Intoxicating, page 5
Wyatt tried not to dwell on the life he could have had with Charlie’s accepting parents instead of his hateful father and his uninterested mother. There was no use crying over bad DNA.
When he finished with Charlie, he misted a setting spray over her face and shellacked her hair in place with a bit more flourish than necessary. “Okay, I hereby declare you just slutty enough for your callback.”
Charlie bounced off the chair, snagging her phone as she gave herself a cursory once-over. “Oh, it’s perfect. Somewhere between scream queen and drag queen. Once again, your genius astounds me.” She snagged her enormous bag from the bed, settling it in the crook of her arm before she stopped in front of him, narrowing her eyes. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?”
Adrenaline shocked through his system at her sudden change in tactics, his heartbeat tripping. “What?”
The corners of her mouth tugged downward, her heart suddenly bleeding from her big blue lemur eyes. “You don’t look good.”
Something twisted behind his ribcage. “Well, fuck you very much.”
She wrapped her hand around his forearm, her talon-like nails digging into the skin there. “I’m serious. You have that same hollow-eyed haunted look you had just before we went to Barbados that summer… The summer you came back from—”
“I remember,” he snapped. He softened his tone at her wounded look. “I’m fine. I just had a little too much to drink last night.”
Her expression went from piteous to murderous in a moment, her voice dropping to a hissing whisper. “Drink? You’re on house arrest for a DUI.”
He rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. “Do you see a car in here?”
“Don’t do that. This is serious.” He let his gaze drift to a spot over her shoulder, trying to mentally shield himself from her words. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You have to get out of here, away from your father, from this place. It’s not good for you.”
Wyatt forced a brittle smile onto his face. “Hah. Let she who is without prescription pharmaceuticals in her Prada cast the first stone. You can’t even get out of bed without amphetamines.”
She sucked in a breath, her voice raising an octave. “I have a legitimate diagnosis, dickhead. You’re mean when you’re hungover.”
He pulled a face, crossing his arms over his still-damp t-shirt. “And you’re no fun when you’re preachy, so I guess we’re even.”
They stood glaring at each other for a solid minute before Charlie’s shoulders slumped and he watched her shrug off the last five minutes as if they’d never happened. A huge toothy grin spread across her face. “Anyhoo, gotta run. Let’s totes do it again soon.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek before opening the door. “Try not to trip and fall on Grandpa’s dick out there. He might break a hip.”
“Wow. You’re so funny,” he sneered, shoving her out his bedroom door.
“Hey, you look like the bait on To Catch a Predator. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
He flipped her off. “Good luck on your callback,” he said, voice filled with spiteful glee.
Her eyes went wide, and she stabbed her finger into his chest. “You take that back right now.”
“No.”
“I’m not kidding, Wyatt Montgomery Edgeworth. You say ‘break a leg’ right now or we’re not friends anymore.” He stared her down. “Say it!” she screeched.
After he felt she’d sufficiently twisted in the wind, he relented. “Fine. Break a leg, I guess.”
She shook her head like a disappointed mom. “You’re a monster.”
“It’s true. You know the way out,” he said, shutting his bedroom door in her face.
He should go back out and help Linc, but instead, he fell backward on the bed, suddenly cognizant of his still-damp clothes and the giant knot in his belly. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go back out there and pretend they hadn’t almost kissed. So, he just lay there, hiding in his room like a coward. Like he always did.
It was going to be a really long day.
Linc was dreaming. He knew he was. It didn’t stop his heart from racing or the metallic taste from filling his mouth. It always started with blood. Copper pennies and gasoline burned his nose and throat. The desert sun seared his flesh. He tried to blink the sweat from his eyes, but he still couldn’t see. His men were out there somewhere. Had they survived the blast? Wavering shapes rushed toward him. He squinted, trying to make sense of them. Did they wear fatigues? He couldn’t tell. They were ghosts, or maybe he was the ghost. If it weren’t for the throbbing numbness radiating down his right arm, he might have thought he was dead.
He tried to reach for his rifle just a few feet away, but his arm wasn’t cooperating. They were getting closer with each passing second. His pulse skyrocketed, adrenaline sending shock waves along his body until he wasn’t thinking, only reacting. When the amorphous shape appeared above him, he lashed out with his left hand, gripping their throat with everything he had and rolling them beneath him. He needed the advantage. They had weapons. They had the full use of their bodies. They had all their senses. He only had fear and training. He straddled them, squeezing with every bit of strength he could muster with just his one hand. If he was lucky, he could fracture their hyoid bone. They’d suffocate.
They fought back, their blows weak as they struggled beneath him, frantically shouting.
“Linc!”
Somewhere, the sound of his name penetrated through the fog of his memory.
“Linc. Stop! Fuck, please. Fuck. Stop!”
Linc opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the sudden darkness after having struggled in the blazing noonday sun of his nightmare. He was back in his room at the Edgeworth penthouse, straddling a breathless, red-faced Wyatt. Jesus. Holy fucking Christ. Linc could have killed him. His hand still clutched Wyatt’s throat. His left hand. Thank fuck. He let out a shaky breath. If it had been his right hand… He didn’t even want to think about that. He massaged the tender skin at Wyatt’s throat. The boy winced as he swallowed beneath Linc’s fingers. Even in the dark, he could see it would bruise. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Wyatt’s lips moved, but his voice sounded miles away. A lead weight crushed down on Linc’s chest, and his vision tunneled, his heart slamming against his ribcage until he thought he was having a heart attack. Fuck. Not now. Not. Now. Beads of perspiration pricked at his forehead and slid along his spine, but he was ice cold. He wanted to move, to run away, but his mind held him frozen.
Wyatt’s soft hands were touching his face as he spoke. Linc forced himself to concentrate on the boy’s lips. “Linc. I think you’re having a panic attack. Can you hear me?”
He didn’t speak, just gave a jerky nod.
“Okay, dude, I have these all the time. Focus on five things you can see.” Linc’s gaze jerked around the room, trying to focus on anything. “Say them. Out loud.”
“The lamp. The headboard.” He sucked in a ragged breath, his gaze falling to Wyatt. Your sinful mouth, your riot of curls spilling over my pillow, he thought to himself. He swallowed. “The…the chair. The pillows. You.”
Wyatt’s thumb caressed Linc’s cheek, his voice a low murmur. “Tell me four things you can touch.”
Four things he could touch. Okay. The sheets, the comforter, the silky material of Wyatt’s pants, the soft skin of his long delicate throat, still clenched in Linc’s left hand.
Shit. He tried to move his hand, but Wyatt captured it, holding it in place. “Don’t.” Linc’s cock twitched at Wyatt’s raw plea. “Four things.”
He needed to focus. To think. To relax. To pull himself back. Focus. “The sheets. The blanket… You. I can feel you.”
Wyatt’s pupils dilated, his pink tongue licking over his full lower lip, goosebumps erupting across his skin. “That’s three,” he whispered.
“It’s enough.”
Wyatt gave a half nod of acceptance. “Two things you can hear.”
The air conditioner humming, the fan squeaking lazily overhead, but all Linc could think to say was, “Your breathing.”
“One thing you can…taste.”
He leaned down, pressing his lips against Wyatt’s, dipping his tongue inside for just a moment before pulling back. This time, his heart felt off-kilter for an entirely different reason. They sat there, locked in place, Linc’s hand around Wyatt’s throat and Wyatt’s hand crushing Linc’s wrist, refusing to let him go. They were both panting, both half naked. Wyatt’s impressive hard-on was tenting his gray pajama bottoms underneath Linc.
This was all happening too fast. It shouldn’t be happening at all. Taking this job was a mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. He needed the money. Linc should let him go, should walk away and lock himself in the bathroom and jerk off in the shower, like a person who valued his fucking job and his integrity. But he didn’t. He fucking didn’t.
He dipped his head lower but didn’t kiss the boy, just breathed him in. With Linc looming over him, one hand still on his throat, Wyatt seemed to melt into the mattress, like every problem he’d ever had was suddenly long gone. Maybe, in that minute, it was. Maybe all Wyatt needed was a hand around his throat and somebody to use him up and take what they wanted. And Linc wanted. He wanted everything.
When he slanted his lips over Wyatt’s this time, the boy moaned low, canting his hips, rubbing his needy cock against Linc’s own half-hard dick. Linc took his time. It wasn’t sex, Linc rationalized, just fooling around, giving Wyatt what he needed, what they both needed. Wyatt’s little noises drove Linc crazy. The boy was so pliant, so willing. He’d let Linc do anything to him. The thought had Linc hard and leaking so fast it made him dizzy.
He ripped his mouth free, biting kisses along Wyatt’s jaw and throat, slowing only to press his lips a bit more gently to each of the reddened fingerprints that would be bruises tomorrow. He should be sorry—he might have been sorrier if Wyatt had seemed even a little distressed—but the idea of marking Wyatt, seeing tangible proof of what they were doing long after the sun came up tomorrow, had Linc growling, capturing Wyatt’s mouth in another rough kiss.
He pulled back, gazing down at the pale expanse of Wyatt’s bare torso, letting his hands smooth over his chest. Wyatt clutched at Linc, whining, trying to pull him back down. “Don’t worry, greedy boy. I’m not done with you,” Linc promised.
He hooked his fingers in Wyatt’s waistband, tugging his pants down and off, tossing them somewhere on the other side of the room. Wyatt’s cock slapped against his firm belly, and Linc wanted nothing more than to bury his face where his scent was strongest, to run his mouth along the hard length and suck him down until he came screaming beneath him. Instead, he took him in hand, wiping his thumb along the tip, using the fluid to work him slowly. Wyatt arched his back, moaning long and low like Linc had wrenched the sound from him. He was beautiful like this, head thrown back, lips parted, chest heaving. Just for Linc.
He released him, smiling when the boy whined his frustration. Linc was only getting rid of his own underwear, then he lined himself up over Wyatt again, his body pressing into him. Wyatt practically sobbed, rocking himself desperately against Linc to get more friction.
Linc could easily have just rutted against him like a teenager until he came, but some part of him wanted to test Wyatt, wanted to see how far he could push him. He leaned forward, practically bending the boy in half. God, he’d love to fuck him this way, his knees over Linc’s elbows as he drove himself into the tight heat of Wyatt’s pliant body again and again…but this could only be tonight, and Wyatt wasn’t ready for anything more than this.
Linc braced himself over Wyatt with one hand, the other slipping back around his throat as their bodies aligned perfectly, their cocks slotting alongside each other.
“Yes,” Wyatt sobbed.
“Yes, what?” Linc growled against his ear, squeezing his throat just enough for Wyatt to struggle. “Say it. I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Wyatt whispered.
Linc bit at his lips, rocking their bodies faster. “Again, say it again.”
“Please, Daddy.”
“Beg me.”
“Please. Please. I need you. I need th—” His words died on a harsh shout as Linc ground their hips together. “Please, Daddy. Please. Please. Please,” he chanted, almost like he didn’t even know the words were falling from his lips.
“Good boy,” Linc praised, his hand slipping from Wyatt’s throat to yank at the drawer beside his head. He snatched the small bottle of lube from its place tucked way in the back and sat back on his heels, pressing a hand to Wyatt’s chest as he tried to follow. “Don’t move,” Linc commanded.
Wyatt looked like he wanted to argue but did as Linc instructed, so he rewarded the boy by taking both of their cocks in his slick fist. Wyatt worked himself against Linc’s cock and the tight heat of his palm. Normally, Linc would have forced him to remain still, but he was being so good, so obedient. Linc let him chase his pleasure, once more wrapping his hand around the boy’s throat and squeezing as electricity licked its way across every nerve ending. His balls tightened, and the base of his spine felt hot and tingly. He would not last much longer. He caught Wyatt’s heated gaze. “Come for me. Come for Daddy.”
Wyatt sucked in a breath, a look of surprise spreading across his angelic face as his body seized beneath Linc and he came hard, shooting onto his stomach and spilling over Linc’s fist. Linc didn’t stop. He worked him through the aftershocks before catching Wyatt’s cum in his hand, working it over his own length. Wyatt stared up at Linc, glassy-eyed and sated, like he’d heard the voice of God, like Linc was a god and getting Wyatt off had been some kind of goddamn epiphany. It was the look that did it, had Linc coming with a harsh shout, painting Wyatt’s belly with his own release before smearing it over the boy's skin, like he could rub his scent into his flesh, make him a permanent part of him. When he finished, he brought his hand to Wyatt’s lips. He didn’t have to say a word; Wyatt opened immediately, his tongue darting out to lick Linc’s fingers clean.
He was so fucking obedient. Linc leaned down and kissed his forehead. “That’s my sweet boy,” he praised before rolling to lie beside him.
Wyatt said nothing, just lay there sucking in heavy breaths, waiting for the use of his limbs to return. His post-orgasmic haze was wearing off quickly, and the evidence of their encounter was drying on his skin, making him itch. Wyatt had never been in bed with a guy before. He’d fooled around in cars and bathrooms and even the industrial freezer at Bar Lounge but never in a bed. It was too…intimate. Too personal. He enjoyed being able to get off and get out. Before anybody figured out who he really was.
But there was no sneaking away this time. Linc was right there, pressed against him, splayed out naked with one hand behind his head and the other across his stomach, like lying in bed with Wyatt was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to Linc. He was married. He had a kid. Wyatt’s stomach churned. After Charlie left, he should have stayed in bed, like he’d planned, but after midnight, his stomach had demanded sustenance and he’d crept into the kitchen. There was a note on the microwave door. Linc had made dinner and left it for him. Who did that? They didn’t even know each other and Linc had shown him more consideration than anybody in his family ever had.
That was why he went to Linc’s room, to thank him for dinner. At least, that was Wyatt’s story. He hadn’t expected to find Linc struggling and whimpering, crying out. He only wanted to wake him. But when he’d touched his chest, Linc had rolled him underneath him and clutched his throat, and Wyatt’s lizard brain had kicked in. And this lizard liked to be manhandled by hot scruffy men in their underwear, apparently.
Wyatt wanted to roll over and bury his face in the pillow and wait Linc out, but it was his bed. When the mattress shifted, Wyatt couldn’t help but glance in Linc’s direction, admiring the view of his sculpted ass as he strode naked across the room and opened the door to the mini fridge in the corner.
When he came back, he sat facing Wyatt. “Come on. Up. Sit up.” Linc’s tone left no room for arguing. If Wyatt’s cock could have rallied, it would have. “Drink this.”
He stared at it for a long moment, but then he took it and sucked down half. He went to hand it back, but Linc shook his head. “All of it.” Wyatt did as he was told and Linc took the empty bottle back. “Lie back down.”
This time, Wyatt did roll away from Linc. He didn’t want to be cared for. He didn’t want Linc acting like this meant anything. These encounters never meant anything. They couldn’t. What was the point? When Linc curved his body around Wyatt’s and tucked him tight against him, Wyatt froze. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
Lips traced the back of his neck. “I like to snuggle after an orgasm. Get over it.”
Wyatt scoffed, feeling huffy. “Don’t I get a say in this?”
A shiver ran across Wyatt at Linc’s rough growl. “Nope. My room, my rules.”
Silence blanketed the room, the only sound the rhythmic movement of the fan overhead and Wyatt’s heart beating in his ears. Linc’s fingers spread across Wyatt’s belly, his thumb rubbing lazy circles that stirred something deep down low.
“Thanks for dinner,” he finally mumbled, for lack of anything to say.
“I wasn’t sure you would find it. I thought maybe you’d died in there,” Linc said, voice sleep soaked like he’d dozed off or had been on the verge of doing so.
“I was avoiding you.”
Air puffed against Wyatt’s shoulder as Linc laughed at him. “You don’t say. Why was that exactly? Afraid I’d put you to work instead of letting you tan by the pool all day?”
