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I smiled. I got the impression that Macklin always tried to see the silver lining.
I couldn’t help but feel for him, though. Nobody could be strong and positive all the time.
“I’m glad you have them,” I answered. “Are they close by? You sound like a DC local.”
“How do we sound?” His grin appeared genuine again. “But yeah. Born and raised. Went to school across the river. And thankfully, I only have good people left in town. My parents moved to New Jersey a couple years ago to try their casino luck. I don’t think it’s going very well.”
I snorted quietly. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything nice to say about parents who aren’t there for their children. I grew up seeing too much of that.”
“Luckily for us, we don’t have to waste a single second on those people. Here, try this. It’s the chili-marinated shrimp with lemon aioli.”
Message received, loud and clear. No more talking about his parents.
Something switched off inside me, possibly my resolve, and it was all his fault. How he sat there with a hesitant smile and an extended fork, his silent request to move on to a safer topic, and the look in his eyes revealing a hint of vulnerability. His parents had hurt him, and it was nothing he wanted to bring up.
Unfortunately for him, that made me want to know everything. Who’d caused him pain, what made him tick, where he got his strength…how he liked to get fucked.
If he would submit.
Rather than accepting the fork from him, I leaned forward and closed my mouth around it. It was the quickest of exchanges, but he caught on and widened his eyes a fraction.
I chewed around another wonderful combination of flavors and shook my head. “You’re a little too good at that, sweet boy.”
He bit his lip, wondering silently, never breaking eye contact, hesitating—until he couldn’t stay quiet anymore. “Is it suddenly okay to flirt again?”
He was so straightforward. So goddamn refreshing.
I could get hooked on that easily.
I smirked and reached for my wine. “Absolutely not. That would be inappropriate.”
He saw through my bullshit, thank fuck, and looked adorably excited.
I groaned as he locked his arms around me, plastering himself to my body, and deepened the kiss.
“Grand tour?” he panted. “Oh, fuck.”
“Sure.” I pressed him up against my door and locked it. “Hallway, living room behind me—guest bath here—kitchen to the right of the living room, bedroom and office to the left. Done.” I kissed my way down his neck and pushed off his jacket. Then I started unbuttoning his shirt, needing to get my hands on his skin.
He moaned as I slipped a hand down his open jeans and found him hard for me.
I shuddered and kissed him again, tasting him on my tongue.
“I’ll do anything,” he gasped.
The things we said in the heat of the moment…
I nipped at his bottom lip and eased down his jeans. “Call me Sir.”
His eyes flashed open, and they flooded with dark lust. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered.
“Good boy.” I kissed him once more, softly, then let him kick off his jeans completely. I dealt with the rest of his clothes—until he stood there before me, stark naked and fucking stunning. A hungry sound emanated from my chest as I drank in the sight of him. “That’ll do.” I stepped back and gestured for the living room. “Go to the bedroom.”
He grinned salaciously and flicked my tie. He really did that. “You’re gonna be fun, Sir. I can tell.”
I watched him walk away—and that perfect fucking ass—and loosened my tie.
Was I in over my head with this brat?
God, I hoped so.
I loved a good challenge.
5
Macklin McKenna
Just get through the night.
Get through the hour.
The minute.
I threw back another shot of tequila, laughed when the others laughed, talked a lot, and was all for the change of plans for tomorrow. We’d postpone the live porn between Shay, Lane, and me, and we’d head out to one of the islands for a day of kink in the sun.
I’d bring alcohol.
Maybe Lane could get me more Xanax.
Shame he hadn’t brought any weed. Right now felt like the perfect time to try that out for the first—no, wait. I’d gotten high once before in my life.
“Can you fly with weed?” I blurted out.
Everyone quieted down, possibly because I’d interrupted a conversation about something else. I didn’t even know.
“You’re not smokin’ any fuckin’ weed, son,” Colt told me. “Get that idea outta your head right now.”
I blew him a kiss.
His concern was sweet.
“Tell your fiancé that,” I said. “He got me high the first time—”
“Macklin!” Lucas admonished. “This is really not—”
“What the fuck?” Colt swung his incredulous stare to Lucas instead. “You used to do drugs?”
Whoops.
“Go make us popcorn, li’l pup,” River joked.
Lucas sighed. “It was before we met, Colt. Don’t overreact.”
“You pumped a child full of hard drugs,” Colt stated.
