Evan

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Evan Page 18

by Allie K. Adams


  “Is there coffee?”

  He pushed away from the window at the sound of Evan’s voice. As he turned and took in his appearance, he caught himself staring. How could the man possibly be even more beautiful today than yesterday?

  He’d found the clothes Clint had ready in Evan’s closet. The blue T-shirt hugged his frame perfectly and did amazing things to accent his piercing eyes. The jeans looked better on him than on the catwalk model he’d met in New York last year during Fashion Week. He was barefoot, which Clint found oddly arousing.

  “I’ll have a fresh carafe brought up.” He ignored Evan’s protests and ordered coffee, juice, pastries, fruit, and pancakes. For good measure, he added a couple sides of bacon.

  He replaced the receiver and turned, surprised when Evan stood on his tiptoes and kissed him soundly, their lips lingering even after the kiss ended. He’d never, ever had someone kiss him the morning after play. Not once. His subs stayed in the room for most of the next day to recover.

  But, not Evan. Of course, not Evan.

  “Good morning.” He licked Evan from his lips as the smaller man padded into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “How’d you sleep?”

  “That bed is so comfortable.”

  “How are you…otherwise?”

  “What do you mean?” He remained hidden behind the door, so Clint couldn’t gauge his expression. He sounded okay, but that didn’t mean he actually was okay.

  “Evan, talk to me.”

  “Oh, you mean am I okay with what we did last night? Am I okay with you blindfolding me, stripping me down, tying me up, then handcuffing me to a table? Am I okay with you leaving me tied during sex, denying me release until it hurt so bad I cried?” He slammed the door, causing the glass jars to rattle.

  “Evan.”

  “I screamed, Clint. I’ve never screamed during sex in my life, and that includes my first time with Joey Blanchard in the treehouse when I was fifteen. No lube.”

  He winced at the thought.

  “I knew this was going to happen.”

  Jesus, he felt like a piece of shit. “Evan, I’m so sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. If I could take it back, I would.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  He snapped his mouth closed. “Come again?”

  Evan marched up and didn’t stop until he poked Clint in the chest. Hard. “I’ve never experienced anything like that, goddamn it. I gave myself to you, gave everything I am to you. And you blew my mind, you bastard.”

  “Sorry?” He rubbed where Evan’s finger jabbed him.

  “You set the bar last night, Mr. Duke.” He tilted his chin. “I hope it wasn’t a one-time thing.”

  He grinned and took the step needed to bring them a whisper away from lips to lips. “Is that a challenge?”

  “You made me like it. I won’t let you forget that.”

  “I didn’t make you do anything. You liked it on your own.”

  Evan narrowed his eyes and stepped back, his finger pointed like somehow he’d won the argument. Were they even arguing? Clint had no idea what to think, only that he loved it and couldn’t explain why.

  A ding echoed through the penthouse. Clint hurried to the elevator and pressed the intercom. “Yes?”

  “Room service, Mr. Duke. May I come up?”

  “Yes, of course.” He pushed the button granting the waiter access. When the elevator doors whooshed open, Clint signed for the cart and sent the server on his way. He pushed the food past the kitchen and out onto the terrace, calling out in a terrible attempt at the classic Terminator line, “Follow me if you want to live.”

  “Don’t ever do that again,” Evan teased as he joined him. “You can’t do that accent.”

  He poured them both coffee. “What about this one, mum?”

  “No. Your British is even worse than your Austrian.”

  “Would you care for a pastry?” His French was the worst one, yet.

  “Just no.” He laughed. “Face it, Mr. Duke. You can’t do accents.”

  He sighed, defeated. “I know. I’ve tried, believe me. It’s the reason I didn’t get the lead in high school.”

  “Which play?” He grabbed a pastry with something green stuffed inside and sniffed.

  “I have no idea. I was after the lead, a strapping lad by the name of Seamus, if memory serves.”

  “Your Irish sucks, too.”

  “Aye, lad. That it does.” He reached for the bacon. They consumed most of the meal, joking and laughing as they shared stories. When they’d finished, Clint motioned for Evan to join him to take in the view. Together, they drank coffee and stared out at the water.

  Saturday was in full swing. The annual Bite of Seattle food festival was in July, and it was too soon for Bumbershoot, the international music and art festival the city hosted every Labor Day Weekend. “What do you suppose all the ruckus is about?”

  Evan leaned on the ledge, grinning. “There you go with that word again.”

  “It gets my point across.”

  “If you say so.” He pushed away from the half-wall and padded inside. “Hey, what are you doing later?”

  “With any luck, something with you.”

  “Today is your lucky day.” Evan set the empty mug on the counter as he passed the kitchen on his way upstairs. “Want to catch a movie? I think they do that thing in one of the parks down at the waterfront.”

  “In public?” Together?

  He didn’t slow as he ascended the stairs. “Unless it’s raining.” He disappeared upstairs and reappeared a few minutes later, his phone and keys in hand. “Then it would suck.”

  “Where are you off to?”

  “Patsy and I do brunch every weekend.”

  “On a Saturday?”

  “Her idea.” He walked to the elevator and pushed the call button. “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, she marches to the beat of her own crazy drum.”

  “You just ate.”

  “I’ll just have coffee.”

  “Evan, wait.” He blocked him from leaving. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Clint.”

  “I’m serious. Talk to me. Are you okay?” He emphasized every word.

  “Would you quit asking me that?” His eyes were wide, filled with worry and uncertainty. “The truth is, I don’t know if I’m okay. I can’t make sense of anything in my head right now. Being around you only makes it harder to concentrate. I need to get away from you, figure things out.”

  “Please don’t leave.” He kept his voice low to hide the emotions struggling to surface. They were too strong and gave him away as he let out a slow, ragged breath.

  “I can’t stay here, Clint. The good morning kiss. Breakfast on the terrace. It’s like we’re a real couple. It’s all so normal.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “What we did is not normal,” he yelled as the brave façade he woke up with finally crumbled. “Why do we have to have sex in a room designed for pain? Why can’t we just be together?”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “It should be! I like you. A lot.” He panted as confusion and fear swirled in his eyes. “I want us to be together. I want to be able to go out with you. Yes, in public. I want normal, Clint. I don’t know if I can do what we did again.”

  “Because you didn’t like it?”

  “Because I did.” He turned, placing his back to Clint.

  Clint already knew the truth but needed Evan to admit it on his own. Now he needed to realize there wasn’t anything wrong with what they did. Again, a realization he had to come to on his own.

  He turned and walked to the kitchen in the hopes Evan would follow. When he didn’t and the elevator doors closed, Clint hung his head. He’d had potential partners walk out on him before, during play and after. Sometimes, even during negotiations when they couldn’t agree on terms.

  Not once had any of them felt like this. This shredded him. The first man to break through his walls barely made it
through breakfast with him before cracking. Why did he have to be so screwed up?

  “On second thought,” Evan said quietly as he rounded the corner. Clint couldn’t believe it and jerked up straight, his breath stuck inside the tightening of his chest. “I think it’s supposed to rain today.”

  He moved out from behind the counter and stopped a few feet from Evan. “No one wants to watch a movie in the rain. That’s not…”

  “Normal.” His chin quivered, destroying Clint.

  “Come here.” He pulled Evan to him and held him tight as the man trembled in his arms. “There are no rules, here. Normal is just a setting on the dishwasher. Don’t let society’s version of the word define us.”

  He laughed and sniffed. Shit. He was crying. “If that were the case, I’d be married with a couple kids and a wife I couldn’t stand.”

  “At least this way, you avoid all that pesky overhead.”

  Evan laughed again and wiped at his eyes. “Sorry. I’m a crier. Always have been.”

  “I’m not.” He closed his eyes until the burn behind his eyes melted away. “I’m not even a hugger.”

  “Yet you have my face pressed into your armpit. You need a shower.”

  He held Evan at arm’s length to stare into his eyes. “Care to join me?”

  “Is that allowed? To, you know, do stuff outside of the playroom?”

  “Our game. Our rules. We can do whatever we want.” Which scared the shit out of him. He’d always followed a very strict regimen. Workout alone every morning. Eat alone every night. Sleep alone after play. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

  He’d yet to follow a single one of his rules since Evan McKoy came into his life.

  19

  Evan peeked out above the fan of cards in his hands. He had to find a way to break him. The game depended on it. It was life or death. Studying his hand, he made his decision, hoping it wasn’t another mistake. The man sitting across from him was already too far ahead.

  “Do you have any fours?”

  Clint’s eyes danced, and Evan knew he’d made a grave choice. “Go fish.”

  “Damn it.” He pulled a card and growled. “You are too good at this game.”

  “I was crowned champion in the third grade.”

  “You just made that up.”

  “I got a trophy and everything.” Clint studied his cards, flicking his gaze to Evan several times. “True story.”

  Evan laughed and shook his head as he reached for his wine. “I have to give it to you. When you said you had the perfect date night, I had no idea it involved playing cards in the tub. How’s the water staying warm? We’ve been in here a while.”

  “Heated jets. Bubbles, too.”

  “So, basically, you have a hot tub in your bedroom.”

  He nodded. “Basically. That’s normal, right?”

  “For you, maybe.”

  “For us,” he corrected. “What can I say? It’s some version of normal. It’s sort of romantic, isn’t it?”

  “Sort of.” It was more than that. It was the most romantic gesture anyone had ever done for him. He didn’t want to tell Clint that and have his ego swell any bigger. “Your move, Romeo.”

  “Do you have any queens?”

  Evan snorted.

  “It’s a legit question.”

  He chuckled.

  “Shut up.”

  He laughed louder and yelled out when Clint pushed the sliding bath table out of the way, scattering the game all over the bathroom tiles in his lunge to trap Evan against the side of the tub. Face to face, Clint swiped his tongue, licking at his bottom lip. He rubbed their noses together and dragged his body against Evan’s. Dear God, that was a wicked, sexy gleam swirling in those dark eyes.

  “What was the question?” Evan darted out his tongue to meet Clint’s.

  “Do you have,” he paused to bite at Evan’s lip, “any,” another nip, “queens?”

  “I did.” He lifted his chin, wanting Clint to kiss him more than he wanted to keep playing the game. “But they’re now floating on the floor.”

  “Guess we’ll have to start the game again. Unless you have any other ways to pass the time.”

  “I can think of one.” He rocked his hips.

  “Well, Mr. McKoy. I do believe that is precisely the one I was thinking of.” Clint lifted him and slipped under so they faced each other, fitting his erection nice and snug between Evan’s cheeks. He bit playfully at Evan’s chin before slowly trailing his tongue down.

  Evan lifted his head, exposing his neck, and let out a ragged breath at the sensations coursing through his body. “I love it when you do that.”

  “Do what?” He trailed his tongue up and nipped at his chin again. “This? Or this?” He wiggled his hips, using his hard flesh to part Evan’s, and rolled his hips. From their vigorous love-making last night, not to mention how unbelievably turned-on he was right now, Evan’s tight hole eagerly welcomed Clint. The soapy water lubricated them so much the head slipped right in. “Oh, Jesus.”

  “Am I hurting you?” Clint froze and held Evan still, too.

  Was he hurting him? This from the man who took pleasure in tying Evan up and refusing his release until he literally begged and cried for it.

  “Evan?” Clint held his gaze.

  “Is this allowed?” he asked before he chickened out. Were they allowed to have sex outside the playroom? Or was this breaking yet another one of Clint’s rules?

  Something shifted in his eyes. He didn’t like the question. “Is what allowed? This?” He slowly, steadily, pushed until there was nothing left between them. Evan shuddered and relished in the feel of Clint’s flesh filling him, stretching him. “Is this allowed, Evan?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t know which question he answered and didn’t care. Clint had started to move in a more deliberate pace. Evan rocked with him, their joint motion sloshing water over the top and all over the floor. And still, he didn’t care. “Oh, Clint. Yes.”

  Clint captured his mouth and devoured him, leaving Evan breathless and dizzy. Holy shit, did this man know how to kiss. He took without mercy. He gave without reservation. “Is that allowed?”

  “Yes.” Evan didn’t think. He only moved, his instincts directing the motion of his body. When he increased his pace, Clint grabbed his hips and slowed him down. No matter how much Evan bucked to move faster, Clint wouldn’t have it. He kept them at a slow, painfully steady pace. Evan whimpered in frustration, wanting more friction. His body demanded it.

  But it wasn’t up to his body. It was up to Clint, and the man wanted to take his time. Evan whimpered again.

  “Look at me,” Clint demanded. “Breathe with me.”

  He did and relaxed, slowing everything to match Clint’s. His movement. His breathing. His heart rate. They were no longer two separate people. They were now one, moving in perfect precision. He couldn’t look away, knowing breaking this connection would destroy them both.

  “Is this allowed, Evan?”

  “Yes.” He couldn’t stop the cry of raw need that escaped his lips. Clint buried his flesh deep and held it there. Evan grabbed the sides of the tub and threw his head back. “Yes!”

  Clint stroked Evan’s cock and kept their bodies still. “Is this allowed?”

  “Oh, Jesus.” He was going to come. “Clint.”

  “Come for me. Look me in the eye and know I’m the one who allowed your release.”

  “Yes!” He detonated, every bone in his body shattering on impact. Clint thrust hard, forging their bodies deeper. Evan grabbed his shoulders as his orgasm refused to let him go, pumping out over and over. He trembled as the pleasure continued to rip through him.

  Clint’s explosion had him growling, biting at Evan’s shoulder as he slammed them together until neither of them had anything left. They collapsed in the water, panting. Evan didn’t have the strength to do anything but fall back and rest his head on the ledge of the tub.

  “Wow,” he moaned when he finally found his voice. “That was…�
��

  “Allowed.”

  He lifted his head to study Clint. The man didn’t look like he’d just climaxed. If anything, he looked ready to chew nails. Evan sat up. “Are you okay?”

  Clint stood and stepped out to grab a towel, wrapping it around his waist. “I’m not sure why you think we aren’t allowed to have sex outside of the playroom or why you feel it necessary to even ask.”

  “The rules—”

  “Fuck the rules.” He set his jaw. “Our game. Our rules. Remember?”

  Evan turned away. He didn’t like that look, not at all. It was possessive, dominant, and made him wish he had something better to say than, “I’m sorry.”

  “Look at me.”

  He did and regretted ever asking that goddamn question. The pained expression washing over Clint cut deep into Evan and burned behind his eyes. He’d do anything to take it back.

  “Talk to me. Ask me questions. Never assume anything. What we have is so much more than what we do in the playroom. Yes, that’s part of who we are, but that’s not all we are.”

  He blinked, releasing a tear streaming down his cheek. He’d hurt his lover. Not physically, but emotionally, which was so much worse. His chest tightened as his throat constricted. The man was devastated, destroyed by Evan’s uncertainty. Knowing he’d caused that look destroyed him, too. He stood and stepped out, approaching Clint and not slowing until he lifted on his tiptoes to brush their lips together.

  “No more doubts. What can I say? I’ve got issues. I won’t let them get between us again.” He kissed him again, this time longer, lingering their mouths together. “But, you have to promise me something in return.”

  “Anything,” he whispered against Evan’s lips.

  “You can’t get upset every time I slip. You may be used to this lifestyle, but I’m not. I grew up with a father who used words to inflict pain. It’s hard for me to use my words, Clint. As much as I know how badly you need to hear them.” His emotions threatened to spill over as he continued, fighting against the ache consuming him. “But sometimes saying them scares me. I’m scared they’ll come out wrong, and when you react like you did, all because I asked a question, it only solidifies my fears.”

 

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