Nathaniel
I FEEL AS IF this surprise visit from Landon is becoming scarily intimate. I find myself swaying toward him internally, wanting to know more about this sadness that I briefly saw in his eyes at the hotel, and that I see now, so present and daunting.
It makes me angry. It makes me so fucking irritated that I’m feeling anything other than hatred as I stare into his glowing green eyes.
But fuck, he’s beautiful. Soft brown hair, sharp features, full lips, and those eyes. His body is so perfectly sculpted, a piece of art he works so hard on, and the emotion dripping from him only adds to his allure.
It makes you want to invade his mind, his space, his soul.
“Leave, Landon. You can’t make my life hell if you hold no real power over me. What you’re doing is pointless.” My voice is cold and distant, a desperate plea for him to leave before I do something stupid.
Something like caring about him.
But Landon just smirks, his head tilting as he says, “I can do anything, Nathaniel. I’m just that good.”
Visions of him straddling me, telling me that very same thing, swarm my brain. It puts my body on high alert, primes it for something dirty, and makes my blood sing.
Heat rolls through me, taking my breath momentarily as I stare into his lust-filled eyes. What is he really doing here? If it’s to make my life hell, he is most certainly failing.
Although this internal battle over hating him is pretty shitty, so maybe he isn’t failing.
“Then be that good in California, not here,” I demand.
“I’m not a corporate slave just yet. I’m free to go where I like.” His tone is full of humor, but I can sense the negativity beneath it. This man really doesn’t want to work for his father.
But I really do need him to go. If he doesn’t leave now, I’ll end up stuck in this endless cycle of “I hate him, I want him. I hate him, I want him. I hate him, I want him” all night.
And I think he can sense this. I think he can smell my desire and my desperation leaking from every pore on my body, because Landon gives me a deadly smirk, his hand landing square on my chest like an unmoving weight.
“You don’t want me to leave,” he says, reading my damn mind. “You know you’d be so lucky to touch me; such a lowly servant getting his hands on someone like me—”
I can’t take it anymore. Snatching his hand from my chest, I begin dragging him toward my bedroom. His words immediately die off, breath hitching as I tug him behind me.
“I ought to spank that ass for how you speak to me,” I growl, shoving him toward the queen bed on the other side of the room.
Landon trips awkwardly, catching himself as he turns to face me. “Unfortunately for you, I’d like that.”
Oh, he’s deadly. He’s fucking trained in being a filthy temptress, and I’m slowly bending to his will with every passing second.
But I can’t allow it. I have to make sure that even as I’m making him feel good, he still understands that he is nothing to me. That his bratty little attitude won’t stand under my roof.
“You will respect me, Landon,” I tell him firmly, stalking toward my dresser to snatch a condom and the half-empty bottle of lube from the top drawer.
“You sound so old when you say shit like that,” he snarks, giving me another one of those sassy smirks he’s so good at dishing out.
“Does that turn you on?” I ask, my voice dropping lower as I step into his space. “Does it get you hot and bothered to sleep with an older man, to know that I’m capable of pinpointing exactly how to touch you?”
Landon’s lashes flutter, his lips parting as his head tilts back to look me in the eyes. My hand shoots out, gripping roughly at the front of his shirt and bringing him flush against me.
“How?” he gasps. “How are you going to touch me?”
“Rough,” I grit out. “I’m going to fuck you like I want to hurt you, so hard you cry as you come on my cock.”
“Fuck,” he moans, his hands snapping out to take a firm hold of my wet long-sleeve shirt. “Give it to me, then. Hurt me.”
I search his eyes, the sparkle in them, hunting desperately for any hint of that previously shown sadness. But it’s gone. All that is left of him is hunger, anger, and need. Pure fucking need.
“Clothes off,” I command, and Landon must be fucking with me because he takes his sweet time with each article.
“Like this?” he teases, dragging his shirt over his defined chest with no urgency.
A frantic, impatient sound leaves me as I reach out, ripping the fabric over his head, and then doing the same with his jeans and briefs.
And fuck. In that little hotel room in Cali, I never really got a good look at what he’s packing, but he’s not wrong. Sure, I’m bigger than him, but he’s not far behind me.
“Like what you see?” Landon purrs, angling his hips toward me so that the angry, throbbing head of his cock is pointing right at me.
What a conceited little demon he is.
I flip him around without answering, shoving his back until his hands land on the mattress. Pressing the length of my body over his, I breathe in the scent of him. It’s masculine yet somehow sweet, like his skin is calling to mine, demanding a duet of some kind.
I trail my nose up his neck, enjoying each pant as I reach his ear, where I whisper, “My cock is going to bury so deep inside of you that you won’t be able to breathe. You won’t be able to run your stupid fucking mouth.”
Landon gasps, pushing back against me as he says, “Nathaniel, I—”
“Nate,” I growl. “You call me Nate or nothing at all.”
“Whatever you want, grandpa,” he shoots back, but his sassy tone is coated in a layer of desperation.
I pop the lid of the lube I’ve been holding, squirting some onto my fingers and using my other hand to pull his ass cheeks apart, and pouring some there too.
Landon shudders at the cold feeling, his hips jerking so hard I have to drop the lube onto the mattress next to the precariously placed condom and yank him back to me.
“N-no foreplay?” he stutters out, his body shaking beautifully.
The perfect shape of his ass, his slick skin, and his heavy breaths are keeping me from taking things slow. Each bratty little thing he says is spurring me on, leaving me unwilling to drop to my knees or give him the gift of doing the same for me.
“You don’t deserve foreplay. Not after you ran your mouth.”
“God, Nate,” he groans. “That’s so hot. Do your worst, baby. You won’t break me.”
My vision turns red. Something wild and dangerous inside of me is gearing up. He’s waving a bright red flag in front of a restless bull, egging me on so beautifully I could scream.
He’s kind of… perfect.
I circle his rim only twice before I shove a singular finger in as far as it’ll go, causing Landon to cry out, his body tensing around the intrusion. But he’s not fighting me—no, he’s rocking back onto me, practically begging for more.
I drag my finger back out, slapping his ass before I shove it back in.
“F-fuck!” he shouts, his head dangling between his shoulders as his arms shake.
“That’s right, little Lanny,” I praise. “Let me hear it.”
“Oh, god. Why is this so hot?” he damn near whines, and I shove another finger in with the first, certain he’ll like it more this way.
With more of a burn.
And I’m right; Landon moans, long and loud as I scissor my fingers, prepping him rough and quick. I don’t actually want to hurt him. Not for real. But this? Giving him the bare minimum and watching him fall apart for it? Shit. I could do this all damn day.
By the time I shove a third finger into him, he’s gasping and trembling, shoving back onto me steadily as he searches for more. For me.
It drives me so crazy that before I can even think about it, my knees give out, and my tongue joins my fingers in their assault.
I have to taste him. I have to know if he’s sweet here, too.
“Nate, please,” he begs, his voice choked.
A low groan leaves me, and I run my clean hand through my hair to push it from my forehead as I stand, ripping my own clothes off before slipping on the condom.
But I’m curious. So fucking curious and greedy for it, that I can’t stop myself from reaching around him and stroking his dick, collecting the precome building there.
Landon cries out, twitching in my hand. But I don’t linger. Instead, I bring my fingertips to my tongue, sucking his arousal from my own skin.
“Landon,” I moan, the musky taste of him exploding inside of my mouth, making my own shaft twitch.
He’s sweet everywhere.
“That’s right,” he pants out. “Good, huh? I’ve been told that I taste really good.”
Now I’m seeing red again, for a completely different reason.
Gripping the back of his neck, I bring my lips to his ear, murmuring a threat I plan to make good on. “Mention fucking another man again, and you will never feel my cock pounding into you. Ever.”
Landon shivers, his arms wobbling as he whispers, “Okay.”
Satisfied, I notch the tip of my dick against his hole, feeling it twitch, feeling the heat of it. How tight it looks.
“When was the last time you got fucked?” I ask, completely disregarding my own warning.
“You just said—”
“When, Landon!”
He groans, shoving further back against me as he says, “Last year. With Julian.”
On the one hand, I can’t believe it’s been that long for him. I mean, he really is good-looking, and he has that sneaky little gift that grants him his every wish. On the other? Pure. Fucking. Rage.
“I’m going to destroy you,” I growl, pushing against his resistance until my head pops through the tight muscle of his hole.
“R-right back at you,” he forces out, sweating and taking unsteady breaths as I sink deeper inside of his body.
And it’s so fucking good. The way he grips me, the way he molds so perfectly to accommodate my length, the way he lets out these small, desperate little cries that feed the darkest parts of me.
Once I’m buried to the hilt, I pull right back out, slamming in with no time given for him to adjust. And Landon goes crazy, moaning so loud I’m convinced the closest living person to us will hear him.
Which would be everyone residing in Chastain Castle, of course. It would be Julian.