Page 37 of Give Me What You Will

His jaw clenched, thinking about how he had had to sell two cars that he had rebuilt from the ground up at half the price to these jackals, which only covered a portion of his father’s gambling debt. And these men were dangerous. The kind that packed heat on their belts and kept brass knuckles in their jacket pockets in case they had to make a man understand that there were only two ways out of debt like this: pay it or be found floating down the Charles River.

He had one more car to go, plus a couple more profitable months at the bar, and the debt would be gone. Frankie would finally be free.

“You think you’re better than me now?” His dad retorted, an ugly sneer on his face.

“I think so. At least I fuckin’ try to be.” He gave him a short nod and headed to the door. He had better things to do than waste his time here. “Happy Fourth, Dad.”

He had spent his whole life being so afraid of disappointing his father. He supposed every son felt that to some extent, but finally, after all these years, Frankie had realized that his father was the disappointment. He deserved a better parent. He instantly thought of Papi, and grief, which so easily came to him these days, tugged at his heartstrings. He swallowed hard, pushing down the weight of it.

I miss you, you son of a bitch.

I could really use your help with Sammy right now.

Striding down the hallway, he pulled out his phone and texted the only man in his life who always made him feel like he was worth a damn.

Ignoring the way his hand trembled as he held his phone, he texted Sammy.

Chapter 7

Sam stood on his mother’s front steps, inhaling the warm Boston morning air, deliberating whether he should knock or ring the doorbell. He sighed, fingers reaching for Papi’s necklace beneath his shirt, needing his grandpa’s courage now more than ever. And it certainly didn’t help that he was exhausted. He felt like he had just worked a double in the ED. Even his bones somehow fucking ached. All because of Frankie.

After Frankie ran out of the bar, he had been tempted to chase him down. But he was covered in cum, his left eye bloodied, and so thoroughly shell-shocked that he sat there a long time before finally collecting himself. Frankie had left his pink flamingo shirt, and he had told himself to leave it, but instead, Sam had slipped it into his backpack, not sure why.

Once inside his hotel room, he had taken a scalding hot shower, unable to feel anything other than the firm, warm press of Frankie engulfing him, smothering him with his body, gripping his cock for those brief, wonderful seconds, and then shuddering as he came all over him.

Sam had been so turned on by picturing it that his dick hardened, and he relieved the tension in his balls, climaxing messily once more. The surrealness of it still lingered. The shock of seeing Frankie like that, so exposed, so raw and real, touching bliss, left him wanting more. So much fucking more. After barely drying off, he had collapsed into his empty king-sized bed where haunted dark eyes had watched him. A growling moan of release was followed by the word… “baby”.

The breathy, accidental pet name was startling, and so fucking hot. Sam’s heart had practically fallen out of his chest when Frankie said it, and then it died upon impact as Frankie fled from the room.

Before he had finally fallen asleep last night, Sam had one clear and distinct thought: I regret nothing.

Because he didn’t.

For the first time, he had been himself in front of Frankie, and it had been liberating.

He had seen Frankie clearly last night, too, and he knew with absolute certainty that he had liked the show Sam had put on for him. He liked his praise and his dirty talk. And fuck, knowing that Frankie got turned on by that tormented him all damned morning. Remembering how Frankie’s entire expression had changed, as though becoming pure sensation, pure feeling as Sam just… talked. He hadn’t even touched him, despite desperately wanting to. It had taken every ounce of strength he had to resist, and he had been rewarded for his efforts. Frankie had climaxed messily all over him, shooting the biggest load Sam had ever seen in his fucking life and…

His cock spasmed into a jerk between his legs, and he sighed.

He wouldn’t be able to get through the fucking day at this rate.

He was a walking hard-on.

Sam, glancing down the empty block and damn near stepping into the bushes at the steps of his mom’s house, slipped a quick hand under his jeans and tilted his dick upward, securing it beneath the strap of his boxer briefs, hoping that would help.

Fuck. I’m so ridiculous right now.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. Distracted and knowing he was stalling, Sam pulled it out. His heart jolted in his chest when he read who it was from.

We should talk.

Fingers trembling, he managed to type out his response.

Yeah, agreed.

I’ll be home the rest of the day. Come by if you’re still around?

I’m still here. Visiting mom. I’ll come over after.