Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Shay
It had been three weeks since I’d last seen Josh in person—since I’d watched that behemoth vampire disappear out the rear window of my Uber on the way to the airport.
Three weeks since I’d dropped to my knees during our all-day movie marathon so I could choke on his massive dick until I’d sucked him dry. Three weeks since he’d pulled me into his lap afterwards, licking his own taste from my mouth as I fucked his fist.
Three. Long. Weeks since he’d praised me—called me perfect and told me what a good boy I was—while I shattered for him.
Only for him.
I hadn’t been with another man since returning to the city I called home—hadn’t wanted anyone else but Josh. I’d lasted one whole day until I’d texted him, and even though I’d found an excuse to do that almost every day since then—even with a few phone calls mixed in when we could—it wasn’t enough.
Last night, I’d broken down and suggested we FaceTime, claiming it was because I wanted to show him the new outfit I’d worn to class. The truth was, I wanted to see him—needed to see that vampire hotness for myself.
The video call connected, and just the sight of Josh lounging on his rich bish couch, bathed in blue light from the TV, had set my turbulent emotions at ease.
“There you are.” He’d smiled wide, flashing those sexy fangs as his gaze ran over me, taking in everything he could see. “I’ve missed the perfection of your face.”
It was such an artist thing to say, but I knew he was admiring more than just the aesthetics. Josh didn’t play games. He was one of the most straightforward people I’d ever met, which simultaneously calmed and scared the shit out of me.
“I miss your face too, old man,” I’d joked before taking a deep breath, deciding to—fuck it—match his open energy. “I just miss… you.”
His smile had softened. “I miss you too, sweet thing. When do you think you’ll be ready to come back?”
He’d meant when would I be ready to visit my sister’s grave—to possibly reopen communication with my mother—but I would’ve flown there immediately if he’d asked me to come back for him.
But he hadn’t.
Because this was only ever about what I claimed I’d needed.
I’d given some vague non-answer, and he’d let it drop, instead asking me to show off my outfit, like I’d promised. After a few twirls and twerks, we’d started talking about normal things, like our work and the other woman in this relationship.
“Lenore misses you too,” he’d said, laughing when I rolled my eyes in disbelief. “I’m not kidding! She turns up her beak at my breakfast peanuts now. I think she only wants them from you.”
I’d preened like a goddamn crow to hear that. “Well, I do know how to handle nuts…”
His intense gaze had darkened. “You certainly do.”
Before I could suggest—fuck it—some phone sex, he’d cut the tension with a random redirect.
“What would you need to teach classes remotely?”
Sitting on my futon-slash-bed, I’d briefly flipped my screen so he could see what I was working with. “Well, first of all, I would need a space that wasn’t my month-to-month studio apartment—preferably one with a sturdy enough ceiling and floor to support my pole.”
His tasty lips were turned up in a filthy smirk when I flipped the screen again. “Only the best for your pole.”
“You better believe it, moneybags!” I’d cackled, loving when his dry sense of humor came out to play. “And it can’t be just any pole. I prefer LUPIT brand, but an X-Pole could work.”
“And mirrors,” he’d added, humoring my ridiculous fantasies. “And stage lighting. I appreciate the use of two different colored light sources in your videos.”
To my horror, I’d blushed at his extremely artistic observation, wondering what else he thought about my visuals. I’d shared my Instagram handle a couple weeks earlier, after Josh said he missed watching me dance, but since he’d never mentioned it again, I had no idea if he’d followed through.
Old Man Moneybags probably had to figure out how to use the app first.
Of course, my dirty mind immediately went to a vision of my old man jerking off to my reels, and I’d needed to quickly wrap up the call so I could calm the fuck down.
Who am I kidding?
I totally let him go so I could jerk off.
I’d been doing a lot of that since leaving Josh behind. At first, it was to the memory of his big hands on my skin—and his tongue in my ass, let’s be real—but it soon turned into fantasizing about everything we hadn’t done.
Yet?
As direct as he was, he hadn’t asked for anything more than flirty texts and occasional calls.
I wasn’t sure if this had to do with Josh being a consent king who was still respecting my original rules about this being a “one-time arrangement,” or if we really were just friends-with-benefits for when I was in town.
Unfortunately, I wanted more. I’d realized I wanted more less than twenty-four hours after I’d arrived home, because it didn’t feel like “home” anymore.
Home is wherever he is.
It may have seemed sudden, but Josh had provided more care and support in the short time I’d known him than I’d received from anyone in my twenty-five years of life—including my own mother.
Who’s been suspiciously quiet since I laid down some firm boundaries.
Of course, she’d still snuck in the last word—something about how “heartless” I was—before I’d left her on read. Instead of letting her reel me back into her never-ending drama loop with a reply, I’d channeled my inner Josh and let the quiet confidence he’d modeled for me speak for itself.
Fast forward to today, and that confidence evaporated the instant someone began frantically pounding on my apartment door.
Weirdly, my first concern was that something had happened to Josh, but I quickly realized no one would know to tell me if it did.
I wonder if he has anyone looking out for him…
My thoughts were still on my lone vampire when I cracked open the door to find my brother, Langston—of all people—standing on the other side in a name-brand muscle tank and basketball shorts.
His usual uniform.
“Lang?” I stuttered, fumbling with the chain lock so I could let him in. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
He rolled his eyes and pushed past me, like the annoying younger brother he was. “Well, asshole, you haven’t been answering anyone’s texts or phone calls, so I figured I’d take a road trip and come get you.
“Come get me…” I faintly repeated before my blood ran cold. “Why?”
Now I did feel like the biggest asshole. Something had happened back home—something important enough for my brother to leave the gym he owned to drive four hours—but I’d been too busy with my newfound boundaries to make myself available to my own family.
“Hey!” He punched my bicep, snapping me out of my shame spiral. “No one died, dummy. Well… no one besides Marguerite.”
“Jesus, Lang!” I choked out, even if I couldn’t help laughing at his signature irreverence. “Too soon.”
He chuckled before flopping onto the futon I’d only just rolled out of to answer the door. “Not really, though. You’ve been telling Mom and Dad for years that Margie had issues—that between her addictions and the crowd she hung out with, it wasn’t gonna end well. No one listened. Including me.”
I slammed my eyes shut as tears threatened to fall. “But I should have done more…”
Langston stood and walked over to me, peering down into my eyes from the three inches he had on me. “This is Marg we’re talking about, Shay. What more could you have done? Like, really?”
What more could I have done?
Blowing out a slow breath, I considered his words, which meant I needed to relive what brought us here today.
About a year ago, Marguerite went to a weird avant-garde event downtown and ended up vibing with some of the artists. She’d gush about her new scene whenever we chatted, but between my reels taking off and increasing requests for classes, I wasn’t interested in her latest fixation.
It was always so intense with her, and she burned out so quickly, I’d just assumed she’d move on to the next shiny thing soon enough.
Instead, she dove off the deep end, and by the time we met for coffee to catch up, she was a regular at the legendary sex parties thrown by one of the city’s most infamous artists.
He was obviously an egotistical douchebag, but Marg was convinced what they had was special—that she was his one and only “muse.” Whenever I tried to point out he was constantly being photographed with other women—and men—on his arm, her drug-fueled anger would flare up so violently, I’d immediately change the subject.
I should have done more…
Marguerite had always had an addictive personality, but this was next level.
Even though I knew my mother was incapable of seeing her first-born as anything less than perfect—and that my dad just left parenting up to her—I still tried to get them to intervene.
I begged my parents to stop the train wreck I could see coming from a mile away.
No one listened.
It was worse than that, though. My mother dismissed my concerns as me just being jealous of my older sister. When I pushed back, she threatened to get me locked up if I attempted an intervention with her precious Marguerite.
That was when I packed up and moved to the next city down the coast, determined to start a new life far away from my family. Let them deal with the fallout.
I never expected this to happen…
“It wasn’t your fault, Shay.” Lang yanked me into his arms for an awkward, muscley hug. “I know Mom says it is, but I hope you know that’s bullshit.”
There was nothing else I could have done.
I sobbed against his chest, thankful I hadn’t completely broken down like this in front of Josh. I was also just… thankful—not just for my dumbass brother taking time off to drive here and tell me this, but for the person who’d already told me, in so many words.
“Y-yeah…” I messily wiped my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt as I wiggled out of his hold. “So many factors went into what happened to Margie, and I’ll drive myself insane if I continue thinking I could have stopped it. None of us have that much control in life, you know?”
Lang nodded sagely. “That’s some profound shit, big bro. I’m glad you’re not blaming yourself, though. Anyway!” He clapped his hands together and looked around my tiny-ass apartment. “How many boxes do we need to get you packed up and moved out of here.”
What?!
“Excuse me?” I sputtered. “Why exactly am I moving out?”
His grin faded as his shoulders sank. “I just… I need you at home, dude. Mom has dragged me into helping with everything because, you know… Dad just checks out, and she’s acting even more unhinged than usual.”
Boundaries, Shay.
I steeled my spine, remembering the words Josh said for me when I couldn’t. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this shit, Lang, but I just cannot be around Mom right now—”
“She’s committing fraud, Shay,” he interrupted quietly. “At least, I think she is.”
“WHAT?!” I screeched, stumbling backwards with my hand on my chest, reeling from the whiplash.
He grimaced. “She was bitching about how much the funeral home charged for everything, so I decided to take a look at the bill. Someone paid it in full for us—anonymously.”
My Spidey-sense was tingling over a certain moneybags millionaire who would do exactly that, but I refocused on the drama. “Okay, but… how is that fraud?”
“Because she’s acting like Marguerite’s death put her in the poorhouse!” He threw his hands into the air, as agitated as I’d ever seen him. “She even started a GoFundMe that’s blowin’ up on Facebook.”
Shit.
“Yeah… That doesn’t sound good.” I ran my hands through my hair, momentarily lost for words before realizing I needed to take charge. “Okay. I think a dozen large boxes would be enough to get me out of here. We’ll probably need to hitch a trailer to your Jeep though—”
My brother grinned proudly. “Already got the trailer, and a bunch of boxes from U-Haul. Let me just run down and grab ‘em…” He raced for the door before pausing and glancing over his shoulder. “Thank you, Shay. I know you’ve got your own thing here, but I appreciate you coming home to help me.”
Home.
I cleared my throat. “I was… actually thinking of moving home anyway. My landlord will just keep my deposit as my last month’s rent, and I can always find a new studio to teach at once I’m settled.”
Lang’s eyes lit up in a way I knew meant trouble. “Hey! We could always push the spin bikes out of the way if you wanted to use the classroom space at the gym.”
My chest warmed at how this himbo was trying to help me in return. “Yeah, I’m not sure if your dude-bro gym attracts the same clientele as those wanting to learn pole.”
He shrugged, unconcerned. “Eh. We need to bring in fresh meat anyway. The gays and ladies lift, right?”
I barked a laugh. “Yeah, the gays and ladies lift. First things first, let’s get packed up here. Once we’re on the road I’ll call my landlord and studio manager to let them know there’s been a family emergency. Then we can figure out a storage unit near your place so I can crash on your couch—”
Langston’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you just stay with your boyfriend? Josh, right?”
I’d been so focused on stepping up as “big bro” in this situation, I’d forgotten all about the very big lie I’d told my entire family.
It doesn’t feel like a lie, though…
“Well… I would need to talk to Josh about taking our relationship to the next level before just showing up at his doorstep,” I carefully replied. “But, yeah… I might end up there.”
At least, I hope I do.