Ryder was going to fuck him again. He hadn’t been joking when he said they were far from finished. Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck…
The sound of a condom packet being torn open echoed over A.J.’s heavy breathing, and he clamped his teeth into his own forearm to prevent a moan of anticipation. But he couldn’t prevent the little grunts and groans of pleasure that issued from his throat when he felt the head of Ryder’s cock nudge his entrance. He forced himself to breathe out, relax all the muscles in and around his ass as best he could. It was easier this time, but whether it was because of the new position or better preparation, A.J. couldn’t tell. All he knew was Ryder’s glorious cock broke through his initial resistance between one breath and the next, and then there was nothing but the slow stretch and burn of that first inward glide.
Ryder’s groan of pure male satisfaction made A.J. shudder. His cock was a steel bar beneath him, hanging straight down and painting the sheets with line after line of pre-cum. God, the feel of Ryder’s abdomen pressed against A.J.’s ass cheeks felt so unbelievably erotic. That heavenly shaft buried deep inside his chute, those strong hands clamped around his hips, the feel of the other man’s big, strong body poised behind him, all of it combined into a tsunami of lust so strong, it swept A.J.’s consciousness right out into the stratosphere.
Then Ryder started fucking him. He rode A.J. hard and fast, snapping his hips back and forth with a vengeance, pounding A.J. with a steady rhythm that was guaranteed to make him explode.
Had he thought it was intense when Ryder was on top of him? Nothing could compare to the sheer possession he felt with Ryder fucking him from behind. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, providing a counterpoint to the squeaks and groans of the small bunk as it shook with every forward motion. A.J. squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his teeth so hard into his own forearm he almost broke the skin. But it was the only way to keep from howling his pleasure at the top of his lungs, the only way to keep himself grounded enough so that he didn’t shatter into a million tiny pieces. That little bite of pain—self-inflicted—helped him remember this was real.
This was really happening. Ryder was fucking him. Ryder St. Claire, his best friend and roommate for the past four years, had his enormous cock buried in A.J.’s willing ass, pounding his sweet spot as if he intended to nail A.J. to the bed. This was no wet dream. No fantasy. It was really happening.
And he never, ever, wanted it to end.
Ryder’s fingers dug into A.J.’s sides with bruising force as he continued pistoning his hips back and forth. A.J. loved feeling the bigger man’s body slam into his, loved the sheer brute strength in those hands around his waist, loved the way Ryder told him what he wanted, when he wanted it. With Ryder in control, A.J. could do no wrong, because Ryder wouldn’t let him. He didn’t have to worry about whether he was doing things right, or if he was satisfying his lover. Ryder told him with every snap of his hips, every clench of his hands, every grunt from his mouth, that A.J. was doing exactly the right thing.
So long as he gave Ryder control, A.J. could let go and just feel. And that knowledge, that realization, sent him rocketing into sub-space.
Ryder knew. Somehow, Ryder sensed the moment when A.J.’s mind sailed off into that sea of endless bliss. Without missing a beat, he leaned forward until his weight flattened A.J. on the mattress. Ryder draped his big, heavy body over A.J.’s, planting his knees between A.J.’s splayed thighs so he could use the leverage to continue his steady thrusts. As he continued to fuck A.J.’s ass, he slid both hands up A.J.’s arms, laying himself out flat directly on top of him with both of their arms now pulled out straight above them. He slid his grip up over A.J.’s wrists, briefly forming tight manacles that made A.J.’s whole body convulse and his cock scream for release. Then he reached higher—and threaded their fingers together.
“Mine,” Ryder whispered, his lips pressed right against A.J.’s ear. He was breathing hard, hips still kicking as he pounded A.J.’s chute. “I should have claimed you a long time ago, A.J. But you are mine. You’ve always been mine. And I’m claiming you now.”
A.J. moaned, long and low, so far gone he wondered if his heart would explode when Ryder finally let him come.
Ryder snarled against his shoulder, “Say it, A.J. Say you’re mine.”
A.J. opened his eyes, turned his head, and found himself inches away from those devastatingly beautiful amber eyes. He stared at Ryder, the breath sobbing in his throat while his lover continued fucking him, loving him, owning him…
“Say it,” Ryder growled.
A.J. swallowed hard, trying to remember how to get words out of his mouth. Ryder snarled again, set his teeth into A.J.’s shoulder, and started fucking him so hard the entire bunk shook. His eyes rolled back in his head as ecstasy inundated him from head to toe, setting off a buzzing vibration under his skin that made him have to grit his teeth to keep from screaming. A.J. writhed, floored by the level of possessiveness he felt from Ryder.
“Say it,” Ryder snarled again.
“I…” I’m yours, Ryder. But the words wouldn’t pass his lips. He swallowed, tried again. “I…” I’m yours. “I…” I’m yours. I’m…I… “…love you.”
Ryder froze for a long, tense moment. Then he released A.J.’s shoulder, pressed his lips right against A.J.’s ear, and whispered, “I love you, too.”
A.J. exploded.
The orgasm that rocked through his body had nothing to do with physical pleasure and everything to do with the emotional tidal wave that swept his entire consciousness away. He opened his mouth in a silent scream as wave after wave of intense, mind-shattering bliss destroyed every single one of the barriers he’d built around his heart. But that was okay. Ryder was with him. On top of him. Surrounding him.
Ryder would keep his heart safe, even if A.J. couldn’t.
It went on forever. A blessed, never-ending eternity that filled him with…peace. Acceptance. And above all, love.
It took a long, long time, but eventually the euphoria faded enough for A.J.’s mind to return to his body. He must have lost a significant chunk of time, because when he came back to himself, he was no longer pinned underneath Ryder. Instead, the two of them were on their sides, with Ryder spooned around A.J.’s back, arms and legs tangled as if they couldn’t find enough ways to touch each other. Ryder’s breathing was steady and even, indicating he slept, though there was no laxness in his hold on A.J. Almost as if the man were determined to keep A.J. in his arms no matter what.
But I’m going to have to leave him, anyway.
That thought made A.J.’s heart hurt. No matter what words they said to each other tonight, it could never be real. Could never last beyond this one night. So what if Ryder said he loved A.J.? Ryder probably said those words to a lot of people, especially during the throes of sexual bliss. He didn’t mean it. Couldn’t mean it. He was a player, wasn’t he? He had more sexual partners in a month than A.J. had had in his whole life. Why would Ryder choose to stick by A.J., even after their night together? A.J. had no reason to believe the words Ryder said. No reason to trust his heart to the other man.
It would kill him, when Ryder woke and took the words back.
Besides, both of them had lives to live, careers to pursue, goals to reach. And what about their parents? A.J.’s certainly wouldn’t accept him being in a gay relationship. Ryder’s probably wouldn’t, either. If they did try to be together, they’d only end up hurting their friends and their families, not to mention destroying their futures. Neither one of them could afford to throw all that away just because those three magic words had been spoken out loud.
But God, he wished it wasn’t so.
And with that heartbreaking thought in mind, A.J. disentangled himself, gathered his belongings, and left without a backward glance.
* * * *
Eight years later, and A.J. could still feel Ryder’s arms around him, still remember what it felt like to be really, truly loved by another person.
But in the cold light of day, A.J. hadn’t been able to accept it. Loving another man was so far outside his experience, so far outside his plans for his life, he couldn’t bring himself to embrace it.
So instead of accepting Ryder’s love, he’d fled from it.
It was the single biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life. And he still regretted it.
I loved him, A.J. admitted silently. I loved him then, but I couldn’t accept it. Fuck, part of me still loves him. And that’s the kicker, isn’t it? I loved him first—and Marian never could forgive me for loving someone else, even though it was over long before I ever met her.
It wasn’t her fault, though. A.J. knew that much. When they’d met six years ago, A.J. had been an emotional wreck, an automaton just going through the motions. Marian was a sweet young woman, all big brown eyes and long brown hair, and she’d made it clear she wanted A.J. for her own. And A.J., still trying to convince himself he could have a “normal” love life, had decided to go along with it. She said she loved him, after all. He’d made the mistake of not trusting the word of someone who said he loved A.J. once before, and it had cost him his chance at true happiness. He didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
If she could love him, then maybe he could come to love her—in time. He might never be able to love her the way she loved him, but it would be enough. Right?
Wrong.
If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, they probably would have broken up eventually. But about six months after they started dating, Marian told him they were going to have a baby, so he’d done the right thing and proposed to her. After a hasty trip to the local Justice of the Peace, their new life as husband and wife began, and Tyler was born seven months later.
That was one thing he never regretted. Tyler was A.J.’s world. That little boy could do anything, say anything, be anything, and A.J. would still think he hung the moon. And for a little while after their son was born, A.J. honestly did think his marriage would work out, that he’d be able to give both of them his whole heart. After all, Marian had given him Tyler, hadn’t she? If he could love her son, he could love her, too.
But it just wasn’t meant to be.
It just got harder and harder to pretend he wanted to be with her. He didn’t love her. Couldn’t love her the way she wanted. And over time, that knowledge turned her bitter.
Eventually, Marian’s bitterness led to hate, and hate led to divorce. A long custody battle followed the initial proceedings, but it was a battle A.J. had no hope of winning. Not when it seemed the whole world—and every decision he’d ever made—were turned against him. And then, after the divorce and custody battle was over, Marian spread rumors about him at work, rumors that eventually got him fired. Everything he had, everything he’d worked for, came crashing to the ground in the space of six months.
He had no choice but to let go and move on with his life. Thus the move to Houston when Austin made the suggestion. Being this far away from his only son hurt—but not as much as living in the same city where a homophobic judge had declared A.J. couldn’t see his son anymore, period. So he’d moved to Houston, started his little IT company, and hoped like hell he would be able to move past it all.
Except…he hadn’t. Not really. Austin was right about that much.
A.J. pulled into his apartment complex and cut the truck’s engine, then picked up the invitation and sat staring at it for a long, long time.
Maybe…maybe Austin’s right. Maybe this will give me the kick I need to get going again. Even if I can’t bring myself to really participate, maybe just having a glimpse of that world again will give me the boost I need to start over. Look, but don’t touch.
Yeah, right. As if it would be that easy.
Shaking his head at himself, A.J. went inside to start getting ready for his meeting. Charity organization or not, Street Smartz was still offering to pay him, and if he landed it, it would be a huge account for his small company. He needed to get his head in the game, stop thinking about slave auctions and BDSM clubs, and start focusing on getting his life back on track.
No matter how much he might wish he could actually have both.
Chapter 5
Alyssana St. Claire, known as Lyss to her friends, heaved a huge sigh, swirled her coffee in its little Styrofoam cup, and said, “I really need to find a boyfriend for my husband.”
Her cousin, Tatum McAllister, busted out laughing. “Now there’s a conversation-starter if I ever heard one.”
Lyss wrinkled her nose at him. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t, actually,” he told her, still smiling. “Why would a married woman want to find a boyfriend for her husband?”
She dipped a fingertip in her coffee, flicking the droplets at Tatum. “Stop being the lone ass on the mule farm. We’ve been talking about this for weeks. Months. You’re really going to make me repeat it?”
He shrugged, unrepentant. “You brought it up, ladybug. Sometimes it helps to start at the beginning. And yeah, I know we’ve been talking about it for a while. But why bring it up right now? What brought this on?”
What indeed? Lyss set her cup on the chipped plastic tabletop, glad for the chaos that surrounded them and masked their conversation. The hospital’s cafeteria was always noisy, always frantic, no matter what time of day it might be. Right now, though, in the peak of the lunchtime rush, it was louder than a room full of horny baboons. Ironic, considering she was about to turn an innocent luncheon between family members into a naughtier version of “the birds and the bees.”
“You’re bi, Tatum,” she said, meeting his blue eyes with her hazel ones, noting his raised eyebrows before continuing. “You know what it’s like to have one but not the other. Hell, you and Sid spent the last few years flat-out searching for a man to bring into your bed, simply because you both knew you couldn’t do without.
“Now, me and Ryder? We may have gotten there by a different path than you two did, but the end result is the same—I ain’t got all the bits he needs to be a happy man. Can you seriously sit there and tell me that my husband hasn’t been thinking the same damn thing?”
Tatum snorted. “You may not have ‘all the bits,’ but you’ve got plenty of other nice bits for him to enjoy.”
“But not all of them,” she persisted with all seriousness. “He needs a man, Tatum. We need what you guys have with Allen. You and Sid loved each other since ya’ll were kids, right? But you still needed another man to feel complete. Ryder and I are in the same boat. He needs more than I can give him.”
“What makes you think you aren’t enough, Lyss?” Tatum asked, all joviality gone. “You two are perfect for each other. You guys have been together longer than we’ve been with Allen. Why do you suddenly feel like that’s changed? Did something happen? Are you guys having problems or something?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” she assured him quickly. She shivered, seeing the alpha-dog protectiveness rising in her cousin’s face. Well, technically, they were second cousins—or maybe it was third cousins. Their grandfathers were half-brothers, at any rate. But even though they weren’t technically “close family,” Tatum still treated her like she belonged to him. If he so much as suspected Ryder was doing wrong by her, he’d have her husband strung up by his balls in a nanosecond.
And since that was most definitely not something Ryder would enjoy, she needed to make sure Tatum knew it wasn’t necessary.
“We’re fine, I promise. I’ve loved Ryder since the day you introduced us at Club S’s opening night. You know I love that man to pieces.” She frowned, wrapping both hands around her coffee cup. “That’s why I want to do this for him, Tatum. Ryder takes such good care of me. I want to take care of him, too.”
Tatum was quiet for a long time. Lyss let him have his time to think, just taking a moment to savor the sensation of sitting down. Lord knew, she loved her job. She’d wanted to be a nurse since she was a little girl. And working for Ben Taub, the huge county hospital that catered to
Houston’s poor and under-insured, was a dream come true. But the hours were long, and even with her special low-impact nursing clogs, her feet did start to ache by the end of a sixteen-hour shift. Tatum’s random visit had given her an excuse to take a break and just breathe for a moment. Which she did, with gusto.
Finally, Tatum met her gaze with a solemn expression. “I’ve got to admit, I’m surprised to hear you talking like this, ladybug. What brought this on?”
She winced at the second use of her nickname, but didn’t call him out on it. The name stemmed from an embarrassing mistake she’d made years ago—a fetish outfit gone horribly wrong. Her favorite red corset had split a couple of seams, but instead of taking it back to the shop where she bought it to have it repaired, she’d decided to do it herself. She’d thought it would look great with bits of black lace added to the red. After spending several weeks fighting with the sewing machine, she’d thought the corset was good as new. But she didn’t realize that the black lace patches looked like giant black spots on a bright red background, nor did she notice that the trailing ends of red silk she’d added to the back looked like curved, flowing wings. In the dimness of the BDSM club, it looked like she was wearing a ladybug costume.
And none of her friends would ever let her live it down. Of course.
Lyss shifted on the hard plastic booth seat, crossing her legs at the knee as she faced Tatum squarely. “It’s coming from my desire to please my husband. Where else?”
Tatum said, “Uh-huh. So you want to find your husband a boyfriend. What about you? Will this guy be just for Ryder, or are you looking for a pet of your own?”
Saints United [For Love of Authority 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 5