Rough Road (7 page)

I lose myself in his kiss, let myself fly on the sensations of pain and arousal twining together. The gentleness of his hands on my ass sets a slow rhythm between us, as inevitable as waves lapping on the shore. By the time the cab pulls up in front of my house and I shove a handful of bills at the driver, I’m so turned on I can barely breathe—from kissing! We stumble from the cab to the house, still groping each other, and somehow I manage to get us inside without dropping my keys.

Wish shoves me up against the front door, wrapping his arms around my waist. I love that he’s the same height as me, that we can stare right into each other’s eyes while he tells me, “I want you, Eddie S-Class. You make me crazy with it. Can’t wait to get you naked, see every bit of your sexy skin. Want to leave marks on you you’ll feel for days. Want to make you cry. Want to make you come so hard you never forget me.”

I don’t tell him he’s already unforgettable. That ego of his doesn’t need any more stroking. I pull my clothes off and I’m reaching for his. He stops me, pushing my hand away.

“Shoes first,” he whispers.

Oh, hell.

I’m not a submissive. I don’t get turned on by following orders, and I sure-as-the-orgasm-he-promised-me don’t have a kink for being on my knees. But I want him naked, and the shoes do have to come off. I glare at him, and he stares back—how the fuck is he so calm?

“So take them off,” I growl.

“It doesn’t make you weak, taking care of another person.”

“I know that.”

“So why won’t you take off my shoes?”

“Why do you want me on my knees?” I counter. “I thought you weren’t into that Dom shit.”

“Why is your dick so fucking hard?” He slides his fingers down my shaft, cups my balls, and flicks behind them, hitting the ring back there with perfect accuracy.

I drop to my knees.

My face flushes with anger and resentment as I slip his feet from his shoes and roll his socks off. I thrust them aside and start to stand, but his hand, rough on my shoulder, holds me down. I scowl at his bare feet, seething with a frustration I can’t put into words. What gives this man the right to make me speechless?

He lets go of my shoulder, snatches my hair, and jerks my head up without warning.

“Fuck!” I shout, jumping to my feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He throws me back against the door, his hand still in my hair the only thing keeping me from bouncing right off the hard wood surface. Ah,
fuck yeah
.

We struggle for a moment, pushing, wrestling, grappling for advantage. A thrill shoots through me like electricity as I get a good grip on him. I haul him around by his clothes, shove him backward, and slam him against the entryway wall with a loud
thunk
.

He tosses his head back and laughs, then lunges for me again. This time, he gets a hand around my wrist and twists my arm behind me. I swing with my other arm, which he plucks from the air like he’s catching a ball, and I’m well and truly caught.

Arousal makes my limbs heavy, a rich warmth spreading through me. My heart races with the rush of the tussle, and I squirm against him one last time, grateful to feel his hard cock through his pants. The best part of wrestling with a lover is the point of acquiescence, that moment of being overpowered and knowing I’m going to get fucked.

“God
damn,
S-Class,” he whispers. “I want you so fucking bad. I had plans, you know? I was going to spank you until your ass was red all over. I wanted to dig my fingers into the stripes on your ass until you screamed. Now all I can think of is getting inside you.”

Oh, god.
He
is
inside me. He’s got me figured out better than any lover has in my whole life. He’s under my skin and in my head, and I want nothing more than to take him inside my body and rut.

“Do you have a fucking condom?” I growl, my hands clenching in his grip behind my back.

“If I reach for it, will you stay put?”

“Yes.”

He lets go of my wrists, and there’s a rustle of fabric as he strips off his clothes, and then the crinkle of foil. “It’s lubricated, is that enough for you?”

I nod, letting him maneuver me, the side of my face pressing into the intricate carving in the door’s mahogany surface.

It’s not enough lube, the little amount on a condom never is, but the burn of pain as he pushes inside me makes me groan out helplessly. He lets go of my wrists again and grips my ass, sending a current of dull pain through me when his fingers dig into the welts from the caning.

I have to brace myself against the door with my hands as he fucks me hard. He spits into his palm and uses it to jerk me roughly, taking me right up to the edge. I’m wild and alive and so turned on I could scream, need and heat and lust sharpening my senses.

His lips skim my shoulder, gentle and sweet, and the shocking contrast between that touch and the relentless fucking is what tips me over. I lay my head back against him and trust him to hold me up, my limbs shaking as I roar with the release, my body lit up like Christmas in his arms.

He does hold me up, and he doesn’t stop fucking me through it, so strong he can support my weight and drive me into the door at the same time. When he comes, he shouts out my name in a strangled plea for god-knows-what.

We sink to the stone-tiled floor, gasping for breath, our hands clutching at each other in a helpless, instinctual search for closeness. We find our fit: my head on his chest, one of his hands tangled in my hair. The slow descent back to sanity is marked by the heaving of our chests, and my soft laughter—the laughter of the truly well-fucked.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his own voice tinged with humor.

“That’s me appreciating your prowess,” I mumble against his chest. “Holy everything, that was good.”

He slaps my ass playfully. “Yeah it was.”

“Let’s do it again.” I kiss his nipple and it tightens against my lips.

“In the morning,” he says, his voice firm. “I’m only human, S-Class.”

“You called me Eddie when we were fucking.” I feel somewhat stung by his return to the nickname after what we shared.

“Yeah.” He kisses the side of my head. “Eddie.” It sounds so sweet like that, in his hushed postcoital tone. “Can I sleep in that big, warm bed of yours and beat your ass in the morning, Eddie?”

Fuck, yes.

“I’ll take it as a personal insult if you don’t.” I yawn, stretching alongside him.

“I promise to only insult you
before
sex.” Chuckling, he stands and ducks into the powder room, I assume to dispose of the condom. When he returns, he hauls me to my feet. “Bedtime, babe. I feel an overwhelming desire to cuddle you senseless.”

I laugh and follow him up the stairs to my bedroom, where I let him do just that.

Wish sleeps in on weekends. His body curls around mine; our legs tangle together. It’s a much nicer way to wake up than to someone doing yoga at the foot of my bed. I roll and stretch, loving the rub of the sheet against my bruised body. We’d woken twice in the night to fuck, and the second time, Wish held me down and slapped my ass until it burned like a witch at the stake. Goddamn, that feels amazing now.

His eyes flutter open, and he smiles at me, so handsome and sleepy, it makes me wish I were a photographer so I could capture that veiled promise.

“C’mere, S-Class,” he growls, pulling my groin flush to his. I wrap my arms around his neck and indulge in some serious morning making out. He kisses me deep and slow, like he wants it to last, but our hips rocking together and his hands on my nipples hurry us right along until I’m panting, holding back my orgasm by sheer force of will.

“Eddie? What the hell, man?”

Ben’s voice from behind me is like a bucket of ice water dumped on the bed. I stop rutting against my fine new friend and roll to face my confused best friend.

“Darling, if you’re going to burst into my boudoir on a Saturday morning and interrupt the proceedings, have the decency to do so naked.” I glare at him and raise a pointed eyebrow at his board shorts. He blushes to the roots of his hair, but he glares back.

Board shorts. I glance at the date on my watch and sink back down onto the bed, a blush of my own stealing up my face. “I forgot, didn’t I?”

“Ya think?” he growls. “Dave has the Nautique tied up to your dock, Ridley is doing something probably illegal as fuck on a jet ski in front of your neighbor’s house, and I just came in here to help you load your shit into the boat. I wasn’t expecting to interrupt Kinky Eddie’s youth outreach program!”

“Hey, asshole.” Wish sits up in bed and he looks mad enough to spit, his face turning red. “Show some fucking manners and go wait outside.”

To my utter shock, Ben shuts his mouth and backs out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Please tell me that is not your boyfriend.” Wish pinches the skin at the top of his nose and peeks at me from between his fingers.

“Worse.” I collapse against the pillows with a
thump
. “
That
is my best friend, Ben. And he’s having a thing today, spending the day on the lake with family and friends, to celebrate being sober for nine years. And I forgot because . . .” I gesture between us, letting the words hang in the air.

“Dude.” Wish slumps beside me.

“I know.” I bury my face against his shoulder. “He’s not really an asshole, you know.”

He runs a hand through my hair. It makes me want to snuggle closer. “He probably wouldn’t be your best friend if he was. I was hoping to spend the day with you.”

The day, the weekend, as much time naked as we could manage, it all sounds wonderful. But Ben . . . “He’s family. You know how it is with family.”

He smiles at me then. “Yeah, family is important. Kinda weird meeting them when they barge into the bedroom in the middle of sex though.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. “Awk-ward.”

He laughs too, a funny, snorty laugh that suits him perfectly, but then he asks in this tiny, hopeful voice, “Can I come?”

I sit up straight. “You want to, really?”

“I want to hang out with you.” He shows a flash of teeth. “And if you’re celebrating Big Ben’s sobriety, I am too.”

A little piece of me I didn’t even realize was frozen melts under the force of that.

“Yeah, lovely. You can come. Want to borrow a bathing suit?”

I’m not one to brag—okay, that’s a lie, I love to brag—but my date looks amazing in a Speedo. When Wish comes out of the en suite with his bulge on full display in teensy orange trunks, it’s all I can do not to wrestle him down to the bed and keep him there for a week. But Ben’s outside, and the rest of my little family is waiting for us, so I leer a bit instead.

“I cannot believe you wear these.” He gives my ass a once-over. “And have them in a variety of colors. You know your thighs are still striped. Everyone will be able to see them.”

I can’t help smirking. “That’s the intent, isn’t it? What’s the point of being an exhibitionist if you don’t, you know,
exhibit
?”

He shakes his head in this completely adorable he-wishes-he-were-exasperated-but-he-just-can’t way. “Come here.”

His hands on the sides of my face are a revelation. Their gentleness as they whisper over my cheekbones has me rolling my face into his palms like a kitten, eyes closed, chest heaving. He kisses me with no-holds-barred, a lush, sensual attack of lips and tongue that turns me on and on.

Then he pulls back, smiling, and whispers, “Now you’re definitely exhibiting.”

I glance down at our matching hard-ons in fancy swimwear and snort a laugh. “Oh, you are something else, lovely. Let’s go, I’ll introduce you to the fam’.”

“So, who all is going to be there?”

A glance out the window shows Ben in the bow of the wake boat, gesturing at the house and shaking his head while Davis smiles indulgently. Farther down the cove, the plume of water from Ridley’s jet ski arcs into the air in stop-and-go figure eights. I start ticking the crew off on my fingers as we head down the stairs.

“Ben and his fiancé, Davis. Davis’s kid brother, Ridley—and I do mean kid; he’s fourteen. Tina and Elvis for sure.”