Chapter Seventeen #3
Byron stares at me, and I’m assuming it’s because of that parental lie I dropped in there… But then he rumbles, “I hope the last one is true, because pineapple and pepperoni is my favorite pizza.”
Fluttering happens in my gut. “Easy, Byron Kang. I’m trying to keep myself in check, but if you go on saying things like that, I won’t be able to control myself.”
Tension stiffens his hand in mine. “You’re kidding… right?”
“Would that make you more comfortable?” I tease.
“No. I mean, I don’t care , I’m just…” He’s flustered, and it’s so bloody cute. “I’m not gay.”
My eyes spring to his, bringing with them an accusatory brow lift I can’t hold back. “Is that a lie?”
“No…” he growls.
“So… that is?”
His jaw tics visibly. “Trevel… Fuck off.”
I don’t know why pushing his buttons is so entertaining, but it’s quickly becoming my new favorite hobby. And the way he growls my name inflates my dick like a balloon.
“ Fine .” I roll my eyes and bite my lip. We’re both quiet for a moment before I rumble, “So you’re bi then?”
“No,” he hisses again, far too defensive to be a truth.
But hey… What do I know? I just work here.
“Oh, so your dick was hard the other night because of my feminine qualities?” I tease. “How sweet.”
“God, let it go,” he gripes. “Sometimes I hook up with guys in here to pass the time, okay?? It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve never… dated a man.”
And there’s our lie.
“Who have you hooked up with here?” My interest in this conversation has been piqued. I’m practically salivating for answers.
It takes him a moment to speak up. “Ren. And Luthor. Ow …”
Oh, bollocks. I’m squeezing his hand too hard. “Sorry. Continue, please.”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter,” he grumbles, playing it off like he’s unaffected, but I can tell this is a sore spot for him. And I’m dying to know why.
“Of course it does,” I say firmly, and our eyes meet.
He swallows visibly, then mutters, “I mean that them hooking up with me didn’t…
matter. Because they’re obsessed with each other.
” He clears his throat. “They’ve been doing this toxic dance since the moment I set foot in this prison.
They’re on a collision course, and anyone in the way gets crushed. ”
“But it mattered to you…?” I ask, trying not to sound jealous as hell.
“That’s enough,” he grumbles. “Can we go back to the game, please?”
“Why? Because I’ve got you on the ropes?” I tease.
He scoffs. “Look who doesn’t know fighting. You could never get me on the ropes, loverboy .”
“Show me what you got, tough guy,” I sneer.
The moment the final nail is done, he snatches his hand back. “Hmm. I forgot, you like to be roughed up.”
A memory smacks me upside the head, and I nearly topple over.
A hand stuffing my face into the dirt…
Screams, and laughter, and pain.
And blood. Lots of blood.
“So what if I do?” Sniffing, I feel suddenly woozy.
I’m fighting to regain my witty nonchalance, but it’s just out of reach. I can feel trauma oozing from my pores. Tossing the nail polish into the basket, I ignore the way he’s gaping at me.
“Trevel, I—”
“I write poetry,” I cut him off before he can go there. “I’ve never been in love. And I talk to an imaginary version of my old teddy bear named Leo.”
Byron’s face turns flabbergasted. It’s kind of funny… How out of his element he looks. A chuckle bursts out of me, and he relaxes a bit.
Shaking his head, he scoffs while assessing his manicure. “You’re certifiable, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” I sigh out my amusement.
His movements stop, and he winces, pinching the back of his neck.
My brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m still kinda stiff from the other night,” he murmurs, lolling his head from side to side. I bite back a grin, and he rolls his eyes. “My muscles , creeper. From the fight. Sleeping on these terrible mattresses doesn’t help.”
My face lights up, a golden opportunity presenting itself. “I can give you a massage… If you like.”
He peeks at me. “Yea?”
I nod fast. “I was a massage therapist as well.”
“You were a yoga instructor and a massage therapist?”
“And a poetry teacher, and a bartender, and a dog-walker…”
“Okay, I get it.” He grins. “I’m fine, though. It’s not a big deal.”
“Listen, warrior.” I ease behind him, ignoring his obvious reticence. “You asked me if I wanted to make you feel good…”
His eyes widen, and it takes him a beat to breathe out, “Do you?”
Nodding, I slide my hands onto his shoulders. “Relax and let me work my magic.”
“Just a massage , though… right?” he grumbles.
All I want is to crawl on top of him and see where things go. But I compose myself, because we’re being friendly , and murmur, “Yes.”
He peeks at me over his shoulder, wearing a rather suspicious look. “No happy ending?”
I pout, running my index finger up the nape of his neck until he flinches. “Boring, but that’s your call.”
Sighing, he nods with trepidation. “ Fine . Upper body only.”
“Yes, sir, Rapha.” I pluck the material of his shirt. “I’ll need this off, though.”
Humoring me, he whips the tank top over his head. And I’m momentarily very distracted, to an almost hypnotizing degree, by just how well sculpted he is. He’s like a statue of a Greek god.
And I really like his tattoos.
“Byron… can I just say one thing?”
“You’ve already said about five hundred things tonight,” he grunts. “Not that I could stop you, but what’s one more?”
Ignoring the way his grumpiness tingles my balls, I croon, “Your body is mouthwatering .”
He goes quiet, and I can feel his nervous squirming, before he mutters, “Don’t drool on me.”
Fucking hell. Grouchy, a little cocky, and feral for secret gay stuff… Why is that such an unbearably hot combination??
Taking a breath, I begin working on his shoulders gently. He is stiff, but I think it’s mostly because of the potentially awkward circumstances. Still, I can tell he likes it, relaxing and leaning into the sensation.
Squeezing harder, I knead his muscles, sticking to the shoulders, when all I want is to lie him down and touch every solid inch . But I don’t. I keep it professional, though it’s like mild torture, caressing him with firm force, driving down on pressure points with my thumbs.
Byron’s breathing shifts and slows, as if I’m working him into a trance. He’s melting before me, and I’m on fire myself, but for a different reason.
Wow… His skin is every bit as creamy and soft as it looks.
“Should I use some lotion?” I whisper by his ear.
“Hm…?” He sounds out of it already, barely processing my question as his head lolls back. “ Fuck , that feels good…”
“Yea?”
We’re much closer now, my chest at his back and his impeccable body between my legs. I’m holding him up, caressing from his shoulder blades to his biceps.
“I’m just saying, I give a mean deep tissue,” I hum. “But you’d have to lie down on the bed and get naked…”
“Trevel… stop talking,” he groans softly.
“As you wish.”
In the grand scheme of massages, this one is pretty tame.
I’m used to my clients being naked, covered only by a sheet or blanket, lying face down and at the mercy of my hands.
Regardless, it’s clearly working for him.
He’s releasing these little gasps and hums that are stirring my dick beyond belief.
The feel of him turning to putty beneath my fingers is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
I still barely understand it, but since the moment I laid eyes on Byron Kang, all I’ve wanted is to worship him. To lick, and suck, and bite him. Bring him to the brink of ecstasy with my hands and my mouth… and my dick. My ass.
Any and all parts of me with any and all parts of him.
I don’t have any one default role in the bedroom.
I’m down for pretty much anything, but I do tend to gravitate toward partners who take control.
On the surface, Byron seems like the type to dominate.
Yet, for whatever reason, I find myself fantasizing about how he’d react if I overpowered him .
Maybe reigned some painful pleasure over this perfect body…
Something tells me he’d love it. But I’m not sure he’ll allow himself to admit that. Not yet, anyway.
“How’s this… pressure?” I rasp, and he purrs.
“So good…”
“Mmm… Tell me if you want it harder .” I brush my lips behind his ear.
Fuck, he smells so good. I wonder how he… tastes…
Without thinking, I press a soft kiss there.
It just happens, and I hear him release a breath.
But he doesn’t pull away or try to punch me.
So I do it again, kissing him ever-so-gently while massaging his shoulders sensually, but with a firm grip.
The next thing I know, I’m decorating his neck with kisses. And he’s allowing it.
I’m high in a flash. My cock is straining against my pants, balls humming as I touch this beautiful boy, kisses growing hungrier, from lush pecks to needy suction.
My tongue slips out, tracing the shell of his ear.
And because I have absolutely zero chill whatsoever, I take his lobe between my lips and start sucking .
“ Fffuck … um, Trevel…?” He trembles my name.
“Mhm?” My hands have moved around to his front, cupping and kneading his juicy pectoral muscles while I release his earlobe to lick and bite his pulse point.
“What are you… doing?” he asks breathlessly.
Giving you a hickey, hot boy, what does it look like?
“Making you feel good,” I purr.
He shivers. “But you’re… kissing me.”
“You like it?”
“That’s not… the point.”
“Are you sure?” My hungry mouth moves up his jaw, going for his lips while my hands travel down his front, reaching for his dick. I make it to the abs, and the corner of his mouth, when he stops me, diving away fast.
“Dude, come on,” he pants, aiming a right foggy glare at my face. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”