Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
JAMIE
“Ican’t believe you, Jordi. You set me up. Why?” I whisper-shout at him. Then I turn to my other two friends who are chuckling like this is some joke. “Shut up. You two knew about this, didn’t you?”
“What?” Clark’s hand goes to his mouth and gasps, like he’s innocent.
“Don’t play coy-boy with me, dickhead—I can see the truth in your eyes. All three of you were in on this.” I huff out my ire.
Jordi blows a stream of cigarette smoke from his mouth and stares into my eyes like what he’s about to say is serious. “It wasn’t my idea, babe,” he whispers, then his eyes swivel to the door leading to the outside.
“What do you mean?” I’m not sure I’ll believe him, but I’ll hear him out.
“I told Markus that I had to think of a birthday gift for you, which led to me talking about how you were so into Mitch Thomas…” Jordi rolls his eyes and continues, “I told him about the magazine you bought. Then Markus told me that Mitch was his best friend and he thought bringing you two together would be a great birthday present for you. And of course I agreed, since it was a brilliant plan.”
“And the glory hole?” I continue to glare at him.
“That was also Markus’s idea. And from that smear of semen that you wiped from the corner of your mouth, I’d say it went fabulously. So how big is his dick?”
“I heard from a few guys in the scene that he’s huge,” Clark says, his voice all breathy. “Is it true, Jamie?”
“He’s over six feet tall and built like a brick shit house. Just looking at him, anyone can tell his dick is choice,” Dean says with a nod.
I huff to myself. If Dean only knew how true his statement is.
Mitch’s cock is big. But that isn’t what turned me on.
No, there’s just something about that man.
Even looking at his pictures made me want him, want a connection with him.
Then the memory of his grunts of approval still has me turned on in a way I’ve never been before, especially from giving a guy a blowjob.
I press the heel of my hand to my still-hard dick—I had wanted to come so bad, but it didn’t feel right, not without Mitch telling me to.
“Jordi, does Mitch know that it was me back there?” I ask, my anger easing back.
“No, but the way he was looking at you when you came inside the bar, he might have figured it out.”
Shit.
“Shh… They’re coming back in.” Clark nudges me with his elbow, distracting me from my unease.
I turn and my eyes land on Mitch, who is frowning. Quiet words pass between Mitch and Markus before they start walk toward us.
I panic. My heart jumps into a full-blown gallop and my lungs seem to stop working at the realization that I might have to talk to Mitch Thomas. He can’t see me all flustered. And my breath—Oh hell, I have cum breath. I need to rinse my mouth.
“Where’s the washroom?” I blurt out.
“Over there, why?” Jordi asks, but I don’t answer. I just take off in the direction he pointed. I don’t stop when two hunky men touch my hands, trying to stop me. No, I’m on a mission.
I find the door, open it and see there are several men inside fucking around with each other. I don’t make eye contact or give a greeting. I go straight to the sink.
One glance at myself in the black-spotted mirror over the sink, and I groan in disgust. Even though the mirror has seen better days, it still shows me that my hair is flat and my skin is all flushed and sweaty. I look goddamned awful.
I turn on the faucet and lean over the sink to clean my face and rinse my mouth. Over the sound of the running water, I hear the washroom door open and then a low voice booms one word: “Leave.”
As the command echoes off the walls, my stomach drops. I don’t need to look around to confirm that it’s Mitch—I’m getting to know his voice already. Through the mirror I watch the other men scramble to get out of the washroom.
“What are you doing?” Mitch asks, finally coming into view behind me.
“Cleaning up,” I say shakily as my fingers fumble with the dial to turn off the water.
“Why?”
My spine snaps straight at his question. Instead of facing him like a man, I turn away and grab a few paper towels and blot my face dry before I get the courage to look at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m all sweaty?”
“Is that a question?” One of Mitch’s eyebrows kicks high as he folds his beefy arms across his barrel chest—a chest I would gladly lick and rub upon like a frickin’ kitten.
“Umm…”
Mitch steps closer, drops his arms and cocks his head slightly, not once losing eye contact with me through the mirror. “Finish your sentence, boy.”
My eyes flutter closed as a thrum of heat races through my veins at him calling me boy. It’s the same deep-rooted desire I felt when I sucked him off. The same need to do as he says so I can breathe.
“I look a mess and I have cum breath,” I blurt out.
“Do you?” Mitch gently grips my right bicep and turns me around. He then leans closer, until his nose is inches from my mouth. I try holding my breath, but he commands me to exhale.
I can feel the brush of that bodacious mustache on my cheek as he gives a noisy sniff.
“Hmm. Need a taste.” And without a moment wasted, he turns me toward him, captures my lips and dives in with his tongue.
I’m lost in a swell of man, leather, mustache, sweat and cum.
My body welcomes all things Mitch, and the sensation makes me forget my panic.
My head, though, is telling me to push him away, that I don’t know this man, that I’m not a slut.
But isn’t that the crux of things. Even though I’m cautious with men, especially nowadays with the AIDS epidemic, I still hookup with them.
So why do I fight this attraction with Mitch? The truth of it is that I’m afraid of his world. A world of leather and BDSM—neither of which I’m not familiar with.
My head might be battling for distance, but my body wins the fight.
Without breaking the connection between our mouths, Mitch slides his hands under my ass, picks me up, sets me on the sink counter, and proceeds to devour me. His hands rove over my back, over my chest, until his fingers wrap around my neck and he squeezes.
The gentle pressure on my trachea, the pleasure his mouth is giving me, and the desperate need to come have me ready to spill in my jock.
As if he can read my mind, he lowers a hand to my crotch and palms my rock hard dick though my pants. “Did you come when you blew me?”
“No. I didn’t have your permission.”
“Good boy. Don’t come yet,” Mitch commands me in a low growl, and I moan out my discontent. He pulls away, leaving a good two feet of space between us. “Not until I can watch you come.”
“Oh, okay.”
“What?” he growls.
“Yes, Sir,” I say breathily and then my body shudders with the effort to hold my desire in check.
As if he knows that I am bereft without his touch, he extends a hand toward me. “Come on. Let’s go have a drink and talk.”
I hesitate for only a beat before I put my hand into his, slide off the counter and follow Mitch from the washroom. Not once does he release his hold on my hand as we walk out to the main area of the bar.
The moment I see my friends’ faces, I roll my eyes at them. But then I can no longer hold back the wide smile that wants to take over my face. Jordi gives me a wink. Clark claps and Dean give me a thumbs up as Mitch and I approach them.
“Tell them good bye,” Mitch says before releasing my hand.
“Why?” I ask him.
“Because I want to get to know you without all these numb nuts getting in the way.” Mitch then walks off to the bar where his friends are chatting with the bartender.
“Where are you going?” Clark asks me with unease.
“I don’t know. I’m kind of nervous. I don’t know Mitch.”
“Take the risk. What do you have to lose?” Dean says solemnly.
Maybe my life? But I don’t say it.
“Jamie,” Jordi catches my attention. “I trust Markus and he said that Mitch is a righteous and respectful guy. Go for it. And if this doesn’t work out, at least you can walk away with two things.”
I’m afraid to ask, but I give in with a resigned sigh. “What are the two things?”
“One, you gain a new friend.”
“And the other?” I ask, although, since I know Jordi like the back of my hand, I can guess what he is going to say next.
“You sucked off none other than International Mr. Leather, Mitch Thomas, your dream man.”
“I did, didn’t I?” I chuckle.
“Are you ready?” Mitch says from behind me.
I cringe a little, hoping he didn’t hear what Jordi and I just said.
“Come on, dream boy.” He takes my hand and tugs me out of the bar.
My breath hitches from him calling me his dream boy. Guess he did hear us…
I bite my lower lip and let the night take us where we need to be. And maybe he truly is the man of my dreams.