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“Stop.” Mike grabs hold of my shoulder, turning me to face him as I reach the bed.

My insides are jumping the way they used to before a game. Back then, it was excitement mixed with fear, wanting to win and worrying about whether I would.

Now? I don’t know exactly, but this moment feels important. This next hour could change everything between us. Or nothing.

Which one do I want to be true?

It’s an effort to relax as Mike pulls off my tie and undoes each button. As he slowly parts my shirt, my muscles twitch. My body wants to move. Away or closer, I’m not sure. I’m reminded of our waxing sessions as he smooths his hand over my chest. Except it’s…more.

His dark eyes focus on mine with an intensity I’m not used to seeing from him in the daylight. There’s so much want in his gaze, and God help me, it feels real. So much I could easily pretend he needs me the way I need him.

I’d feel more comfortable if we could dim the lights some more, honestly. But Kevin likes to see everything.

Mike pushes the shirt off ‌my shoulders. It’s not that cold in here, so I don’t know why I shiver so hard at the brush of his fingers, or when the fabric slides off me and hits the floor.

As he goes for the button on my slacks, he asks, “How do you guys usually do this?”

Us guys? Lord, I’d almost lost track of Kevin being here, so focused on watching Mike’s face while he undresses me. The way he licks his lips and swallows, even as he holds my gaze with his own. He hasn’t even looked down. If he did, he’d see the prominent bulge in the front of my pants.

Kevin rarely talks to us, though I guess Mike wouldn’t know that. And he is the client.

This isn’t easy for me to say, but “Christian usually, you know…”

Mike gives me a questioning look, but I could swear there’s a hint of glee in his eyes. “Usually what?”

“He…fucks me kind of rough. You know. Kind of…” My stare is hard because I know damn well he knows what I’m getting at. Is he going to make me say it out loud?

Dominating.

I’m surprised when he only nods. “Any limits?”

He’s never asked me that before. Guess he’s never had to. He’s never told me to do a thing I wasn’t willing to do, if I’m honest with myself.

Or maybe he’s asking Kevin?

But I answer anyway. “No bruising that can’t be covered with clothes. No blood.” He should know that one already. Nothing I have to explain to Ella. It’s the only boundary I’ve ever given him.

With Christian, like with a lot of guys, I’ve had to work a little to get hard. Until I finally broke down and told him he needed to be a little meaner to me. Turned out he preferred that, seeing as ‌his ex was pretty controlling. He was tired of being the one told what to do.

I’ve wondered if I might feel the same way at some point. Someday, when Mike and I aren’t the same way we are now, will I be over it? Or will I forever be chasing the same feeling? Dating’s not exactly something I think much about. Ella’s my priority.

Still, one day she’ll be grown-up and out of the house. And it’s nice to feel connected to another person. Even if that connection is made of barbed wire and poison.

As Mike parts my slacks and pushes them to the floor, I shove those worries down. They don’t belong here. My body automatically responds to him. Goose bumps rise on my arms, and my nipples tighten until it’s deliciously painful.

I’d never even thought of nipples as a part of my body that turned me on until the first time Mike helped me wax my chest. This is the first time though, that’s it’s been more than his fingers. He finally drops his gaze and kisses across my chest before biting down on one and then the other.

My hiss as he licks the pain away almost covers the thunk of Kevin putting his drink down. That’s a tell I’ve learned. When he puts his drink down, he’s ready to open his pants and get into it.

The way Michael’s hand trails over my stomach is almost gentle. Still, it makes my muscles twitch. Then he reaches into my shorts ‌, gripping my cock hard.

“You want it?”

“You know I do.”

Unlike with Christian, this isn’t a performance. I’m back in my bedroom in the middle of the night, both praying for him to leave and dying for him to stay. To touch me.

Needing ‌him to touch me.