Dignity (Determination Trilogy 1), page 15
Christopher’s green eyes are unreadable behind his mirrored sunglasses. He doesn’t glance away from the road as he drives. “Shopping.”
“Shopping? For what?”
“You need a new look. Shae’s paying for it.”
That’s all he says.
I shut up and sit back, knowing I’m literally along for the ride at this point. Might as well go with it.
Not like I have a choice. Because I don’t. I won’t give Chris up again.
Besides, I need the damn job. Shae hasn’t announced my role yet, though.
That’s something else on my plate—talking to Lauren today.
It surprises me when we pull into the parking lot of an optometrist’s office. Looks like a private one, not a chain store, and there are only two other cars in the parking lot.
“I don’t understand.”
He smirks. “The beauty of this relationship we now have is that you don’t have to. Come on.”
He gets out, and I have no choice but to follow.
Inside, he tucks his sunglasses into his shirt pocket and speaks with the receptionist. Apparently I have an appointment, and they see me right away, giving me a clipboard of paperwork to take with me into the exam room. Christopher comes with me.
When the doctor arrives to give me my eye exam, Christopher takes over.
“He needs to be fitted for contacts. Not colored ones,” he emphasizes. “We’ll be getting him a few pairs of glasses today, too.”
“Sure.” She turns to me. “Let me take your current glasses and see what your prescription is.”
I remove them and the room goes a little blurry. “I have bifocals,” I tell her. “Invisible, please.”
“Of course.” She leaves for a moment and I squint at Christopher. “Plain contacts?”
He’s sitting in a chair along the wall while I’m in the special chair the patient occupies. “You are not getting colored contacts again.”
Another of those shivers ripples through me at his soft order, and my cock grows uncomfortably firm in my jeans. “I’m not?”
“Fuck no. I hate those goddamned things. They made your eyes look weird.”
I snort. “The network said viewer response was favorable.”
“Fuck them. Look at where they are now—dropping like a rock in ratings with you gone.”
I’d tried not to look that up, but yeah, I did. This morning, on my phone, while we were waiting for our flight.
And yeah, he’s right. They are.
While it might make me petty, I relish the fact.
The doctor reappears and begins the exam. Those glasses are only a year old, but there is a slight change in my prescription. After fitting me for contacts and doing all the other stuff—including dilating my eyes—it’s time to pick new frames.
Except now I can’t see shit.
Apparently, I don’t need to. We’re the only ones in the small showroom besides the receptionist. Christopher peruses the men’s frames, handing me some to try on, taking pictures of me in others, a process that goes on for at least thirty minutes before he’s decided on four frames for me, two wire-rimmed and two solid resin—one traditional tortoiseshell, and a blue and black tortoiseshell pattern.
I have no clue what I look like in any of them because he had me sit in a chair and wouldn’t let me look in a mirror.
Part of me bristles at this, and another part of me struggles not to reach down and adjust my cock.
With the frames in hand, the doctor sits down with me and makes adjustments to them so they fit properly, marks my eye position in them for the bifocals, and then Christopher produces a credit card to pay for everything.
We’re told we can pick them up tomorrow afternoon.
Back in the car, my vision is still blurry. “I take it she gave you carte blanche on all of this?”
He smiles. “You might say that. She told me she trusts my judgment.”
“I feel like I’m your pet.”
His throaty chuckle sends another of those shivers straight through me, winding up in my aching cock. “You might say that, too.”
Our next stop is a men’s clothing store. There, at Christopher’s orders, I’m dressed in a variety of suits, slacks, ties, dress shirts—everything. I don’t bother giving my input because he’s the one with the credit card. That stop takes three hours because they have to mark the slacks and jackets for slight alterations. While I have my own suits and clothes, obviously, most of what I wore on the air was provided by the network or their sponsors, and remained there with them.
Not that I’d want it, anyway.
We buy shoes next, and then groceries. With that completed, we head for my townhouse. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he already knows my address and how to get there.
I’m honestly a little surprised we enter my complex without any issues, no one there to snap pictures of our arrival.
Maybe interest in my meltdown has waned, finally?
I can only hope.
When I unlock the door and turn off the alarm, I find Lauren has stacked boxes, which I assume hold everything from my office, just inside the living room, along the wall next to the entry. It makes me pause and think about my situation.
How far I’ve travelled in three weeks.
“I guess I need to list this place,” I say as I drop an armful of purchases onto the sofa.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t really afford it. Not anymore.” I might be gainfully employed now, but I refuse to give up the house in Florida. “I can probably find someplace cheaper. I don’t even have a car here. I liked it because it’s a twenty-minute walk or a five-minute cab ride to work.” I hate driving in DC and avoid it like the plague.
“Move into my place.”
I turn and study him more because of his tone than what he said. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Because I said so?”
But it wasn’t an order. From the expression on his face I think he knows I realize it, too.
I walk over to him. “Talk to me, Chris.”
He takes a long moment to meet my gaze. “There’s a long-range plan,” he says.
“Well, yeah. It’ll take two years to get her elected, if I can get her elected.”
“Besides that. Well, part of that.”
“When do I get to hear it?”
“Do you trust me?”
I nod.
“Did you mean it when I asked you to be mine?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then trust me now. Move in with me now.”
My dream and my terror, all rolled into one. Of course I’m going to say yes, even though I’m scared shitless thinking what happens when this all makes it out into the public at some future point. “And the public story?”
He shrugs. “We’re old friends, and you couldn’t afford this place on your new salary. None of that’s a lie.”
That’s both a comfort and a curse. The duality of wanting to scream I’m his and praying no one discovers our secret. “And then what?” I’m torn between wanting to come out immediately, and wanting to dive deeper into the closet to avoid the questions and recriminations I know I’ll face.
To avoid my father’s wrath, although at this point I don’t understand why I’m afraid of him. I’m a damn adult. Shouldn’t I be past all that?
He pulls me into his arms. Once again, I’m amazed at how right it feels. “I’m never letting you go, Kev,” he softly says. “But I need you to trust me.”
“You took pics of me and said you deleted them.” And yet I still said yes to him.
He slowly nods. “I did. But I never used them against you, and I could have, at any time.”
Time for me to give him the eyebrow. “You leveraged them against me. You showed them to her.”
“I showed her two pictures the day after your meltdown, when I told her I could make you say yes to being her campaign manager. I never shared them with anyone else. I never blackmailed you with them. I never even told anyone about us until that morning when I told Shae.”
This is something we haven’t really talked about. “Why did you keep them”
“Because I selfishly hoped I could delete them when you called me and told me you’d move to DC and live with me. I was afraid if I deleted them I wouldn’t have anything left of you. I wanted to remind myself our week really happened. That you weren’t figment of my imagination. That I met the man who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” He sighs. “And then I never heard from you again.”
His words shatter my heart once more. All the time I wasted by not overcoming my fear back then.
“Yes, I’ll move in with you. Hey, twenty years later is better than never, right?”
He slants his mouth over mine, taking my breath and worries and concept of time and shoving them out of my mind for a few sweet moments.
“Damn right it is,” he hoarsely says.
Chapter Nineteen
Like he did at the Florida house, Chris prowls through my townhouse, even checking doors and windows. I watch him, fascinated by this work side of him.
“What?” he asks when I outright laugh at him when he finishes.
“Nothing.”
“No, what was that laugh for?”
I shrug. “Do you even realize you do that?”
His brow furrows. “Do what?”
“Exactly my point. You basically searched my house and memorized my kitchen when you and Shae showed up in Florida. And you just did it again now.”
“Well, for starters, she’s a senator, and I do have a responsibility for her safety when she’s with me, even unofficially. Secondly, I was planning on cooking you dinner, so I wanted to know what you had on hand.”
“And now?”
“I want to make sure you’re safe. Get used to it, baby. It’s my job.”
“I actually need to talk to Lauren. Today,” I add. “I can’t have this news break and she hears it from third-parties.” I know she’s in town because I texted her I was flying back to DC today, but to please keep that quiet. I know she will.
Something flashes across his features before he schools his expression. “She can come over here this afternoon.”
I’m joking, playing around as I pull him in close. “Can’t wait to introduce you as my boyfriend. I—”
“You aren’t. You can’t.”
“Wait, what? She won’t tell anyone.”
Full-on Sir mode—engaged. “No.”
“Chris, she knows I’m gay. The night of my meltdown, I told her—”
“I said no, Kevin. You don’t tell anyone. Either you trust me, or you don’t.”
I don’t understand his reaction. “I have way more to lose than you do.”
“You do this my way. No one knows anything about us except we’re good friends and now roommates. You tell Lauren that. And that’s all.”
The longer I stand there, the more I realize that while yes, I love this man, I’ve fantasized about him, and I have agreed to submit to him—I really don’t…know him.
“What if I don’t agree to that?” I finally ask.
He shrugs. “Don’t make me go there, Kev.”
Cold dread fills me. “You’d release the pictures of me?”
He walks over to me and grabs me by the shoulders, fingers digging in hard. “All you have to do is what I tell you to do. Is that so difficult? All anyone but the three of us needs to know is that you work for Shae, and you’re friends and roommates with me because it’s a cut in pay and you have to save your money.”
“And you still see Shae on the side. I don’t get any say in this one thing? That I tell her?”
“No, you don’t. You knew that when you agreed to this.”
I knew it, sure, but now that we’re in DC and the reality is hitting me in the balls…I’m not so sure how good I am with sharing him with Shae.
He releases me. “Set up the meeting,” he quietly says. “Here.”
“What if I want to see her alone?”
“That’s not an option right now. This is going to get really old really fast for both of us if you don’t learn to stop questioning me.”
“How am I supposed to do my job if I have to clear everything through you?”
“You don’t. Your job is your job. But outside of work? You are mine. Period. There is no negotiating on this, Kev.”
I blink first. I’m always going to blink first, and I know it.
And he knows it.
“Well?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes, Sir.”
Like that, I’m back in his arms and he’s kissing me, and I can’t even remember why I was upset. “My good boy,” he softly says. “Look at that, baby, how easy that was, hmm? Just give me what I want and I promise I’ll take care of you.”
Fuuuuuck. My cock throbs in my jeans.
I see the sadist return to his expression, his gaze narrowing as he reaches down and palms my bulge. “Call her,” he softly says. “Call Lauren right now and set up the meeting, here, this afternoon. Tell her you need to talk to her.”
With trembling fingers I dig my phone out of my pocket and call up her number from my contacts.
He sinks to his knees with the most evil smile I’ve ever seen a human being wear and deftly unfastens my belt and jeans.
As Lauren answers the call, my cock disappears to the balls inside Chris’ mouth.
“Hey, sweetie,” she says when she answers.
I soft squeak escapes me. I have to swallow before I can speak. “H-hey, Laur.”
“How you doing?”
Chris pulls back to the head and swirls his tongue around it before deep-throating me again, his eyes burning holes through me.
“I-I’m o-okay.”
“You don’t sound okay.”
I clear my throat. “Sorry, dry th-throat from the flight.” The evil sadist slowly pulls off to the head again, teasing me with his tongue. “Listen, can you stop by on your way home today so we can talk?”
“Yeah, sure. Want me to grab Orin’s so we can eat?” I know he can hear her because the townhouse is quiet and he’s right freaking there, sucking my cock.
He gives me a little shake of his head without dislodging my cock from his mouth.
“No thanks, maybe another night.”
“What’d you want to talk about?”
“I—” I have to swallow back the moan as his tongue traces the tip of my cock, flicking along the slit “I have some news I want you to hear first. I got a job.”
“Really? That’s great! Where, down in Florida?”
“No, here in DC. Look, I need to run, text me when you’re on the way, okay?”
“Sure, hon. Should be there in about an hour. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I feel a little bit of satisfaction at the thunderclouds that appear in Christopher’s gaze at hearing that. He sucks, hard, and I barely get the end button thumbed when my balls tighten and I spill into his mouth with a moan.
He stands up and kisses me, a tight grip on the back of my neck to hold me in place and his tongue and mouth tasting like me.
“We need to talk about that, boy.”
Seems the sadist isn’t as tough as he might try to make me think he is. “She’s my best friend. I love her. She knows I’m gay now. She came over the night of my meltdown to be with me. You should be thankful she cares about me.”
Some of the tension eases from his expression, which still remains guarded. “Friends are fine. But you can’t tell her about us.”
“Says the man who just sucked my c—”
Without knowing how, I suddenly find myself bent over the back of the couch. He roughly shoves my head down into the cushions with one hand while yanking my jeans down with the other. A lubed finger roughly enters me—When the hell did he grab lube? Fuck, the man is tricky.—then two, scissoring inside of me, followed by his cock shoving home.
“Says the man who owns this fucking boy,” he growls. “That’s who.” The hand on the back of my head disappears, but he grabs my left arm and twists it up, almost to the point of pain, and I’m standing on my toes trying to ease the pressure. Now his weight pins me to the couch as he fucks me. “Who owns you?”
From how hard my cock is again, I think the answer is obvious. “You do, Sir.”
“Who owns this ass?”
“Sir does.”
He delivers a stinging slap over the marks he put there last night. “I’m trying to be a nice guy here, Kev.” There’s a needy edge to his gravelly tone. “But I won’t tolerate you getting mouthy with me. I don’t care if I have to be nice and sweet-talk you into submission, or I have to show you the fucking sadist Shae loves and I fuck and beat obedience into your ass, but you will obey me.”
He wrenches my arm up a hair more, the bad kind of pain balancing with the good kind of pain, all of that tempered by the fact that his cock is hitting the perfect spot inside me with every thrust.
“You told me you’re okay with me taking what I want from you, boy.”
I…holy shit, even though I just came, there’s a damn good chance he might literally fuck another one out of me like this.
“Y-yes, Sir!” Up on my toes like this, I can’t really move with him.
“Do I have your full attention now, boy?”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Good.” The pressure eases off my arm, but he doesn’t release it. I feel him reach under me, and he laughs when his fingers close around my cock and balls and he feels how hard I am. “The boy likes Sir taking him in hand, hmm?”
“I haven’t had sex with anyone but you since I divorced Lauren, Sir. I have a few years to make up for.”
I’m not expecting it when he releases my arm and his weight disappears. My heels once again make contact with the floor when he wraps his other arm around me and pulls me up, my back against his chest. Now his hand slides up and grips the front of my throat, not tight enough to choke off my air, but it’s not a friendly grip, either. The other hand is still holding my cock and balls—squeezing them, to be accurate. Not hard, but enough to get my attention.
His voice growls in my left ear. “Any time I hear you tell her you love her, I’m going to reclaim this ass in whatever way I see fit as soon as possible after the fact. That could mean fun for you or fun for me, depending on my mood. This just as easily could’ve been twenty cane strokes across that gorgeous ass of yours, baby. Understand?”
