Hurt Me

by Ker Dukey

  “Long enough to want to eat you, boy,” I tease, lurching forward and yanking at his jeans. He thrashes and pretends to try to flee, but he soon begins laughing hard, making my dick twitch.

  I yank his jeans down and groan at the sight of his bare ass, then sink my teeth into the flesh on display for me. He yelps from the puncture, then pushes his hips up, presenting himself to me.

  My rough palms splay his cheeks so my tongue can flick out to rim the crease. His face burrows into the cushions as I rim his knot, devouring him, dribbling my saliva over him so I can push a finger inside his ass while I massage his asshole with my tongue.

  Moans hum through the room.

  My cock is hard and ready, but he’s not. I have yet to fuck him like I want to.

  I plow my finger into him and curl my arm around his waist, grasping his cock in my palm and squeezing. Dragging my fist up his shaft, I kiss and caress his ring while finger fucking his hole fast and hard, adding another digit when he cries out in pleasure.

  Cum drips down my fist as he shudders his release—hot, intense, fast.

  Grabbing my own cock, I rub it up and down his flesh, pushing his cheeks together and cocooning my cock as I pump my hips forward, letting his ass crack jerk me off.

  When he looks over his shoulder at me, I lose my load all up his back. I fucking want inside him so bad, it’s torture.

  “You ever going to fuck me, perv?” he asks with a raised brow.

  I stiffen everywhere and count down inside my mind to calm myself and prevent from wrecking his tight little hole in one thrust. Once I have myself under control, I lick my lips. Bending down, I kiss his asshole. “Soon, when you’re ready for me, boy.”

  But the truth is, I’m not sure I’m ready.

  The moment I truly have him, I’m afraid I may never let him go.

  That’s scary as hell for a guy like me—one who likes to dabble and play, but never stays. This broken, tortured boy, though…

  Fuck, he makes me want things I’ve never wanted before.

  More.

  “What is this place?” Xavi asks, hiding a smile.

  “A honky tonk bar. Ever heard of one?”

  His nostrils flare, and his eyes light up with amusement. “I sing rock, not country, man. This is the kind of shit they sing about in songs. Never thought it was real life.”

  “It’s real,” I say with a chuckle.

  He picks up his beer and sips on it while my eyes track the other patrons. We’ve been cooped up in the cabin and I thought we were due for a night out. Problem with Xavi is he’s fucking famous. You can’t go in public without people noticing him.

  Unless you go to the most redneck bar you can find.

  And make him wear a ball cap.

  My eyes land on his, and I admire how fucking hot he is wearing my Yankees ball cap. The bill shadows his face and highlights his pouty mouth. I’ve been hard ever since we sat down at this high-top table. I want his mouth on mine, then wrapped around my dick.

  “You have a possessive glint in your eyes,” he says, biting the inside corner of his bottom lip. “You can’t suck my cock in front of everyone. They’ll kick our asses.”

  Leaning forward, I stretch my leg between his under the table. “I was thinking your lips on my dick sounded better.”

  He tenses and darts a nervous glance over his shoulder. As much as I want to flaunt Xavi Jacobs as my boy, he’s not ready for that. Not even fucking close.

  “Later,” I promise. “Maybe even in the parking lot if you’re a good boy.”

  His Adam’s apple bobs and he lets out a chuckle. “And if some cowboys walk by? Then what? This doesn’t seem like the kind of town that accepts…” he trails off and frowns.

  Fuck, those lips are going to be the death of me.

  “Accepts what?” I demand, rubbing at his leg with mine.

  His cheeks blaze crimson, and he dips his head, hiding his features. Reaching forward, I put a finger under his chin and lift his gaze to meet mine. I arch a brow, challenging him.

  “Whatever this is,” he grinds out, his jaw clenching.

  “Right now, it’s called fucking around.” I wink at him. “Soon, it’ll be just plain ol’ fucking.”

  His full lips tug into a smile. I pull away when a waitress with big tits brings us another round of beers.

  “Doll, I’ve been looking at you for an hour now trying to place where I know you,” she says, tapping her cheek as she attempts to remember. “Did you go out with Lucy Monroe from Madison High a few years ago?”

  “Nah,” he says. “I’m not from around here.”

  “I swear I know you,” she whines.

  “Can you bring us some potato skins?” I ask, changing the subject. “Extra sour cream?”

  “Oh, sure, handsome. I’ll get right on it,” she purrs, stroking my bicep. “Holler if you need anything.”

  She bounces off, and Xavi lets out a heavy sigh.

  “She likes you,” he says, his eyes dark with irritation.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “I didn’t think it would, but I didn’t like her touching you.”

  “Because I’m yours?” I challenge.

  His smile is so fucking hot. “Something like that.”

  “I’m going to reward that sexy mouth later. Jealousy looks really good on you.”

  He darts his gaze over to where the waitress is talking to another group of guys before turning his attention back on me. He leans closer, wickedness gleaming in his eyes. “I’ll suck your cock so hard, you’ll forget your own name, much less what that bitch looked like.”

  My dick strains in my jeans. “You’re poking the beast.”

  “Good. I hope he bites.”

  Oh, he fucking bites all right.

  I stand up and lean in to whisper, making sure to grab his dick under the table through his jeans. “I’m going to go take a piss and settle my cock, boy. You’re going to get our skins to go. Then, you’re going straddle me in the cab of my truck while I fuck this hard cock with my hand and bite on that hot as fuck bottom lip. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Good boy.”

  I rip at his shirt and my mouth fuses to his once more. The truck cab is dark, and our breaths fog up the windows. His dick is freed from his jeans like I promised it would be. I jerk at him, hard and unrelenting. He cries out when I bite hard on his bottom lip, tugging it.

  “Pull my cock out,” I instruct, my voice husky.

  He fumbles at my jeans, then has my aching dick in his hot hand. Together, we jerk each other off, fast and frantically. It’s frenzied—reminding me of when I came out of the closet in high school and had my first encounter with a guy. Xavi makes me feel young again. Not some bitter, grumpy cop who likes to top broken boys like him.

  “Fuck,” I hiss. “I’m about to come.”

  He works me harder, and then I’m moaning. My nuts seize up in pleasure. A growl escapes him before his own cum spurts out, soaking my hand. Once we’re sated, I grab his discarded shirt and clean us up. I put him back in his jeans, and then do the same for myself. When he starts to slide off my lap, I grip his hips.

  “I like you here,” I tell him, pressing a kiss to his chest.

  He relaxes, then runs his fingers through my hair. “I’m not used to all this yet.”

  “But you like it.”

  “I do.”

  I run my palms up the sides of his ribs, admiring his lean, muscular physique.

  “Do you like being a cop?” he asks, his fingers scratching my scalp in an intimate way I’ve never experienced with anyone.

  I don’t cuddle.

  With Xavi, though, I want to cuddle the fuck out of him.

  “Since I was a kid.”

  “Now?”

  I frown. I think about Frank Sanders. Shot in the fucking face by a man he pulled over for speeding. That shit disturbs me every time it happens.

  “It’s not as satisfying as it once was,” I admit. I�
�m surprised to say those words. I haven’t admitted that to anyone, not even Ronan or Joshua.

  “Would you ever do anything else?”

  “I’ve had some offers to do private security. The older I get, the more I consider it. Money sure is better,” I say with a grunt. “Maybe one day.”

  “I can’t imagine doing anything but singing from the fucking soul. Without my voice, I’m fucking no one.”

  I grip his jaw, our lips nearly touching. “Your music is a major part of you, but it’s not you. You’re deep, and you wear your heart on your sleeve. I’ve seen the way you talk about your bandmates. There’s more to you than what you can do. I see you, boy.”

  He doesn’t answer me, just kisses me hard. I can feel the smile against my mouth and vow to give him more praise. He fucking glows every time I give it.

  Xavi Jacobs needs someone like me to pull him out of his hole, dust him off, and show him just how fucking amazing he is.

  Not just someone.

  Me.

  I’m antsy.

  And stressed as hell.

  He won’t fuck me. I’ve been dying for it. Hell, he’s been prepping me for it. I think I’m finally over the mental block of being with a guy. With Blaine, it doesn’t feel gay or wrong, it just feels good. I wake up with his scent permeating around me and live to hear the deep gravelly timbre of his voice when he tells me good morning. I never knew I’d love such a simple routine—and with a man—but I do.

  Which makes it incredibly difficult to know we’re leaving today and haven’t fucked.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Did he change his mind?

  Am I too shattered in the head?

  “Toss your bags in the truck whenever you’re ready to leave. I’ll make us something to eat before we load up to get on the road.” His command brokers no room for argument.

  Fuck him.

  Anger churns in my gut. It’s a much easier pill to swallow than rejection.

  You rejected Lex, asshole.

  Yeah, and look where that landed him.

  By tonight, my life will be business as usual. Nights spent with my friends and parties full of chicks wanting to get laid by any member in the hottest band in America. I’ll go back to being under the microscope and popular as fuck.

  That’s who I am.

  Xavi Jacobs, lead singer of Berlin Scandal.

  Fucking hot.

  Badass.

  Fun.

  Not this…

  Not some fucking twink shacking up with a cop who feels sorry for him. Jesus. When I lay it out that way, I can see how pathetic I am. No wonder he doesn’t want to fuck me. I wouldn’t want to fuck me. I’d want to send me back on my way. Back to them. My people. The ones who love me for who they think I am—fucked up and ruined.

  Blaine is not Lex.

  Blaine is just a guy who thought he could mess around with me and got in over his head.

  The rejection rages through me, hot and furious. I try to ignore it as I throw shit into the cab of his truck. Once I’ve loaded my bags, I chain smoke, my hands shaking violently. I’m thrumming with a wild energy building into something catastrophic. I hate that I feel helpless against it.

  Thunder rumbles in the distance, and I inhale the scent of coming rain. It’s so peaceful out here, and good for the soul. But now that I’m leaving, all my demons have run out to play with my emotions.

  I need to go back in there and eat, but I can’t face him.

  Not when I feel like I’ll fucking cry like a pussy.

  It’s real to me.

  I want to scream it at Blaine like I never could to Lex.

  But what happens when he tells me it was fun, but I’m too much for him? That it was great while it lasted, but he’s ready to go back to his life—without me in it?

  Rain starts pattering on my face. I turn my head up to take the abuse of the stinging pellets. The urge to burn, despite the forces of nature trying to put me out, is strong.

  I yank my Zippo from my pocket, and for the first time since Blaine caught me with it, I flip it open with the intent to sear some control back into my senses. The moment the flame singes the hairs on my arm, something dark flashes forward, knocking the lighter from my hand. It hits the grass with a thud.

  I’m left staring into violent eyes.

  Oh shit.

  I’ve never seen Blaine so…pissed.

  “What the hell, Xa?” he growls, his voice not so different than the thunder behind him.

  Clenching my jaw, I attempt to tear my stare from his. How do I explain the storm of emotions inside me? I don’t fucking want to.

  “Let’s just go,” I snap back.

  “You look at me when we’re talking, boy.” His icy cold command forces my gaze to his. “That’s better. Now, you’re going to tell me why in the hell you developed an attitude problem in the last ten minutes.”

  “It doesn’t fucking matter!” I roar, shoving him away from me, needing space and air and freedom.

  “It matters to me,” he snarls, rushing me again. His hands fist my shirt, and he shoves me against the side of his truck. “What happened?”

  My throat aches.

  It was real to me. That’s what fucking happened.

  “Boy, with the way your teeth are clenching, I can tell you’re holding in a lot of shit you desperately need to say. Out with it.”

  The rain comes down harder, soaking us quickly to the bone.

  “I’m homesick,” I lie. “I just want to go home.”

  His nostrils flare. His eyes blaze with intensity. “That’s how you want to play this?”

  I lift my chin and glower at him. “Yep.”

  He grinds his hips against mine. My body reacts naturally after weeks of being with him. I’m hard. He’s hard. We’re both fired up and ready. Ready for something he won’t give.

  “I punish liars,” he says, his eyes dropping to my lips. He moves his hips against mine, sending zings of pleasure splintering through me. “You want to be punished, Xa?”

  Yes.

  “No.”

  “I guess I have my answer.” He trails soft kisses along my wet face to my neck. Then he bites me.

  “Fuck!” I roar, trying and failing to shove the feral beast off me.

  I feel his smile on my throat. Sadistic asshole. Then his mouth is sucking me hard like he does my dick. I groan. It feels good—too good. With just his lips on my neck and his dick grinding on mine, I’m starting to forget what I was mad about. All I feel is him. On me. Scorching inside me. His touch is addictive and thrilling.

  Real.

  I’m going to miss it.

  I start to shove him away, but he yanks at the button of my jeans, then his hot hand is inside my pants, gripping my aching length. His jerks on my dick are painful and punishing, but I thrust against him eagerly. A low moan rumbles through me as my nuts seize up.

  He releases me and steps back.

  “What the fuck?” I gasp, my chest heaving.

  “Get on your knees, boy, so I can fuck your face. Liars have to choke on cock before they can come.”

  Jesus, he is a filthy bastard.

  I want to fight him on this. I want to demand to know what’s happening. Why I’m not real enough for him. Instead, I drop to my knees, pulling at his button and zipper, eager to taste him. He hisses the moment I grip his length and lick his tip.

  Thick, veiny, long.

  I’ve dreamed about this fucking cock buried deep inside me for far too long. It’s on the tip of my tongue to beg for it. When I look up at him, he grabs a handful of my hair with one hand, pulling so tight, it makes tears prickle in my eyes.

  “Don’t just look at it, Xa,” he orders. “Suck on it. Taste it. Swallow me down. Understand?”

  My lips part. Fuck me, please. He must sense my pleas because he shakes his head at me before guiding my mouth to his dick.

  This is it.

  A fucking goodbye.

  Since this is probably the last dick I’
ll ever suck, I throw every last ounce of me into giving him head. I suck and slurp and gag. I choke on his fat dick and squeeze at his balls. I scrape my teeth along his length and inhale his familiar scent. And when I hear him grunting in pleasure, I force him deep into my throat, trying desperately to ignore the way my muscles contract to reject his thickness.

  “My fucking boy,” he rasps out as he comes, hard and violent down my throat.

  The heat burns my abused throat, but I take it. Sometimes goodbyes are bitter, but still fucking perfect. Once I swallow down the last of him, I stand on shaky legs, unable to meet his stare. He zips himself back up, then pounces on me.

  “Your punishment,” he growls as he grabs my dick and squeezes, “for lying is to look into my eyes while I make you come. I need to see all your truths, even if you fail to speak them.”

  Our eyes lock as he strokes me.

  Pleasure. Pain.

  Hate. Love.

  Elation. Devastation.

  Why won’t you fuck me?

  Why won’t you love me?

  His eyes never leave mine, forcing me to silently reveal all my inner secrets. The rain hides my tears, but it doesn’t hide the pain. When my body trembles with the need to come, he strokes me hard until I release with a groan. My chin trembles. I don’t know what to do.

  I’m fucking losing it.

  By this time tomorrow, I’ll be officially lost.

  His hand grips my jaw, and he kisses my wobbling lip until it stills. “Let’s go home, boy. It’s time.”

  Two weeks later…

  I stare at the handful of pills in the chick’s hands, but wave her off. “I said I’m not in the mood.”

  Owen’s head snaps my way and he kisses the girl he’s talking to before walking over to me. “Everything okay?”

  “I just want him to party with me,” the girl pouts.

  “Beautiful, we’re about to go onstage. Come find us after, yeah?” he says, turning on the charm.

  She bats her lashes at him. “Sure thing, Owen.”

  “Can you give us a minute?” he asks.

  Once she’s gone, he grips my shoulders and leans his forehead to mine. “You’ve been different since you got back a couple weeks ago. Why won’t you talk about it? What happened?”