Chapter Ten

Lucas

I looked at my flushed face and chest in the mirror as I rinsed out the flannel. I came too quickly, but Alex was there before me so I supposed it was okay. I was just impressed I got it up at all after all the booze I put away at the restaurant. Alex was an easy bloke to get it up for though. I would challenge anyone not to get it up for him. I couldn’t remember the last time I had come so hard. Actually, I didn’t think I ever had come so hard. I literally saw stars. I thought I was going to pass out. What an amazing man he was. I hoped I wouldn’t find him dressed and about to creep out when I returned. I’d had some anxieties that I wouldn’t be able to perform at all when I’d brought him home. All the way back in the taxi I’d asked myself what I was doing and told myself I wouldn’t be able to get it up. Not because of the booze but because the last time I’d been with someone, a long time ago, I’d had an episode of impotence. My partner for the evening, a man I’d met in a club, jeered at me and pulled his clothes on before leaving the hotel room I’d just paid for. I hadn’t wanted to bring him back here to my house and he was amenable enough to shagging in style at The Bloomsbury.

Until I’d failed to get it up. I’d wanted to fuck him but my body obviously wasn’t feeling it. My dick had zero interest. He’d said he’d have to fuck me instead, and I refused. So he’d more or less ordered me to suck his cock and I refused that too. Because I’d realised what an arsehole he was and I wasn’t going to do anything of the kind. He’d called me a pricktease and a limp dick before he’d stormed out. I’d drank a few shots from the mini bar before I’d headed home, vowing to never pick anyone up on a night out again. In fact, vowing to never go out again. And I hadn’t, until tonight.

The episode had haunted me. I’d told myself ever since then that my impotence was now a thing—after all I didn’t often get spontaneous erections from day to day and I rarely had the urge to masturbate. That had changed when I’d seen Alex though. I’d had no trouble getting wood at the restaurant, nor at the wine bar, and most definitely not in the taxi coming home. I’d been hard as a rock when he’d peeled my underwear down and put his mouth around me and I thanked God as I looked down at his dark head that I was able to get it up. You’re so beautiful, I’d said to him, and he was. The most beautiful man I’d seen in forever. And I wanted him for my own, way beyond tonight. I’d wanted him as soon as he’d approached my table to witness my humiliation and my dinner for one. And despite the fact he’d witnessed this. I hung up the flannel and I went back out to him with my stomach still in flames and the tip of my desire for him barely sated.

◆◆◆

Alex

Once more I awakened when the bed dipped behind me. He slid up to me, warm skin pressing against my back, wrapping an arm around me and kissing my neck. I stirred, stretching, glorying in his soft skin and the warmth and possessiveness of his embrace.

I measured men by their manners. Particularly, their bedside manner. I had been with those whose idea of foreplay was putting on a rubber and whose idea of afterplay was telling me to make sure the door was shut properly on my way out. Lucas had yet to throw me out. He was cuddling me. Maybe we’d even go for round two.

His fingers tangled in my hair. He stroked my head. I think I purred like a cat. “Are you all right?”

I swooned at his words, caught up in the romance. “Yes.”

“Was that okay?”

I almost laughed. He had to have been joking. But he didn’t sound coy. He didn’t sound like he was looking for me to massage his ego. He sounded insecure. Could my amazing lover actually have performance anxiety?

I reached behind me to clasp his thigh. “Do you really think I’m that good a faker?”

He laughed softly. Then he paused before he said, “Have you had reason to fake it before?”

It was my turn to take a moment. I’d been known to, if it meant escaping a bad sexual encounter more quickly. I thought of the last time I’d got fucked. How horrible it was. How I’d lost my hard-on and not come. I’d made a few noises in the hope the bloke would come quicker and he’d shot his load, rolled away, and told me to see myself out. I’d skulked out with tears in my eyes because when he’d bought me drinks in the club he’d listened to me talk like I was the most fascinating creature he’d ever met. All for show. All to get some arse.

I felt Lucas slide away. He flicked on the lamp on the table nearest to him, then returned to me. “Turn over,” he said.

I did so with reluctance. I didn’t want a heavy conversation, I wanted to wrap myself around him and sleep.

His face had a peachy glow from the lamp. His cheeks were still stained with a flush. He feathered his fingertips over my cheek. “You don’t usually get fucked,” he said, not a question but a statement.

I sighed. “I’ve done it a few times and hated it every time.”

He frowned. “And yet you let me do it.”

I had no answer to that. I couldn’t explain how I’d ached for him to do that to me. I wondered if it was a comfort thing, because I’d used the act that way before. To be taken, to be mastered, to give up control and let someone do that to me. I’m not sure the reason made sense even to me.

“Why?” He stared into my eyes, lifting my chin so I had to look at him. “Did I coerce you?”

“No,” I said. “Of course not.”

“Then why?”

I closed my eyes. “I can’t explain.”

He lowered his voice further, his hand now stroking the back of my neck. “You’ve been with men you had to fake it with. Men who didn’t please you.”

I didn’t speak. I felt tears building behind my closed lids. Now I thought about it, I wasn’t sure if anybody had ever actually pleased me much. Had they?

“I wouldn’t do that for any money,” he said. “If they couldn’t please me, it’s their problem, not mine.”

I tried to roll away from him then and he grabbed me by the shoulders. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t go. I didn’t mean that. What a terrible thing to say. Sorry.”

I bit my lip. The first tears streaked my cheeks and he caught his breath, gathering me into his arms and holding me hard. He stroked my head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

He had been holding me for some minutes before my sobs subsided. I felt embarrassed. My head ached and I was so tired. He lay me down, the covers pulled over us, my head against his chest and smoothed his hands over my back and my head.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Shall I get us a drink?”

“Please. And maybe a couple of paracetamol if you have them? I think my hangover’s started to kick in.” I wasn’t sure how true that was. I hadn’t drunk that much. It was usually crying that gave me a headache, dehydrating me fast.

“Of course.” He kissed my head and slid out of the bed. I watched him pull on a robe, admiring his naked body before he covered it up.

I lay down and closed my eyes. My face was sticky. I felt foolish and ashamed. What the hell had happened? We had had a fantastic time. Why had I brought the mood down by behaving this way? I was so disappointed. He and I should have been rolling around in bed for the second time right about now, rather than him bringing me something for a fucking headache. Why hadn’t I used this meeting with this gorgeous man to its full potential and had him bang my brains out for a second time as soon as he could? He’d certainly proved that taking it up the arse didn’t have to be miserable and painful at all. The last bloke hadn’t even been that well-endowed, and he’d hurt more than Lucas. It must have all been in his technique. He was well hung, but he still managed to fuck me with minimal hurt. It must have been the foreplay. He’d relaxed and loosened me just right with the prostate stroking. There was hope for me after all. I could enjoy being fucked. I didn’t always have to do the fucking. I could relax and let go and put my pleasure in someone else’s hands.

As I was falling asleep, I heard him coming back up the stairs. He was carrying two glasses of water and he put one down on his side of the bed, then crawled onto the mattress and held the other out to me.

“Thanks.” I sat up, drinking.

“Here.” He held out his hand, two white tablets sitting in his palm. Taking drugs from a stranger without seeing them in the packet was risky, but I trusted him. I was more sure about this man than I’d ever been with anyone before. I plucked the pills from his hand and thanked him again, swallowing them with a drink of water before I placed the empty glass on my side of the bed.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” he asked.

He really wasn’t throwing me out. I was both mystified and grateful.

“Can I stay?”

“Of course,” he said. He drank some water and lay down beside me. As he did, I saw red numbers on the clock on the bedside table. It was Christmas Day.

“Happy birthday,” I said.

He turned his head to look at me with a smile. “Thank you.”

I rolled against him, face against his shoulder, my arm around his back. “Is it shit having your birthday on Christmas Day?”

“Yes,” he said.

I laughed softly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He smoothed a hand up and down my spine, making me shiver.

I lifted my head to look at him. “I’m sorry,” I said again. He knew what I meant.

“No, I’m sorry I upset you.”

I didn’t speak. Our noses touched before he angled his mouth to slant it over mine.

I drew my breath in at the softness and warmth of his mouth and how perfectly it slotted against mine. We kissed slow and long with no rush, exploring each other’s mouths, hands sliding over bodies.

I started to forget about sleeping when my cock reawakened. He pushed me onto my back, one hand tracing my chest, my nipples and belly, before sliding over my hip and cupping my arse, lifting me against him as he had done when he was inside me. My breathing quickened. I hooked my leg around him and his fingers spread over my buttocks, between them, sliding down my crack and fluttering over my entrance.

I drew in my breath. I felt that ache again for him. That need to be penetrated. My cock was fully hard against my belly and his was too, pressing against my length in the most delicious way. The pad of his finger circled my opening, rubbing. I was still wet and open, because he sank inside me as soon as he applied some pressure and I gave a little moan, squirming against him.

He kissed me on the throat as he worked my hole with his finger. “Can you take me again or am I just being a selfish prick?”

I groaned, reaching to slide his cock through my palm, making him shudder. “Yes.”

“Yes, I’m being a selfish prick?”

“No. Yes, I can take you again. No, you’re not being a selfish prick.”

He laughed. “A second erection within an hour is unheard of for me, just so you know. I kind of want to make the most of it.”

“That sounds reasonable,” I said, the words trailing off to a strangled yelp as he found my prostate.

He licked my earlobe. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I said, my dick jerking as he tapped on my gland.

He withdrew his finger, reached across to the bedside table and delved in the drawer for a condom. The lube he located under my pillow. He tossed the quilt back and knelt behind me and I let him roll me onto my side, facing away from him. Then he lifted my knee, spreading me open and I whimpered as he squirted some lube between my cheeks and started to rub it into my entrance, circling and pushing before sliding two fingers into my heat.

I groaned, gripping the pillow. He twisted and turned the fingers. He fucked me with them for a few strokes before he found my prostate again and once more, my cock started to leak with every touch. I gasped, easing back on his fingers, rocking shamelessly the way I wanted to do on his dick.

“God,” he said, pressed behind me, mouth against the back of my neck. “You’re so amazing.”

I glowed with pleasure. He made me feel so beautiful and so sensual. His cock was hard against my arse as he continued to finger me and I ached so badly to be filled by him once again. He withdrew his fingers suddenly and before I could wonder what he was doing, he slid down in the bed, lifting my knee some more, spreading me wide open to him so I was almost pressed onto my face, where he started to rim me.

“Oh God!” I cried.

I heard him laugh softly. His tongue traced my opening, wet and soft, circling, licking, pressing. I shook with each pass. He speared me with darting jabs and I thought I would scream with pleasure. I liked a rim job but again, this was the best I’d ever had. Everything he did was just right. It was like he’d read a manual on how to please me.

I heard him tear open the condom and roll it on as he licked and I tensed in anticipation, hoping he would push into me the moment he took his tongue away.

“Please,” I moaned, grabbing my cock and wanking off as he rimmed me. I could have easily come like this and I hoped he would progress to penetration before I could. He carried on, fondling my balls as he licked, rolling them in his hand. I started to gasp. I could feel the orgasm begging to be allowed to break over me and I was desperate to stop him, but it was so good. I wanted to come. I wanted to come so much with his tongue stimulating my entrance.

He pulled my knee down, pushed my thighs wide apart so I was flat on my face, and lowered himself onto me, sliding deep inside me. It was a near scream I let out as he sheathed his cock, taking me all the way to the hilt in one slick slide.

We were pressed skin to skin all the way down our bodies and he was as deep as he could go. I gasped and panted for air and he reached to my splayed arms and entwined his fingers with mine, holding my hands down. He started to move.

I moaned with every thrust, relishing every movement he made, squeezing his fingers. He kissed the back of my neck. His breathing was ragged with groans. He increased his pace to hard and fast and suddenly, I was over the edge with my cock trapped under me, spurting against the sheets and crying out, shaking with my release.

He cursed, carrying on, his thrusts becoming unsteady, prolonging my orgasm, keeping me dancing on that line of pleasure until I was sure I was going to pass out. He gasped before he slowed, slumping onto me. Pinned down by his glorious weight, I was pretty sure I was in love. His warm breath tickled my neck. His heart pounded against my back and he held onto my hands. He planted soft kisses on my ear and hair, my shoulder and neck, making me shiver in delight. Bonus points for afterplay once again.

He eased free after a couple of minutes, kneeling up to remove his condom. When he slid off the bed, he made sure to pull the covers up over me and I smiled into the pillow and closed my eyes. This time I had to get up. I needed to wash and pee. I heard water running in the bathroom and the toilet flushing.

He came back over to the bed. “Just going to refill our glasses and lock up downstairs,” he said.

I really was staying the night. My chest swelled with emotion. I lifted my head. “Please can you bring my phone out of my coat pocket?”

“Yes.” I heard him retreat, his footsteps virtually noiseless on the thick carpet. I shifted across the bed as I became aware of the damp sheet under me and started to drift once again as I heard the stairs creak as he descended.

I forced myself awake and slid from the bed to walk across to the en suite. The room had a shower big enough for two and was warm. A shelf held towels and flannels and I took one of each and washed before rinsing out the flannel and hanging it on the radiator to dry, along with the towel. I looked at my reflection in the mirror over the sink. Flushed and well fucked. Really well fucked. I smiled to myself. Maybe I’d let him fuck me again tomorrow before I left. Okay, no maybe about it. I’d beg for it if needed. I padded back to the bed and slid between the still warm sheets, making sure to avoid the wet patch.

His weight on the mattress woke me up, warm skin sliding against mine. He put an arm around my waist and kissed my shoulder. “Here.” He pushed my mobile into my hand.

“Thanks.” I glanced at the screen and saw two messages, one from Max and one from my mum. The one from Max was prominent on the screen.

Are you okay? Has he murdered you and dumped your body in the river or are you still getting your brains fucked out? Marks out of 10?

Fuck’s sake. Had Lucas seen this? I reddened, shifting in his grip so I could sit up and turn the phone screen away as I replied.

11.

Max replied instantly. You dirty dog. I knew he’d be a great shag.

I glanced at Lucas. He was lying looking at me in amusement. Yeah, he’d seen that first one all right. I read the one from my mum. Happy Christmas, darling. See you tomorrow. Is 2 p.m. okay? x

I replied with Happy Christmas, that’s fine, see you soon x. I switched the phone to silent and leaned over to place it face down on the bedside table.

Lucas smiled at me. “I hope you told him I haven’t murdered you. He might send the police around if you don’t answer.”

I slid against him, placing my head on his chest. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

“I told him you were an eleven.”

He chuckled and kissed my hair, stroking my back and making me shiver. “What time do you need to be away in the morning?”

“I need to be there for two, so I suppose I need to set off from mine about nine-thirty.”

“Okay.” Lucas reached over to the bedside table on his side and thumbed his phone. “I’ll set an alarm for eight-thirty and drive you home.”

“I can get a taxi,” I said even though his words once again made me glow.

“No, you can’t,” he replied. “It costs a fortune on Christmas Day and it’ll be hard to get one. No arguing.”

I smiled. “Are you driving me in the Lamborghini?”

He grinned. “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah! Imagine my neighbours’ faces!” That slipped out before I could control it and I blushed at my own gaucheness.

“Right then. Tell them I’m some Hollywood superstar though, not that I sell underwear.”

I laughed. “Your job is just as glamorous.”

“Of course it is.”

I lifted my head. “ You are just as glamorous as a Hollywood superstar.”

A light blush stained his cheeks. He lifted his head to rub his nose against mine. “You’re very sweet.”

I remembered the burning question I had yet to have answered. “Do you wear your own underwear?” I hadn’t looked too closely at those tighty whities he had been wearing when he stripped off.

He shrugged, looking nonchalant. “It would be rude not to.”

I laughed. “They looked very nice. Can I have a better look in the morning?”

“Of course.”

“You can model them for me. I bet you look ten times better in them than José.”

I saw his face darken. He looked away, his jaw tensing, his fingers stilling on my hair.

I swallowed. “What did he do to you?”

He bit his lip, still not making eye contact. I slid up so my face was level with his. I looked down at him, stroking his dishevelled hair back from his forehead. “He hurt you,” I said.

He swallowed. Oh God, something terrible was coming; I was sure of it.

He smoothed his hand down my spine and kept his palm on the small of my back, stroking as though soothing himself. “My PR team used to be keen for me to be at photo shoots. Adam—he’s my vice president—wanted pictures of me and models splashed all over Instagram. I hated it. Some of the models were just ridiculous. I got a lot of propositions and they didn’t like taking no for an answer.”

I stared down at him, finding it hard to believe he wanted to turn models down. But then I remembered José, who I wouldn’t have touched with a barge pole.

“I’m not saying they’re all bad, but a lot of them were coked up to their eyeballs, starving themselves and wanting to get laid at every opportunity when they were supposed to be working. I didn’t like it and I argued with Adam. And then, a year ago, just before Christmas, I was on a shoot at a hotel in Scotland.” He stopped, biting his lip, working his mouth as though trying to get the words out.

“It’s okay,” I said, stroking his cheek. “You can tell me.”

He fought with himself some more and sighed. “We were in a suite and had just finished. Everyone was packing up and moving out. I went to the bathroom and when I came out, Adam and some of the others were nowhere to be seen. There were four models on that shoot. One of them was José. Two of them, well, they’re household names. You’d know them if I told you. You probably follow them on Insta.”

I scowled. “I don’t follow anyone like that.”

He gave me a sad smile. “The four of them were still in the underwear they’d been modelling. They surrounded me, suggesting I get undressed and play with them.”

I stared at him. What was coming here?

“I wasn’t interested. People might laugh that I turned down a gang bang with four hot models, but seriously, they intimidated me. They were full on, working as a team, and I got nervous. I tried to leave and one shut the door while the others pulled me back. They started to touch me, pulling at my clothes, telling me they wanted to fuck me.

“I punched one of them when he groped my crotch and the mood changed. They were on me, dragging at my clothes, stripping me. I shouted and swung at them. They tore my shirt and forced me down on the bed and two of them held my hands down while the other two stripped me.”

I looked down at him in horror, my fingers stilling on his cheek. He met my gaze, his dark blue eyes raw and wounded with memory.

“They pushed my legs apart when I was naked,” he said, “and played with my cock. I wasn’t hard and they slapped me about, squeezed my balls until I cried out, then José bit me on my inner thigh, broke the skin. One of them shoved his dick into my mouth and they all held me still, forcing me to take it. I struggled and bit him and he punched me in the face.”

I stared at him in horror, my eyes welling with tears. I couldn’t speak.

“I saw stars and things went dark for a minute. When I came to, they’d gagged me with my own tie and José had his fingers inside me. He told me they were all going to fuck me one after the other and I was going to love it. I struggled and fought as hard as I could. They pushed my knees up to my chest and José spat on his hand.”

Please no, please don’t tell me it went any further than that , I said silently.

“Then my phone rang in my jacket pocket. They stopped and looked at each other. When it went to voicemail, the caller rang straight back. I knew it had to be Adam or someone else from the shoot wondering why I hadn’t joined them. Someone would come looking for me, but by then it might have been too late. They exchanged a few words. José wanted to carry on. He said, Look at him, he’s desperate to get fucked. Let’s do it. I’ll never forget that. I’m not sure when I had given him even the slightest encouragement. I’m not sure how he could think I wanted it when I had four men holding me down. The others didn’t agree with him. They let me go and climbed off the bed and José told them they were pussies and reluctantly followed, dressing himself. He winked at me and said, You’ll keep .

I sat up, pulled Lucas into my arms and held him hard. If I had known all this when I’d met José in that bar, I would have punched his lights out.

“I hated how weak I was,” he said into my shoulder. “I hated that I lost control and they were able to do that to me.”

I drew back, holding his face into my hands. “You weren’t weak,” I said as tears streaked my cheeks. “There was four of them. Nobody can fight off four men.”

He said nothing.

“Did you go to the police?”

He shook his head, gaze downcast. I didn’t ask him why not. I didn’t need to. Shame, humiliation, not wanting to live it all again in court. All the things that stopped people reporting sexual assault.

“Did you have a lot of injuries?”

He swallowed. “I had some bruises.”

“Did you take photos? Of the bite mark too?”

“Yes.”

So he must have considered going to the police at one point if he’d collected the evidence. “What did you do with the clothes you were wearing?”

“I wanted to throw them away,” he said. “But I didn’t. I put them all in a bin bag. They’re in the loft.”

He’d kept the clothes. When he’d put them back on after the assault, maybe they’d caught any DNA his attackers had left on his body. I hesitated before I said, “You could still go to the police. I could come with you.”

He met my gaze. “It’s my word against theirs. There were four of them who will all have the story that we engaged in rough consensual sex. The scandal will ruin me. I’ll be painted as some lothario who abuses his position to sleep with models.”

“Didn’t they punch you in the face?”

He nodded. “I had a black eye.”

“That’s evidence. They made you…” I couldn’t say the words. I swallowed. “They raped you.” The graphic word sounded horrid on my lips, but he had to know, in case he had been in any doubt. Legally, it had been rape.

He closed his eyes and buried his face against my shoulder, holding me. I gathered him as tightly to me as I could, pulling the covers over us and sliding down so we were lying pressed together and I could hold him and provide what comfort I could. Never had I thought that when he’d said I don’t get fucked , this was the reason why.

In a few minutes, I realised his hands had relaxed on my body and he had drifted off into sleep. I held him close to me and closed my eyes.