“But I’m done with you. You didn’t obey the rules and so we can’t play.”
Hank laughed again, a brittle sound that shattered between them. “This is nuts. I’m not hardwired to be a sub. I’m a Dom. I’ve always been a Dom.”
“You’ve always played the part of the Dom.” Avery moved closer and placed his big hand lightly on Hank’s shoulder. Hank wanted to shrug it off, but it felt so good—so warm and caring—and so he allowed it to remain. “But I don’t think that’s really who you are, Hank. I see something different in you. Something I’d like to explore, if you have the courage.”
“The courage?” Hank queried, confused. “What does courage have to do with anything? It’s easy to be the sub. You just do what you’re told. Where’s the courage in that?”
“Let’s find out,” Avery suggested. “If we’re to continue here, you need to follow my lead and obey what I tell you. I’m going to sit over there on that bed and you’re going to lie over my lap. I’m going to spank your bare bottom until I’m satisfied you’ve learned your lesson. Show me how brave you are. Show me what you can take.”
There was an I dare you tone in Avery’s voice, and Hank never could resist a challenge. “Okay,” he said, barely admitting to himself that he was excited by this strange, powerful guy. “You’re on.”
Avery walked over to the bed and sat on it, his bulk making the mattress sag. Smiling at Hank, he patted his knee in invitation.
Hank came toward him slowly, his heart jumping like a nervous frog in his chest. He’d spanked plenty of guys in his day but he’d never dreamed of allowing anyone to do the same to him. It wasn’t about the pain, per se. It was the humiliation. It was degrading to lie over someone’s lap. It was beneath him.
But Avery didn’t seem to see it that way. Courage, he’d said. It had honestly never occurred to Hank to look at submission that way. He supposed it made a kind of sense. You were putting yourself totally in someone else’s hands, in their control. That was a scary prospect. Something that took…trust.
Hank had never trusted a soul in his life. Except for Reese, and look where that had got him? Stabbed in both the back and the heart…
Avery was watching him with those penetrating green eyes. What the hell? He’d do it for kicks. He’d do it just to show Avery he could. Then he’d make the guy do what he’d been hired to do, and then he’d send him packing.
He draped himself cautiously over Avery’s thick, muscular thighs, keenly aware of his disadvantage since he was naked while Avery remained fully clothed. He rested his cheek on the coverlet and closed his eyes, wondering if Avery could feel his heart skittering in his chest.
“We begin,” Avery rumbled from above him.
Hank tensed, preparing himself for the hard sting of the man’s palm. To his surprise, Avery’s touch was soft and soothing as he stroked and gently kneaded Hank’s flesh. It felt good, like a massage. Hank sighed softly, relaxing a little. It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone to touch him like this. It made him feel both vulnerable and safe, if that made any sense.
He was unprepared, then, for the first real swat. It came suddenly, jerking Hank from pleasant drifting. “Ouch,” he yelped.
“Oh, come on,” Avery chuckled. “That was nothing. We’re just getting started.” He swatted Hank again, his huge palm almost covering one entire cheek. The sting radiated through him, along with a kind of welcome warmth.
He struck Hank again, a stinging slap that echoed in Hank’s ears. Slowly, methodically, relentlessly, Avery smacked Hank’s ass, at first alternating between cheeks and then randomly smacking him, each stroke harder than the last.
It wasn’t long before his ass was on fire. Tears leaked from his tightly closed eyes, but the spanking just went on and on. Determined to power through it, Hank clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. Sweat sheened his skin and his heart pounded in his ears. He became aware of a grunting, mewling cry and realized it was coming from his own throat, but he was powerless to control it.
Just when he couldn’t take another stroke, the hard, relentless sting shifted to a light, soothing touch over his throbbing flesh. For some crazy reason, this sudden tenderness made more tears stream from his eyes, though of course he wasn’t crying. It was just some kind of weird physiological reaction to erotic pain.
Avery’s warm breath tickled his neck. “You did good for your first time. We’ll work on surrender and acceptance another time.”
Another time? Like he’d ever let the agency send this guy again. “Uh huh,” he managed. “Like there’s going to be another time.” He was going for sarcastic, but the words rang false, even to his own ears.
“Only if you want there to be,” Avery said softly.
“What I want,” Hank said, rolling away from Avery and onto the carpet. “Is for you to suck me off, like we agreed.”
Avery regarded him silently for a moment, as if actually considering it, as if he weren’t just some hired rent boy.
As the moment stretched out, Hank realized there was a very real chance this crazy, unconventional man might actually refuse. For some reason, it mattered terribly that he did not.
“Please,” Hank blurted, unable to keep the desperation from his tone.
Avery regarded him silently for a moment. “All right,” he finally said, a hint of a smile lifting his lips as he got to his feet. “Do I need to remind you of the rules?”
“No. I can keep two rules in my head, thank you.”
“Glad to hear that.”
In spite of the hard spanking, Hank’s cock sprang to rigid attention as he assumed the position, hands behind his head. A part of him couldn’t believe he was still going along with this crazy charade, but another part, a deeper part, was silently, secretly thrilled. No one had ever taken control of him, not ever. He would never have permitted it. Not that Avery was actually in control. Hank was paying this guy to perform. That was all that was going on here.
He watched hungrily as Avery lowered himself to his knees with surprising grace for such a big guy. Hank drew in a sharp breath that ended in a sigh as Avery took his cock and balls once again into his mouth and hands.
Hank closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the cradle of his laced fingers as shivery pleasure moved through his loins and spread throughout his body. His ass was stinging pleasantly now. His skin felt warm and glowing, and whatever Avery was doing felt so…fucking…good…
“Ah,” he groaned, his balls tightening with an impending climax.
To his enormous frustration, Avery pulled suddenly away. “Rule number three,” he said. “You don’t come without my express permission. You may ask, but I’ll decide.”
Hank frowned. “Are you nuts?” he blurted, forgetting his hand position as he put his fists on his hips. “Who the fuck made you the boss?”
“You did, Hank. When you agreed to the terms of our play. But I’m certainly not going to force you. If this is too tough for you…” Avery wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and started to get to his feet.
“No,” Hank blurted, shocked at himself even as he protested. He didn’t want Avery to go. But it was more than that. Something was happening inside him—something he didn’t yet understand. Avery wasn’t like anyone he’d ever been with, paid-for or otherwise. It was as if he understood something about Hank—something Hank didn’t even understand in himself. For this brief moment, he felt connected to another human being in a way he never had before—not even with Reese.
He couldn’t bear the thought of Avery’s leaving. Not now. Not when he was touching Hank so perfectly. Not when the thought of being left alone to jerk off in a washcloth made him want to curl into a ball and die.
He didn’t just want Avery to stay. He needed him to stay.
He blew out a breath. “Okay. Okay, I’ll play by your rules. I’ll ask permission,” he forced himself to add.
Hands back in position, Hank closed his eyes and succumbed once more to Avery’s considerable
oral talents. It wasn’t long before he teetered once more on the edge of orgasm. “Please,” he gasped. “I’m gonna come.”
Avery pulled away from him. “Ask for it.” He placed his mouth again over Hank’s throbbing shaft.
Ah, god, it was sooooo good… “Please,” Hank begged, too far gone to care anymore. “Please, Sir, may I come?”
Had he just said Sir?
“Yes,” Avery said, the word slightly muffled by the cock still in his mouth, but clear enough to Hank.
With a deep, primal moan, Hank let himself go, shuddering and gasping as Avery milked his cock and balls until he sagged into a puddle of pure, spent pleasure, his knees actually buckling. Before he could fall, however, Avery rose gracefully and caught him in his arms. Lifting him, Avery carried him effortlessly toward the bed. He settled Hank onto the mattress, still holding him in his arms as he stretched out alongside him.
Hank lay nearly unconscious from the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had in his life. He was awash in sensation, endorphins rippling through his blood, his muscles and bones melted from the heat of his climax.
As he slowly came to himself, he realized the insane position he was in—lying in the arms of a prostitute as if they were lovers—as if they were equals. He pushed at Avery’s arm. “Let me up,” he mumbled, still dizzy from the orgasm but suddenly desperate to get up—to get away.
“Shh,” Avery said, holding him tighter. “Just rest, Hank. You did good. Take it easy now. I’m not in a hurry. I have nowhere else I have to be.” His touch was both strong and tender, his voice kind.
Something that had been twisted tight inside Hank for as long as he remembered was threatening to unspool. Panicked, he forced himself under control, horrified to realize hot tears were pricking at his eyelids. Desperately, he tried to swallow the lump that had risen in his throat.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Avery said softly. “I know it’s hard for you. It’s been a while, I’m guessing? Since someone held you?”
“Let me go.” Hank’s voice cracked and he gulped. “Let me up.” He jerked hard against Avery’s embrace.
Avery’s arm suddenly fell away. Not expecting the sudden release, Hank fell from the bed to the floor, slamming his shoulder hard into the ground. He grunted in pain. Avery slipped from the bed to the carpet beside him and touched Hank’s cheek. “Hey. It’s okay, buddy. You’re processing a lot right now. It’s okay to feel what you feel. Just let go and feel it. You’re safe with me.”
Hank was completely disarmed by this stranger’s simple kindness. Hot tears welled again, and this time he couldn’t stop them. All at once, the dam of rigid control cracked and broke. Despite his best efforts and to his utter shock, Hank started to cry, the tears running hot down his face, ugly sobs rasping in his throat.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swore brokenly, hiding his face in his hands. He angled his body away, desperately wishing Avery would just disappear and leave him to his humiliation.
But Avery stayed quietly beside him, gently stroking his back as he lost the last vestiges of control. He pressed something into Hank’s hand, and Hank, realizing it was a tissue, took it to wipe his runny nose, but he couldn’t stop sobbing.
“That’s good, Hank,” Avery murmured softly. “Just let it go. Let it out.” He continued to pat and stroke Hank’s back, his touch warm and reassuring.
When the tears finally abated, Hank wiped at his hot, wet face with the damp tissue and blew out a deep, exhausted breath. “You must think I’m insane,” he said, daring to look at Avery.
Avery shook his head and smiled ruefully. “Not at all. I think you’re human. You may think you’re unique, my friend, in your loneliness and your pain, but it’s everywhere. It doesn’t matter how much money you have or who you know. We’re all the same. We need tenderness. We need touch. We need love.”
Hank snorted. “Love. There’s no such thing.”
Avery regarded him for a long moment, and Hank felt himself blushing, something he hadn’t done since he was a kid. He looked away.
“However we choose to express it,” Avery continued calmly, “everyone needs to connect. It’s part of being human. It’s important to open yourself a little—to let someone in once in a while. We all need that—a chance to touch, to be vulnerable with someone we trust.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, mister sex-worker-psychologist-whatever-you-are,” Hank said, forcing a laugh. “Trust nobody. You do and they’ll fuck you over every time.”
To his surprise, Avery laughed too—a big, booming, hearty sound. “Henry Winston Seeley III, that’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
Chapter 4
Avery leaned back into the hot, bubbling water with a contented sigh. He was glad Stuart and Vince, his old bosses from the winery, had given him a call. The couple had flown out from California for a local wine festival. They’d shared a good meal and were now lounging in the sunken whirlpool tub in the huge bathroom of their elegant hotel suite.
“It’s really good to see you guys.” He hadn’t realized how much he had missed them in the year since he’d returned from Napa Valley to Denver.
“It’s good to see you, all of you.” Vince leered comically at Avery’s naked body, though it was mostly hidden in the hot tub’s frothing water.
“Down boy,” Stuart laughed, patting his partner of thirty-four years on the shoulder with amused affection. Both in their sixties, the pair remained very much in love, but Vince loved to flirt and had always engaged in sexy banter with Avery. It was just a good-natured running joke between them.
Stuart reached for the bottle of the latest offering from their label, Victory Vineyards, and poured Avery a glass. “I think it’s our best ever. No mere beer can possibly hold a candle to this cabernet. I don’t care how many weird ingredients you brew into it.”
“Stu, don’t be such a snob,” Vince said, shaking his head indulgently.
Avery inhaled the wine’s rich, delicate aroma and sipped. Both men were watching him intently. He knew what they expected and gave it to them. “Do I detect blackberry and plum?” He sipped again, swirling the liquid over his tongue. “A touch of espresso and bittersweet chocolate?”
“Perfect!” Stuart exploded. “Avery, we need you back. Nobody can write the labels like you did.”
Avery smiled, pleased. He had gained good experience from the pair while apprenticing at their California vineyard and winery, capitalizing on his own love of fine wine while seizing the opportunity to learn the business from the ground up.
He’d loved working at the vineyard, especially his time spent in the barrel room, which was cool and damp inside, compared to the dusty heat of a midsummer day. Oak barrels lined the walls, each labeled according to the type of wine stored there awaiting bottling. Victory Vineyards was finally starting to get some serious recognition after quite a few years of blood, sweat, tears and some significant capital investment. As Avery had carefully decanted the wines, he’d dreamed of someday owning his own label.
As he got deeper into the business, he’d come to realize he’d have a much better chance making it on his own in the burgeoning world of microbrewery. The startup costs, while still significant, were much less than a winery, and beer could be brewed year-round, pretty much anywhere one cared to set up shop.
“Don’t pressure the boy,” Vince said. “He’s got this new life now. Mr. Microbrewery. It’s the wave of the future.”
“So, how’s that going, anyway?” Stuart asked. “Making a profit yet?”
“I’m still learning the ropes. Nolan’s been great.”
The timing had been perfect when Nolan Davis, an old college buddy, had asked Avery if he wanted to get in on the ground floor of his new brewery. He’d sweetened the deal by offering the free use of the loft above the brewery.
It had been both scary and exhilarating to start over in a new career and a new life. It had been a clean break in every sense of the word. The Denver loft carried no memory of his ex, J
esse. The bed had never felt the weight of Jesse’s dark, lean body, stretched taut in rope or tangled in Avery arm’s as they made love. The rooms had never heard his laughter as they cooked together, or Jesse’s growling fury when Avery had said he was leaving for good, no longer able to tolerate Jesse’s lies and infidelity.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Avery continued, “We’re still getting things up and running. Nolan is teaching me a lot. It’s a fascinating industry with a ton of potential. He rents this great old building, a two-story brick warehouse built in the thirties. It’s perfect for the kegs, kettles, fermenters and hot and cold storage tanks. Nolan can’t really afford to pay me yet, but he’s offered me something far better—the possibility of a full partnership once I’ve learned the ropes.”
“That’s fantastic,” Stuart said, slapping Avery on the back. “Good for you.”
“So, how do you support yourself, meanwhile?” Vince asked.
“I do some construction work when I can get it.” Deciding there was no reason to lie to his old friends, he added, “And I’m a sex worker in my spare time. I cater to a wealthy set of lonely rich guys through an exclusive escort service.”
He watched with some amusement as the older men lifted their eyebrows in unison and exchanged startled glances. Vince, never one to mince words, asked, “What’s it like to have sex with strangers for money?”
Avery shrugged. “Not that different from the bar scene, except I get paid.”
They all laughed, but then Stuart leaned forward, frowning. “Seriously, though, Avery. You’re a big guy and all that, but aren’t you afraid sometimes for your life? I mean, there are real whack jobs out there.”
Avery shook his head. “Elite is good that way. They vet the clients almost as thoroughly as they vet the employees. Sure, I’ve had my share of oddballs, like the guy who wanted me to tie him to a spit and roast him over a barbeque pit he’d built in his backyard for the purpose. But no one’s ever physically threatened me.”
“Oh my god,” Vince spluttered. “You didn’t actually roast the guy, did you?”
Turning the Tables Page 3