Middleman

by Jayne Rylon

  “Me too.” And not only for deep-fried chicken bits covered in sticky sweet sauce.

  Although, I have to admit, that’s pretty fucking great. For fifteen minutes straight, I’m not sure if we say a single word. For my part it’s not because I’m engrossed in whatever show is playing on his laptop at the foot of the bed. We take turns alternating jabbing our forks into the containers and stuffing ourselves.

  I’ve never eaten in bed before. It seems dirty and dangerous. What if I drop something on my pressed white shirt, or the sheets?

  It’s liberating to do something my better sense says I shouldn’t. Thrilling because I like it. I guess I should be reckless more often. At least with Kaden.

  As our hunger abates, our chewing slows. When I can’t stomach another bite, I slump against his headboard.

  “One last beer to wash it down with?” Kaden offers.

  I probably should stop with two if I’m going to drive home soon. But hey, that’s what cabs are for, right?

  I nod. Kaden opens the bottle for me before passing it over. He polishes off the final brew himself before letting out a huge belch. I start laughing and can’t seem to stop.

  “I bet nobody does that at your fancy business dinners, huh?” He smacks himself in the forehead with the heel of his palm. “Sorry.”

  “I’m just jealous I didn’t do it myself.” I rub my chest. Is the fullness there from overindulging in Chinese or spending time with Kaden? Probably some of both.

  Either way, if I don’t excuse myself soon or find some relief from the pressure, I’m probably going to explode. When Kaden reclines on a mountain of pillows and closes his eyes with a sound remarkably like a purr, I figure that’s my cue.

  “Thanks for dinner. I really needed that.” My voice is raspy as I admit it. I hope he knows I’m not only talking about nourishment.

  He opens his eyes again. They lose their sated, dreamy haze when I lift one side of my ass to work my wallet from my pocket.

  “You might want to rethink that unless you want me to stab you with one of those chopsticks.” He glares at me.

  “I’m not trying to chip in, though I would if you’d let me. I…uh…had one other thing to give you before I leave.” I clear my throat then slip the check I’d written earlier from my billfold. “I never paid my deposit. You know, before things went to hell. Because I broke our contract and Ronaldo ruined what work you did, I need you to take this. You earned it and then some. I really appreciated your support on Saturday. Thank you, Kaden.”

  He covers my hand with his and guides it back to the shiny leather in my hands. The check crumples between our fingers as he stuffs it back inside. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just try to pay me for being a decent human being. I think your standards are really low because you’ve been hanging out with scumbags. And I’m too content right now to ruin my buzz by getting upset.”

  “We had a deal.” I sit straighter. “For all I know, you made plans for that commission when we signed the contract. Fair’s fair.”

  “It’s not your money I’m after, Rogan.”

  I stay still, hoping he means that like it sounds.

  Swallowing hard, I meet his stare with my pleading one.

  Please make the first move. I need you to do it.

  Kaden doesn’t disappoint me. He climbs over to my side of the bed so that he’s straddling my thighs, puts his hands on either side of my face then draws me toward him. He holds me steady as he covers my lips with his.

  Kaden Finch is kissing me.

  And it’s like nothing I’ve experienced before.

  8

  Kaden

  Rogan is the most scrumptious dessert I’ve ever devoured. Beer and the sweetness of our meal enhance the flavor of his mouth. Most delicious, though, is his instant and complete surrender of control. While I was a pretty good bottom once upon a time, I had nothing on him. None of the other guys I’ve slept with since then do either.

  From the moment I take the reins and capture his lips, he becomes the perfect partner, letting me lead. He doesn’t resist when I sip from his parted mouth and tease the very tip of his tongue with mine. Neither does he close his eyes or look away from the honest desire I’m telegraphing in my stare.

  He lets me see, hear, and feel his reactions to my touch.

  It’s so impressive and addicting that I spend forever simply kissing him over and over. The last time I locked lips with a guy like this…

  I groan to ward off the memory of Cortez and my infatuation with him. I haven’t thought of him once this week. Now is definitely not the time to recall the summer I spent with him in this very same bed.

  I’ve wasted enough time mourning as it is.

  I cope the only way I know how—by replacing pain with pleasure. My fingers spear into Rogan’s hair, tugging some as I move him into the optimal position to accept my deepening kisses. He gasps, then melts into my arms. Sure, the man had a long-term partner a few short days ago, but I’d bet it’s been a while since he experienced a connection as electric as this. After years of going without it myself, I plan to rewrite as many awful memories as possible with steamy ones before I let him out of my clutches.

  If I only get one shot at making an impression, I intend to do it right.

  I shift my lips so that I’m kissing the corner of his mouth then rubbing our stubbled jaws against one another as my hands glide down the powerful column of his neck, over his prominent collarbones, then onto the front of his shirt.

  While I’d love to go barbarian and rip it from him, I’m sure it costs more than a month of my utilities. I slip button after button free of the fine fabric and reveal the even finer form beneath.

  Dear God, he’s as magnificent as I remembered. Easily one of the most classically attractive men I’ve ever seen, never mind fucked.

  Cortez had been gorgeous too. Not in this way. He’d been commanding, rugged, and raw where Rogan is completely opposite. Sophisticated, flawless, and magazine-cover handsome. The kind of guy I never imagined I’d drool over until I found myself staring at his naked body in appreciation while nearly forgetting why we were alone in that beach house last weekend.

  And now…

  Now everything is different.

  For tonight only, he can be mine.

  After I shove the shirt off his shoulders, leaving his loosened tie in place for the moment, I tackle his belt and the button of his fly. My intention to take things beyond a make-out session are translated loud and clear to Rogan when I plunge my hand down his pants for a sneak preview of the main event. I snake my fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs to fist his rock-hard cock.

  “What are you doing?” Rogan twists his head and refuses to meet my gaze.

  I nudge his chin until he stares into my eyes again. “Keeping you from making the same mistake I did after I had my heart broken.”

  He doesn’t respond right away, so I kiss him again, lulling him, hoping he realizes I’m telling the absolute truth. I may barely know him, but I’ve seen enough to recognize the parts of us that are nearly identical.

  When I pause so he can draw air into his lungs, he shudders. “It’s…so soon. I don’t know—”

  His fat cock, pulsing in my palm, tells me his body knows damn well what it needs.

  “Don’t shut down. Denying yourself the best parts of life won’t help. Stop wondering what you did wrong. Physical intimacy doesn’t have to be reserved for your forever guy. It can be just for fun, until you’re ready for something permanent. Who knows how long that will take? You might never buy in to that fairytale again. Don’t keep yourself from enjoying what you can because it’s not what you thought you’d have.”

  If I can use this single night to teach him everything I’ve learned over the past two years, slowly and painfully, maybe I can save him even more heartache—the self-inflicted variety.

  I wish someone had done that for me.

  He doesn’t tell me to stop when I lean forward and kiss him again,
this time while also massaging his shaft. His hips rock eagerly, pressing his cock deeper into my palm as I seduce his mouth. I reward him with short, even strokes until the slickness of his precome coats my fingers. I withdraw my hand, smirking when he groans in disappointment, intent on tasting the proof of his desire on my hand.

  When he realizes what I’m about to do, he objects. Horror and regret erase the rapture that had dilated his pupils, making his eyes appear nearly black in the diffused lighting of my apartment.

  “Wait!” Rogan slaps at my arm, keeping me from sampling his flavor on my skin.

  As much as I would love to sleep with him, I won’t railroad him into it. I’m not the kind of guy to take advantage of his obedient nature or the way his ex trampled his confidence.

  “Shhh…if you really aren’t ready yet then I hope you’ll at least take a rain check. No pressure. Just please, don’t wait years before you find an outlet again like I was dumb enough to do.”

  “Huh? Years?” He shakes his head, more lust evaporating from his demeanor as the flush drains from his golden skin. “No. Like five minutes. Long enough to find protection. For you, I mean. If Ronaldo was screwing around—”

  I grunt at that. “Rogan. Seriously. You know he was. No if about it. He didn’t deserve you.”

  My guts clench as I think of all the times I saw him taking advantage of the youngest, most naïve guys at the bar. I should have said something. Stopped him. Even before I understood the implications of his actions for Rogan. Maybe I could have saved this man some of the trouble he has now, because of that prick.

  “Fuck.” His eyes slam shut. “You’re right. We probably should call this off. I need to get tested. What if—?”

  More than ever I need to hold him. To make him realize the actions of his disloyal lover shouldn’t be held against him. To promise I’ll stand by him while he faces the real and brutal consequences of his prior relationship. I might never fuck him again after tonight, or even at all. I promise us both silently right then that no matter what happens I’ll be the best damn friend I can be as he recovers from the aftermath of Ronaldo.

  Someone I could have used but didn’t have when I needed support.

  “Hey now. Don’t assume the worst. You’re right. You need to schedule a doctor’s appointment as soon as possible.” I kiss him lightly. “I’ll even go with you if you want. But there’s nothing you can do about that tonight. So why not let me distract you? I have condoms if we get far enough along to need them. If not, then it’s a moot point. We’re covered. Whatever happens, we’ll be careful. Okay?”

  He lets out a sigh, sagging into my arms, then nods against my shoulder. “Yeah.”

  “So why don’t you try to relax and let me take care of you?”

  He hugs me, digging his fingers into my T-shirt. “Are you for real?”

  I laugh into his hair, running my hand up and down his spine. It feels amazing to do this for him, to shelter him and act like I’m strong enough to carry us both. It’s taken me a while to heal, but my scars might finally be fading.

  “Yup. I’m an ordinary guy. Except I’m fortunate enough to be here with you tonight. No strings, no expectations, no commitments beyond what we can share with each other in this moment. Take whatever you can from me to make yourself feel good and I promise to do the same.” I kiss his forehead then wait for him to green-light me.

  “Don’t go easy on me, Kaden.” He peers up at me from beneath long, thick lashes with a laser-like intensity that reminds me of how spectacular it is that he can suppress his usual fierceness in private. With me. “I can handle you. This. Whatever we’re doing here. I’m sort of cracked right now, but I’m definitely not broken. I won’t give him that sort of control over me. Not anymore.”

  He doesn’t have to spell it out. We both know Ronaldo’s mistreatment left him feeling shitty about himself—worthless and used. Weak. Those wounds have barely had time to scab over. I have no intentions of making him bleed again.

  No, I want to heal him. Arrogant to assume I can? Maybe. But I’m going to try my damndest to bring him relief. Do something for him that years of self-medicating with drugs and alcohol and casual sex haven’t done for me.

  When I’m done with him, he’ll have no doubt about his ability to please a man.

  I can already tell this is going to be epic.

  “I promise, won’t hold back with you. I’m going to give you everything I’ve got, Rogan.” I reach forward and slip his tie over his head, wrapping it around my knuckles before I ask, “How do you feel about being tied up?”

  9

  Rogan

  The noise that escapes my throat is partially a groan, partially a whimper, and entirely yes please! Fortunately, Kaden is fluent in impatient non-verbalizations.

  He smirks then commands, “Give me your hands.”

  I thrust them in front of me, wrists stacked, so fast I risk knocking the wind out of him when he leans in to whisper in my ear. “If you change your mind, say Pygmalion. Will you remember?”

  I nod. He is bringing me to life again.

  Each pump of my heart is flooding my system with adrenaline and hope. The possibility that I might be better off without Ronaldo’s dead weight dragging me down is enough to make me euphoric. Kaden and everything he’s about to do to me are a hell of a bonus.

  “That’s it.” He kisses my temple before shackling my wrists with his hands, squeezing them in his grip then winding the silk in place of his fingers. It reminds me that my tie is the tool, doing his bidding. Just like I will be soon.

  I can’t wait.

  I shift restlessly on the bed beneath him as he works, securing my bound hands to the headboard above and behind me. I’m desperate for him to hurry. To touch me. To use me.

  “See, if you weren’t tied down, you’d rush me, wouldn’t you?” He pins my hip to the mattress, stilling my unconscious movements. “Tempt me into skipping straight to the grand finale before enjoying the rest of the show.”

  That doesn’t sound like such a terrible thing to me. But I’m game for whatever he decides to do. Here, in the bedroom, it brings me more pleasure to blank out my mind and react reflexively to the stimulation he provides. I don’t want to think of the best strategy to achieve our mutual satisfaction or deliberate about what seductive move to make next.

  He can have that responsibility.

  I love that he’s showing me what he wants, taking it, and making us both happy in the process. This is what I crave. Submitting to a skilled lover is a welcome release from my stresses. I need someone like Kaden to provide this venting. It keeps me from exploding under the pressure of my daily life, which is somewhat more intense than the average person’s, I guess.

  This week especially. I need this. Him.

  He can read me well enough to know I’m becoming lost in my own world, teetering on that fulcrum between thinking and feeling. Shutting off my brain and allowing myself to exist on a more primal level. So he doesn’t wait for me to respond to his rhetorical questions. Instead, he keeps rambling. His smooth stream of dirty talk pacifies me like an animal tamer praising his captive beasts as he circles them with a whip.

  “I plan to take my time. No interruptions allowed while I’m exploring this gorgeous body of yours.” He trails his fingers down my chest, tickling the light smattering of hair there, pausing to brush the pad of his thumb across my nipple. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep my hands, and mouth, and cock to myself last weekend?”

  I do because I also know how close I came to begging him to touch me despite my commitment to Ronaldo. Only my morals had kept my tongue in check and his dick out of my ass. Foolish me.

  The soles of my feet rub against his fuzzy sheets in an attempt to convert some of the tension he’s building into action. At least the soft cotton dragging against my skin sates my need for more tactile input. Until Kaden realizes I’m cheating.

  “Stay still.” This time the pressure on my nipple is sharper. A pinch more
than a caress. I gasp and wish he’d tweaked it harder. “I decide which sensations you feel from now until I release you or you say Pygmalion. Remember?”

  I obey, stilling instantly. If I break his rules he might set me free far sooner than I would like. After Ronaldo, I’d really like to be something other than a disappointment to a sexy, controlling-in-a-good-way man.

  “That’s right, Rogan.” He rewards me with another lazy kiss, this time nibbling on my bottom lip before he withdraws. “It’s going to be so much better like this. Full of anticipation. By the time I give you what you want so badly, you’re going to be out of your mind with ecstasy.”

  Not hard to believe given how I feel right now, when he’s only treated me to a hint of what’s to come.

  Kaden shifts his knees, walking them down either side of my legs. With open-mouthed kisses on my abs, he pauses to sample the perspiration beginning to dampen my skin. While he feasts on me, he lowers his pelvis, allowing me to feel how hard he is. For me.

  He humps me a few times, rubbing his cock against mine so there’s no doubt he’s as into our arrangement as I am. The reassurance helps me sink deeper into the sensual spell he’s weaving around us.

  I think it’s safe to say that any person who’s been cheated on doubts their allure from time to time. Kaden obliterates my anxiety when he looks up at me and rasps, “I haven’t been this hard in a long time. At this rate, you’re going to earn one hell of a ride.”

  “Yes. Please, fuck me.” I can’t help but ask for what I need. A hard, driving fuck will help me forget all the screwed up shit in my life right now.

  He laughs softly. “I like that you’re greedy. But no. Not yet. Not for a while. Patience, Rogan.”

  This is why he’s in charge.

  If it was up to me I’d already have his cock halfway in my throat. We’d hardly get started before it was over. I need someone like him to draw things out. To force me to savor the moment and extend this bliss as long as possible.