Chapter 8

My man still didn’t know how far I’d fallen before I’d been ready for him to pull me out of the pit I dove into, head first. But not a day passed when I didn’t remember.

For two years I’d been cut off from the world I’d grown up in. My only ties from the past were Luther— who I’d met in high school and fallen in love with—and my father’s ex-business partner. Joel Bradley was old money, established enough that being shunned by my father didn’t diminish his prospects, but when he heard I’d been disowned, he encouraged me to file for emancipation. Then provided the funds for me to find my own place.

For a price, but one I didn’t anticipate. In his fifties, Joel reminded me of my father. A kinder, more attentive version. He reached out to me while I was crashing on the sofa at Luther’s parent’s house. Offered to provide a place to live, the means to finish my schooling at the private school both Luther and I attended. He said he was lonely and would appreciate if I visited now and then.

For almost two years he’d asked for nothing else. At times I was uncomfortable in his presence. The way he watched me was too intense. His questions too personal. Aside from Luther, his parents and mine, he was the only one who knew I was bisexual.

A few days after my eighteenth birthday he finally told me what he expected for all he’d given me. I’d gotten a scholarship to an elite art program I’d applied to. He told me he could take that away. And I believed him.

The career I hoped to build with the one skill I had was my only way to prove my father wrong. I wasn’t pathetic. Or worthless. I had so many dreams.

But to reach them, I’d have to let Luther go.

I didn’t want to.

Joel laughed when I told him I was in love. He knew Luther’s name. He said he would ruin him too.

I had twenty-four hours to give him an answer.

Not enough, but I went to Luther, knowing this would be our last time together. I couldn’t tell him why because he’d stop me. And I loved him too much to let him face the consequences of my decision.

The second Luther opened the door, I threw myself at him. He laughed and held me close, kissing my neck, helping me pull off my cheap T-shirt. The kind of clothes Joel told me would destroy any chance I had at a future. He’d provide better. Did what it would cost me really matter?

Luther tugged me to the shower, whispering that he’d hoped I wanted him as much as he wanted me, but thought I’d changed my mind.

“Don’t stop.” He groaned as I sucked along the side of his neck. “Fuck, Edmund, you—”

“Xavier. I’m Xavier now.”

“Xavier, you don’t like to get messy. I just finished working out and I’m all gross. Come with me to clean up. There’s nothing wrong with this. With us. Please just…” Luther stumbled into the bathroom, holding me against him as he slammed into the side of the sink. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want you.” My throat tightened because I did. I wanted him now. And forever. But we couldn’t have that. “Don’t make me think. Tell me what to do.”

Tugging off my shirt, Luther lifted me up into his strong arms, kissing me again, trying to get us both naked as he moved closer to the shower. “Don’t regret me, Xavier. Don’t hate what we have. I’m sorry you lost everything. But we can get it back. Together.”

“You are what I have.” I slid down Luther’s body, shoving his boxers off his hips, then dropping to my knees as he reached over to turn on the shower. “You’re everything.”

Lips sliding over his dick, I let out a soft moan as he cupped the back of my head and thrust in deeper. We’d fooled around before, kissing and grinding, even jerking one another off once or twice. But not this. This had been how my father pictured me. A man’s whore. On my knees with a dick in my mouth.

The rough pressure almost got me off, but before I could come, Luther pulled me up and into the shower, he lifted me, bracing my back against the wall.

“I want to feel you. No one else. I can’t imagine wanting anyone else.” Luther fumbled the conditioner, opening it behind my bowed back and dumping some in his palm. “Tell me you want me too.”

As Luther’s slick fingers filled me, I forced myself to remember it was him. To shut away Joel whispering what he would do to me. What I’d told him he could have. He wasn’t here.

Luther was.

Only Luther.

And I’d remember this when I was finally free. When I could come back to him.

His fingers left me and he let me set one foot on the floor, lifting the other and pressing me against the wall as he positioned his dick. He rocked forward, the head of his dick easing in, then slipping away. He kissed me as he tried again, driving his fingers in deep before guiding his dick to my slick hole.

“This isn’t working.” Luther tried to lift me, still kissing me. “You’re so fucking tight.”

I pressed my hands on his shoulders, nudging him away, then turning, my hands braced on the tiled wall. “This will be easier.”

“But I want to see you, Xavier. I don’t want you to shut down. I want to know I’m not hurting you.”

“You won’t. I trust you.”

Groaning, Luther stepped behind me, kissing my shoulder as he used more conditioner to slick his fingers. “Relax. Show me what you can take.”

His fingers filled me, faster than I’d expected, but when he worked two in deep and began thrusting, I pressed back, needing more. And he gave it to me. His fingers slipped away and his dick slid, over and over, pressing, then easing back. He slapped his hand against the wall as the head of his dick stretched me.

Gasping in air, I fought not to pull away from the intense burn.

“Shh, let’s wait. Try to relax.”

I laughed at Luther’s calm tone. “I think your fist would feel better in my ass.”

“Do you want me to try that first?”

“I don’t know. Is your dick bigger than your fist?”

Luther chuckled and kissed my shoulder. “No. But I’ve done this with dildos. It will feel good. Just press back and stop clenching. Like you did with my fingers.”

We both moaned as I followed his instructions and the head of his dick breeched my ass. I was completely open. Vulnerable. And it scared me, but this was Luther. Feeling him, even with the burn, was the purest thing I’d ever felt.

Shoving back, I let out a rough sound as another inch filled me.

“Oh fuck.” Luther, slid back, then forward again. “Xavier, I wish you could see this. Your ass is stretching around me. Holding me so tight. Pulsing around me.” He pressed a finger against the rim holding him, “So fucking tight, but you’re taking it all.” More pressure and I jerked forward, then back. “I want to open you up more. Hold still.”

His dick inside me, only a few inches, was almost overwhelming, but also…perfect. The way he touched me was perfect. My vision blurred as he squirted more conditioner over where we were connected. He eased out, then in, his finger tracing where I was stretched around his cock.

“What are you doing, Luther?” I panted, but rocked back against him, feeling his eyes on me. “You should be fucking me.”

“I should, but you relaxed more when I did this. Like I overwhelmed whatever’s in your head, holding you back.” He curved one hand around my hip, holding me still as he slid his dick in deeper. His pelvis hit my ass. His finger had gone and I tried moving again. He tightened his grip and his finger returned as his dick slid out. “You’re prepared for my dick, but not the extra sensation of my finger.”

“Your dick is enough.”

“Is it?” Luther drew out all the way. Latched onto my hips with both hands and thrust back in. I braced myself, wanting to show him I could handle anything he threw at me. “What if I want to give you more?”

“Take it. Take everything.” The burning had eased as my body adjusted to Luther’s girth. But then he withdrew, curving his finger inside me instead, exploring my body, my reactions. It shifted my attention. Made it harder to predict what he’d do next. “More.”

His fingers filled me. Three. Then four. I moaned, begging for his dick again. He gave it to me. Stretching me with it. Moving slow. Opening me more and more. Leaving me and using his fingers again, curving, stroking, and I cried out. Jutted back until almost his whole hand was inside me. I wanted it. His fingers, his dick. My hands slipped on the tiled wall and I whimpered when he turned the shower off.

“I need you in my bed.”

My legs didn’t work properly as he guided me, half carrying me, to his bed. He laid me on it, the bottle of conditioner in his hand.

Then he went still. “Xavier, I should be using a condom.”

“Have you been with anyone else?”

“No. Have you?”

I shook my head. “No. Please don’t stop. I love this. You’re driving me crazy and I love it.”

Eyes darkening with pleasure, he knelt between my thighs, pushing them apart and tipping the bottle of conditioner until the cool liquid dripped over my balls and down to my over-sensitized hole. His dick was hard and glistening, jutting up against his stomach, but he seemed too fascinated with toying with my body to take his own pleasure.

“I don’t think this virgin ass is ready for my fist, but one day…” Luther’s lips curved as he sank two fingers in deep. “Fuck…the things I want to do to you.”

With a breathless laugh, I writhed impatiently on the bed, lifting my hips to make him move faster. “If you could get back to fucking me, that would be awesome.”

He shook his head, tapping the tips of his fingers against my prostate, smirking when I jerked and slammed my head back into the pillow. “Not yet. It’ll be over too fast. You stayed away from me for too long, Xavier. I want you begging. I want you to need me so much you’ll never even think of leaving me again.”

How I hadn’t figured out that night how much Luther craved control, how good he was at wielding it, was beyond me. He’d drawn our first time out for hours. Took me fast our second time. Then shocked me by proving I could be aroused without getting hard for the longest time, a mess of need, simply drowning in sensations.

That night he’d done everything in his power to prove I belonged to him. Only him.

And he’d woken up the next morning alone.

Luther’s grip on my neck tightened, bringing me back to the present. The look in his eyes was more intense than it had been that night, harder and lacking the raw eagerness he’d had to own me in every way. We’d spent years healing from my betrayal, but it had left many scars. We’d built an incredible life together, and yet we still had a long way to go to reach the level of trust he’d once given me.

The trust I’d always had in him remained, he’d earned it over and over again, but knowing it was there and showing it were two different things.

I forced myself to relax. To let Luther take his time, turning to face the counter to he could massage the oil over my back. His fingers dug into muscles that were still tight even though I’d lost most of the tension that usually settled in from the moment I woke in the morning. Luther focused on them, letting out a soft laugh when I hissed at the deep ache.

“I’m waiting for you to tell me it’s too much, Xavier. You’re not a fan of pain.” Luther pressed his lips to my shoulder as he massaged a knot by the curve of my spine. “Though your excuse is usually that you don’t have time to be pampered.”

“I don’t, but you’re right.” I pressed my eyes shut as he continued the torture/massage. “I gave the gift certificate you bought me for the spa to my new assistant.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Luther went to work on my lower back. “Your doctor said a massage would be good for you.”

“And you’re giving me one.” I grunted at another deep, painful rub. “Thank you.”

“I’m hardly a professional. And giving away my gift was a dick move.” Luther’s tone hardened, but his touch remained the perfect balance between effective and soothing, despite my complaints. He might not be a professional, but even with the pain of his fingers digging into my muscles, he’d gotten me to relax more than any stranger laying me out on a padded table could have. “But I can’t say I’m surprised.”

His hands moved to my ass and I bowed my head between my arms, resisting the urge to tilt my hips and tempt him to change the game. He wanted to take his time and I wouldn’t rush him.

The way his fingers, slick with more oil, slid over me, I didn’t need to. His hands left me for a moment, followed by the sharp sound of his zipper. Kicking my thighs apart, he pressed into me, hot and hard, easing past the slight resistance of my body and driving in deep. He crossed his arms over my chest, his pelvis flush against my ass, and kissed the side of my neck.

Inhaling slowly, I braced myself as the burn faded away, leaving only the familiar fullness of my man, his firm grip on me, his breath as he whispered in my ear. “Maybe I shouldn’t have given you a choice.”

Before I could respond, Luther shifted back, drawing away from me, then thrusting in. A rough sound escaped my lips as my fingers slipped on the counter and a surge of pleasure sank into my core, spreading out as Luther angled his hips so each stroke within hit my prostate. I bit into my cheek as he reached around me to fist his slick hand around my dick, stroking in time with every slap of flesh.

He was good at keeping me off balance when he wanted to. Already I’d reached the edge of my restraint, ready to find my release, but playing with him this way, even if only for a few months, forced me to hold back. Accepting pleasure had always been difficult for me, but once he took full control of it, I’d stopped caring how vulnerable that moment when I let go made me feel.

Unless I was completely out of my head, he’d keep me like this. Driving me closer and closer to ecstasy, then holding it just out of reach.

“Fuck, Luther.” I gasped in air as he slowed his pace, pulling out completely, then sliding back in so every nerve lit up, keyed to the sensation. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“But you will.”

He let out a soft laugh. “Yes. You aren’t begging yet.”