blown off the question when Matt asked it.
And realistically, he couldn’t say he knew Quinn. They’d met, then spent a weekend fucking and talking about random shit before parting ways. It had been months since he’d seen the other man. He also didn’t know why he didn’t want his friends to know he’d slept with Quinn. It wasn’t as though he was ashamed of hooking up. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know he did it. Maybe it was the fact that he and Quinn had been together more than once…that Miles had spent a weekend fucking his brains out. A weekend his friends had no knowledge of.
Jesus, their group was close. Maybe they shared a little too much…but if it weren’t for them, Miles wouldn’t share anything with anyone.
“You okay, baby?” Chance asked from beside him.
Miles nodded and looked at him. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because Oliver said your name three times and you stared into space like you were dead inside?” he asked. Their friends laughed, and Miles rolled his eyes. Fucking Chance.
“Sorry. Spacing out. And I am dead inside, remember? Big, bad, mean Miles.” His friends always gave him shit because Miles believed in brutal honesty. He ran off logic, where Oliver ran off his heart, Chance his dick—and maybe his love of life—and Matt, well, Matt ran off music and Oliver.
Miles would always be the one who told it as it was and maybe came off as a bit of a dickhead sometimes.
Oh well. There was no changing him now, and he was fine with that.
“So what did you want?” Miles asked, giving Oliver his attention. He’d been friends with Ollie and Chance all his life. They were the only people he let himself depend on, which likely made him even more of an asshole. Matt came along not long after they hit double digits in age. Oliver had been in love with Matt since then and the two of them just recently committed to each other.
Miles hadn’t liked it at first. He’d been sure Matt would hurt Ollie, but now? Well, Matt won his cold, little heart over. Congrat-u-fucking-lations.
“I don’t remember,” Oliver answered his question.
“See? I just knew it wasn’t anything important.” Miles winked at them before taking the last swallow of his whiskey. He’d always been a whiskey kind of man.
“Everything I have to say is important,” Oliver teased.
“Then don’t forget what it is,” Miles tossed back at him.
Not too far from their table, one of the Wild Side dancers shook his ass from his perch on one of the raised squares throughout the bar. Each one had a different man on it. Chance danced here on Saturday and Sunday nights, but unless he picked up an extra Friday, it was one night he always had off.
The dancer winked at him. They came to Wild Side often enough that Miles knew his name was Julio.
“Ooh, looks like J has his eyes on you,” Chance said. “Christ, why the fuck is everyone hot for you tonight?”
“Because they all want my big cock.” Miles grinned, but all Chance’s words did was remind him that Quinn was here, sitting at the bar, watching him. “You know what they say…”
“Yes. Once you go black, you never go back. You’ve reminded us of that ever since you went all masc top at seventeen.” Chance eyed him like he dared Miles to argue with him, and Miles would.
“I resent that. I might be primarily a top, but I don’t play that masc shit. I just happen to like giving the D and know I have a big one.”
The men at the table erupted in a combination of laughter or giving Miles shit. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, saw that Quinn had his back to him and was talking to another man who sat beside him.
Huh.
The guy reached over and touched Quinn’s shoulder and laughed. It was obvious he was interested, the way he angled his body toward Quinn’s. Not that Miles could blame him. He truly was sexy as hell—tall, though shorter than Miles, with dark brown hair that was longer on the top and cut close to his head on the sides. It was styled, so it stuck up, messily but if it were wet, it would hang over his forehead.
He had smooth, clear skin, dimples when he smiled and had these thick fucking lips that Miles had thoroughly enjoyed seeing wrapped around his cock.
He turned back toward his friends and signaled the waitress over for another drink, wishing he didn’t wonder if Quinn was still having trouble sleeping, or why he did. It had been pretty obvious the weekend Miles stayed with him that it was some kind of issue for him. They’d had that in common…not that Miles didn’t sleep well—but he thought that sometimes, they both just needed someone to take the loneliness away. Although Quinn would admit it out loud when Miles wouldn’t.
He had also had no doubt Quinn must have a good reason, and that was another thing Miles didn’t have.
*
Quinn laughed at the joke from his new friend, who sat beside him. Billy, he thought the other man said his name was.
They’d started up a conversation when Dare, the bar owner, had stopped by to see how they were doing. Quinn had never been here before, but the guy seemed incredibly passionate about his bar and had somehow known it was Quinn’s first time at Wild Side.
Billy had cut in then and joked about how not a damn thing went down in Wild Side that Dare didn’t know about, even someone visiting for the first time, and from there, Dare had gone back to work, while Billy and Quinn chatted.
It had been a little while now, and even though he appreciated Billy’s conversation, he was ready to get out of here. He liked to have a good time, always had, but he wasn’t typically the guy who went out to a club or bar to find said good time.
Today, his apartment had felt too empty. Too quiet. Quinn didn’t always love the quiet, and though he had a lot of friends he could go out with, he typically didn’t. It had always been his best friend, Christian, who was now back and forth between California and Virginia with his guy.
But Quinn had always been…particular on whom he got close to, and though Billy seemed like a nice enough guy, Quinn wasn’t sure he’d do it for him tonight.
He let his eyes make their way back toward Miles. There were three other men with him at the table. Quinn assumed two of them were his best friends who Miles had told him about. He hadn’t said much about them—just that he had two men he’d been friends with his whole life, and they met up with each other every Friday night, but he hadn’t said where.
Quinn guessed the third man was the boyfriend of one of them. Either that or they were a really handsy group of friends.
“Is that an ex or something?” Billy asked, pulling Quinn out of his thoughts.
“Who?” he questioned even though he knew damn well who Billy was talking about.
“The black guy at the table. You keep looking his way, and he keeps staring at you too.”
He fucking knew it. Miles gave him a look that said he somehow thought Quinn was spying on him but the motherfucker couldn’t keep his eyes off Quinn either.
Not that he could blame him. Quinn knew he was a good piece of a
ss, and they’d had a whole lot of fun the weekend they shared together.
“Or something,” Quinn answered Billy’s question. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was just being friendly. I wasn’t looking to fuck you. You’re nice to look at, but I have someone.”
Oh…well, now he felt like an asshole. “I apologize again. I obviously just assume everyone wants to fuck me,” he teased, hoping not to make himself look like such a jerk. “I usually carry a stick. It comes in handy, fighting off all the men who want me.”
Billy laughed, and then Quinn felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He was aware that was the most ridiculous thing in the world to think, but he knew when he looked up, Miles’s eyes would be on him.
He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he wanted his on Miles as well—so Quinn found him, saw him make his way through a crowd of bodies and toward the bathroom.
Miles’s whiskey-colored stare met him for one hot, explosive second before he turned and kept moving. There wasn’t a chance Quinn could sit this one out, so he said his goodbyes to Billy, pushed to his feet, and made his way toward Miles.
There was a dull tingle at the base of his spine as he moved through the bodies. Something about Miles felt forbidden, though he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Maybe it was because Miles was so outspoken about certain things but mostly kept himself locked tight. Or maybe it was because Quinn somehow felt like he saw a piece of himself in Miles, even though neither of them had shared anything deep enough for them to know if that was true or not.
Or maybe it was just because he was a hell of a fuck and he’d slipped away from his friends for some reason, and Quinn didn’t know what it was.
He made it almost all the way to the end of the hallway where the restrooms were when a hand wrapped around his bicep.
There was a little indention in the wall, a small space that Miles had ducked into and now was pulling Quinn there with him.
“Did I tell you I meet my friends here every Friday night?” he asked.