Chapter 21
Artemis
Goal Daddy: Hope you survived the Thanksgiving chaos.
He’s still here. Well, not here, here. But he messaged.
Despite my rational brain knowing that pushing him away is the right thing to do, I just can’t get him out of my mind. It’s like his touch cast a spell on me, and every fucking day he comes into my mind.
No amount of routine, work, or spending time with my siblings is making this ache in my chest dull.
No number of distractions or delays is keeping my brain where it needs to be: school, work, and hockey.
Yesterday, I had to deal with a licensing issue, a stupid paperwork snafu that threatened my timeline, a tech integration bug delaying my launch.
It took all fucking day to triage and treat the damn thing which meant I skipped classes, and somehow, Alonso found out and called me to find out what the fuck was so important that had me out of school for the day.
Did you die, mijo?
My hand curls into a tight fist. I hate when he calls me his son these days. It’s a chilling reminder that his blood runs through my veins, that his DNA is in my bones. I wish I could brush it off with a sugar scrub.
I swallow down bile. The older I get, the worse it is that I’m related to him.
I’m not only embarrassed to be his bloodline, but I’m ashamed of him.
It’s why not only me, but my siblings actively do what we can to distance ourselves from him.
We give to charities, help local businesses, invest in companies he would think a colossal waste of time and money, just so we aren’t like him.
Trying not to be like someone who gave you life, is fucking exhausting.
Does Xavier like his family? His social media seems to suggest he does, but I know from experience it’s easy to fake when the world expects you to smile.
Artemis: Do you like your family?
I send it before I can question myself. It’s cracking open a door I swore needed to stay closed, but maybe I can do it all and have it all?
Maybe I can talk to him, and it’ll be fine.
I talk to plenty of people in my life without everything falling apart at the seams. As long as I stay within the lines…
Goal Daddy: Depends on the day. Why do you ask?
My chest surges to life at how quickly he’s replied. I kick off my shoes and turn so I’m lying on my couch. I was supposed to investigate a couple of software issues this afternoon, but I suppose I could afford myself thirty minutes of chatting… right? Just half an hour.
Artemis: I hate my father.
It feels so nice to put it into writing, to tell someone outside of my inner most circle.
Goal Daddy: No shit, what else is new?
Goal Daddy: He’s kind of a giant dick.
After a long moment of staring at the fact Xavier isn’t shocked to hear that I loathe my father figure, I move to reply, but another message appears.
Goal Daddy: You’re nothing like him, you know.
Relief races through my veins. It would be the worst thing in the world had he said I’m like that cabron.
Goal Daddy: I mean… other than the obvious physical similarities, and the fact you’re a millionaire.
I can’t help but let a smirk tug at my lips.
Goal Daddy: You’re a hotter millionaire than he is.
Goal Daddy: In case that matters.
That smirk has grown into a full smile as something that feels remarkably like tension eases out of my shoulders a little. It’s embarrassing how much this affects me, he affects me.
Goal Daddy: You okay?
I heave out a sigh. I’m not, I’m so not, but I’m trying so hard to be okay.
Artemis: I’m good. You?
Goal Daddy: Riiiiight. And I’m a self-made millionaire too.
He sends no fewer than twelve eye roll emojis. I can’t help chuckling. Am I that easy to read? Or is he taking a shot in the dark? Was asking if he liked his family that much of a giveaway?
Goal Daddy: You can talk to me, Artemis. I’m not only trying to get in your pants you know.
Goal Daddy: (To be clear, the inference was that I’m trying to get in your heart, too!)
This fucking guy. He’s just… so… open. So easy with his feelings. What must that be like?
Xavier’s name lights up my screen as he calls me. Outside of corporate, do people actually use phones to… you know… talk to each other?
What is this witchcraft? Thankfully, he’s not video calling, because I’m not sure I could fight the urge to go to him if he gave me that lazy smile, and his floppy fucking hair was all magazine perfect and inviting.
I clear my throat, ignoring the swarm of insects buzzing in my stomach, but the call drops.
Goal Daddy: Pick up the fucking phone, Artemis.
My lips twitch again. Other than our bastard sperm donor, people don’t tell me what to do. Not ever. Dominant is part of the de la Pena DNA. It’s the de la Pena way.
Artemis: Or what?
Now my dick jerks. It hasn’t forgotten how Xavier’s cock tasted, how soft his caresses were, how hungrily he consumed me, or how easily I came in my pants.
Goal Daddy: Don’t make me threaten to spank you.
My hand freezes on the waistband of my sweats as my cock stretches to life, my body betraying me.
Goal Daddy: Because I’d have to follow through.
Goal Daddy: I’m not an empty promises kind of guy.
I don’t think, I let the blood rushing to my crotch decide how to respond.
Artemis: Don’t threaten me with a good time.
A zing of lust rips through my bloodstream. I’ve never been spanked before. I’ve been punched in the face, been in fights and had broken bones, but intentional and repeated slapping in an intimate and erotic fashion? Never.
I’ve been the spanker. Never the spankee.
This is a new space for me. And I definitely shouldn’t react like this. My cock twitches its disagreement of my assessment of the situation.
My phone rings again. This time I don’t hesitate, I hit the answer button and put him on speaker.
“That escalated quickly.” His voice is charged with lust. “I was originally calling to make sure you were okay. You seem… glum.”
Who uses glum in conversation? He’s so… darling, is that a word? Fuck. He’s making me into the kind of person who thinks people are darling.
“And now?” My voice is every bit as charged as his, and I’ve already shunted my sweats down and freed my leaking and rock-hard cock.
“Now I wish I was in town and could stop by to have a do over.”
A groan catches in the back of my throat as I thumb my reverse prince Albert piercing, toying with the metal isn’t that bad, right? It’s innocent enough. I’m barely touching myself.
Except, I don’t touch my cock when I talk to a single other person on the phone. No amount of pretending makes this innocent anything… and he’s not a consenting participant in this conversation. He has no idea my palm is itching to curl around my cock.
“You could have a do over at any time, you know that, right?” His voice is strong, not hesitant, but also not forceful, like he’s leaving the decision making up to me.
I want this man, he wants me, but I also don’t want to risk any potential fall out, or exposure of a weakness. I wince. That’s what my whole life is, mitigating risk. And for the first time ever, I kind of hate it. Shouldn’t I be able to have my cake and eat it too?
Pie.
It’s all I’ve been able to think of since Xavier came bulldozing into my life.
“Arte?”
“Mmm?”
“Where’d you go?”
“I’m here.” I press my toes into the arm of the couch to ground me, letting go of my cock.
“I said just say the word, and I shall be there.”
I snort. “Like sexy Jesus?”
“Hey, you said it. We’ll both be coming for the second time.” His voice is dripping with humor, drowning out my groan.
“That was so bad.”
“You laughed,” he points out. “You like it bad.”
I hate to admit it, but talking to him makes me feel lighter, like I want to hold onto this moment, this space, this time and not let it go because the heaviness of real life will crash into me at speed.
“What’s holding you back, Artemis?”
I don’t want to answer his question, so I ask him one of my own.
“How do you do it?”
“What? Make you come? I think we’ve already established I don’t need to do much to make that happen.”
A growl breaks out of my chest. “I told you not to mention that.”
“And I told you I’d definitely mention that.” He swallows something. What’s he drinking? A hot drink? A beer? Probably not water. From what I know Xavier Martinez does not treat his body like a temple.
“I’m not afraid of you, Artemis de la Pena.”
My toes are curled so far into the arm of the couch that a cramp is brewing in my arched foot. “Maybe you should be, Xavier Martinez.”
“You’re not as big and bad as you pretend to be.”
I’m not, but I have to be to keep everyone around me safe. The heating kicks in, gusts of warm air filling the apartment as rain beats down on the windows and roof outside.
“How do I do what?” He pulls me back to my question.
“Be Roman’s younger brother so easily?”
There’s a long beat of quiet before he bursts into obnoxious laughter. “Well. I’m glad I have you fooled if nothing else.”
“Y-you… fake it?”
He makes an affirmative hum. “Isn’t that what you do, too?”
I’ve never felt so fucking seen. And by someone who isn’t even in the room. My cock may be out of my pants, but I’ve never felt so exposed… so… transparent. Something hot and uncomfortable lodges behind my sternum.
I need to shut this down before it goes any further.
“You don’t need to hide from me, Arte.”
I can’t find any words to answer him.
“But if you need to hide from the world, maybe I can sit with you while you do?”
A confession I can’t voice dies on my exhale. If I let him in, he’ll find the parts of me that no one sees.
I hang up without another word. I thought I could talk to him, maybe have a bit of phone sex and cover my thighs in cum to blow off some steam, but this… this is something potentially way more dangerous.
Xavier Martinez is definitely a risk I can’t take, and that might be what ruins me.