Chapter 16 DIEGO
As many times as I’ve declared I don’t give a fuck what someone thinks about me, only to then obsess nonstop over what they think about me, I know a little bit about that shit.
What confounded me about Taran’s situation was that he was stuck wondering, which was very different in practice from knowing outright that someone doesn’t like you, or doesn’t approve of something about you.
He couldn’t even be mad, not really. Mad at what? The world? Like, get in line, man. Most of us wish it was the end days right now, but we know we’re not that fucking lucky.
I took him to my place, made him a drink, and settled him on my couch with Shortcake to watch over him. Then I snuggled up to him like usual, and said, “Thanks for letting me come.”
“It might not seem like it, but it really helped,” he said, eyebrows up.
“Did you think it wouldn’t?” Because I was definitely getting that vibe.
“No. But I didn’t expect to feel so brave. Not sure I would’ve without you.”
“Please stop selling my boyfriend short, Taran, because you do not want this smoke.”
He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close, then kissed my temple.
“I love you,” I said impulsively. It never seemed to come out at normal times, like when he said it, or when we were saying goodbye, or anything rational like that. It just burst out of me on occasion, when I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“I know,” he murmured.
We sat in silence, watching Parks and Rec, another of my comfort shows that he liked.
Normally, I would’ve offered a comfort fuck, or at least a quick blowie to take his mind off things.
But I’d been with him long enough, in a real, functioning adult relationship, to know that wasn’t how Taran operated.
So instead, after a while, I said, “I’m gonna get changed.
You wanna come to bed and read for a while? ”
He nodded. Smiled lopsidedly. “Look at you, not trying to fuck your way out of dealing with my feelings.”
“Or my own,” I insisted.
“Or your own.”
“Come to bed.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I think I will. Thanks, baby.”
***
Maybe it started before that day at the graveyard. Maybe it was when I finally admitted he’d been my boyfriend all along. Or maybe when I brought him to a family birthday dinner. But somewhere, somehow over the last month, the way I thought of Taran shifted.
He used to be the guy that broke my heart, when I was in a mood. When I was feeling charitable, he was the one that got away.
Neither of those felt true anymore, even though he did break my heart and he definitely got away.
But now when someone said his name, I thought of him coming to pick me up after work, even though he had to get up in the morning, and of him organizing my wishlist so I could start doing something I really loved without going broke, and of him kissing me breathless while I begged for more.
The past was a part of us, both separately and together. But it didn’t define us. Something new did that now. Something I probably didn’t deserve but would fight tooth and nail to keep anyhow.
One night, he took me to my favorite sushi place up on Mt. Washington for sunset, so we could watch the city light up while we ate absurdly pretty arrangements of raw fish. I asked him what the occasion was, and he said, “It’s Kelly’s four-month wedding anniversary.”
“Is that all it’s been?” I wondered, flushing hot. How in the fuck did he even remember things like that? “Feels like a lot longer.”
“Oooh.” He pointed his chopsticks at me. “Afraid you’re gonna pay for that one later.”
I laughed. “I didn’t mean—” But then I snapped my mouth shut and composed it into an insolent smirk.
He arched an eyebrow at me, biting back a smile.
“Bring it, lover boy,” I said. And I’ve never been more sincere in my fucking life.
***
My stomach fluttered as I unlocked my apartment door. I glanced over my shoulder, catching Taran, his business casual button-down showing off his gorgeous shoulders, top button already undone, looking at my ass. And laughed.
Okay, I giggled. “Can we do this?”
He’d researched, sending me little texts like, “Do you think you’d like a cold washcloth after?
Or some ice?” that made me squeal like a kitten.
We’d talked, describing what I liked about pain, about focus, about spanking in general; what he liked about giving me sensations, playing with my body, telling me what he wanted to do and hearing me say yes, please.
We’d practiced, my hand on his ass, me over his lap, laughing and kissing and fucking about halfway through.
But something about the way he looked at me over the table that night told me he was ready to play. And I was definitely up for a game.
He licked his lips and said, “We can do anything we want, Diego.”
I waltzed into the dark apartment grinning, flicked on the lights, and executed a little spin. “Then let the games begin.”
He smiled, walked right up to me, and put one finger under my chin to lift it so I couldn’t look away. Not that I wanted to. Those fucking eyes, man.
“You say that now,” he said, smile going lopsided but voice dropping into his chest, all gravelly. “Did you forget that you’re in trouble?”
I giggled again, my nerves bubbling up and out of my mouth.
He snorted and glanced away, trying to compose his face and sucking at it.
“What’d I do?” I stuck out my bottom lip.
“You implied that four months with me felt like an eternity.” He did manage a very supervillain eyebrow arch, at that.
“Did I?” I batted my eyelashes. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
“Uh-huh. So I just made that up?”
I bit at my bottom lip, stifling another giggle… but in spite of how silly it felt, there was a definite fire in his eyes. His hand was hot where it held my chin, and he brushed my bitten lip with his thumb, gaze fixing on it.
He leaned forward, and I tilted my head.
He took my chin in his hand, thumb pressing into my cheek on one side, fingers on the other, and held it still.
His lips hovered there, just an inch from mine, his breath hot and sweet from after-dinner plum wine.
My skin tingled everywhere as my half-hard dick experienced a sudden and delicious rush of blood.
“You’ll have to pay for that too,” he whispered. I couldn’t see his mouth, but the squint of his eyes behind his thick-rimmed glasses gave his smile away.
“Ooh.” I raised both eyebrows but didn’t fucking move anything else. Letting him hold me in place. “Big man.”
He laughed, a low, rumbly sound, and slipped his thumb past my lips, into my mouth.
My dick got another rush, and I licked the pad of it and sucked it in. Hard. Still watching his eyes.
For just a second, his eyes flashed, and he stared at my mouth, transfixed.
I would’ve laughed again, but he chose that exact moment to pull his thumb out of my mouth with a pop and take a step back.
I hovered there, still leaning forward like he was holding me up.
He lifted his chin, using it to indicate the bookshelf that hid the bed from the rest of the apartment. “Get undressed,” he said.
I didn’t know this could really happen, but I swear to god, my knees went weak.
I swallowed a little whimper and tried to stand straight again.
Didn’t wanna give in so easy, but goddamn, he was the perfect fucking combination of hot and funny right now.
It was too much. I did manage a little pursed lip and, “What about you?”
“Racking up the offences, Diego.” He shook his head.
“I’m not!”
“Nope, keep going. I have all night.”
Goddamn, the way my dick was trying to jump out of my incredibly tight jeans was just obscene. And he’d barely touched me.
Now it was my turn to say, “Ooh,” but entirely seriously. “That was good.”
His face scrunched up. “Was it? I feel like I suck at improv.”
“No, babe, you’re good at being bossy. Really, you’re crushing it.”
He nodded, steeling his face again.
I flounced over to the bookshelf and then around it, grinning to myself like an idiot.
Quickly, I shucked my shoes, socks, pants, and shirt…
then paused as I had another of those faintly evil thoughts.
I walked back around the bookshelf still wearing my shorts, cock struggling ridiculously to be free of them, and held out both hands. “Happy?”
While I’d been undressing, he’d managed to school his face.
He’d also opened a few more buttons on his shirt, so some dark, soft hair escaped.
Fuck, I wanted to bury my face in it. And the way he was sitting, with one arm over the back of the couch, one ankle propped up on the other knee…
okay, that was new. He was actually owning the space, which I’d never seen him do; he was very conscientious about not manspreading, usually.
I bit my lip again, trying not to smile too big. But he ran his gaze up and down me, and then looked me in the eye and said, “What do you think?”
I moved a little nearer but slowly, like I was the one doing the teasing. “I think you’re very happy to see me.”
He dropped his gaze to my dick, still straight-faced. “Am I gonna have to do it myself?”
My mouth fell open; I fanned myself dramatically, then dropped my shorts as fast as possible.
“Better.” He crooked a finger at me.
I took a few steps closer, my cock standing straight out, dark and bouncing with every move. I suddenly felt completely fucking stupid, standing in front of this fully clothed hottie, this man I was desperately in love with, asking him to play a silly game with me.
But his smile slid sideways, changed into something almost smug. “You know where you’re supposed to go.”
Ffffuckkk. I shifted from one foot to another. Giggled breathlessly, like a damn idiot.
He laughed again, covering his face. “Sorry; sorry! Is this not working?”
“It’s working too well,” I admitted, licking my lips again.
The smile went just a little smug again. He crooked his fingers again and patted his thigh. “C’mere. I’ll be gentle. Mostly.”