Middleman

by Jayne Rylon

  “Let me in,” he instructs. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you like he did.”

  If my eyes sting, I’m sure it’s because whatever digits he’s opening me with are fatter than Ronaldo’s cock and not because of his remarkable instincts or his unexpected kindness. How can I feel safer with a man I didn’t know last week than one I lived with for years?

  I guess because I never knew my boyfriend like I thought I did.

  “Kaden, please.” I need him to help me put it out of my mind, to make it go away for a few minutes. This is what I came here for tonight. And he’s so close to giving it to me.

  “Shhh. I’ve got you.” He slides his fingers from my ass. I hear the snick of the cap on the lube bottle again as he distracts me with another one of his addicting kisses. Except this time, he doesn’t stop with one or two.

  He keeps entertaining my mouth as he coats himself. I’ve almost forgotten what he’s doing when he returns, fitting himself against me. This time it’s the blunt head of his cock attempting to invade me. I push outward as he burrows into me. His flattened hand slides under me, then curls, cupping my shoulder for leverage. He tugs me toward him as he advances. The pressure seems like it might almost be too much. Then, just when I start to wonder if he’s going to fit, the fattest part of him pops inside. He sinks several inches deep.

  We both groan. Our gazes collide.

  There’s nothing like that moment. The one where someone penetrates you for the first time. Joined temporarily, it’s impossible to deny that link. Though to be honest, there were nights when that corporal bond with Ronaldo wasn’t enough to keep me from feeling lonely.

  It hurts. Not Kaden’s cock in my ass. That stings, sure. But…no. The rest. Remembering how much time I wasted, how fucked up things had gotten. It’s too much.

  He has to make it go away. Now.

  I stare up at Kaden, unable to express myself except by rocking my hips in his direction.

  “You need more?” Kaden’s uncanny perception isn’t derailed by being buried inside of me. I’m not sure if I’m thrilled or upset that he still has that strong of a grip on the situation.

  I nod, incapable of any other answer.

  “Brace yourself.” He puts one hand on my elbow, steadying me until my mind realizes what he means.

  I lock my arm above my head, prepared to hold myself in place and keep from getting a concussion. Good thing, too.

  Kaden gives me a few tentative thrusts to make sure I’ve adjusted to holding him within me. When he’s satisfied that I’m ready, he picks up the pace. The graceful swings of his hips are every bit as devastating as I thought they’d be when he was flaunting his moves earlier.

  Especially when coupled with the roaming of his hands and mouth across the rest of my body. There’s no part of me he leaves untouched.

  And there it is.

  Blinding ecstasy wipes everything from my mind except Kaden and the nerve endings he’s stimulating. I’m helpless to do anything but enjoy the moment and wish it could last forever. He does a damn fine job of granting my desires.

  Kaden hammers into me, riding me hard. He growls, bites my neck, and digs in.

  Sometime later, my arms ache from the punishment of his driving between my legs. Sweat drips from both of us.

  I have no idea how long he’s been pumping into me, generating enough pleasure to make everyone within three blocks spontaneously orgasm. I absorb every single shove, curse, and moan. The column of his neck is taut as he concentrates on fucking me well, and the set of his jaw tells me how hard he’s trying not to lose it in my ass.

  Kaden is fucking the shit out of me and loving every second of it.

  “Yes!” I shout as I creep closer to the edge of orgasm.

  Each time his pelvis approaches mine, it’s bouncing my balls aggressively, right on the edge of pain. As he angles forward now and grinds deeper, his abdomen rubs over my cock, which is now sandwiched between us.

  “It’s time,” he moans close to my face as he hunches over me. His pistoning accelerates. It becomes the slightest bit uneven right before he seals his mouth over mine one final time.

  I know what he’s insisting on.

  He wants me to surrender first.

  Maybe he even needs me to before he can let himself be that helpless along with me.

  There’s no stopping it anyway. Not when he’s kissing me and dragging his entire body across mine. Not when his cock is tapping my prostate while his pelvis strokes my dick.

  Not when something deep inside me recognizes his wounded soul and my ability to grant him even a fraction of the respite he’s given me tonight.

  “Kaden!” I bellow as my ass clamps around his cock. My nuts gather into a dense rock close to my body. I come so hard I’m afraid I might explode and die right in the middle of it.

  But I don’t.

  Pulse after pulse of come shoots from my cock, flooding the condom I’m wearing. I wish Kaden could have seen it splattered across my chest and abdomen so he’d know how much he’s affected me. I want to wear the sticky mess so that he’s proud of how well he’s fucked me. He deserves to be.

  My spasms bring him his reward. The tugs of my ass on his cock send him over the edge.

  He pounds the pillow with his fist, roars my name, and rams into me with a half dozen jerky plunges that make me certain he’s pouring his own orgasm into the condom I wish he wasn’t using.

  For the first time, I regret that my hands are trapped. I would have held Kaden as he empties himself into me, allowing himself to be defenseless, if only for an instant.

  When that moment passes and he lifts his head to meet my stare with a boyish grin, I pray I heard the delivery guy wrong earlier. Or that his crack about do-overs was a polite excuse instead of Kaden’s actual policy on second dates.

  Because I already want to do this again.

  And again.

  And again.

  11

  Kaden

  I should probably say something profound. Maybe I would if I knew the words. But I’m not sure anything I tell Rogan would adequately communicate how this one night with him has impacted me. Hopefully he picked up on that when our bodies were doing the talking for us. He’s incredible. A perfect fit.

  Temptation like I haven’t faced in more than two long years.

  When I look into his eyes, I see a reflection of myself. Except he’s so much better than me. Stronger. Back on the horse right away instead of wallowing in misery and losing himself over a guy who never deserved him anyway.

  It’s better if I don’t make a fool of myself, gushing over him before I have to throw him back into the dating pool. I quit crushing him and flop onto my back on the mattress. The only sound in the apartment is our mismatched gasping as we attempt to suck down some much-needed oxygen.

  I can feel his ribs expanding and contracting against my arm, which reminds me that his arms are up. He’s still bound.

  Shit.

  I reach over and yank on the end of the quick-release knot. Rogan’s tie unravels, setting him free. My stomach sinks as I realize there’s no longer anything holding him here. He could get up and walk away in the next ten seconds. I bring the luxurious sapphire silk to my face and inhale his scent. I rub it against my cheek before folding it and placing it neatly on the pillow next to us.

  Rogan rolls onto his side, wincing slightly as he does. With a few quick motions, I ditch our condoms and use my discarded shirt to clean us up.

  Then, without considering the cost to us both, I deepen the intimacy of the moment by gathering him in my arms. He snuggles against my chest and sighs, making it impossible to loosen my grip.

  For the first time, he returns my embrace. His hands press me to him as tightly as I’m doing to him. We’re crushed together. Sweaty. Still catching our breath.

  Deliriously happy.

  For the first time in a while, I’m content.

  It felt amazing to pour my frustration into him. To have him absorb it a
nd know it was doing him good, forcing us both to ignore the past and concentrate only on the spectacular present we shared.

  Now it’s over. Pretending there can be more of this is delusional and reckless.

  I know better. Hopefully he does, too.

  I clear my throat, wondering if he’ll get the hint or if I’ll have to escort him out. It’s never been this hard to force space between myself and someone I’ve just fucked. At least not since I became a serial dater.

  Rogan looks up and blinks a few times. He shakes his head softly, setting the dark strands of his hair tumbling onto his forehead. “Thanks, Kaden. I really needed that.”

  “Me too.” I taste his lips once more as I brush his hair into place. He doesn’t have to know it’s a kiss goodbye.

  “I didn’t mean to crash your evening like this. It’s late, huh?” He adjusts his position. I despise the gap he puts between us. Still, I don’t reach out and close it.

  “It is.” Should I tell him I don’t care? That it might be past my bedtime but I’ll sleep better tonight than I have in ages? Or should I keep those thoughts to myself and make his exit easier on us both?

  What I’ve been doing no longer seems like the right thing.

  “Well, uh…” He sits up, cataloging his belongings, which are strewn around my bedroom. When his eyes land on his keys, I know he’s about to make his getaway.

  I’m confused. There’s no time to figure out what the best thing is to do. So I fall back on habit. “Are you okay to drive? I could take you home then order an Uber again. I don’t mind if you’re too wrecked.”

  God, the urge to take care of him overwhelms me. Besides, if he says yes I can also spend a little more time with him. He doesn’t have to know I’m secretly clinging to something I can’t allow myself long term.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. I’m not going far.” His teeth click as he shuts his mouth fast. Is he, like me, afraid he might reveal too much?

  “It’s at least a twenty-minute ride out to your place.” I should let it go. Stay out of his shit. Uncomplicated. The way I like it.

  He hesitates too long. I can tell he’s debating what to say next. I don’t like him calculating. I much preferred when he was beneath me, reacting honestly, with genuine emotion. This is bullshit. “Rogan?”

  He swings his legs over the edge of the bed so his back is to me. His shoulders droop as he confesses, “I haven’t been able to go back there. Or to the beach house. Don’t think I ever will. They’re both on the market.”

  “Where are you staying if you’re not living in either of your houses?” I slide over so I’m sitting next to him, our knees touching as I cover his hand with mine.

  “A hotel about a half mile from here. I mean, technically I own it, so maybe it’s my place. But…it’s nothing like I’m used to. Definitely nothing like this.”

  Maybe the legendary sex we’re still recovering from messed up my brain, or maybe he’s blowing my mind all over again. It’s too much to process when I’m still drunk on him. “Hold up. You own an entire hotel?”

  “More like I own a real estate conglomerate that owns a chain of them. I’ll pick another property from the holdings to live in eventually. I guess I just wanted somewhere neutral to lick my wounds in the interim. You know, so I don’t contaminate the new place with bad juju. It’ll be a fresh start when I move in. Only cheery memories allowed.”

  “Makes sense.” Damn, though. He was even more baller than I’d realized. Yet he submitted to me graciously. Enthusiastically. Despite the fact that I’m pretty much nobody. Wow.

  “Maybe there’s another property like this in the portfolio. The other half of this building has potential too if it wouldn’t be too weird to be neighbors.” He sounds oddly wistful. “I’m not the stalker type, don’t worry.”

  Why doesn’t that thought horrify me? An ex-lover popping in to borrow my ladder or some shit in exchange for a quickie? It wouldn’t really count as a do-over if it was a thank-you fuck between friends, would it?

  The rest of my building has been vacant since before I opened my studio. It’s one reason I get such a great deal on the rent. I was willing to take it as is and fix it up myself. The quirky space works for me. I’ve kind of gotten used to the insulation from the rest of the block, too. But what if Rogan was the one living there?

  Maybe we could negotiate some kind of fuck buddy arrangement. I’d get to see him from time to time. No relationship necessary. Hmm…

  “It must be nice to have so many options. I can’t imagine snapping up half a building on a whim.” Which, I suppose, is why I’m still renting this place.

  “Actually...” He trails off again until I knock my thigh against his. It might make me an asshole to leverage our dynamic for info after we’re done sleeping together, but I’m super curious about his hesitation.

  “Actually what?” My eyes narrow.

  It’s not like him to be deceptive. Even by a lie of omission.

  “I might sort of own this building too.” He shrugs one shoulder as if that’s no big deal.

  “Come again?” My brows practically wing off my face. What if he turns into a jealous prick and he evicts me? I try not to freak out at the thought of another man having so much power over me. Especially one I’m in bed with.

  This is exactly the kind of sticky situation I’ve tried to avoid.

  “I would love to, but I’m not as young as I used to be.” His deadpan delivery in the face of my potential hysteria slays me.

  I burst out laughing. “I hear that, Gramps. But…seriously, you’re my landlord?”

  “Only in a vague and roundabout fashion. More like I’m your landlord’s boss’s boss or something. Don’t worry, I’ve already sent a few texts about improvements to the property. You should have demanded lights out back. And better security for your artwork.”

  I do not need him dictating what I should or shouldn’t have done to my own home. I don’t give a fuck who owns it. I live here. It’s my place in the world. “This is my house, not a museum. It’s fine the way it is.”

  “Of course it is. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just that…I really appreciate what you’ve done for me and I want the best for you.” He stands then, scrunching his eyes closed for a second before opening them and glaring at me. His demure side is usurped by the businessman he is outside of his sex life. There’s an entirely new—fiery and steely—man I haven’t met yet lurking beneath his calm. I like the glimpse I get, too. A lot. “Ronaldo used to hate it when I tried to take care of him too. I didn’t mean it as a slight to your authority. Yeah, okay. I guess I’m going to take off then.”

  No way in hell. Not when my big, dumb mouth has shaken the foundation for rebuilding his self-esteem that I’ve worked so hard on laying all evening. Taking care of him is more important than my issues. I obviously struck a nerve.

  “Rogan, wait. I’m being an idiot. Thank you for caring.” I lace my fingers with his and tug. Hard. He tumbles onto the rumpled sheets beside me again. I break all my rules when I insist, “Don’t go. Stay here with me tonight.”

  Rogan doesn’t say anything for far too long. I’m sure he’s about to slip through my fingers. Another regret. Another great thing my hang-ups have spoiled. Maybe it’s time to stop making some of these same mistakes.

  It might be time to change again. Just a little.

  “You really are welcome, Rogan. I’d love to fall asleep with you. It’s been a while since I’ve done that.” That’s the least I can do. Share a jagged part of myself in exchange for the sting I caused by balking at his well-intended meddling.

  “You’re sure?” he wonders.

  I don’t respond automatically, without actually weighing my options. Am I certain?

  “I’m positive I’d be upset if you left.” I just don’t know if it’s a good idea. Oh well. There’s no way I’m kicking him out, condemning him to flounder in emptiness made more evident by the intimacy we shared earlier.

/>   Or is it myself I’m trying to protect? I can’t do it tonight. Sleep alone, I mean.

  I’m selfish, I know. But I need him every bit as much as he needs me. If I can pretend I’m hanging on for his own good, even better.

  “Then how can I say no?” He settles in beside me. My relief is mirrored in every smoothed-out line of his face. I trace them along his brow and the corners of his mouth with the tip of my index finger before dropping a soft kiss on his cheek.

  I have to look away from the tenderness in his gaze before it blinds me, like a person emerging from a pitch-black cave who sees the sun for the first time in ages. Which is when I spot our fortune cookies on the nightstand.

  Sweet diversion.

  “Hey, we never ate these.” I reach across Rogan to grab them and toss one to him at random. “I could use a midnight snack after that workout.”

  He moves fluidly and fast as fuck, snagging his out of midair. It reminds me of how capable he is and how fearless it was of him to let me be in charge of managing our pleasure tonight.

  Rogan tears open the wrapper and shakes the cookie into his hand.

  “Don’t forget to do that whole ‘in bed’ thing,” I tease as I slap him on the ass.

  After breaking his dessert in half and inhaling the edible parts, he unfurls his fortune. “Huh.” Rogan flips the slip of paper around so I can read it.

  You’re exactly where you’re meant to be (in bed).

  If I was the superstitious sort, I’d think it was some kind of sign. We grin at each other.

  Figuring mine will be a letdown after that, I bust it apart anyway. I scarf the cookie before the crumbs can escape then take a peek at my own fortune.

  “What the—?”

  “They can’t all be winners.” Rogan beams up at me with a triumphant glint in his eyes.

  Until I show him what it says.

  “Wow. What are the odds of that?” He glances from his strip of paper to my matching one then back. Two guys. One fortune. “I mean, I guess they’re all made in the same plant. A matching pair could wind up stuck together, but I’ve never had that happen.”