11. Zach
ZACH
Nate takes me for a run on a new trail. It’s so quiet, I’m convinced he’s paid people to stay off it.
I love these morning runs. It’s so much fun being with someone else.
We talk, Nate keeping the conversation firmly frivolous.
When we stop to drink water, I wonder what it would be like to steal a kiss.
My body instantly tenses, reminding me that I’m not out of the closet here.
I don’t want my career to be defined by my sexuality.
Then my heart chips in, wondering if it even matters anymore.
Have I already decided to end my career before it’s really begun?
Nate touches my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Just thinking.” I screw the bottle cap back on. “Let’s race.” And then I’m off, my feet pounding across the uneven ground, forcing Nate to catch up to me.
Which he does.
Afterwards, we head to his place. I’m floored when we arrive at a guarded, gated community off Avenue of the Stars.
The moment we drive through the gates, it’s like being in another world, a million miles from the hustle and bustle of LA.
The drive is lined with trees. There are tennis courts and a huge circular fountain in front of two high-rise apartment blocks.
Nate doesn’t park the car. He stops outside one of the apartment blocks, gets out, and tosses his keys to a concierge before coming around to open my door.
My jaw hangs open as a doorman opens the door for us, and another concierge welcomes Nate—by name—and calls the lift for us.
The lobby is sleek, modern, and full of warm-toned marble and lush green plants.
The lift whisks us up several stories, pinging as the doors swoosh open on Nate’s floor.
“It’s very white,” Nate warns me as he lets us inside his apartment. “I decided to keep the walls neutral so that the artwork could speak for itself.”
“Artwork?”
“Yes. Most of the pieces were gifts from my clients. Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour.”
The apartment is at least three times the size of mine, with a separate galley kitchen and a combined dining and living room.
He’s used rugs to separate the two areas, and all his furniture is modern, with lots of dark wood and freestanding lamps.
Artwork hangs on the walls, in modern and postmodern styles, and he also has a couple of sculptures.
A window stretches across the whole width of the room, overlooking a massive golf course.
“You have a pool?” I ask, staring down the dizzying drop to the ground floor.
“It’s a shared pool, but yes. There’s a gym, too, which is much better kitted out than my home one, but much less convenient. I can hardly take calls and work out in a shared space.”
“You like multitasking, then?”
He chuckles. “Sometimes.”
I drop the bag I brought with me beside the huge, curving sofa.
It could fit at least four people on it and still have space to spare.
Or two people lying down, who don’t mind being snuggly.
The bag contains a spare set of clothes.
I have no idea how long I’ll be staying, but I’m hedging my bets and hoping he doesn’t drive me back to Halo House as soon as we’re done working out. Wishful thinking? Maybe.
“How can you afford somewhere this big?” I ask.
“I own my own business, arranging private security for some of the richest stars in Hollywood.”
I gape at him. I knew I was a million pay checks short of affording private security, but I hadn’t realized how lucrative providing that security could be. I can’t even begin to comprehend how expensive this apartment must have been. Does he rent? Does he own it?
Gently, he pushes my mouth shut with his finger. “You’ll catch flies,” he teases.
I want him to kiss me.
“Come on, let’s finish the tour.”
He shows me the room he’s using as a home gym next. It must be a bedroom, as it has a walk-in wardrobe.
As I didn’t receive a large fee for Confessions, I can only dream of owning my own apartment, let alone one as big and swanky as this.
Nate has laid thick rubber matting over the real wood flooring, presumably to prevent it getting damaged if he ever drops any of the weights.
Next, he shows me the main bathroom, with its double-width sink. Seriously, who needs a sink that wide?
“Why is your bath so deep?” I ask.
“It’s a soaking tub.”
“A what-now?”
“A soaking tub. The idea is that you can be submerged up to your shoulders even when you’re sitting up. It’s meant to be more relaxing. I’ll admit, I prefer to shower. It’s faster.”
I prefer showering, too, but I’d make an exception for that bath. The bath in my apartment is too narrow and shallow to be enjoyable. The downside of Nate’s soaking tub seems to be that it’s short. There’s no way you could stretch out in it, only sit.
Finally, he shows me his bedroom, which is so long that it could fit a second king-sized bed.
The walk-in wardrobe is big enough for me to move into, and the en suite—which has a shower not a bath—has an identical double-width sink to the main bathroom.
Again, the walls are plain white, allowing the artwork to speak for itself.
The bedroom window overlooks LA, rather than the golf course, but that’s amazing in and of itself.
I can see for miles, but we’re so high up that there’s no risk of anyone being able to look in and see us, emboldening me.
I clasp my hands at his nape. “You have a beautiful apartment, Daddy.” It’s funny how easy it is to call him that. It’s like I know that, deep down, this dynamic is right for me. I need someone to take care of me and let me be vulnerable. Especially now.
Nate puts his hands on my hips. “I’m glad you like it, sweet boy.” He kisses me tenderly, his beard and mustache soft enough to tickle, not scrape.
“Are you ready to work out?” he asks. “Or would you like a breakfast smoothie first?”
“Let’s work out.”
I can’t help but stare at Nate as we warm up together.
I follow his lead, even though I have a warm-up routine of my own.
His movements are fluid as he stretches, and I swear he’s chosen to wear shorts tight enough to make me drool on purpose.
My pulse quickens at the way his quads shift beneath them as he does squats.
When he starts lifting weights, I’m rendered breathless by the powerful flex of his biceps and the way the veins running along them pop.
Is it any wonder I feel safe in this man’s arms?
He’s the only man who’s ever made me relax so utterly and completely. The only man I’ve trusted this fully.
Is it possible that I only feel this way because he’s taking care of me in the wake of my apartment getting broken into? Or because I was emotional after he blindfolded me? Yes, I guess so. But my emotions seem real enough, and they haven’t waned in the hours since then.
He meets my gaze and chuckles. “Aren’t you going to lift weights, too?”
“I’m just admiring the view,” I admit.
“I thought you wanted to work out?”
“I did. I do. You’re distracting me, Daddy.”
He arches a brow, eyes twinkling. “Should I stop?”
“No.” My voice comes out as a squeak. “No. Don’t stop.” I straddle the weight bench, which is fully flattened, leaning forward slightly as I rest my hands on top of each other on the seat.
He smiles and does a few more reps before carefully putting the weights down. “I could spot you on the bench, if you like?”
“Or you could show me how good you are on the pull-up bar.”
“Don’t you think I’ve worked my arms enough?”
I hum. “Are they sore?”
He flexes one arm and then the other. “A little.” He sits opposite me on the bench, leans forward and kisses me. “I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one getting hot and sweaty, do you?”
“Oh, it’s totally fair.”
Laughing, he pats the bench. “Come on. I’ll spot you.”
“Or we could do more kissing?”
He curls his hand into the front of my T-shirt, pulling me along the bench until our knees collide.
He kisses me fiercely, commanding every second of contact between us.
I yield, my heart quivering as electric pulses zip up and down my spine.
He rests his other hand against my jaw and neck, stroking my skin.
By the time he releases my lips, I’m breathless and giddy.
Breathing hard, I stare at his lips, damp with our mixed saliva, and the way his pupils are blown wide. Have mine done the same?
I lick my lips. “I think your kisses might be better than therapy.”
He smiles sadly. “No, but at least I gave you something else to think about for a few seconds.”
“My thoughts have been on you since we walked into this room.” I wince. “Too needy?”
He puts his hands on my knees. “You can be as needy as you like, sweet boy. Tell me what you need.”
Him? “I want you to help me relax again, Daddy.”
“We could do another scene. I have a selection of blindfolds you could choose from.”
“A selection?”
He chuckles. “I have a lot of toys. Do you want to see?”
“Yes.”
He takes my hand, stands, and tugs me to my feet.
We go back to his bedroom and into the walk-in closet, where he opens a wide drawer.
I widen my eyes at the array of blindfolds and eye masks, handcuffs and restraints, feathers, wands, and rollers, butt plugs and prostate massagers, soft paddles and quilted leather crops.
He opens the next drawer up, revealing a weighted blanket and an assortment of massage oils and rollers.
“Wow.” I don’t know what else to say. “I… Uh… I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Only if you want to. All of my toys are designed to bring or heighten pleasure. There’s something especially erotic about having feathers run over your body while you’re cuffed and blindfolded.”
I shiver at the thought. “That’s something you enjoy doing?”
“To my boy, yes. But I won’t be upset if you’re not interested.”
Am I interested? I think the better question is: has the air con stopped working in the apartment, because I’m suddenly all hot, flustered, and sweaty.
I’m pretty sure my face must have gone red and blotchy, too, as I’ve just run five miles.
My imagination runs riot, enabling me to picture myself spread out on Nate’s bed, cuffed to his bed, blindfolded, naked, while he runs feathers over my body.
My pulse quickens. Blood rushes to my cock, tenting my shorts.
I glance down, which of course means Nate does, too.
“You showed me your drawers to turn me on,” I decide.
“Is that a problem?” he asks in a tone that’s entirely too innocent.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
I lift my chin and stare at him. “Whether you’re going to help me do anything about my hard-on.”
He moves closer, and I allow him to pin me against the wall.
Nate could easily overpower me, but he doesn’t scare me at all.
At the same time, the woman who broke into my apartment terrifies me, even though she’s much smaller in stature than I am.
I want Nate to corner me, put his hand against the wall beside my head, and crush his body against mine.
I yearn for the warmth of his breath on my face, and the press of his lips.
I didn’t want her anywhere near me, cooking for me, telling me I belonged to her, touching me, or kissing me.
“You’re trembling,” Nate pulls back a fraction.
I swallow. “I’m sorry. I…” I shake my head. “I want you, Daddy. I need you to touch me so badly, but…” I close my eyes and take a breath. “She’s in my head, and I can’t get her out.”
He pulls me into an embrace, holding me tightly like he’s done dozens of times since the day we met.
I melt into his arms and against his chest, allowing his musky scent and the firm beat of his heart to calm and ground me.
Gradually, thoughts of Nate crowd out every trace of her, until there’s nothing but the two of us and my rising desire for him.
He must feel some change in me, because the next thing I know, my back is against the wall again and he’s kissing me passionately, his body pressed against mine exactly the way I imagined.
He’s so strong. Every inch of him is firm.
He makes me feel safe, and so fucking turned on I can barely stand it.
He slides his hand between us, stopping as he reaches the top of my shorts. He looks into my eyes, waiting.
“Please touch me, Daddy.”
He smiles, kisses me again, and slips his hand inside my shorts and underwear to grasp my cock.
He strokes me off, achingly slowly at first, moving his big, strong hand from my root to my tip with a slight turn of his wrist. As my breathing becomes shallower, he speeds up and squeezes harder until the pressure is so intense I can hardly stand it.
It’s been so long since I’ve had another man’s hands on me that I come far too quickly.
I press my forehead against his shoulder, clutching hold of him as I gasp through my orgasm.
My knees buckle, but he puts his arm around me, stopping me from falling.
He kisses my lips, my jaw, my neck, his hand still stroking my cock as it becomes limp.
My underwear and shorts are damp and warm.
I laugh. It’s a good thing I brought a full change of clothes.