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Indi reached out his hand to make sure Clay was still where Indi thought he was. Indi’s palm landed on his chest. His heart pounded harder than it did when they had sex. “What the fuck were you doing here two hours early, Travis?”
Fake Clay pushed Indi’s hand away, and Indi heard him start moving away. The grocery bag rattled and then sounded like it landed on the countertop, with a loud thump. Clay swore under his breath again. “Dammit, Judas, why are you always so fucking cynical? You growl at me if I try to do something nice for you and then bite my hand when I don’t! If your game is to keep me off balance, you win.”
Indi shrugged. “You’re the one that walked in acting like an asshole and then pretty much admitted to stalking me. How am I supposed to feel, Travis? All warm and fuzzy? I don’t. I feel threatened and I’m going to have to tell you, it’s not a good feeling for a blind guy.”
Clay slapped the countertop and Indi felt himself jerk from the noise of potential violence. His heart sped up. Not from fear. No, from something totally different than fear. It was excitement regarding the possibility of that whole potential violence. Maybe just excitement of being near Clay…of knowing what was going to happen, regardless of how vanilla the sex always was. Fuck, who was he kidding? Nothing with Clay was vanilla.
“First of all, I came early because I had a cancellation—I thought we might want to spend some more time together…on my dime, of course.” His voice was laced with sarcasm again. “Second, I left after I saw you were safely inside so I could report that shit to the police, face to face so they’d know to take me serious and do something about it.” He moved and was in front of Indi again, their chests bumping each other. “Finally, I’m astonished that you feel threatened by me and, even more than that, you’re claiming it’s not a good feeling for a blind guy. You think I’m blind, Judas? You think I didn’t see how your pulse lit up when that fucker put a gun to your head?” Clay put both hands on Indi’s biceps and moved him away from the wall and kept moving until his ass hit the edge of the kitchenette table. “Why didn’t you tell me you were into that kind of kink? I’ll be happy to oblige so you don’t have to risk your lonely little life again!”
His voice was nearing a roar. He was angry. Frustrated. Much angrier than he should be.
Like Indi felt.
Enjoying goading him and fantasizing about where it might lead, Indi snorted and said, “Really, Mr. Missionary? You think you can make my, how was it you put it, pulse lit up?”
Fake Clay growled. “Don’t wave a red flag at an already angry bull, mate. Don’t do it if you aren’t ready for the consequences.”
Reacting on instinct and pure arousal Indi hadn’t felt in months upon months, he reached out and shoved Clay. Hard. “There’s my red fucking flag. What are the consequences?”
Clay was absolutely silent for what felt like forever. Had Indi fucked up? Been too forward? Was he too angry? Was their fake business arrangement over for good? Maybe Indi should just….
Before Indi could finish his thought, Clay pounced. One second Indi was standing there and in the next, he was spun around and bent over the sturdy kitchen table. Indi felt a hand wrap around the back of his neck to hold him flat against cool wood. Clay leaned over, his muscular body completely covering Indi, and whispered in his ear. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”
While keeping Indi immobile with the one hand, Clay ripped Indi’s ratty t-shirt right down the center of his back and yanked down his sweats and underwear with one vicious swipe. Blood roared in Indi’s ears and his cock was instantly hard. When he kicked Indi’s feet even wider apart, Indi moaned with pleasure. This was it. This…roughness was what Indi obviously craved. Well, the roughness and the ability to finally make Clay lose control.
As Indi listened to Clay unzip his pants and then curse over not being able to get the condom open fast enough, Indi couldn’t help but laugh triumphantly. Clay, while efficient in the sex department, was always cool and in complete control—sometimes a bit nervous acting. Indi’s laughter stopped the second an open palm slapped his right butt cheek hard enough to make his breath stutter in my lungs.
“You okay with that?” Clay growled. “Because you have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to see my handprint on your perfect ass. God knows you’ve earned it.”
A squishing sound told Indi that Clay was lubing up his cock. Indi’s hole couldn’t wait for Clay’s fingers to begin stretching him.
