Chapter 16 #2
“I think you know me well enough by now to know I’m not patient.” A smirk appears across his face. He intentionally nudges my leg while lowering his slightly. My gaze is drawn to them, noticing a lack of underwear underneath his shorts. His perfectly cut penis stares back at me.
“Alex.” I get up and almost trip over his black backpack at the end of the couch.
“Come on, you can’t blame me for trying. It’s been sixty-nine days since we last, you know.” His smirk widens.
Like I need reminding.
I fight against my primal urge to respond and push his hand away when it reaches for me.
“I’ve barely been with you for ten minutes.”
His puppy dog eyes and turned-down lips pull at my heartstrings when he gets up and steps toward me. My body is no longer willing to pull away when the new and unfamiliar feeling of his beard rubs against my skin. His lips dance across mine.
“Alex,” I say firmly but softly. I push him back slightly, trying to stop the last of my blood from leaving my brain and flowing straight toward my cock.
“I’m sorry.” He lowers his head as he reaches for my hands and mumbles something under his breath before looking up at me. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Maybe we should discuss that letter of yours.”
I sit back down on the couch and motion for him to do the same.
I’ve had two and a half weeks now to process everything he said. I’ve combed through every word of the four pages, and feel more open now to what could unfold. But I’m still cautious about reengaging after June and September. And there are still some blanks that my mind needs filled in.
Alexander fiddles with his watch and looks over at the drawn curtains.
I start talking when he finally turns to face me.
“Thank you for sending me the letter. I can’t imagine it was easy for you to write. And I’m sorry it took me till now to respond. I can imagine that, after June, you felt like I was punishing you again, but I needed to reconcile everything in my head.”
Really, it was more to let the anger subside, but I don’t need to go there. Not now.
“Reconcile?” Alexander’s shoulders tense up.
“I needed to square the idea of the guy I met back in June, and the guy in the pages of your letter, with the guy who left me high and dry in the hotel in London. The guy who said those things in the hotel room in New York back in September.”
“Oh.” Alexander’s shoulders drop.
“The main thing I’m trying to say is, yes, I do still have feelings for you. Of course I do. But if I’m going to give this another shot, I need more honesty, more transparency. And to take things slower this time.”
Alexander reaches for my hand.
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” There’s an eagerness in his eyes.
I debate whether to ask the questions that still plague me before taking a deep breath and throwing caution to the wind.
“I didn’t know about your battle with addiction. I’m still trying to work out if Samuel was more than an assistant to you. I want—”
“He was my ex.” Alexander cuts me off. “He’s the one I wrote My Anchor for, the day before he died. He’s the one all the songs on my last album are about.”
I shudder at his response and start to withdraw my hand, but stop myself.
I’ve wanted radical honesty from him ever since he left me in June, and here he is giving it to me.
Yet I can’t help but instantly feel jealous of Samuel.
To immediately measure myself against a guy I’ve never met.
Wondering if, just like in Alexander’s song Compare To You, I won’t stack up against him.
Alexander squeezes my hand and pulls at my arm.
“I’ll answer any questions you have, but promise me, whatever I answer, you’ll try to understand before judging me?”
He rakes his free hand through his hair when it falls down over his forehead, and I take a deep breath. I nod and go through the list of questions in my head, weighing up which one to ask next.
I have a feeling this will be a long night.
Monday
The glare of the afternoon sun immediately makes me regret not bringing my sunglasses. The cool afternoon breeze provides another reason to regret the clothing choices I packed. I was too focused on making sure Andrew was okay to look at what I needed for the week ahead.
My reliable white polo shirt isn’t warm enough to keep goosebumps from forming on my arms. I’d wrongly assumed that Alexander’s scene today would be shot inside, but here we are outside a cordoned-off block of shops in downtown Albuquerque.
Connie and Paul sit in the director’s chairs in front of me, barely acknowledging my presence.
Instead, they look at the monitor, leaving me to stand behind them.
I stare down at Chloe’s response to Paul’s request to cover Alexander’s travel expenses.
“They’ve come back saying they’ll cover a third of the costs.”
“Push back and ask them for forty percent,” Paul says. His tone is dismissive as his focus remains locked on the screen, Alexander’s scene playing out as he walks past a fire hydrant.
A surge of anger shoots through me.
Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to?
He doesn’t even have the decency to turn and look at me when I talk to him, like I’m one of the minions he can boss around to do his bidding.
I march around from behind the chairs and stand in front of them both, blocking their view of the monitor as the director yells cut.
“It’s one-third, and a guarantee that each show discusses the Brewed campaign. Take it or leave it.” My voice is clipped and full of rage.
I’m done negotiating.
The back and forth between Paul and Brewed has been relentless—not only on the budget—but on how to include the Brewed campaign in Alexander’s interviews.
They’ve bickered over everything from the presentation of their signature Christmas drinks to who will deliver them.
I’ve even had Alexander’s label pushing for the hosts on the TV shows to mention that physical copies of his cover It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year will be available to purchase, which they’ve manufactured in a rush to capitalize on the exposure.
The appearance is now a far cry from the original vision where Alexander would appear, shine a spotlight on sexual abuse, and announce himself as an ambassador for RAINN, the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network organization.
I crane my neck around at the sound of crunching leaves, and see Alexander striding toward us. His boots kick up the red and orange leaves scattered across the grass.
“What’s going on here?” he asks when he reaches us.
“Paul was just agreeing to the last few bits for the TV interviews,” I say. My nostrils flare as Paul cuts me a death glare.
“Yes, I was just confirming with Christopher that we can agree to all of Brewed’s terms.” He grips the wooden arm of his chair.
“You look cold,” Alexander says, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. He quickly pulls back when he notices a paparazzi behind a nearby food truck.
“Lucy, can you run to wardrobe, see if they have something Christopher can wear?” He turns to her and grabs his phone, which she’s already holding out for him.
Goosebumps instantly reappear on my arms as the hair stands up on the back of my neck. Not from the breeze that blows a couple of leaves down from the branches above us, but from Alexander’s kind gesture of taking a moment to think about me.
Maybe last night’s conversation to clear the air has helped.
Maybe he can be more thoughtful and considerate of others.
I stop myself from getting too carried away.
Baby steps, Christopher. Baby steps.
“No problem.”
Lucy shoots off toward wardrobe while Connie gets out of her chair, readjusting the red woolen shawl that covers her shoulders and locking Alexander in a tight embrace.
“That was great.”
“Yeah. Good job.” Paul leans forward in his chair and pats Alexander’s arm like a dog.
“I think that’s me wrapped for the day.”
Alexander looks over toward the director, standing by the cop car, and gets a thumbs-up, confirming his thoughts.
“Can you approve this?” Paul asks, handing Alexander his iPad. The artwork for It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, mocked up in CD, cassette, and seven-inch vinyl, appears on the screen.
“I thought this was a digital-only release?” He scrolls through the options before flicking back up to the top two. The image on the cover is the same one Pietro said was the money shot.
“The label wants to make a real push for the track now that it’s climbing on Spotify and Apple. They think you could shift upward of a hundred thousand units. Brewed has already agreed to stock the physical formats in stores as soon as they’re manufactured.” Paul nods toward me.
I bite back the urge to respond when Alexander’s eyes narrow at me.
Why doesn’t Alexander already know this?
What else aren’t they telling him?
Paul throws me a look. See? Two can play your game.
“I’ll agree to the physical versions and this cover, but only if all the proceeds go to the RAINN organization.”
Alexander turns the iPad around for Paul to see before handing it back to him.
“We won’t convince the writers to part with their share of the royalties.” Paul’s hesitance is clear.
Alexander kicks a rock by his foot.
“Well, I want a guarantee from the label that all the profits from our side are directed to RAINN.” His voice gets more elevated with each word, causing the crew members behind him to turn and look.
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Paul says, speaking in a hushed tone.
Lucy marches back toward us, her red hair blowing across her face as she grips something blue under her arm.
“This is all wardrobe had, I’m afraid.” Lucy hands over a long-sleeved police shirt. The gold police badge, strapped above the left pocket, wobbles as Alexander lifts it up in front of him to inspect it.
“This is perfect,” he says, passing it to me with a wink.
I slide it on as Alexander motions to me to move toward the shuttle van that brought us here this morning.
“Fancy a game of role-play when we get back to the hotel?” A mischievous smile widens across his face.
This was not exactly what I’d envisioned when Alexander said role-play.
I’m cuffed to his bed, naked, with a sock shoved in my mouth to stop me from speaking. The low light from the bathroom highlights Alexander’s washboard abs, visible through the unbuttoned cop shirt. His lower half is completely naked and his penis throbs as it points directly at me.
“You’ve been a bad boy!”
The growl in his voice does nothing to stop my cock from throbbing in anticipation.
I start to respond, but the sock stifles my words.
Though my body has longed to be intimate with Alexander again, despite my brain’s best efforts to fight my primal needs, I feel discomfort rising in my chest at how powerless I feel in this situation.
“No use begging for mercy now.”
Alexander slowly moves toward me. He climbs on top of the bed, running his cold hand up my left leg, but stops just short of my cock, which is now pulsating and desperate for attention.
“Uh-uh.” He waves his finger at me when I thrust my hips upward toward his hand.
He instead reaches for the strawberry lube, squirting it into his hand before slowly rubbing it up and down on my shaft. His firm grip immediately edges me into a state of ecstasy, pulling all the blood away from my brain toward my cock and taking my concerned thoughts with it.
I thrust up again and Alexander pushes my body back down.
“Uh-uh. I’m the one in control now.” He waves his finger at me once more.
Alexander’s hand moves faster and faster and my balls swell with each successive glide up and down my shaft. I feel myself getting close and thrust my hips up against the grip of his hand.
Alexander withdraws his hand as the precum leaves my cock, just before I climax, forcing my load back down.
What a prick tease.
He reaches for the lube again. This time, he applies it to his hole as he climbs on top of me, then guides my cock slowly inside of him as he rests his right hand on my abs.
His hips work up a rhythm, riding my cock like a bucking bronco. I moan through the sock in pleasure as he removes his hand from my abs and starts to choke his own cock. I feel myself starting to get close again.
“You want to be punished?” he asks and I nod in agreement.
I want to unload myself inside of him. To unload together. His hip movements become faster, more feral, and I can tell he is getting close. His ass pounds at a pace that’s both merciless and intense.
Just as I get close to climaxing, Alexander jumps off, pulls out the sock, and shoves his cock inside my mouth. His hips snap once, twice, and then his load explodes into the back of my throat, thicker and creamier than I’ve ever tasted.
He puts his hands on the wall above me as my head bangs against the wooden headboard and his load keeps coming, one burst after another.
When he finally stops, he collapses beside me.
My cock still stands upright, waiting for release.
“Damn, that was hot,” he whispers in my ear, grabbing the sock and wiping the sweat from his forehead.
I don’t know how to respond, so I lay there, still cuffed, and say nothing.