More, Sloan Parker [guided reading books TXT] 📗

and he pulled back, keeping his touch soft. Matthew found my neck with his warm lips. His soothing hands covered my body.

I gave in and wrapped around Richard. He didn't plunge. He didn't fuck. He pushed in and out in slow, long thrusts that broke my resolve.

He took my cock in his hand. “Come with me, Luke.”

But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

Cum, sweat, and tears covered my body. Matthew kissed me everywhere, and Richard glided his hand over my chest in a tender caress.

Matthew spoke first. “Are you okay, Luke?”

“I'm fine.”

“Talk to us, please.” He wrapped his arm around me. Tight. Restraining.

I shrugged him off and sat up. “I said I'm fine. Drop it.”

He reached for me again.

I pushed him away. “Get the fuck off me.” I scrambled off the bed.

The hurt look on his face stung. But I couldn't take it back or apologize. I fetched my clothes and went for the door. “I've gotta get out of here.”

My father was right. Eventually I'd lose them. It'd be better if I left, better if they didn't have to make that choice for me. Better if my father didn't try to either.

I made it up the stairs, clean, clothed, keys in hand, and out the door in no time. I walked several blocks before I found a cab. I didn't know if they followed. They weren't there to stop me, and that's what mattered.

There was one place where I'd get what I needed.

And nothing could have stopped me.

The cab dropped me off two blocks from my destination. I wanted to take some time to think things through before I got there. But it wasn't enough time. Or maybe it was just right.

I stood at the unmarked door.

This is what I need. What I've been missing.

I scanned my card and stepped into the Haven for the first time in months.

I handed my coat off and strolled to the bar, the scents of the room invading me. A mix of various colognes, musky sweat, cigars, and booze. A bartender I didn't recognize brought me a beer, and I drank it down fast. My stomach clenched. Whether out of anticipation or guilt, I didn't care.

I needed to be there.

I didn't have long to wait. A thigh grazed my leg as someone slid alongside my stool. The man ordered a draft and gave me a long stare. He was tall and large. Almost Richard's size. His hair and eyes were dark like Matthew's.

Don't think about them.

I stared at the man. He stared back. He wanted me.

This is what I need.

“You're Luke, right?”

I nodded, not sure I wanted to know how he knew me or what he'd heard. I needed something specific, and nothing was going to get in the way.

“I've heard you're good,” he said. “You have plans for tonight?” He took a long swig of his beer. Sweat clung to the hair around his ears and forehead. Black crescent-shaped residue inhabited the tips of his fingernails. A white powder had seeped into every crevice of the dry, cracked skin on his hands. He smelled of drywall and melted plastic.

A man who worked with his hands. His fingers on my flesh would be rough, calloused. They'd scrape, chafe. They wouldn't caress or console. They wouldn't remind me of anyone.

“I do now,” I said.

“Sure you do.” He placed a hand on my knee and yanked. My body swung with the stool, and I faced him.

The touch felt wrong— incredibly wrong. I pushed the reaction aside. “What are you into?”

He smirked. “I can be a pretty damn good Dom if you wanna go that route, or we can just fuck. Your call.”

He gave my leg a tug. I slid off the stool and stood before him, our bodies close enough that his warmth invaded my space. A shudder worked its way through me. Desire. This has to be desire.

I attempted a deep breath. “I want you to tie me up. I need you to hit me. Make me hurt. You do that, then you can fuck me.”

The man's Adam's apple jerked as he swallowed. He wanted it.

“Flogger?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Whip?”

I nodded again.

“My hands?”

I moved a few steps away and turned back to him. “Any way you want. I'll give it all over to you.”

The man stood. He grasped my arm and dragged me toward the stairs.

Toward the rooms upstairs.

Toward a mistake that would change my life.

Chapter Twenty-eight

I trudged down the stairs, sat at the bar, and ordered a water. The cool liquid didn't quell the nausea. It increased it. My heartbeat pulsed in my temples, behind my eyes, at the tip of each finger.

I fumbled in my pocket for my cell phone, flipped it open, and stared at it. Another drink of the water, and thirst still stung my throat. I ran my thumb over the buttons on the phone. Without hitting a single one, I clamped it shut and slammed it on the bar.

They didn't deserve to get that call.

But they didn't deserve not to either.

I grabbed the phone again and clutched it in a shaking hand.

A large hand stilled my own. I glanced up.

Walter stood beside me. “Call them.”

“Can't. I got lax. Led my father right to them. They deserve better.”

He cupped my jaw and jerked my face in his direction. “That's bullshit. They deserve to have what they want. You.” He took the cell from me. He dialed and handed it back.

Our home phone number filled the display. The bold numbers blurred together.

“Whatever is going on with you, call them, tell them. You don't have to do this alone.” He leaned in close. “You deserve to be loved.” He left without another word.

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to be more than what my father thought of me. I wanted to hold on to Richard and Matthew and never let go. But would they still want me?

I hit the call button. The low, deep voice that answered didn't sound at all confident.

I couldn't speak.

“Luke?” Richard said. “Where