Fitch (The Wylde Street Boys #2)

2. Fitch Lamont

I needed to leave.

Not for any other reason than it was starting to feel a little too real.

The sex was out of this world. Possibly the best I’d ever had.

Dom was the perfect daddy: he had a firm hand and a gentle touch, he was kind and had an air of confidence that couldn’t be faked.

The way he walked, the way he held himself, how he spoke.

How he fucked.

He was powerful, obviously wealthy, clearly intelligent, and smoking fucking hot.

A silver fox with a commanding body and a glorious cock. He had short hair, greying at the sides, tanned skin, blue eyes. And big hands that knew exactly how to hold me, how to position me, and he knew how to fuck me and fill me.

That was why I had to leave.

Now, I’d serviced Dom a few times over the last couple of months, never straying too far from Wylde or Oxford Street. Usually a quick fix: blowjobs and that one time in the hotel.

But at his home? Where he took care of me and took me apart several times, and seeing him as something else other than a client. As a man with a life in full dimension, and not just a two-dimensional john and quick fifty bucks. It was a dangerous game, and one I wasn’t sure I could afford to play.

He’d paid me the money, gave me the best railings of my life, fed the daddy craving that burned in me, and then said he’d cook me pancakes after he showered.

And I loved pancakes.

I almost stayed.

But the voice of self-preservation in the back of my mind was telling me to bail.

Get out while you can.

Leave while the leaving’s good.

So while the shower ran in his bathroom, I dressed, pulled on my Converse, made sure I had my phone and key, and slipped out the front door.

I could breathe a little easier the further I got from his place. Which was in Double Bay, mind you. Where degrees of wealth were an equation I’d never comprehend.

I should have asked him for more money. He’d probably spent more than three hundred bucks on a single glass of whisky.

Oh well. Lesson learned.

I smiled as I hit Oxford Street. The familiarity, the people. Much more my style.

Home.

Figuring I had some extra cash and could splurge on one iced coffee, I hit the 7-Eleven. “Hey, Mr Stephanopoulos,” I said as I walked in and went straight to the fridge. He’d been the owner ever since I’d arrived. A real sweet man, maybe sixty-five, with thin white hair and a dark grey moustache and kind eyes. He looked out for the boys that worked and lived on Oxford, and we did the same for him. Rumour was he’d been around with the original 78ers, though I was never game to ask.

“Oh, Fitch,” he said, signalling for me to come closer. Then he spoke in a hushed voice. “Listen, listen. Is Benji okay?”

Fear struck me. I hadn’t been home, hadn’t texted him. I instinctively pulled out my phone. Only texts from Ky. “Yeah, I’m sure. Why do you ask? Did something happen?”

“Some men were looking for him last night,” he replied. “Not-so-nice men.”

Fuck.

I knew exactly who he was referring to.

“They asked in here and in some other places up and down, apparently. I told them I’d not seen him before,” he said. “You tell that boy he needs to be careful.”

“I will, thank you.”

“He needs to lay low for a little while, yeah?”

I nodded. God-fucking-dammit. “Thank you, Mr Stephanopoulos. I’ll tell him.”

I paid for my iced coffee and had my phone to my ear before I was out the door.

“Come on, Benj,” I mumbled. And I never called. He should know it was urgent if I called... “Pick up.”

No answer.

I shot out a quick text.

Call me asap

Then I raced home, took the stairs two at a time, slid my key into the front door and went in, hoping like all hell that I’d find him safe and sound asleep in his bed.

But he wasn’t.

Ky stirred when I opened his door and he blinked one eye at me. “Wassup?”

“D’you speak to Benj last night?”

He sat up. “Not since we went our separate ways. Was that like eleven o’clock?” He grabbed his phone. “No messages.”

“Fuck.” Panic was starting to bubble in my belly. “Apparently those men were looking for him again last night. And he’s not answering his phone.”

“Fuck,” he breathed as he rolled out of bed.

I sent Benji another spray of texts.

Where are you?

Benji tf ru?

U ok?

You need to lay low

If you don’t answer me rn I’m claiming your room

I stfg Benji

Tell me not to call the cops, Benji bc I’m about to

Then a whole damn eternity and a lot of nauseous pacing later my phone buzzed.

I’m okay

I almost freaking died from relief. Ky sagged when I showed him the screen. I hit Call.

He sounded completely fine. “Hey.”

“Oh, Benji, thank fuck. Where are you?”

Some place in Potts Point, apparently, and when I told him those two henchmen were asking questions, he wasn’t surprised.

Then he ever so casually told me he’d been hit by a car.

A fucking car.

So with his location on my phone, I found myself not long after ringing the buzzer at a nice apartment building. It was where the guy who’d hit him with his car lived, apparently.

And Benj was okay. Kinda scratched up and a bit stiff and sore all over, but otherwise okay.

It could have been so much worse.

And the guy who’d hit him, Nolan, was actually a decent guy. He offered to let Benj stay with him while he recuperated, and I was not letting that opportunity pass us by.

I even brokered Benji a better deal. More money, anyway. And I got him a bunch of shit from the supermarket. If Richie Rich Disney Prince was offering to pay for whatever Benji needed, I wasn’t passing up that opportunity either.

I even laid the groundwork for a possible railing later on. There was definitely a spark of something between them. The timid looks and soft smiles, and tension even I could feel.

Benji could thank me later... A full week later, after he’d lain low, was well-rested, and well-railed.

It was early afternoon by the time I got back to our place and gave Ky the full rundown. Well, full minus the actual details of who sent the men to look for Benji. Ky knew it was someone bad, someone Benji had to hide from, but he also knew not to ask questions.

Ky wasn’t really like me and Benj. He was way more serious, quieter, and would happily stay in his room and away from people any and every chance he got, and sometimes that included me and Benj. He just needed time to decompress and recharge his social batteries, and I could respect that.

He had his own shitty childhood demons to fight, from what we could gather anyway, and it was an unspoken thing with Ky that if information wasn’t offered freely, don’t ask.

There was a certain solidarity in that.

He was one of us, and we loved him like a brother. I knew, if and when shit ever got real with Benji and his arsehole father, that Ky would do everything he could to help.

“You working tonight?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Probably. Just some quick jobs, nothing more.”

A quick job in our line of work was usually a blow, sometimes a hand.

“Saving yourself for tomorrow night?”

He smirked. “Hm. Giving my arse a night off, anyway.” That made me snort. “How about you? You working tonight?”

I sighed. “I probably should. I did get paid a bonus last night though, so I technically could have a night off.”

Or two.

Ky quirked an eyebrow at me and he almost smiled. “Oh really? Do tell what skills deserved the bonus?”

I laughed. “An all-night skill.”

Now he smiled. “Damn. Was it good?”

“So fucking good,” I breathed. “Like oh my fucking god, Ky. Soooo good. But I’m gonna need a nap.”

“He didn’t let you sleep much?”

“No, he did not.” I had flashbacks of what he did to me and a warm shiver ran down my spine. “Totally worth it though.”

But the mere mention of sleep was all it took for my body to want it. I yawned and heaviness settled over me. I went to my room and stopped by the door. “Hey, if you go out or go to work, leave me a note or text or something. I don’t wanna be freaking out like I was today with Benji.”

He gave me a nod. “I will. Go sleep.”

I yawned again. “Already on it.”

I closed my door, fell face down onto my bed, and slept.

I woke up to an empty apartment. It was getting dark outside, and with nothing else to do, I hit the street. Maybe I’d work, maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe a night off, giving my arse a break, as Ky had said, would be in order.

Lord knows it had gotten a thorough workout the night before.

I went straight to the Wylde Street corner, our corner, but Ky wasn’t there. He’d texted me that he was working so I didn’t worry too much. And with Benji safely tucked away at Nolan’s place, it was quiet...

It felt weird being solo.

Whereas Ky was very happy in his own company, I was more a pack creature. I liked it better when they were with me. Maybe it was a safety-in-numbers thing. Maybe it was a fear-of-being-alone thing.

But whenever I found myself solo, especially when it got late, I tended to hang by Mr Stephanopoulos’s store.

There was more foot traffic, more familiar faces. More overhead lighting. More escape routes.

I kept an eye out for Benji’s two henchmen but didn’t see them. Certainly wasn’t stopped and shown a picture of him, asking if I knew him. Didn’t mean they weren’t around though.

I took two quick jobs. One BJ that was over in two minutes, barely worth getting on my knees for, and one hand job in a back alley. He was an older dude, seemed nervous and ashamed, and while I tried to work his ego as well, I honestly just found that shit depressing.

It made me think about shit I didn’t want to think about.

Like, would I still be doing this when I was his age? Would I be in my sixties, still living in a shitty apartment earning thirty bucks for a handy?

I’d like to think no, but what would I be doing at sixty?

Would I even make it to sixty? What about Benji and Ky?

What would it take to get us out of this cycle we were in? What would be the turning point where things changed for us?

It put me in a funky mood afterward and I knew it’d be an early night for me.

Ky appeared around ten and asked for my bottle of water. “Fucking latex,” he said. “Tastes so bad.”

I cracked up laughing. “They need to make condoms that taste like dick. Dick flavoured frangers.”

“Agreed,” he said, after taking a decent gulp. “Who wants that fake strawberry shit. Jesus.”

I snorted. “The taste of safe oral, huh?”

He grunted. “This is why I like my two daddies. No need for any of that.”

I was bluntly reminded of my encounter with Dom last night. Raw sex, when it was safe, was unbeatable. And Dom unloading in me twice last night? I could almost feel the pulse of him by memory alone.

It was so fucking hot.

Ky, oblivious to where my mind had gone, handed me back my water bottle. I put my hand up. “Keep it. I’m done tonight. Gonna turn in early.”

He looked up and down the street and sighed. “There’s a weird vibe for a Saturday night, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling it tonight. Earned a quick sixty already so I’m good. How about you?”

He made a dissatisfied sound. “Ugh. Might stick around for a bit.”

“Okay. Be safe. Call me if you need anything.”

“Course.”

I left him there, grabbed some dumplings from Bento’s, and was home before ten thirty.

On a Saturday night.

Blah.

I put it down to the lack of sleep and being so thoroughly railed and sated the night before, I had no interest in seeking anything sexual tonight.

It had nothing to do with the fact I couldn’t get Dom out of my head. His hot body, his chest hair, his strong arms, that almost-smirk before he caught himself.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with knowing how much I turned him on. How he handled me, how he held me.

How he praised me and worshipped me.

I needed to get him out of my mind. Tuck those details away for private moments, like lying in bed in our quiet and empty apartment, staring at the ceiling.

I considered jerking off, maybe using all those good memories for some wank fodder but as I gripped my dick and began to stroke, it was very apparent there was zero interest.

A lot of frustration though.

So, exhausted, unsatisfied, and confused, I rolled my stupid arse over and went to sleep.

I was still kinda mad at myself when I woke up. So I did some laundry, sent a few texts to Benji, and just hung around waiting for Ky to wake up.

He rolled out of bed around eleven, came out to the kitchen wearing nothing but underwear, and took his juice from the fridge.

“Morning,” I said with a smile. “Late night?”

“Hm,” he said, taking a swig straight from the bottle. “Weird night. There was a big fight down past Joe’s. Just some drunk dickheads,” he added before I could ask. “Cops came pretty quick, but the crowd kinda dispersed after that.”

“You said it was a weird vibe,” I said. “Shoulda listened to yourself.”

He nodded as he took another swig. “Some guy was asking for you,” he said.

What?

“Who? Not those arseholes after Benji?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Nah. Don’t think so. Older guy. Kinda hot. Pretty sure he goes to 180.”

Oh.

Could it be . . . ?

My heart knocked and my dick twinged with the first sign of life in almost twenty-four hours.

Oh, now you’re interested . . .

“Did he say his name?”

Ky gave me a side-eye. Because of course he didn’t. No one gave us their real name.

“Was he tall, greyish hair? Blue eyes?”

Ky put his juice on the counter and stared at me. “Fitch,” he said quietly. “Are you... Is that the guy from the other night?”

I felt far too scrutinised. “I dunno. You didn’t ask his name.” I got defensive for whatever reason. “You took a photo of him, didn’t you? The other night? Did you delete it yet?”

He frowned and went back to his room, returning a second later with his phone. He was scrolling. “I think I have it.” He turned his screen around to show me. “That’s him.”

My heart kicked up another notch.

It was him.

It was Dom.

“Did he say what he wanted?”

Ky was looking at me. “You like him,” he said, smiling genuinely. “Shit, dude. No, he just asked for you. I told him I didn’t know who he was talking about.”

That was also pretty standard for us.

“I wasn’t telling him shit,” Ky added. “But if I hadda known you were gonna get all flushed when you saw his photo, I would have given him your number. I mean, he knew your first name.”

I pretended to be mad. “Oh fuck off. I’m not flushed. What even is that? Am I a toilet?”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. But tell me honestly, if he comes looking again and asking for you—by your first name—what am I telling him?”

“I told him my name because... well, I don’t fucking know why I did that. But whatever.” I sighed. “And don’t give him my number. Get his, then give it to me.”

He gave me a side-eye. “My rates for personal secretary are thirty per hour.”

I laughed. “Fuck off.” I rolled my eyes at this whole conversation. “What time are you leaving tonight?”

“Four.”

“Four? Early start, huh?”

He put his juice back in the fridge. “Yep.” Then he headed toward the bathroom. “Speaking of which, much douching to be done.”

I laughed as the bathroom door closed but sighed happily.

Dom was looking for me.

Hopefully it wasn’t for anything bad. I wouldn’t let myself believe that.

But it did give me an optimistic approach to work on Sunday. I wondered if he’d come looking for me again, wondered why he was looking for me.

With both Benji and Ky indisposed, I hung around Mr Stephanopoulos’s store, having a chat and a laugh with some of the guys we’d come to know. It was quiet, even for a Sunday. I’d given some guy a blow job—a typical construction worker toxic masco-jerk who clearly hated himself. But apart from that, it was slow.

Usually when it got darker, trade picked up, but it didn’t improve much tonight.

I was bored enough to shoot some texts back and forth with Benji, and I was glad when he seemed to be happier.

He still hadn’t made a move on Nolan yet, and I didn’t know whether to be surprised or disappointed. Or both.

There’d been no railing or dick sucking, but they’d had dinner together, like a married couple or some shit.

It felt good to joke with him though.

Then after the jokes were done, his text turned to work.

How’s business?

The usual. Ky’s busy with the two daddies

Good for him

That made me laugh.

“Something funny?”

Startled, I looked up, seeing a familiar face watching me, smiling.

Oh, holy shit.

Dom.

I blinked in surprise, unable to stop from smiling back at him.

Not breaking eye contact with him, I thumbed out a quick reply to Benj.

Gotta go. Duty calls

“Hello,” Dom tried again.

I pocketed my phone. “Hey. Nice surprise.”

His brows knitted together. “Have you got a second? I just wanna talk, but somewhere private, perhaps?”

“Just talk, huh?” I joked. “Was I that bad?”

His gaze narrowed, but he scoffed and then, looking away, shook his head. “Just the opposite, actually.”

Well, damn.

I looked up the street. There wasn’t anywhere around here, but I certainly wasn’t taking him back to my place. “Let’s take a walk.”

I nodded up the street toward Taylor’s Square. I started walking and he fell into step beside me. We turned the corner and walked away from the noise. A short distance later, I leaned against the wall of the closed storefront with just enough lighting to see his features.

Dom stood facing me, a foot away.

“Busy night?” he asked.

What the hell . . . ?

We were doing small talk? I wasn’t much good at that so I opted for the truth. “I heard you were looking for me last night?”

His eyes met mine, and even in the dark I could see he was nervous, or embarrassed. He gave half a smile and let out a breath. “I was. I wasn’t sure if I’d find you tonight either...”

He looked so damn good. Dark jeans, a grey tee shirt, black sneakers. He was expensive, no two ways about it.

“Nervous doesn’t suit you, Dom,” I said. “Whatever you want to say, just spit it out.”

His gaze cut to mine. “I want to make regular appointments with you. Once a week, every week. Either Friday or Saturday nights. It may change if I have a schedule conflict. All night, six till breakfast the next day.”

Holy shit.

Then he smirked. “But this time you won’t need to skip out before breakfast. I need to know you leave my house with a full belly.”

I barked out a laugh and rubbed my stomach. “Oh, but I did.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Of food.”

We stared at each other then, me smiling and him trying not to.

“You came looking for me last night to ask me this? Not even a full day later. I must have made an impression on you.”

“You did,” he said, his voice low now, his eyes sharp and focused on me. He was slipping into daddy mode.

And it made me instantly want to be cheeky, to push his buttons, to see how far I could go before he punished me.

I made a show of licking my top lip and giving him a playful look. “What would you be doing to me?” I asked. “If it’s all night long, I mean. How many times would you fuck me?”

He made a soft grunt sound. “As many times as I want.” He took a step closer, crowding me against the wall, his eyes were dark, his voice like velvet. “You will be my boy for the entire duration. You will tend to me and I will meet your every need?—”

“Every?”

He growled. “Every. What we did the other night, everything we did, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. I want to do things to your body. I want to make you mine. Three hundred dollars, twelve hours, give or take.”

I bent one knee, the sole of my shoe pressed to the wall. I was trying to play it cool, as if this wasn’t the best deal I’d ever heard. As if he wasn’t turning me the fuck on right now.

I licked the corner of my mouth, his eyes drew to my tongue, and I ran my finger lightly down his chest. “I would have my own rules if I were to say yes.”