Page 44 of Pretty Mess

I moan pleadingly like the slut he said I was, my hands on his bare arse urging him close. We both groan as he slides into me. I’m sore but it makes it even better. The pinch of pain and the throb inside me making my dick as hard as if I haven’t come three times today already.

“Fuck,” he says in a driven voice. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I sit in my office and all I can think is how it feels to slide inside you and come.”

I fist his hair, pulling him close, and then the only sounds are the grunts and groans as we rush towards another explosive climax.

We fall apart afterwards, our bodies sweaty, the scent of sex strong in the shadowed room. He turns his head on the pillow to look at me, his eyes very blue in his flushed face. “Well, what do you say?”

I take a moment to respond, but I knew my answer as soon as he asked. I wonder what he’d say if I told him that the thing drawing me towards an arrangement with him isn’t the money. I already have an astonishing amount of money in my account. I’m a simple boy. Beyond Tyler’s bills I don’t spend much. No, the attraction is Cormac, the man.

He’s not alone in what he said. I think of him all the time too, fisting my cock until I come and come to memories of how he feels inside me. I’ve never felt this intense physical attraction before. I’ve always settled on someone, and once the sex was done, I’d skip away. It’s not like that with him, and it’s sent me reeling.

I realise he’s waiting, and I open my mouth and say the word that’s been in my head since he asked me. “Yes.”

A few hours later, I let myself into the flat. “Julian?” I call, not really expecting an answer.

His new bloke seems obsessed with him, and I’ve hardly seen him over the last couple of weeks. I don’t mind admitting that I’ve missed him. Somehow having him around with his blunt honesty and acceptance of what we do makes it easier for me.

To my surprise, I hear him call my name, and I wander over to his bedroom and push open the door. He’s standing in the middle of the room, dressed in jeans and pulling on a T-shirt.

“Hello, stranger,” I say, grinning at him.

“Tell me about it. This new bloke is a bit over the top.” He winces a little as he rolls the T-shirt down.

I straighten, feeling alarmed. “Is he being kind to you?”

He shoots me a wry look. “And what would you do if he weren’t?”

“I’d have words.”

He rolls his eyes. “When don’t you?”

I step closer. “No, I’m being serious. Is he okay with you?”

“He’s fine. He’s just very intense.” He pats my arm and walks past me and out of the room.

I follow at his heels like a little puppy dog. “But he’s not hurting you?”

“No more than he wants. And that makes him no different from any of the others.”

I blink. “Theyhurtyou?”

“Wes, it’s fine. It’s all completely consensual.”

He walks into the kitchen, and I settle on a stool at the breakfast bar, wincing a little at my sore arse and watching as he switches the kettle on. “Mac isn’t into that, which is a relief. I’m a complete baby with pain.”

He leans against the cupboard, his eyes bright with amusement. “Mac?”

“Oh, shut up. He doesn’t like it either, if that’s any consolation.”

“No, I’m sure he doesn’t. Mac.” He laughs. “He doesn’t seem the man for cosy little nicknames. I nicknamed him Mr Chill when I first saw him.”

“Well, going back to what I was trying to say. Cormac doesn’t hurt me. He can be rough, but he always checks to make sure it’s not too much.”

His expression is suddenly cynical. “Don’t worry. He’ll hurt you one way or the other. Give it time.”

“Goodness, you should write the verses on cards for a living.”

He sets my tea in front of me and sits on the other stool. “So how is it going with Sir Galahad?”