Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
Trav
We have a serious problem. We can’t keep our hands off each other. At least we’re as bad as the other. After nearly getting caught out for a hickey, we’ve been careful to leave marks only where they can’t be seen.
I—the evil fucker that I am—made sure to leave a few across his pec, making it impossible for him to take his shirt off at the beach without being questioned by the Inquisition. The inquisition being his friends.
What? I don’t want anyone looking at what’s mine. He’s mine. Just mine. I don’t share.
It’s a little harder for him to do that to me with all the tattoos I have, but he’s got his own subtle ways of staking his claim, like keeping his eyes on me when he thinks no one’s looking. Letting me know he’s always watching me.
Tonight, though, tonight’s a big night. He’s staying over.
Hockey training camp starts soon, and he’ll be gone.
But we’ve made a pact not to talk about it, which was a source of entertainment for us.
The two least talkative people are suddenly so talkative with each other that we had to make a pact not to talk.
I want him bad. It’s reached levels I’d never have been able to comprehend. I think I have to make him mine tonight.
Finally.
Everyone’s gone.
Turning the lock, I shut off the outside lights but leave the ones to the front of the restaurant on.
Then a switch flips inside of me, and I become something I haven’t been in a long time: a goddamn predator on a hunt.
Dirk’s my prey. He comes out of the kitchen, still wearing his kitchen jacket and one of the black kitchen ballcaps spun backward on his head.
“Hey, Trav, have you seen the—holy shit.”
Guess he’s noticed the animal that’s taken over me.
“Get your ass upstairs,” I growl, flexing my fingers, waiting, offering a few seconds’ head start.
He freezes briefly, a mixture of fear and arousal playing on his face. Dirk turns heel and runs. I chase him through the restaurant, barreling through the two-way door, almost taking it off the hinges. I catch him on the stairs, leading to the apartment.
It says something of my desire for him that I could catch up. I know the man’s a demon on skates and in peak condition.
Yanking on his pant leg, I bring him down with me on the stairs. I’m half on top of him, his leg pinned under my upper body, but I don’t have a grasp on his upper half I’d like to. I claw, tearing at his pants, but he gets the game and doesn’t want to be easy prey.
He twists and kicks right out of my grasp, scrambling for the door. There’s a click and a creak, he falls into the apartment, trying to shut the door on me.
Once again, too slow, pretty boy.
I slam through it, gazing around the place as if I’ve never seen it before, until my eyes lock on him.
In some ways, I haven’t. His being here specifically so I can own his ass is new.
Despite our growing attraction, I kept the thought of doing anything to him firmly away and out of bounds.
We’ve ended up here a few times now to fool around, but this is the first time I’ve planned this, planned to have him in my space with the pure intention of taking him.
We’re not going to watch a movie, or bake fucking bread—yeah, we actually used Hunter’s sourdough starter. I’m going to strip him out of his clothes and spear his ass with my cock. I’m gonna take him wildly and make him forget anyone that came before me.
I don’t know what it is about Dirk, but he makes me wild and uncontrollable.
He awakens things I haven’t felt since I was a young, motorcycle-riding rebel.
There’s a lot I don’t miss about those days, but there were things that drew me to it.
The camaraderie, the power, the danger. All things that electrified my soul.
My eyes land on him, and he smiles, but he’s clearly putting on a front. He knows there’s nowhere for him to hide. Dirk adjusts his hat over the hair that’s already growing out. The hair I demanded he grow out two weeks ago just for me.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he says. “Quieter than usual, I mean. And I don’t really know why I’m running because I’m a willing victim.”
“I’ll tell you why you’re running, pretty boy,” I say in a low voice as I shut and lock the apartment door.
Hmmm. There’s a crack at the top from me slamming through it.
Thank fuck Dash won’t see this with him leaving in a couple of days.
We already said our goodbye for the season at a father-son dinner, and he worked his last shift.
He probably won’t be by. Probably. I can have this fixed before he’s home, during which time it could have happened for any reason.
“W-Why?”
Stalking toward him slowly, I approach until I reach the boundary of personal space that makes him take a step back.
“Instinct. You know this is gonna hurt.”
“B-But I want that, too.”
Maybe, but only true-blue masochists run head-on into pain. Dirk isn’t. He likes it, sure, but more for the after than the during.
“You know it’s the end.”
He came up with the idea that I was saving this moment because I was being chivalrous.
And, okay, maybe there’s some of that. I wanted it to be special.
Certain acts don’t mean as much to his generation as they do mine, but sue me, I haven’t been able to shake the significance of taking someone to my bed.
But that’s not the only reason.
It’s one thing—for me, and maybe just to me, I dunno—to suck his dick, or grope him, hell, even kiss him, but tonight I’m intent on claiming him. A lot comes with the title “mine”. I’d almost call it a responsibility.
I don’t want to fuck Dirk for fun, I want to fuck him because he’s mine. Because he’s the one who’s meant to be by my side.
Tonight is the end of his life as a free man.
Belonging to me means getting to know another side of me.
The ex-biker. Ex-con. The animal. I’ve shown him bits and pieces of me, more so of late, but I’m not sure he really understands.
Once I show him, he will. After I have him in my bed like this, with these intentions, he’ll more than simply belong to me.
I take another step, and he steps backward; his frame meets the wall.
I crowd my larger form over him, enjoying the way his breath hitches as if he’s finally getting it.
Being Dash’s dad is one of my roles, but it’s only a small part of who I am.
The rest of me is dark and possessive. This is his first real step into my world.
“If this is the end, then this is the end. I want to be yours, Travis.”
My name is a whisper. He rarely says my full name.
I cover his lips with mine, sliding my hand across his face, using it to control him.
Little pants escape his mouth, and I catch them all, wanting his breath, too.
I love making him literally breathless as if I’m taking his air as my own and only giving him what I think he should have.
Enough to survive until he’s begged for more from me.
A conversation we had the other day flitters across my mind.
“Got the all-clear on some test results, just so you know,” he’d said with a gleam in his eyes. The “some test results” meaning was clear without specifying.
“Congratulations. Glad you’re in good health,” I’d teased.
“Trav!” But when I wouldn’t give, he glared and stormed away.
I captured him later in the walk-in fridge, taking the chance, putting my arms around him from behind, so I could growl straight into his ear.
“I’ve got the all-clear, too. When I fuck you, it’ll be just my bare cock sliding into this ass.” I gave his ass—which I was quickly coming to think of as my ass—a nice, hard spank.
“Travis!” he snapped as I pulled away from him, chuckling.
I guessed I was in trouble, but I couldn’t have been in too much trouble because, later, he cornered me and kissed me till I unraveled.
He doesn’t quite have the finesse to take my air like I can with him, but his kisses are the equivalent of stealing my soul and taking it with him.
My fingers trail over the buttons of his kitchen jacket, popping them open one at a time, revealing the creamy golden skin beneath. Dirk’s sporting a tan on his usually fair complexion, and it contours his muscles, making them stand out. I latch my mouth onto his nipple and suck.
He moans.
“Sensitive?”
“Apparently, for you they are.”
“Good answer.” I swirl my tongue around the raised nub, enjoying how much I’ve already got him falling into a heavy haze of arousal. His head thucks backward against the wall, and he pants, whimpering sweetly.
“You’re gonna … gonna draw this out, aren’t you?”
“Why do you think I wanted you all to myself?” I say, voice low, predatory.
A suffering groan leaves his plump lips. Hmm, no. Cute, but not what I want tonight. I want him wrapped in my dark spell. I want him trembling, strung tight, clinging to me like his survival depends on it.
Tweaking his nipple with my fingers, I capture his cry with my mouth, and along with that, his breath.
Then I kiss and kiss him, tangling his tongue with mine, stealing his oxygen until he has only enough to survive.
His shaky writhing lets me know his need for air has become desperate.
I let him take a little air but cut him off again with my mouth, always careful to give him enough, but only just enough.
He surrenders. There’s no beating me on my shoulder or struggling attempts to break free, just pure trust. When I finally release him, he blinks his pretty, dazed eyes. He’s dizzy, lightheaded.
Perfect.
“Alright, I’m fucking subdued, Trav, but not subdued enough not to beg you, so you can fuck right off if you think I won’t.”
I chuckle at his insolence, pushing his kitchen jacket off, leaving it on the living room floor, and dragging him toward my bedroom by the waistband of the black cotton kitchen pants. Inside, I turn on the light and smack his ass again—I hope that one leaves a print.
“Off.”