Page 47 of Not Another Dark Romance

He’s quiet for a moment before he snorts a short laugh as though he’d been trying to hold it back. “Dude, were you listening to gay porn?”

“No!” I immediately snap, finally turning to look at him. “It’s a book.”

There’s a huge grin on his face, so at least he wasn’t immediately disgusted, but I have no idea what to say to him.

“What the fuck kind of book is that?”

“It’s a romance book,” I finally mutter after another awkward pause. “This guy I met at the restaurant is obsessed with them, and he wouldn’t shut up about how great they are, so I was curious.”

He glances at the display, which clearly shows the cover of two shirtless men embracing. Fuck, why did it have to be that cover?

“Is this a coworker, or…” He trails off before sitting up straighter and turning his whole upper half to face me. “Holy shit. Is that who you’ve been seeing? Is your mystery girlfriend actually a boyfriend? Is that why you haven’t told me anything about them?”

My heart is racing, and I stare at him with my mouth hanging open. I have no idea how much I should tell him. So far, I’ve been lucky with how often we see each other at the brewery that Grant hasn’t been overly pushy about hanging out. Especially since he knows I’m doing my best managing the brewery with my other job, and he’s still seeing the same girl. But he’s my best friend; maybe I should just go along with what he’s suggesting, that I have a boyfriend. I wouldn’t necessarily have to say who, and they wouldn’t have to meet.

Fuck, why does someone else knowing I have a claim over Mason sound so appealing when there’s no way I could do that? No matter how much fun we’ve been having with Mason as my “pet,” he’s still my literal prisoner for a reason. He could still send me to jail for the rest of my life if he talked to anyone.

Grant lets out a big sigh, sitting back in the seat. “Wow, that makes me feel so much better.” Apparently he took my lack of response as confirmation. “I was starting to get worried I’d done something wrong or you were embarrassed by me. I’ve been talking about Georgia so much, hoping it would encourage you to open up about the girl you were seeing. I had no idea you were hesitating because you were in the closet. Wait, fuck. Sorry if you weren’t ready to come out to me, man. I hope you know I don’t care who you’re attracted to.”

Wow, I was not expecting any of this today.

I somehow regain control over my jaw and finally shut it. It takes a few more seconds for me to remember how to speak. “Um, thanks. I think? I don’t really know how to respond to all of that. It’s all still very new for me.”

He reaches out to squeeze my shoulder. “Good for you, Zane. Sorry if you felt like I was pressuring you before. I’ll back off. Whenever you’re ready, I’d love to meet him.”

I would love that too. But there’s no way that can happen, so I shake my head as I finally shift gears and pull out of the parking lot to drive us home. “It’s not serious.” The words taste bitter on my tongue as I lie to my oldest friend. It’s for the best, though. I can’t complicate things any more than they already are.

Still, it feels surprisingly good to have him know that I’m hooking up with a man, and that he’s supportive. I’ve been hiding so much of myself lately, holding so much back, that even this small truth being out in the open is a huge relief.

Maybe it’s time to stop holding back with Mason too.

21

The painting I’ve been working on is nearly finished. I’m dragging my feet on it because now that it’s almost done, my least favorite part is coming—marketing it. Since Zane still has my phone, I haven’t had to think about that, but knowing I’m basically two strokes and a signature away from being done, I’m resisting.

“Tell me to just sign it, Piet,” I say to my lazy dog who loves that we’re locked in this room together every time Zane goes to work. Piet blinks at me, and I nod. “Yeah, maybe we should ask Zane what he thinks first. We’ll do it when he gets home.”

For now, I walk away from it, smiling as I glance down at my feet tucked into the hot pink fuzzy slippers Zane surprised me with the other day, and head into the bathroom to clean the brush in the sink. When I come back, I stop to admire the piece. I do have to say, this might be one of the best I’ve ever created, and I know it’s because of Zane. He’s let the freaky side of me free, not only tolerating it but fully dragging it out of me every time he fucks my throat or treats me like his pet before pulling me into his chest when we sleep in his bed together. Every day with him is a treat.

I run my hand over my throat that’s still a little sore. Zane noticed me doing this the other day and got me a pack of throat lozenges and refused to let me suck his dick yesterday so I could heal, but the denial felt like punishment.

We haven’t progressed further, and he still hasn’t touched my dick outside of cleaning it in the shower, but it’s only adding to the humiliation that turns me on even more. I’m truly just a fucktoy for him, a warm, wet mouth for him to use while having to get myself off.

His curiosity builds and builds each time though. I can see it in his hungry eyes, in the way he licks his lips.

“Might as well shower to waste some time until he’s back, huh?” I ask aloud.

Piet doesn’t acknowledge me, again, but I strip out of my clothes—which are Zane’s—and put them in the laundry basket before turning on the shower. I eye myself in the mirror, admiring the bite marks on my neck where the collar used to be. I’ve tried to respect Zane’s decision to take it off, but this is a choice I think I’m going to have to bring up. I loved the collar, the physical reminder of the claim he has over me, and my skin feels too bare without it.

Steam billows above the curtain, and I step inside, washing myself thoroughly. Regular daily showers are such a joy, and I’m going to need to ask Zane to get me more pink hair dye soon.

I’m alone all day, but I never jerk off without Zane here even though my dick’s usually half chubbed with how much I fantasize about him and the new reality we’ve found ourselves in, like right now. I give myself a couple teasing strokes, with no intention of more, before the shower curtain is ripped open.

I startle, turning toward Zane. I didn’t even hear him come home, and of course, Piet didn’t bark.

Oh my fucking god.

Zane is wearing the bloody Jason hockey mask again!