by Marni Mann
He wasn’t sweet in the traditional way. Not in a way that made me blush either. But in a way where I knew he wasn’t feeding me bullshit, like I did to every mark. Each of his words mattered, and I felt them.
A black car pulled up along the curb and parked right across from us. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see inside. Jae didn’t turn around to look at it. He seemed to just know it was there, and it was the one he had ordered from his phone.
“Are you ready to go?”
The beer started to churn in my stomach. It threatened to come up with the burger and fries. I couldn’t take a deep breath without the air stinging my lungs.
“You can,” he added, “and you want to.”
With the way he gazed at me, I was sure he could see the fear. We were so close, he could probably feel it, too.
“One drink, Tyler. Then, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Even if that’s home.”
“I shouldn’t drink any more. I’ve had”—those eyes…their intensity deepened—“too much already.”
“Come with me.”
Warmth touched my fingers. Then, slowly, the heat turned into a strong hand, and it clamped around mine.
“Come with me,” he repeated.
I didn’t know how it’d happened, but my feet had begun to move. They weren’t running in the direction of my building. They were following him, clinging to his heat, the gaze that I wanted so much more of.
And then I found myself in the back seat. The side of my body was suddenly pressed to his. His hand was moving over more of my skin, adding to the warmth and sparks inside my stomach.
“Please,” I whispered, my lips going to his ear so that only he could hear me, “don’t take me anywhere public.”
He said something to the driver that wasn’t in English. As long as it wasn’t in Armenian, I wouldn’t be throwing myself from the car. I’d heard enough to know it wasn’t.
“Stop shaking. You’re safe.”
Safe.
That word was like a vibration. Like the time Wynter and I had been standing on the catwalk at the club, and the speaker had made our bodies tingle.
I didn’t know how he could be so sure of himself.
How he knew it was what I needed to hear.
But every part of me wanted to believe it was true.
I was normally so good at calculating time and distance from all the nights I’d been in the back of the limo without a phone, watch, or the ability to see outside. But here, I couldn’t even estimate. I just knew there were turns, and I could hear the sound of the blinker.
And breaths.
Mine. Jae’s.
And there was more heat. That only came from him. I felt like a cat sitting on a window seat, purring, as it rubbed its face over the glass frame, taking in all the rays. Jae’s heat made me want to lie across him and open every one of my zippers so his warmth could slip inside.
I felt the car pause, unsure if we were at a red light or a stop sign.
“We’re here.” Jae reached for my hand and pulled me out of the back. Still holding me, he took me across the sidewalk and through a door that he unlocked.
There weren’t any lights on, and for some reason, I preferred that. Following him, I listened to his instructions and climbed the stairs until we reached a landing. I heard the click of a lock and the sound of another door opening. Then, the lights finally turned on.
I’d never been inside a tree house, but this was the way I’d imagined one to look like. The adult version, that was. The wood was rich and dark. Masculine. When there was a break in the lumber, the space was filled with leather or steel. The finishes had an industrial flair, the color of the light bulbs giving an almost antique glow.
“You live here?” I took a step inside and then another.
He nodded, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I’m a little too old to bring you to my parents’ house, don’t you think?”
My question was stupid. Of course he had brought me to his place. I knew he was too old to live with his parents, but I hadn’t even considered his age until now. Mid-twenties? Late twenties? I wasn’t good at the age-guessing game. I always thought my marks were much younger or older than the number listed in their files.
“It’s nice.” My eyes went across the room and back, scanning it all again because twice just hadn’t been enough. “Shockingly nice actually.”
He laughed.
I hadn’t heard that noise from him before. Up until this point, all his sounds had been so serious. His laugh wasn’t light, but it made me smile. And it made me want to think of something else to say, so I could hear it again.
When I attempted to, he left my side and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge. He fit perfectly in this place. The ceiling was extra high to accommodate his height, and the whole space was completely open, so it didn’t cage him in.
“I have beer and water. I might have some soda, but I can’t promise it isn’t flat.”
“Water’s fine.”
He took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with a jug from the fridge. Then, he grabbed himself a beer and brought both drinks to the couch, dropping down onto one of the cushions. It looked higher and deeper, comfier than the one I had at home.
“Come here.”
It was then that I realized I was still standing by the door.
“Sit,” he added.
My feet couldn’t resist him. They moved whenever he demanded them to, and this time was no different. I took the spot next to him, and as I reached for the water, he stopped me. His hands sandwiched mine, and he turned my wrist, so the top of my fingers faced him.
“Interesting tattoo.”
I hadn’t worn my tiger ring tonight to cover it. I never did when I went out. Even though Wynter had told me the marks would never recognize us, it still made me nervous. The ring was too distinct. Too memorable.
“What’s it mean to you?”
A year ago, the deer skull had signified family, loyalty, and friendship. It had made me feel secure and financially free. A little of that was still true. I had plenty of money. Friends. But, as the days had gone on, I felt more restricted. Controlled. I felt shackled to The Achurdy.
I hated lying to Jae.
“I saw it online and thought it looked neat.”
“Is it your only one?”
“Yes.”
“It’s your first tattoo, and you put it on your ring finger? Because you thought it looked…neat? That’s ballsy of you.”
His response told me he didn’t believe me, and that was his way of calling me out.
I didn’t blame him. I would have called me out, too.
“I was checking out your art,” I said. “It’s impressive.” I pulled my hand out of his grip and surrounded the cuff on his wrist. “Can I?”
He nodded, and I tugged his sleeve as far up as it would go, checking out the designs on his hand and the ones over his forearm. The shapes were so varied. I saw the outline of California and the water surrounding it; there was also a fish and a boat.
“Neat?”
I laughed. It was desperately needed, too. It relieved some of the tingling in my chest that had started the second he grabbed my hand. “Very neat.”
He moved his sleeve down and said, “Do you want to tell me what happened back there?”
Was he referring to the hiding in the doorway? Or all the times I had told him I couldn’t leave with him? Or when I had asked him not to take me to a public place?
I couldn’t give him the answer to any of that.
“No,” I whispered.
I followed his eyes down to my hand.
“I don’t see a wedding ring.”
“I’m not married.”
“Then, why so much hesitation?”
Being here felt like I was having an affair. Because, if I got caught, it would be more horrible than a breakup. I could lie. But there was a chance Mina wouldn’t believe me. If she didn’t, she’d hurt me.
No, s
he would kill me.
I’d seen her snap. I’d heard her scream. I’d felt the harshness and slap of her words when I talked back. It had happened more than once, and each time seemed to get worse.
What the hell had I done?
I had to get out of here.
“Calm down, Tyler.”
What was he saying?
I heard words, and I felt them swish over my face, but I could barely make them out. His hands were on my shoulders. I felt shaking, my body moving back and forth.
“Take a deep breath, and try to calm your heart rate down.”
Take a breath? Calm my heart?
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t breathe.
My chest burned. My throat felt like it was closing.
I couldn’t stop my brain from thinking the worst. If Jae didn’t know CPR to get me breathing again, he’d have to call an ambulance that would take me to the hospital. How could I hide those records? What if they wanted to keep me overnight? When Mina asked where I’d been, what would I tell her?
“Take a breath, Tyler.”
His voice was louder, sharper.
I was trembling even more.
And his hands—they were trying to urge me to do something, to snap me out of whatever was happening inside me.
“Good. Now, do it again.”
I didn’t know I had done it at all, but I tried so hard to follow his command.
“Now, again.”
I felt my chest rise, my mouth open. I felt air blow out.
“Deeper. Draw it out, so it’s not such a shallow breath.”
I focused on his dark eyes. The way they watched me. The way they demanded, even without his words. The way they took me in and held me.
“Perfect. Keep doing it. You’ll feel relief in a minute.”
Whatever that feeling was—that restriction in my chest, the clogging in my throat, the shaking that went much deeper than his hands—it was starting to clear.
He was right. It took several more breaths, and then, suddenly, a calm trickled in, like all the electricity had been shut off inside my body.
“Tell me how you feel now.”
A couple of more breaths, and then I said, “Better, I think.” I fell back against the cushion, and his hands left my shoulders. I missed them, yet I was embarrassed they had been there at all. “What just happened?”
“You had a panic attack.”
“I…what?”
He took his beer off the table and gave it to me. At first, I held the cool bottle up to my face, trying to lower my temperature. That was, until I realized there was a much better use for it, and I started guzzling.
A panic attack?
God, I wanted to die.
It was my first one, and it’d had to happen here.
“I have more beer; you don’t have to pound it.”
His hand touched mine, and I pulled my lips off the bottle, noticing I’d drunk more than half.
“Sorry, I…”
Freaked out in front of you? Chugged too much of your beer?
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Just tell me what set it off.”
As my eyes rose to his face, the jerking in my chest returned. So did the tightening in my throat.
I didn’t want to speak those words again. The ones I was beginning to hate.
But I had to.
“I can’t.”
Twenty
Beard
The plane had braked hard as we landed and came to a stop at the end of the runway. I unlatched my seat belt as the flight attendant was walking down the aisle.
She touched Bond’s shoulder as she passed, then mine, and said, “I just need a second to unlock the door and release the steps. Then, you can disembark.”
Bond stayed seated, sipping on a bottle of water. He had only just woken up a few minutes ago. He’d slept the last hour of the flight. Getting his dick sucked must have really tired out the old man.
“Where are you headed?” I asked as I stood.
He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on. “Home.”
I had known that. I just hadn’t wanted to say the word.
His answer told me I didn’t have to invite him over, which was fucking perfect. I’d had enough Bond for today. And I had some shit to do when I got off this thing.
“You’ll be visiting us soon?” I moved toward the exit, folding my hand around the side of the plane so that I was halfway outside, and then I faced him.
“Month or so.” He stretched his arms over his head and straightened his shirt. “You know I can’t stay away for long.”
I nodded and paused when he said my name. “Yeah?”
“I won’t bring it up again.”
I continued looking at him, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to; he knew that was what I wanted. “Good-bye, Bond.”
As I walked down the stairs, the flight attendant said, “I’ll see you in a few days, Beard.”
“You will,” I said over my shoulder. Then, I got into the car that was waiting for me.
Layla had all the paperwork that I needed to look over before our meeting with Panig tomorrow morning. Her text earlier today had told me to come straight to her condo when I got back into town. I didn’t want that to mean she was just working from home. What I hoped was that it meant her bed was more comfortable to fuck on than her desk.
I definitely hadn’t expected her to answer the door completely naked.
But it happened.
“Fuuuck,” I groaned.
My stare dropped to her heels and slowly moved up her thighs, hovering over her pussy. It was as close to perfection as a woman could get. Tight lips, bald.
Shit, I needed to eat it.
I then looked up at her tits. They were real, full, not too large, but enough to palm and fill halfway to my fingers. I finally traveled to her face.
“Jesus, Layla, you have a hell of a fucking body.”
She wasn’t tiny or skinny, and I didn’t want her to be. I wasn’t attracted to women like that. I wanted meat, just the right amount to get lost in, and that was what she had.
“I didn’t think you’d mind that I wasn’t wearing any clothes.”
If she didn’t have a girlfriend, my hands would be all over her. But, in this case, I wanted her to tell me to touch her. And I wanted that to happen really fucking soon.
“Nah, it saves me from having to take them off.”
She lifted her heel and rubbed it over her other calf. “I can’t wait any longer.”
The stripper moved in behind her. Most of her was hidden by Layla, but I could tell she was naked, too. “I can’t either.”
Layla reached her hand out for me to grab. “Get in here. We have plans for you.”
We.
I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to that, but I liked it a lot.
When I stepped in, I held my other hand out and waited for the stripper to take it. If this was going to work, I had to play fair, and shit had to always be equal.
With her fingers around mine, we moved through the kitchen, living room, and into the hallway where I had stood, watching her finger herself. But we passed that room and went into another.
The shades were drawn, and a few candles were lit, so I could see their faces and all their skin.
The stripper led me to the end of the bed. “I know this is what you want,” she said, standing behind me, reaching for the buckle of my belt, while Layla crawled onto the mattress.
Layla stayed on all fours, moving higher, showing us a dead-on view of her ass. When she reached the headboard, she turned around and lay on her back. Her knees bent, and her hand rubbed up and down her pussy.
Fuck.
“Yes,” I growled. “It’s what I want.”
My belt was off. My jeans were around my ankles. I slipped out of my boots, and now, the stripper was working on my shirt. As soon as that hit the floor, she grabbed ahold of my cock and stroked it.
“Are you hungry?�
�� the stripper asked.
“For what?”
“For my cunt,” Layla answered.
I looked over my shoulder and smiled at the stripper.
She rested her lips on the side of my beard and said, “I want you to put your face between her thighs, and I want you to eat it.”
“Fuck yeah.” I moaned—not just because I wanted Layla’s pussy, but also because whatever she was doing to my cock felt so damn good.
“Harder?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus, Layla,” the stripper said, “did you know he was hiding such a monster in his pants?”
“No, baby, but I’m happy to see it.”
When I faced the stripper, my dick slipped out of her hand, and it pressed into the middle of her stomach. “You’ve told me what you want me to do to her, but now, you need to tell me what I can do to you.”
She didn’t answer, so I reached my hand out and clasped her neck. At first, she fought the tight hold. Then, slowly, she began to relax and enjoy it. She did the same when I ran a finger between her tits and pinched her nipple. Her teeth drove into her lip, and she growled. Eventually, that sound changed into words where she was begging for more.
She was different from Layla in every way.
The stripper wanted to challenge my control, not surrender to it. When the girls scissored, I guaranteed she would be on top. She was the one who wore the strap-on. That wasn’t to say she didn’t like cock. By the way she pumped mine, I could tell that she enjoyed it all right. But, in their relationship, she did the dominating.
“You can fuck me in the ass.”
Mmm.
I really liked the sound of that.
Her ass was thick and snug. It was one of the first things I’d noticed when I saw her on the stage at the strip club. I couldn’t wait to be inside it.
I dipped my head and licked one of her nipples. Her tits were so fake, they barely moved when I squeezed them. But, when she felt my teeth, she groaned.
“Your ass,” I said, biting so hard that I almost pierced her skin, “is fucking mine.”
“Yes, baby. All yours.”
I grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her close to my face. I didn’t kiss her. I just wanted her to feel my breath on her lips.