Bonds of Denial (Wicked Play #5)

by Lynda Aicher

  “I’d empty my bank account to see you again. But you’re worth more than that.” Rock waited for the laugh that was sure to come from his cheesy words, but they didn’t.

  Well, maybe not a laugh, but Carter’s mouth did struggle and twitch to suppress a grin before it burst free. “You have got to get out more,” Carter said, shaking his head. “I’ll call you. We can do something next week.”

  It was a statement, but Rock answered anyway. “That’s good. It’s easier for me to get time off during the week.” He could probably get a weekend night off without any problem, but he didn’t want to deal with the questions or stress about Carter’s weekend schedule. They didn’t need that stuff between them.

  Carter leaned in and gave him one more light kiss that had Rock wanting to haul the man back for a replay but he didn’t. He turned away and headed for his truck, feeling a bit lost.

  “Hey, Rock.”

  He turned around to see Carter poised in the open door of his car.

  “Thanks for trusting me. I hope I helped.”

  The tightness in Rock’s throat prevented him from answering, so he nodded instead. His response was grossly lacking in communicating the depth of his gratitude, but it was all he had right then. Even if nothing worked out between them, Carter had given Rock a piece of himself that was past time he acknowledged.

  He was gay. He’d said it and he’d just had the most fucking fantastic kiss with a man and there wasn’t an ounce of guilt or shame simmering within him.

  Carter’s sedan left the lot as Rock sat in his truck and tried to process the roller-coaster ride of the last two hours. It wasn’t possible though. All he could clearly define was the strange glow of happiness that kept a smile on his face and brought a brightness to his surroundings.

  Fuck. He laughed at his stupidity and started the engine. Kissing a guy shouldn’t turn his mind into a flower field of simpering thoughts. Now that was pathetic and embarrassing. It still didn’t stop him from savoring that last press of Carter’s lips against his the entire drive home.

  Chapter Ten

  Carter stared at the nondescript chain hotel and sighed. It wasn’t dirty or dingy. In fact, he knew it well, right down to the lily-scented air fresheners that flooded the hallways and the semi-scratchy surface of the sheets that always came untucked and wrinkled around his feet. He knew it too well, but it had never had his heart constricting like it did tonight.

  There was nothing to be done about it though. He swiped his finger over his phone and sent the standard text to the agency. His Friday night appointment was a business traveler who’d been booking him for the last two years whenever he was in town. The man would fly out early tomorrow, back to his real life that didn’t include his secret fucks with a male escort.

  Confirming the room number, Carter silenced his phone and tucked it away. He flipped open the glove compartment and grabbed the black shaving bag. It was always stocked with items of his trade. That included a bottle of little blue pills Hank conveniently supplied. He usually didn’t resort to the help, but tonight, he needed it.

  There wasn’t a spark of arousal for what awaited him. The disassociation he usually employed to get his mind on his task wasn’t happening. Not even the thought of how he was helping the man, giving him something he couldn’t find elsewhere, got him into the mood.

  He swallowed the pill dry before popping a mint into his mouth. Condoms and pillow packets of lube were already in his pocket, but he took a second to rub on some lip balm before returning the kit to the glove compartment.

  One hour of sucking cock and bending over wasn’t that big of a deal. The guy was decent enough. The girth of middle age had settled around his waist and his hairline had retreated with the increase of gray that went with the wrinkles around his eyes. He was straightforward with no kinks and zero desire to linger and talk before or after.

  In truth, he was a dream client.

  The cold had started to seep into the car, the clock ticking down the last ten minutes before he had to go in. There was no valet service here. No fancy lobby or busy downtown street to navigate. The on and off ramps to the highway were literally a block away. He could even hear the low hum of the cars flying down the road as they sped by.

  It was these last moments before he had to do his job that were sometimes the worst. He always arrived early, but the wait provided the ideal opportunity for his chosen profession to chip away at the block of disgrace he usually refused to give in to.

  He’d chosen to do this and for the most part enjoyed it. The dirty feeling society assumed he carried with him wasn’t there. Sex was natural. Good, no matter who it was between, if it was consensual. The exchange of money only cheapened the act if he let it, and he never had.

  That still didn’t stop his thoughts from envisioning the added look of disgust on his parents’ faces if they knew. It would only confirm their belief that being gay had ruined him. Made him become a whore, when it was really their abandonment that had shut down his options until he’d found a way to survive.

  Screw them. But the big ole FU didn’t ring with the force it once had.

  He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He shouldn’t have done that because the image of the real reason for his disinterest loomed behind his lids almost immediately. Rockford Fielding. The big military man who had opened up and given something to Carter no one else had. Many trusted him with their secret desires, and some even revealed their private issues and worries to him. But none had ever gifted him with the faith Rock had handed him.

  All the more reason to turn away instead of running forward into certain pain, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Of all the countless men he’d serviced, Rock treated him like a real person. A friend, not just a fuck. Rock had asked if he could kiss him. Asked. Most assumed and took. Men loved to fuck him, but few wanted to be seen with him.

  It was dangerous to get caught up in his own desires, yet his end was so close. Eighty-four more days, that was it. He’d denied himself a chance at something real for so long that he couldn’t give it up now. No matter how it threatened to hurt him.

  What the hell?

  He shoved the car door open. The wind slapped him across the face with the viciousness he needed. He had a client to take care of and a reputation to uphold. Thoughts of Rock didn’t belong here.

  Of course, that couldn’t stop him from picturing the man when his client shoved his cock to the back of Carter’s throat or from imagining it was Rock’s hands that pressed his face into the hard mattress and spread his ass cheeks wide. It was Rock he grunted for. Rock he grew hard for.

  Rock he came for.

  * * *

  The flowing rhythm of the classical music filled his earbuds but failed to provide the calm Rock was searching for. The jarring heavy metal he’d tried before had grated like sandpaper in his ears, and the alternative shit had been even worse.

  It didn’t matter how often he rubbed his eyes or how much caffeine he downed. Nothing helped. The data blurred into long lines of garbled information on the screen that his mind was incapable of processing. He couldn’t focus on his job because he kept wondering what Carter was doing.

  It was Saturday night. A prime night for going out. Hooking up.

  Fucking.

  Shit. It was crazy stupid for him to be obsessing over something he had no right to obsess over. How in the hell could he—a man who’d been so deeply closeted he wouldn’t even admit it to himself until a few days ago—judge a man who was self-aware enough to own who he was and what he did? He couldn’t.

  Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  He glanced over his shoulder. Wes was watching the screens again, which was good because Rock didn’t trust his attention to give the task the diligence it required. Digging up background information on club applicants didn’t require much concentration. Not for him. And that was both a blessing and a curse, since he couldn’t even manage to work on that.

  Yanking t
he earbuds out, he pushed away from the counter and stood. His back cracked as he reached his hands over his head and groaned. “Fuck.”

  “You okay?” Wes eyed him with a startled look of confusion.

  Apparently, Rock didn’t do simple things like stretch that often. “I’m fine.” He grabbed his thermos and headed toward the door. “I’ll be back in ten.” He didn’t wait for a response before he jerked the door closed behind.

  The driving thump of the music flowed down the hall and grew louder as he made his way toward the bar. He caught the few quick double takes when he walked through the lounge area. He ignored them all. So what if he didn’t usually come into the club during hours? They could all suck his nuts if they didn’t like it.

  Take that back. Too many of them would probably enjoy that. And nobody was touching his nuts…except Carter. Maybe. If the guy even wanted to.

  He slammed the thermos down on the bar as he took a seat on a free stool in the corner. Tyler’s head snapped up at the metal banging on the wood, eyes going wide before a smile beamed across his face.

  He ambled toward Rock to brace his hands on the bar ledge. “Hey, stranger. What brings you here?”

  Rock flipped him off before shoving his thermos at Tyler. “Need some more coffee.”

  Tyler glanced between Rock and the thermos more than once before he reached for it. “Right.” He twisted the lid off and left it on the bar before he moved to the coffeepot along the back wall.

  Rock sensed more than one gaze assessing him and he itched to spin around and level a glare at every one of them, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled his brows down and scowled at every damn sub who attempted to get his attention. He wasn’t a fucking Dom. It was an excellent reminder of why he usually went straight to the kitchen to refill his coffee. Talking to Tyler wasn’t worth this shit.

  Tyler set the thermos on the bar, the wispy trails of steam rising from the opening before he carefully screwed the lid back on. “You gonna tell me why you’re really here?” He flicked his bangs out of his eyes before leveling an assessing look at Rock.

  He stared the man down. “I just want coffee.”

  “Ha!” Tyler shook his head and crossed his arms on the bar as he leaned in. “Is this like recon or something? Thinking of coming out of your little room to play?”

  What the fuck? Rock grabbed his thermos and spun away. He didn’t need that shit. The frustration boiled in his gut and people stepped out of his way as he strode to the hallway that would take him back to his “little room,” as Tyler called it. Asshole.

  “Rock.”

  He heard the call and blew it off. The kid could go fuck himself for all he cared.

  “Rock.” This time his name was accompanied by the hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I was just giving you shit.”

  He shrugged Tyler off without turning around. Why had he sought the man out? It wasn’t like he could talk to him about all the crap that was mucking up his mind. But if anyone could answer some of his questions, it was Tyler.

  “Dude.” Tyler maneuvered around to block his path. “I’m sorry.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a confused frown making him look even younger than his baby face already did. “I was only joking. No need to get all pissy about it.”

  Rock shook his head. The military men he’d associated with would’ve let him stew in his own piss when he was this ready to clock someone. Tyler didn’t appear to have that self-preservation instinct within him. “Get out of my way.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Well, fuck all. He shouldered him out of the way but was brought up short when Tyler shoved him back and got in his face.

  “You should know by now that this puffed-up gruff thing doesn’t intimidate me. Yeah, you could kick my ass, but there’s no way you would.”

  “Really?” Rock tilted forward, his fist clenching around the warm metal of the thermos. “Because you’re pretty damn close to proving that theory wrong.”

  “Hey.” Marcus slapped a hand down on each of their shoulders, his grip squeezing hard enough to make an impression. “You guys okay?”

  Yup. There was a reason he stayed in his fucking room. “We’re fine.” His words sounded too much like a snarl, which only pissed him off more.

  “Really? Because it doesn’t look that way.” Marcus stood taller than both of them and the glare he lowered was too close to the scolding look of disappointment Rock’s father had leveled on him since he was old enough to remember.

  “Let me go and I’ll be out of here,” he said, his jaw tight with the control it took to keep his voice even.

  The second Marcus let go, Rock barreled past them. He slammed into the security room five seconds later. Wes jerked around. He was half out of his seat, his hand reaching to the back of his waist before he froze then straightened. He passed a glance over Rock, nodded and returned to his chair without saying a word.

  Now that was the kind of guy he was used to being around. They didn’t talk shit and they definitely didn’t go digging into another man’s business without invitation. What the hell kind of touchy-feely crap did Tyler think he was doing? Shit! He slammed his thermos down on the table. Did the man know his secret? Had Carter told him something, not knowing that Rock knew Tyler? Carter said he didn’t talk about clients, but what about “dates”?

  The thoughts manifested into a full case of anxiety. He dropped into the chair and fisted his hands in his lap. Destroying the computer screen in front of him would only raise more questions and have more people butting their unwanted noses into his business.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d cursed the fates that had brought Carter to The Den. If he’d never seen the man, none of this would be happening. His life would be cruising along at the same mundane pace that it had been. No crazy ideas. No uncontrolled longings.

  Nothing but loneliness.

  And there it was. The real truth.

  After a lifetime of longing to be touched, held, simply understood, it would hurt so fucking much to find that with Carter then lose it. Was there any way Carter would be satisfied with him? One messed-up man?

  The call to arrange their date had been too brief to give Rock any insight into what the other man was thinking. Too many questions with no answers, and Wednesday felt like years away. He’d be insane by then if he didn’t get his thoughts and worries under control.

  He had a job to focus on, just like always. People depended on him. He was simply Rock here. He could be that and hide the rest. It was no different than what he’d been doing his entire life. No different at all.

  He put his earbuds in, found his heavy metal playlist, cranked the volume up and flipped open the next folder. No different than yesterday. Or tomorrow. Or the next day.

  Until Wednesday.

  Chapter Eleven

  He should’ve known Tyler wouldn’t have enough sense to leave him alone. Rock’s mood had improved by zero when the man strolled into the security room at three in the morning. If Rock had been thinking, he’d have been out of the club when the bar closed at two. Then this whole coming catastrophe of a conversation could’ve been avoided.

  But he hadn’t been thinking, had he?

  “Hey,” Tyler said as he perched himself in his customary spot between the computers on the back counter.

  Other than a flick of his eyes when Tyler had entered, Rock didn’t acknowledge him. He’d given up on his music when it’d become clear that nothing was going to soothe his mood. Now the silence was more grating than the heavy metal had been.

  Tyler kicked the back of Rock’s chair, the thump jarring Rock forward. “You gonna talk to me?”

  No. Rock settled back into his chair, keeping his back to the man. There were six private rooms booked for overnight stays. Two of them were still in active Scenes, both in the process of winding down. The rest of the club had emptied out by three so there wasn’t anything else for him to monitor except the cleaning crew. That didn’t stop him from staring at those twenty-eight scre
ens like his life depended on it.

  “No?” Tyler sighed. “Fine. I can wait you out.”

  The jerk would, too. “Don’t you have a Master waiting for you?”

  “Not gonna work,” Tyler said, a bored tone to his voice. “You can’t run me off with your stupid little digs.”

  Thirty minutes passed, each second counted off by the thump of Tyler’s boot against the file cabinet below the counter. The stinking little clocks repeated at the bottom of each screen moved at an agonizingly slow pace that marked the silent battle staged between the two of them. The last two Scenes had finished, the couples sleeping, so there was nothing left for him to monitor. Tyler could see that. He wasn’t blind.

  Can we say childish much? Rock really was being an abnormally big piece of shit.

  “Aren’t Seth and Allie waiting for you?” Rock’s voice seemed to explode into the silence.

  The thumping stopped. “Probably. I told them I’d be up when I’m done.” Oh, the convenience of having a boyfriend who lived in one of the lofts on the top floor.

  “I could just leave,” Rock told him, his resistance waning.

  “Yeah. And I’ll find you tomorrow or the next day or the next.”

  “Persistent shit, aren’t you?”

  “With my friends, yup.”

  “Why?”

  “When you live as long as I did without them, you learn to appreciate the ones you have.”

  The raw emotion in Tyler’s voice wasn’t something a man faked, and the naked honesty hit home. Here was another man who never shrank from what he’d been or did. From who he was.

  Rock swiveled around in the chair and finally gave his attention to Tyler. The black T-shirt with The Den logo on the left breast showed off the lean muscle hidden beneath it. Rock had noticed Tyler’s body before, just like he’d noticed a lot of guys’ bodies. But he’d trained himself not to react—not to even fucking acknowledge how much he liked looking at males.

  For the first time, he let himself appreciate how attractive Tyler was. And wasn’t that something?