Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LIAM WAS BURNING alive with desire. The whiplash of the past few minutes from Tate’s anger and jealousy to intense lust, had his brain playing catchup to his body, which was a hundred percent on board getting it on out back behind his studio.
It was private enough, even though technically, anyone could wander back there at any time. But he couldn’t care less. The only thing he cared a lick about was getting fucked and getting fucked now.
“You’re right. Upstairs is too damn far. Fuck me, now.”
Tate ground his rock-hard erection against Liam’s ass, making him moan.
“Jesus, Luxe, you sure? Right here?”
“Yes, do it now.”
The pressure against his ass disappeared as Tate wrestled with his jeans.
Liam rested his forehead and palms against the warm brick of the building. “You have supplies?” he asked.
“Sure as hell do. Started carrying them around a few days ago. Never know when I’m gonna need you.”
I need you all the time.
Thank God he had enough brain power to keep that clingy thought in his head. Instead, he said, “Good thinking, Boy Scout.”
He heard a snort and the crinkled rip of the condom packet before Tate said, “I’da been kicked out on day one.”
Cool, slick fingers slid through his crease, making him jump. His breathing sped in anticipation of what was to come and how damn hot it would be.
“You good?” Tate asked.
“Yeah, do it. Just a quick prep. I can’t wait.”
Tate probed his hole, then slid two thick fingers straight in, immediately getting to work, loosening him up.
“Jesus,” Liam whispered as the intense pressure made his knees wobble.
A raw chuckle sounded in his ear. “Like that?” Tate asked as he scissored his fingers.
“Yes.” Liam slapped the brick wall. “Just like that.” The fingers inside him twisted and stretched him, making him pant. “Enough! Good enough. Fuck me now.”
“Damn, it’s hot when you get all bossy. Sure you’re ready?” His voice was strained as though someone held his throat.
“I was ready the moment you stormed out here like a jealous caveman.”
Tate gave another of those dark chuckles as he lined his cock up with Liam’s hole.
“Make me feel it for days.” Days .
Tate’s fingers flexed on his hips, and he swore a savage curse. “Why do I have a feeling you won’t be so mouthy in a second?” he asked before he drove his cock inside Liam with a brutal thrust.
The pleasure was instant and overwhelming, riding right at the edge of pain. Tate nailed his prostate on the first thrust, and the combination of discomfort and pleasure had him shouting out Tate’s name.
A palm slapped over his mouth. “Much as I love you screaming my name, I don’t want anyone to come investigate the noise. I’m the only one who gets to see you with my cock buried inside your tight ass.”
Not because he was worried about being outed but because he had a possessive need to keep Liam to himself.
If he could have swooned, he would have, but the thick rod inside him made it impossible. Instead, he mumbled, “Fuck me!” against the palm smothering him.
Tate did just that.
Liam’s entire world centered on the two of them in their bubble out behind his studio. He moaned and whimpered into Tate’s hand as he endured the hottest, most primal fucking of his life. With the coarse brick digging into his palms, he pushed back, meeting Tate’s every thrust with sharp punches of his hips. His prostate took the most delicious pounding. A constant buzz of electricity traveled out through his limbs.
“How is your ass this fucking tight?” Tate rumbled next to his ear before sucking on his earlobe. “Fucking heaven.” His left hand trailed from Liam’s hip to grip his cock.
Liam’s eyes rolled back, and his knees tried to give out. The man was a righty but just as skilled at stroking cock with his left hand. Liam trembled, mind muddled, and body losing control. Every thrust brought him closer to what promised to be a world-changing climax.
This was it. The point of no return. There was no coming back from a fuck as good as this one because it wasn’t just a fuck. Tate might not believe or understand it, and Liam was too chickenshit to admit it, but this time their sex was fueled by emotion as well as straight lust.
Teeth grazed his neck as the hand on his dick tightened.
“Oh God,” he mumbled into Tate’s damp palm. “I’m close. I’m so close.”
The thrusts and hand stroking him sped to a furious pace as Tate growled, “Me too.” His mouth latched onto Liam’s neck, sucking with the force of a damn Dyson and sending Liam over the edge.
He shouted into Tate’s palm just as he felt the man jerk behind him with his own orgasm. Tate shouted through clenched teeth. Tate’s grip on Liam’s dick became punishing, as though he had no control over his strength.
A jangling bell registered through the fog of a powerful orgasm.
“Tate? Yo, T, you here?”
Randy’s voice ripped through the sexual haze surrounding them.
“Shit.” In a move so fast that Liam couldn’t process it, Tate pulled out of him and sprang away like Liam was on fire.
Christ, he’d barely finished coming and couldn’t process what was happening, but he could feel the deep freeze that took over Tate.
One glance over his shoulder revealed Tate standing statue-still with his pants at his knees, his condom-covered cock soft and dangling, and an expression of abject horror on his face.
They could handle this. They just needed to cover up and pretend Tate had come to help Liam paint. He reached back for Tate’s hand.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” Tate jumped back so fast that Liam instantly yanked his hand away. The harsh whisper pierced his heart.
“Shit, shit,” Tate muttered. He shoved his dick, condom and all into his underwear and did up his jeans in record time.
Liam tried to turn around so he could reassure Tate everything would be okay. He forgot about his shorts around his ankles and the second he took a step, he tripped. He bit his lip to keep from shouting as he crashed to the ground, landing on all fours with a painful crunch. The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth.
“Tate? You out back or something?”
Liam stared up at Tate from his spot on the ground. There he was, eyes teary, bare, recently fucked, ass out for all the world to see, and palms and knees stinging like they’d been attacked by a swarm of bees.
Tate’s eyes were wild and panicked as he glanced down. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. Then he darted into the building and, in a voice that made it seem as though he’d been out for a Sunday stroll, said, “Hey, Randy. What’re you doing here?”
“Uh, what the fuck are you doing here? I’m here cuz I saw your truck out front. There a problem with our work?”
“Oh, no, definitely not. I just stopped by to do a final check and make sure everything was in order for the guy’s opening day. It’s coming up soon.”
“Uh-huh. Where’s the little dance guy?”
Little dance guy? Guess he should be glad Randy hadn’t used a slur.
“He was running out for some lunch when I showed up, so he just let me in to look around the locker room.”
“Why is your hair messy? And you’re all fucking flushed. Were you…” He started to laugh.
Liam’s heart shot into overdrive. Shit. He couldn’t do a damn thing to help. As humiliated as he was by what had just happened, no one deserved to be outed this way. It would destroy Tate.
“Were you jerking off back there?”
“What?” Tate laughed.
Could Randy hear the strain in it?
“No, you sick fuck, I wasn’t jerking off in an alley behind a building on Main Street. The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Oh, my God, you totally have an I-just-came-face. You whacked one off behind the dance studio. I’m proud of you, T. Always figured you were vanilla. Glad to know you got some freak in ya.”
“Jesus, fuck, I wasn’t jerking off.”
Liam’s hands and knees were in agony, but he didn’t change positions, terrified he’d make a sound and draw Randy’s attention.
“You were. But don’t worry, your perverted little secret is safe with me. For now.” Randy laughed, and then there was a slapping sound like he’d clapped Tate on the shoulder. “Wanna grab some lunch?”
“Fuck off.”
“Aww, come on. Don’t be like that.”
“Fine,” Tate said, sounding resigned. “But you’re buying since you’re an asshole.”
As the sound of their footsteps faded, Liam realized he was still on all fours with his lubed ass uncovered out behind his building.
How had the hottest fuck of his life turned into the most humiliating and degrading experience he’d ever had?
Wincing, he shifted back on his heels to inspect the damage. Both palms had little flecks of gravel embedded in the skin, and his knees were bleeding. Guess he wouldn’t be giving any blowjobs for a while.
He probably wouldn’t be seeing Tate for a while, either, which, at the moment, he couldn’t feel horrible about. His palms and knees hurt while the rest of him burned too hot with humiliation to feel his usual compassion. Then there was his fragile heart, which had stupidly started to get involved only to be ruthlessly stomped on two seconds later.
God, he was a pathetic mess. He sighed and gingerly climbed to his feet, flinching at the sting when his legs straightened. Once up and no longer cringing in discomfort, he carefully tucked his spent dick into his shorts. “This is what happens when you get involved,” he muttered at his crotch like a crazy person. “Actually,” he said, tapping a bloodied hand on the left side of his chest. “This is what happens when you get involved.”
He sighed again and spun toward the door. Looked like he’d be taking a break from painting the shelf to go doctor his knees. As he turned, he caught sight of his cum dripping down the brick wall.
“Fabulous,” he muttered.
After he patched up his knees, he could come back to clean up the evidence of his poor choices.
He’d fucked up.
God, he’d fucked up in the most spectacular way possible. This trumped the time he and Randy snuck onto Old Man Murphy’s farm to set his animals free. The goats and pigs ate through an entire crop of corn in one afternoon. Man, had they gotten in some serious trouble. They’d spent the entire summer working their asses off on Old Man Murphy’s farm without earning a single cent to make up for the damage they’d cost. Until a few hours ago, he’d have said it was his biggest fuck-up to date.
Well, he’d blown that out of the water.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you Daryl isn’t gonna be workin’ today,” Randy said as they unloaded supplies from the truck.
“What? You’re shittin’ me. What the fuck’s he doing?”
Randy shrugged, hefting a heavy bag of powdered grout onto his shoulder. “Ducky is getting out of prison, and Daryl’s picking him up. He cleared it with Larkin.”
“And nobody bothered to tell me?” Dammit, he’d planned to get Randy and Daryl set up and working the job, then slip out and rush back over to Liam’s for some serious damage control. Now, he’d have to spend the entire afternoon doing Daryl’s work.
“What’s it matter?” Randy asked, shooting him a confused look. “This ain’t even a big job. You and I’ll get it knocked out in a few hours, no problem.”
“It’s just fucking irresponsible.”
“It’s Ducky’s release day. You can’t expect Daryl to miss that. Stop being a dick. You’ve been all over Daryl’s case lately. It’s starting to piss him off.”
He grabbed a few boxes of tiles, and they started for the older home. They’d been hired to add a simple backsplash in the kitchen.
“So let him be pissed off.”
Ducky was Daryl’s older brother and a complete shithead. He made Daryl look like an angel in comparison. Fifteen months ago, he was arrested for vandalizing a black-owned shop in downtown Swan. Being the racist idiot he is, he’d spray-painted slurs on the building, bumping the charges up from simple vandalism to a hate crime. He’d won himself a solid two-year-long stint in prison. Due to overcrowding, he’d received an early parole.
Joy.
Tate hated Ducky more than just about anyone. He’d idolized him at one point, but that only lasted until he was old enough to realize what a waste of space Ducky was. He used to hide in the bushes and throw rocks at Tate as he walked to school, steal his lunch—when he’d had one—and generally treated him like garbage. Once Tate realized his attraction to guys, it’d been Ducky finding out that terrified him most, and for good reason. He was as violent as he was prejudiced.
“He’s not working with us.” Ducky never had any interest in working for the tiling company in the past. Well, he’d never been interested in working for anyone, but he’d need a job now as part of his parole.
“That ain’t up to you.”
Another reason to start his own company.
“But I don’t think it’ll matter,” Randy added. “I heard he’s going to get a job working on cars. Daryl said something about Duck getting mechanic training in the clink.”
Perfect. Whatever kept him away from Tate.
“All right,” he said with a heavy sigh as his chances to fix things with Liam evaporated. “Let’s get this over with.” Now he’d have hours to plan his apology speech and obsess over what a fucking idiot he was.
Would Liam even speak to him?
And how could Tate blame him if he wouldn’t?
He’d gone over there snarling and snapping with jealousy. There wasn’t another word for it. The thought of that Jonah guy touching Liam had him seeing red. But then Liam shut that down, and all he could think of was fucking the man.
And, boy, had he fucked him.
It had been like nothing he’d ever experienced, and he was pretty sure Liam felt the same. Hot, raw, and primal, they’d been like two animals focused on nothing but pleasuring each other.
And then he’d heard Randy call his fucking name and felt as though a bucket of ice had been poured on him.
He got hurt.
Liam fell because Tate was an enormous asshole who’d jerked away from him.
He felt sick.
MOSTLY BECAUSE HE couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again.
He didn’t deserve Liam and never would. Not as long as he lived in the closet, and he couldn’t envision a world where he didn’t. And now, with Ducky coming home, it felt as though the universe was playing games with him and laughing at his expense.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Randy called from the front door. “You just gonna stand in the driveway all damn day? Swear to God you’ve been weird as fuck lately.”
“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
He spent the next few hours working like a madman to distract himself from his mistakes. It didn’t work. The look of shock, pain, and pity on Liam’s face when he’d stared up from where he’d fallen taunted Tate the entire time he worked. If Randy noticed, he kept his mouth shut but shot Tate concerned glances.
When quitting time rolled around, they silently cleaned up and loaded the truck. “Hey, I’m meeting Daryl and Duck at The Nail for a few drinks later. You game?”
The Rusty Nail or The Nail as the locals called it, was the lone bar in Swan. Every night it was full of drunk rednecks and farmers blowing off steam after a long day. Tate had been there countless times, but even if he didn’t have a problem to fix tonight, he wouldn’t go with Ducky.
“Nah, man, I’ve got some shit to do.”
Randy scoffed.
“What?” Tate asked, glancing at his brother in his periphery.
“I’d ask what the fuck it is you gotta do, but I doubt you’ll tell me. You’ve been such a secretive motherfucker lately.”
He turned onto the highway. “You sound paranoid. I just got some shit to do. No big deal. Am I dropping you at The Nail?”
“Yeah.” They were both dusty and dirty, but The Nail wasn’t the type of place anyone cared about that shit.
Tate pulled into the lot and braked at the door.
“Thanks. We’ll be here a while if you change your mind,” Randy said as he hopped out. “I heard Kathy Baker was in town.” He winked. “In case you need a little pick-me-up,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, thanks,” he said, voice flat. “I’ll keep her in mind.” God, the words tasted bitter. Every time he denied Liam, he felt worse, and after today, he might as well be flaying his chest wide open.
After dropping his brother at the bar, he drove to the mini-mart across the street. They usually had a display of somewhat hearty flowers, and it couldn’t hurt to show up with a peace offering.
He knew less than nothing about flowers, but they were colorful, alive, and arranged in a way that made them look pretty. That’s all that mattered, right?
Would Liam care about the type of flowers? Most of them had a sticker that said assorted wildflowers. A few were plain roses, even Tate recognized those. Should he get roses? They only had pink. Were roses good for an apology, or were they about love?
What the hell is wrong with you?
He stood there like an idiot for a solid fifteen minutes, staring at the case and driving himself insane, when an older woman in a grass-green store vest wandered over. “Celebration or screw up?” she asked with a twinkle in her blue-gray eyes.
“Oh, uh, screw up. Big one.”
“Ah, I thought so. You have that deer-in-the-headlights look a man gets when he messes up for the first time in a new relationship. Am I right?”
He glanced down at her. She was at least a foot shorter with tightly permed gray hair and a kind smile. “Something like that.”
“Then go with these.” She stretched to reach the largest bunch of wildflowers. “They have a little something for everyone. And the colors complement most people’s décor.”
The flowers had to match Liam’s house?
“Uh, thanks.” He accepted the bouquet. “Appreciate the help.”
She patted his arms. “Let’s get you checked out so you can win your girl back.”
His heart stuttered. “S-sounds good.” Every time he hid the fact Liam was a man, his body responded in a visceral way. Right then, he felt a painful pressure in his chest as though someone had reached in and squeezed his heart.
The short drive to Liam’s studio was spent rehearsing an apology speech and trying not to vomit. He could barely control the car with how hard his hands shook, and he peeked at the flowers no less than twenty times as though they could somehow leap out of the car and run away.
This time, he parked behind the studio, as he should have done that morning and would have if he’d been thinking clearly—if the green-eyed monster hadn’t eaten his brain.
Flowers in hand and speech prepared, he jogged up the outdoor staircase to the small balcony outside Liam’s back door. After blowing out an unsteady breath, he knocked.
The door opened, and the second he saw Liam, his tongue dried up, and he forgot every word he’d planned to say.
He could only stare at the two large bandages covering Liam’s knees.
That’s your fault, asshole.
When he dragged his gaze back up, he found the man staring back at him with one raised eyebrow.
“I fucked up.”
So much for everything he’d planned to say.