7. Eddie

Chapter seven

Eddie

I never imagined throwing my leg over the seat of a Harley behind some stranger. It was so unlike me. Sure, I made up adventure scenes for video games, but in real life, I wasn't that much of a risk-taker. Wrapping my arms around Brock felt right though. And exciting. I only trembled a little, but once he revved that engine and pulled it forward, the butterflies in my stomach and the adrenaline shot through me. Things were happening fast, and I felt a little out of control. But for the first time, I didn't mind letting go a little. As we rode out of the little town toward a more suburban area, hope welled up in me. Perhaps Brock could help.

After a few turns and winding back roads, Brock drove down a long driveway. A yellow country farmhouse with pristine white trim work snuggled in at the end of that drive. It was like it had sprung up from the ground exactly where it needed to be. A huge green lawn blanketed the front and a massive shade tree loomed over the right side of the house as if protecting it. This lovely home was the complete opposite of my city condo in the high- rise building downtown. And not anything like I would expect Brock to live in. He felt more like a converted loft kind of guy. Something sleek and modern. I certainly never pegged him for living in the old-fashioned farmhouse in front of me.

When he stopped and parked the bike, he helped me off and took the helmet he'd had me wear. "Wow, Brock, this is a nice place."

"Thanks. I inherited it from Pops, my grandfather. I've done a little renovation since then, but not much. Mostly, needed updates. Not like decorating or anything." He nodded toward the house. "Yeah, I grew up in this house, so it made it hard to want to change anything, but it needed it. Come on. I'll show you around."

He led me up the front steps, painted a mossy green that matched the roof and continued into the wrap-around porch. The front door was on the side of the house to the left rather than in the middle. But it worked in a way that it didn't interrupt the wall of windows across the front. I followed Brock into the foyer, through an understated dining room, and into a big, bold kitchen.

"Your Pops, you said? Your grandfather? He raised you?"

"Yeah. My mom was, I don't know, wild. She didn't even know who my father was." He shrugged. "She got out of here as soon as she could. She ran when she was sixteen. Came back here to have me. But then she took off again before I was one."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. I mean, I know her. She pops in now and then. It's been a while. She missed Pops' funeral. I don't know, but it's almost like she was this weird aunt who showed up now and then rather than my mom. I didn't have parents, but I had Pops. And the town."

That explained a lot. Why he was still here, living in this house, and running the bookstore.

He scuffed the toe of his boot on the floor awkwardly. "Would you like a coffee or iced tea?"

"Water?" Brock filled a glass with ice and water from the dispensers on the fridge, then handed it to me, motioning for me to sit on one of the stools in front of the island. He sat beside me. And waited. I took a sip, trying to think what to say or where to start, but I didn't know how to explain everything. I sighed and jumped in. "My brother. He's a good guy. I-I don't think he wants to hurt me, but things have been different lately. He's changed. More stressed out. And he's been demanding and pushy. He won't listen to me."

"None of that says he wants to kill you. And why would he?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Not sure it's him behind it, either. I'm more inclined to think it's Kurt."

"His husband?"

"Yes. They've been married four years now. They started seeing each other right as we were hitting it big."

"Hmm…" Brock scratched at his dark beard. "What exactly is hitting it big for you?"

"I developed a video game. Splash Zone. It became highly successful and let my brother and me created a gaming company, Queen Gaming."

"Queen?"

"Our last name is Queen."

Brock drummed his fingers on the bar. "Oh, right. You said that was your last name. Okay, makes sense."

"That guy though. The one who was looking for me. I don't know who he is or what he's up to. But I'm pretty sure someone is out to get me. And I can't rule my brother out. Not yet." Just saying those words out loud had my heart breaking a little.

My brother . Greg was everything to me growing up. We'd gotten into so much mischief. I tagged after him like he was my north star. And for most of my life, he was. Our parents were great. Supportive. But Dad was gone now from a heart attack, and Mom was in her assisted living facility. She actually enjoyed living there. Had tons of friends. I missed her. And it had been a while since I'd done anything with Greg, so I missed him too. Tears started welling up in my eyes. I felt like I'd already lost them both.

"Hey. Hey, it's going to be okay. I'm going to help." He slid closer and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in. And I went. I wanted and needed that warmth and comfort from him. Even if that was all he could do, I would take it. I'd been dealing with this on my own for too long. I wasn't sure anymore what was real and what was imagined. Maybe Brock could help with that, too.

He kissed the top of my head, distracting me. That was a good thing. That was what I needed—more distraction. I tipped my face up, asking for another kiss, and he obliged. He tasted like coffee with something sweet behind it, reminding me so much of his little store. He didn't immediately look like a small-town bookkeeper. No, I would have guessed he would have something rougher for a job like construction. But after getting to know him even that little bit, I could tell his story was different than expected. I liked that about him and wanted to learn more about who he was, what he liked and disliked, and how his cum-face looked during sex. I blushed at the thought but still leaned into his kiss. It seemed a good place to start.

Brock's hands wandered down the side of my face, tracing my cheekbone and then down to my collar. I wrapped mine around his thick back and let him angle me closer until I was practically sitting in his lap. "Want to take this someplace more comfortable?" he asked. "Living room? Bedroom?"

"Whichever is closer."

"Right." He grabbed my hand and led me around a staircase and into a large living room that spanned the front of the house. It took advantage of that wall of windows, letting in the sun, making it light and airy. There were a couple of powder-blue chairs on each side, but Brock passed those and dumped us right onto a big oversized and overstuffed comfy sofa in a soft white fabric.

Brock pressed against me, picking up our make-out session where we'd left off. After more kissing, he trailed those lips down my neck, sending tingles straight to my dick.

"Ah…" I bucked against him, needing more friction, more something, but unable to articulate since my brain was short-circuiting.

Thankfully, Brock knew what he was doing. He nibbled at the flesh around the base of my neck while unbuttoning my pants with one hand and holding himself up to keep from squashing me with the other. He shoved my pants down around my hips and freed my hard cock. When he touched the tip, I moaned loudly. And deeply.

"Fuck. So hot." He ran his hand down my cock, half inside my pants.

"Not. Not enough. Move." I shoved at Brock's shoulder.

"What?"

Instead of answering, I shimmied out of my pants and boxers, dropping them beside the couch, and as he caught on to what I was doing, he did the same. Brock's cock snapped against his abs as he yanked his clothes down. It wasn't disappointing, long, thick, and ruddy. I reached out for it, but then pulled my hand back.

"Hey, Eddy…you can touch. Please…whatever you want."

Slowly, I reached forward again. This time, I didn't stop. I wrapped my shaky fingers around his cock and slowly stroked up and down, getting a feel for him. It seemed unreal how fast we were moving, but the chemistry between us was obvious, heavy, and demanding.

He moved closer and repositioned me on the couch so that our dicks lined up. We stroked each other, pressing them together, and it was a simple thing but so erotic. That low moan escaped me again. I felt so sexy and wanted. Here was this biker-looking dude who ran a bookshop and owned an impressive home, and he wanted me. Me—the silly gamer who thought he could develop but had nothing else to offer. And Brock was so sexy. So fucking sexy . I ran my free hand into his thick hair and down his face to finger his beard. I peered up into his dark eyes and felt myself falling. It was exciting, but also calming. For the first time in weeks, my thoughts weren't running away with me. Was it him or simply the sex? I wanted more time to answer that one.

Brock squeezed his hand and thrust into mine. I wanted it to last, but it couldn't. Nothing ever did, but I sure as hell would enjoy every second. We were there together, and it felt so good. "Kiss me. Kiss me now."

He didn't argue or ask questions—simply leaned in and pressed hot lips against mine. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth. And I came hard against him, shaking and begging with nonsense words.

I hoped this could grow. Hoped for more. But I was scared of breaking his heart or mine.