9 Cutter
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK was that?
From the moment he dropped to his knees in front of me, my brain was screaming at me on a continuous loop.
Run! Get as far away from him as you can!
I knew the danger. Had warned myself often enough over the past three months. Aubie Gauthier is trouble with a capital T. A disaster in the making.
Someone to avoid whenever possible.
And yet, I let it happen.
Didn’t raise a finger to stop it.
I let him suck me off.
Let his full lips close around my cock.
Let his tongue lap up my cum.
But the worst part, the absolute most embarrassing bit, was my reaction.
Because as much as my rational mind may want to deny it, that was the best blow job I’ve ever received.
I don’t know what that says about him. Or me.
One thing’s for certain. I have to stay away from him. I don’t know how I’m going to do that on the nights he dances, but I can’t put myself in a position to allow that to happen again. And while I can tell myself I’d never do it again, we see what just happened.
What is my problem? I’m straight. Always have been. I’ve never looked at a man that way.
At least, not until Aubie.
What is it about him? He’s a flamboyant fuckboy. Even if I was into men, he’d be the last one I’d be attracted to.
So why am I letting him touch me?
Suck me?
Get me off?
Why am I letting him take up space in my head?
Whatever the reason, there can’t be a repeat.
And absolutely no one can know this happened.
With something resembling a plan, I head back inside.
The rest of the night goes smoothly, considering it’s a Friday, and soon another day at Club Eros comes to an end.
After I finish buttoning things down, I head to Daryl’s office.
I haven’t talked to him yet tonight because I was still processing Callum’s visit when I got here.
And then whatever that was in the parking lot happened. I guess it’s been a day.
I poke my head in the office and find Daryl seated on the couch nursing his end-of-business-day drink while watching Sportscenter on one of the flatscreens.
“I figured you’d have plans for tonight,” I tell him.
He waves me in. “I do, but it’s nothing that can’t wait. How’s your night going?”
I take a seat on the other end of the couch and throw my head back, sighing.
“That bad, huh?”
I’m not getting into all the reasons that’s true. “You won’t believe who showed up at my place today.”
“Judging by your dour expression, it wasn’t an underwear model.”
I look over at him and shake my head. “No such luck.” Though even that would probably have stressed me out. “It was Callum.” Not that I would put underwear modeling past him. A whole new fandom he could exploit.
“No shit. Did you find out why he’s been blowing up your phone?”
“Something about a tournament in town. I didn’t bother to ask which one.”
“For someone who makes a habit of skating on thin ice, your brother’s survival instinct is almost laughable.”
Daryl knows how badly I’d like to kick my brother’s ass. And we both know I could. Sure, Callum did once play in the NFL, but he hasn’t maintained that level of fitness since he left the game. I’m sure all he sports now is gym muscle that looks good on camera.
The only thing holding me back is my mother. Since I never told her about Callum’s role in my breakup with Amber, she still believes he walks on water and her sons are thick as thieves.
It doesn’t help my case that he never owned up to being with Amber or brought her around our mother. In fact, he just acted like the whole thing never happened. I’m sure even if I wiped the floor with his worthless ass, he’d find some way to come out ahead.
“He’s invincible, didn’t you know?”
Daryl snorts and drains his glass. “I just hope I’m around to witness his inevitable fall.”
“You and me both.”
He sits forward and sets his glass on the coffee table. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Um, it’s after one a.m. I’m probably going to go home and go to bed.”
“Not tonight.” He stands up and reaches for his suit jacket. “You’re coming with me.”
I shake my head and stand. “That’s okay, really. I just want to go home.”
As usual, once Daryl gets something in his head, he doesn’t listen to denial. “You need to get out. Blow off some steam. It’s a private party. We swing by, you meet a few people, maybe chat up a nice woman…”
“Daryl…” The last thing I want to do is chat up a woman, nice or otherwise. I’ve actually reached my quota for human interaction today.
He holds up a single finger in front of me. “One hour. That’s all I’m asking.”
I stare at him for a minute before finally blowing out a long sigh. “Jesus, Daryl.”
He grins and pats my back. “Atta boy. You’ll like this place. Spectacular house up on the Bluffs.” He turns and starts for the door.
“And just who do you know with this spectacular house on the Bluffs?” I ask as I follow him. Real estate up there is super exclusive. Only the wealthiest of East Brook’s elite can afford it. I’m sure Aubie’s family could–
What the hell? Why am I thinking about him?
“A woman I’m seeing,” Daryl continues, oblivious to my conflict. “Selena. We have an…understanding.”
I don’t want to hear about what kind of understanding they have, though I’d love to know how he meets these people when he’s always at the club.
“I really don’t feel like hanging out with a bunch of strangers.” I know it sounds like I’m whining, but I’m dead serious. The thought of spending an hour making small talk to people I have no interest in sounds exhausting.
He wraps an arm around my neck and drags me toward the back door. “That’s the beauty of it, Cutter. Once you meet them, they’re not strangers anymore.”
“There’s no way I’m winning this argument, is there?”
“Not a chance in hell. I’m making you my mission tonight.”
I roll my eyes. “Lucky me.”
When we get to the parking lot, I hesitate for a beat as what happened out here earlier flashes through my mind. That’s the last thing I want to think about.
“You want to ride with me?” Daryl asks.
“No, I’ll follow you.” I am not getting stuck without a ride.
He glances wistfully over at my bike then up at the sky. A gibbous moon hangs low in the sky, a few clouds scudding across it. “Nice night for a ride, especially the drive up there.”
He’s not wrong about that. I’ve ridden the Busa up to the Bluffs many a night just to clear my head. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
I follow Daryl’s Escalade out of the parking lot and across the city. When the road finally opens up, he takes the curves with a heavy foot. It’s not as fast as I usually drive it, but enough of a challenge to distract me from the shitshow that is my life.
Daryl wasn’t exaggerating about the house. It’s perched on the highest point of the hill, a sprawling mid-mod marvel that juts out over the bluff. The lights of East Brook are dramatically spread before me as I guide the bike in among the high-end cars lining the street.
As soon as the engine is cut I can hear music and the sound of laughter. All my earlier anxiety returns while I wait for Daryl to finish parking.
What the hell am I doing here? Even if I felt like socializing, this wouldn’t be my crowd.
I’m more of a shoot the shit around a pool table over a couple of beers kind of guy, though I guess that last part doesn’t apply to me anymore.
While I wouldn’t call the guys I hung out with during my dark years friends, they were a far cry from the kind of people who live here.
And while my friends before that were more socially acceptable, they did most of their partying in frat houses.
I’ve almost talked myself into hopping back on my bike and making my escape when Daryl swoops up behind me and grabs my arm.
“Nuh uh. Not gonna happen, buddy.”
“What?” I ask as I’m forced up the driveway.
“I can practically read your mind.”
“Then you know I don’t want to be here.”
When we approach the door, it swings open and two girls in shiny dresses greet us. If I had to guess, I’d say they haven’t been out of high school very long. It’s obvious they’re severely inebriated on something, though their eyes light up when they spot us.
“Mmm, eye candy,” one of them giggles, slipping an arm through mine while her fingers walk up my chest.
I glance over at Daryl, who’s been claimed by the other one, and narrow my eyes in warning. “Daryl…”
“Just go with it,” he laughs as he allows the woman to pull him inside.
This hour is going to suck.
Things inside aren’t much better. For one thing, there are a LOT of people, and all of them are what I call beautiful people.
Lounging on the designer furniture. Talking in clumps around the room.
Laughing and yelling out by the glowing pool.
A full bar with an actual bartender commands a lot of interest.
The shiny girl abandons me as soon as her attention is pulled elsewhere, which is just as well as her energy was already wearing on me. I wouldn’t mind a ginger ale, but I don’t trust myself to approach the bar.
Daryl doesn’t take into account how uncomfortable situations like this are for me.
Yeah, I’ve been good about managing my sobriety, probably to the point where someone like him would forget it had ever been an issue.
But I associate standing around talking at a party with having a drink in my hand.
Muscle memory. Sort of like how a smoker needs the feel of that cigarette between his fingers.
I glance around for somewhere safe to stay invisible.
Daryl was right about one thing–the house is spectacular.
Bright and airy, the whole back of it opens up to the view, with the main room taking up most of the width.
A massive island separates it from a kitchen full of stainless steel and rich wood.