Candy Boys

by Raven, Jo

  I tug back until he releases me. “That word. What’s the connection to the flame tattoos?”

  “What makes you think there is one?” Ethan asks, his voice careful.

  I shrug. “I saw this tattoo on a guy. Flames, and a skull, and that word.”

  “There’s a club.” He shifts uneasily. “An underground fighting club. Hellfire Fighters. That’s their brand.”

  “This guy isn’t an illegal fighter.”

  “No? Well, I guess not. Some fans like having the symbol inked on them as well.”

  All right. Interesting. Crazy. I should ask Riot about it. Doesn’t fit what I believe about him—his rich boy persona.

  Is he a rich boy working as an escort to pay for his expensive lifestyle and gambling debts? Not so sure anymore, and I also don’t know what shifted my perspective, made me change my mind. Maybe it’s the fact he’s always wearing that leather jacket and those worn dark jeans, the biker boots and those plain, soft T-shirts. Maybe it’s all the ink he’s sporting, or the fact his hair badly needs a haircut.

  Maybe it’s the way he speaks, soft and growly, cussing every other word. Or the way he looks at me. Like he’s never seen anything so fine.

  Yeah, Pax. And then the fantasy ends. You keep forgetting. It’s his job to make you fall for him. Like you have.

  No, I haven’t. I seriously haven’t. I kick at an imaginary stone as I head back home, leaving Corey to get his aftercare instructions from the handsome Ethan.

  One last time. One last meeting and I won’t need Riot anymore. I’ll let him take me, show me I can do this, be with a man, and that’s it. His job will be done, and my life will go back on track like a well-oiled machine.

  As if life hasn’t taught me anything. As if things are ever that simple.

  Still. I’m getting better, and after tonight...After tonight I can tell myself I did it and can do it again. I’m only using Riot to test myself, because he’s a safe bet. To prove to myself I can do this.

  That’s all.

  So it makes no sense, really, that I take my time showering and applying scented body cream to every inch of my body, then pass an insane amount of time in front of the mirror in my bedroom, trying on lingerie.

  Like I’d do for someone I’m dating. Like I’d do for a hot boyfriend.

  Disgusted with myself, I decide on purple bra and panties and put them on.

  Then change my mind again.

  Ugh.

  It’s not important if Riot likes what he sees, I tell myself. If his eyes go a stormy gray when he takes me in, when he pulls the clothes off me and sees me in my sexy undies.

  Nope.

  I check myself out one last time in the mirror. Lacy black bra and panties. Classic. Tried and true.

  And I still don’t care if Riot thinks they’re sexy or not. That I’m sexy.

  He’s seen me at my worst, for Christ’s sake. He had his hand on my breast. Slapped me, like I asked him to. Then untied me as I screamed at him to leave.

  My hands shaking, I pull on my long black dress and snap my hair back into a ponytail. This is reality. The history between me and my escort.

  Jesus.

  Maybe I should have selected another escort for today. Break the circle. Problem is, I’m not sure I’d have the courage to go through with it with a guy I’ve never met before. I’ve grown used to Riot. I trust him.

  Which makes the whole experiment moot, doesn’t it?

  I’m overthinking this again, and besides I don’t have time for this because the doorbell rings and my heart gives a lurch.

  He’s here.

  ***

  I peer through the peephole. He’s standing a ways back, hands in his pockets, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. My mouth goes dry, like every time I see him. His jacket is open, and that T-shirt is like second skin, molding to his powerful chest.

  He looks way too good to be standing outside my door. I can hardly believe he’s going to step into my apartment, my space. Very few people have been here. Corey, obviously. A few friends.

  Never a boyfriend.

  He’s not your boyfriend, Pax.

  With a sigh, I unlock the door and pull it open. Not fair, right? Who wouldn’t want a boyfriend like him? Handsome, strong, kind, sexy.

  “Evening,” he says, and something’s off. I don’t know at first what it is as he strides inside my living room and looks around. “Nice place.”

  He’s not smiling.

  That’s what’s off. Every time he saw me, he gave this bright smile that made my heart pound like mad, but tonight he’s...cool. Reserved.

  Blank. Like he doesn’t know me. Like we’ve only met in passing.

  “Is everything okay?” I wring my hands together, worried. “Riot.”

  “Hmm?” He turns toward me, gives a brief smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh yeah. Sorry. My mind’s on other things.”

  Other things than me, than being here with me. It stings. I never realized I had his full attention every time.

  What’s going on?

  “Have you had dinner?” I nod toward the kitchen. “I have—”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Are you sure? I could—”

  “I said I’m all right. Relax, Paxtyn.”

  Not Pax. It’s the first time he’s called me that since I told him to call me Pax.

  A shiver wracks me.

  “You cold?” He sits down on the sofa without invitation. Sprawls, draping his arms over the backrest. Spreads his legs, deliberately drawing my gaze to the bulge at his crotch. “Come sit with me.”

  I hesitate. He’s so distant. If it wasn’t for those gray eyes, that silky, dark hair, I’d have thought I’d dreamed all our previous meetings. That he’s a double, or…

  “Do you have a twin brother?” I blurt out, and immediately I wish I could take my question back.

  His pretty eyes widen, and it’s the first ingenious reaction I’ve seen from him today. “No. Why?”

  I shrug. “You’re acting so differently. I feel like I don’t know you.”

  Something shutters in his expression. He sits there silently, looking at me, and yet somehow not seeing me.

  “Did something happen?” I try again and sit down after all. “Since I last saw you. You can tell me, Riot. I won’t tell anyone.”

  He cocks his head to the side, those thick brows drawing together over narrowed eyes. Where there was nothing before, now emotions flash through his gaze, chasing one another. Surprise. Happiness. Hope. Fear. Anger.

  And back to blankness.

  It leaves me dizzy and bewildered, and what the hell is going on here? This isn’t how I expected this evening to start. Not sure how it will develop. Maybe he’ll relax and be himself again?

  But he leaves me no time to analyze this or ask more questions.

  “Nothing happened. It’s been a long day.”

  He does look tired, but—

  Riot stands up and starts undressing, with brusque, jerky motions. He throws off his jacket, grabs his T-shirt and pulls it off. Seeing his naked chest always leaves me speechless, but tonight I’m distracted by worry and what starts to feel like annoyance. What is he playing at?

  “Riot—”

  “How do you want me tonight? On the sofa? Against the wall?” He undoes his zipper and pushes down his jeans, toes off his boots and pulls off his socks. “I brought the bondage rope if you want to tie me up again.”

  What the hell.

  “Stop it.” I stand up, too, rubbing my hands up and down my arms, a lump in my throat. “What’s wrong with you today? That’s not what I want and you know it.”

  “Do I?” He sounds...bitter.

  “If you don’t want to be here, then go.” I’m shaking and I can’t help it. There’s a burn at the back of my eyes. “I know I’m just a job for you, but I never thought I was such a chore.”

  He stops in the process of pushing down his briefs. His hands are on the elastic, and he’s pushed them
down far enough I can see some of the dark curls of his groin. He’s soft, I realize with a start. Never seen him soft before. He was hard every time we were together.

  “You’re not a chore.” He releases the elastic, pushes his hands through his hair instead and lets out a breath. “Never.”

  “You don’t want this.” I nod at his crotch, and he huffs. “You could have said so. I didn’t realize…” I have to stop and swallow hard. “That you were having such a bad time with me. I mean, I know we had an awful start, because I was acting kind of crazy, but after that I thought…”

  That he liked it. That he was glad to see me. That I turned him on.

  “Pax…” he whispers and the pet-name breaks something inside me and the tears spill free. “Oh fuck, Pax. Come here.”

  He opens his arms and I hesitate, but I walk into them because his eyes are warm again, and deep with sadness. He hugs me close, drops a kiss on top of my head. My head is resting on his chest and his heart thumps fast under my ear.

  “Didn’t mean to make you cry,” he says, his voice a low rasp. “Tell me what you wanna do. I’d do anything for you, Pax.”

  And it breaks my heart whenever he says that, because he sounds so sincere, so earnest I want to believe him.

  “I wanted you to help me take the final step,” I say, safe in his arms, hiding my face against his warm skin. “Tonight.”

  His hand that’s petting my back stills. “What do you...You mean sex?”

  I wince a little, because yeah, that’s what I meant, and yet I’m scared. Better, sure, but still afraid of what might happen once I get down to it.

  He pulls back, puts his hand under my chin, lifts it. “You sure about this?”

  After the way he acted earlier, I’m not sure, no. I’m about to ask what really happened, why he was acting so cold, but I stop.

  Because there’s that flare of happiness in his eyes that was missing all night. You can’t fake that, can you? That flash of joy that transforms your face.

  So I nod. “Yeah. I want it to be with you.”

  My trust is a little shaken, but he’s still Riot, still familiar. Still smoking hot.

  A smile spreads on his face, and it does weird things to my insides. Heat spreads in my chest, and lower, between my legs.

  “God, yeah.” He lifts his hands to my face, and I wait for the panic to hit, but nothing happens. He cups my cheeks. “Anything you like, babe. Dammit, Pax, you’re amazing.”

  Looking into his clear eyes, so serious and bright, I know I’ve made the right decision.

  Chapter Twelve

  Riot

  Fuck. She was about to ask me to touch her, lie with her, fuck her, and I was too caught up in putting distance between us.

  Much needed distance, and fuck Johnson for making an appointment with her for me when I told him not to, not anymore, but thank God he did. She’s so strong, doing this, but I can’t imagine her doing it with someone other than me. Let someone else put his paws on her, his mouth on her, his dick in her.

  Don’t wanna fucking imagine it.

  Last time I let her tie me up, get me off, kiss me. Break down every single defense I own. It’s crazy how much I want her. How she makes me so hard ,how she makes me feel so good just by touching my skin, tracing my muscles. By kissing me. By being in the same room with me.

  This isn’t good. It’s fucked up. She’s just paying to use my body, and I’m falling for her.

  Hell. I stroke her face, her skin like silk under my fingers, and bend my face to hers. I wanna kiss her so bad, but first I need to hear what she wants.

  I fucked up enough already tonight.

  “Tell me,” I command softly. “Tell me what you need from me.”

  She shifts against me and I bite back a groan because I’ve been fucking hard from the moment she told me her plans for tonight and walked into my arms.

  “Will you undress me?” she asks, her eyes still glistening with tears, and I wipe them with my thumbs. “And touch me.”

  “There’s nothing I’d like more,” I vow fiercely. I put those tears there. I hurt her.

  Fuck, I wish I knew what I was doing.

  But I can undress her, touch her. I’m serious. There’s nothing else in the world right now, nobody else but her.

  She’s so pretty, I can’t believe she’s in my arms. That I get to run my hands over her body. I nuzzle her face, press my body into hers, and she gasps.

  I cover her mouth with mine, crush our lips together. My tongue finds hers, and a jolt of electric pleasure zaps down my spine.

  Need to stop before I come.

  Think of her, Riot. What she entrusted you with. And admit it, you want it so fucking bad you might scare her off.

  Yeah, right now I’m not sure which one of us is more afraid of the other.

  The thought fades in a rush of need when she starts kissing me back. Her small hands grip my forearms, her tongue tangles with mine, and she rubs on my body like a cat.

  Oh fuck, I’m going to lose it and bend her over right here, on the coffee table. Fast and hard.

  With an effort, I pull back, breaking the kiss, and walk her backward.

  “Riot?”

  “Shh. Let me.” I lay her down on the sofa, careful and slow when I just want to push up her dress and ram my cock into her.

  But I also want it to be good for her. So yeah, careful and slow is how we’ll be doing this, if it kills me.

  I kneel between her legs, stroke my hands over them. Her dress is soft and thin, and I can’t see buttons or a zipper or any other fucking way to take it off.

  Shit.

  She’s looking at me, those dark eyes wide, as I fumble with the dress. Finally I decide, fuck it, and pull it up, over her head. She squeals, and damn, I hope the thing’s not expensive, because something rips with a screech.

  Awesome, Riot. Jesus.

  When I finally get the cursed thing off her, though, she’s smiling and I’m speechless. Damn. Hell.

  She’s gorgeous. She’s just...fuck, curvy in all the right places, and that black bra is pushing up her tits and...it has to go. Now. Before I lose my mind.

  “Riot…” she whispers.

  “Yeah?” I can’t stop staring at her, her tits, her cute bellybutton, the tiny panties that barely cover her shaved pussy. God help me, the need to bury myself deep inside her is messing with my mind, won’t let me think.

  “Need you.”

  Hell, yeah. Me too, but I can’t say that. So I show her. I press my mouth to her breasts, take my time lowering the straps and kissing her shoulders. She smells of flowers and sugar, and I want to lick her all over.

  Take it slow, Riot. Remember?

  She moans when I take her nipple in my mouth and suck, teasing the other with my hand, tugging and twisting. Her sweet taste is intoxicating. I shift restlessly between her legs, my dick hard and heavy, weighing a ton, rubbing on the sofa. Every tiny shift sends burning sparks up my spine and makes stars flash in front of my eyes.

  I’m hanging on to self-control by a thin thread. If it breaks…

  Her hands tangle in my hair, and I look up, my tongue still teasing her hardened nipple. Her pupils are blown, her mouth slack, her hair a beautiful mess.

  Fuck slow. I need her now. I slide my hands around her back, find the clasp and undo her bra. I pull it off her, and grab her tits in my hands, squeezing them. Her head falls back on the cushions as I lick her nipples, one after the other, then circle them with my thumb until they’re hard dark peaks.

  God, this girl. She’s like a drug. I kiss a trail between her breasts, to her bellybutton, then lower, still playing with her nipples. I press my face to the thin strip of black lace between her legs, inhale her musky-sweet scent, and she arches up.

  “Please…” she mutters, and I stifle a groan against her barely-covered folds, my dick twitching.

  Down, boy. No coming yet.

  A deep breath to steady myself, and I drag down her panties. Oh shit, yeah, she’
s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. All roses and pearls, her folds wet with arousal.

  “Fuck, Pax,” I breathe. “So perfect.”

  She’s watching me, eyes big as saucers, as I part her folds more, to see her better. Yeah, damn perfect. I stroke my thumb from her clit to her opening and she shudders.

  “Okay?” I try to ask, but my voice is stuck somewhere in my throat. I try again. “You doing okay?”

  She’s breathing hard, those pretty tits rising and falling, mesmerizing me. “Please, Riot, do it now. Need you in me.”

  I was gonna take more time, go down on her, make her come this way first, but fuck it. She wants it now, and the pressure in my dick is reaching combustion point.

  Promising myself to return to this later, show her in how many ways and how often she can come in one night, I reach for my jacket and pull out a condom from my pocket. I always have one on the ready.

  I pull the foil impatiently and roll the thing on, then crawl over her until we’re face to face. The head of my dick is nudging her entrance as I dip my head to kiss her.

  “You have done this before, right?” I belatedly remember to ask against her lips. So soft. So fucking soft and sweet.

  “Sort of,” she says, and I freeze.

  “What?”

  “Come on, Riot.” She puts her arms around my neck before I sit up. Her eyes are dark pools. “Do it before I lose my nerve.”

  “You’ve never done it before?”

  “I fooled around with a boy back before—” She bites her lip, and shit, she doesn’t want to remember, not now, and I’m forcing her to.

  So I close my mouth over hers, thrust my tongue inside and kiss her like my life depends on it. Maybe it does. I roll my hips, and my cock breaches her, a slow, mind-blowing entry. She’s so fucking tight, and God, I don’t wanna hurt her.

  This has to be good for her. The best. I want tonight to erase her past, her pain. Replace it with pleasure.

  I break the kiss to kiss her neck, then prop myself on one hand and reach between us. Find her clit. Circle it. Tease it, make her moan.

  “Let it happen,” I whisper, lightly biting her earlobe, my thumb pressing on her clit. “Let me in, Pax.”

  Her opening spasms, flutters around the head of my cock, and it’s my turn to moan. Pressing my forehead to her neck, inhaling her scent, I push into her, inch by inch. Friction, pressure, heat. Oh fuck, this will be my undoing.