Fitting In, page 1
FITTING IN
FITTING IN
BOOK 1
SILVIA VIOLET
Fitting In
Copyright © 2013, 2024 by Silvia Violet
Cover art by Cate Ashwood.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Published in the United States of America.
Fitting In is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are fictionalized. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About the Author
The Marchesi Universe
Also by Silvia Violet
Love Audiobooks?
To all those who pushed me to write faster, especially Christy and Sharon, and to Erika, Hank, and Matt for helping me along the way.
CHAPTER 1
Two cops walked into a bar. Mason, the bartender, waited for the punch line, because no way in hell were these ridiculously hot men real cops. They were one hundred percent fantasy material. He hoped to hell they were strippers, and they’d be willing to do a private performance for him.
Their dark blue uniforms were snug, hugging their bodies in all the right places. The taller of the two men was big enough to bench-press Mason. His shirt looked like it might burst at the seams, and Mason hoped it would. Dark, wavy hair fell over his forehead and softened the hard lines of his face. His eyes were dark without being warm, just right for a cop.
His partner was shorter, about Mason’s own size. He had buzz-cut dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He looked younger than his partner, like he hadn’t been out of the academy for long, but he was just as ridiculously hot as the bigger man. His looks were the all-American-boy type. He’d probably played baseball in school and won the heart of every girl he smiled at. He was a perfect counter to his partner’s rough, domineering appeal. They could play a scintillating game of good cop, bad cop, and Mason would love for them to play it with him.
If Mason were in a porno, the cops would cuff him and drag him to a back room where they would proceed to plow his ass until he couldn’t stand up. Sadly, this was real life. They were probably relentlessly straight and only here for a beer.
They headed toward the end of the bar by the register where there weren’t any customers during the midafternoon lull.
“What can I get for you, officers?” Mason asked.
The big one smiled. “Anything cold.”
The shorter man punched his partner’s arm. “Nothing. Thank you. We’re here on official business.”
The big man rolled his eyes. “Can’t I at least get a soda?”
“Fine. Two Cokes please.”
Mason was glad to have the simple task of scooping ice and pouring fountain drinks to distract himself for a few minutes. What official business would they have here? While the occasional fistfight broke out, most typically during the NCAA basketball tournament, Nathan’s Public House was hardly a hotbed of crime.
He picked up the drinks and faced them again, willing his hands to stop shaking. It wasn’t like he hadn’t served plenty of attractive men in the past. What was it about these two that had him so stirred up?
He set the drinks on the bar in front of them and watched as they both took a sip. His cheeks heated when he realized he was staring, openmouthed, at the flex of muscles in the bigger man’s throat as he swallowed.
Focus, Mason, focus. “So…um…what kind of business brings you here?”
The shorter man smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Officer Jack Abney, and this is my partner, Gray Sadler. We want to talk to the staff who were working last night when Gino’s was robbed in case anyone might have seen or heard something that will help with the investigation.”
Mason took Jack’s hand. His skin was softer than Mason expected, and he held Mason’s hand a few seconds longer than he needed to. “Um…I’m Mason Shields.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Shields,” Jack said, grinning.
Mason thought he might melt, but this wasn’t the time to become a puddle of lustful intentions. The robberies had shaken up most of the business owners in the part of downtown Durham where Nathan’s was located. The break-in at Gino’s was the third one in the area, and all the robberies were believed to have been inside jobs pulled off by well-organized professionals. The occasional group of kids breaking a window and trying to get into the till or taking valuables customers foolishly left lying on the seats of their cars wasn’t uncommon, but this type of systematic criminal activity was something new.
“I was here last night, but until I heard sirens, I had no idea anything was going on. It was really crowded, and I had a long line at the bar so I was focused on making drinks and keeping customers happy.”
Jack stood up and looked toward the windows. “Not much of a view of the place either.”
Mason shook his head. “Once the lights go out over there, I can’t see a thing, especially with people blocking my view out front."
His partner, Officer Sadler, looked at Mason then, his dark eyes calculating. “We understand one of your servers worked at Gino’s until a month or so ago.”
“Yes, Gwen did.” The idea of Gwen working for a band of criminal masterminds was ludicrous. She could barely manage to serve a couple of tables without fucking up their orders.
“Was she working last night?” Gray asked.
Mason thought through the evening. Gwen had been there, but he didn’t remember seeing her after the dinner crowd left, and he’d wondered why they were understaffed when the rowdy game watchers filled the place up. “She was, but her shift must have ended by nine.”
“Is that unusual?” Jack studied him as carefully as his partner had. Having the two gorgeous men staring at him was doing unsettling things to his insides, and his expanding dick was making his pants uncomfortable.
“I guess so. Kind of. Usually most of the waitstaff works until eleven on weekends, but I really don’t think—”
Jack held up his hand. “Just routine questions.”
“Okay. Maybe it would be better if you talked to my manager.”
“We will,” Gray assured him. “But right now, we want to talk to you.”
His voice was low and sexy. If Mason didn’t know better, he’d have thought Gray was flirting with him, but he had to be imagining it. Jack was staring at his partner like he’d lost his mind.
Mason looked back at Gray and was caught by his cool gaze. He bit into his lip, needing the sharp pain to break the spell and allow him to look away. Gray exuded dominance. Mason had no doubt he was a man who expected to get his way, and Mason would be happy to give him just that. The thought of being pinned under him and told exactly how to please him made Mason shudder.
Needing to break the tension vibrating among the three of them, Mason said, “The bartender knows all, is that the theory?”
“Something like that.” Jack’s sly grin made Mason’s knees weak. These two were going to be the death of him.
The officers asked a few more questions, but Mason truly didn’t have anything useful to tell them so they moved on to questioning the servers.
He was glad there weren’t many customers in the bar because both cops had asses worthy of his devoted attention. He sighed as he watched them while pretending to wipe down the bar. What he wouldn’t give to peel them out of their tight blue pants and get a closer look.
The intensity of his attraction puzzled Mason. Gray’s size and dominating presence pushed all his buttons, setting off submissive fantasies that had him reeling. And Jack, Mason could imagine him reveling in a hard, rough fuck or giving the orders himself with the confident air he used for interrogation. If the two men had told him to drop his pants and bend over the bar, he truly might have done it, which unnerved him. While he’d had his share of hook-up sex with no names exchanged, he wasn’t usually quite so slutty.
Maybe the fact that it had been months since he’d bothered to find a partner at all was part of the problem. He’d never really enjoyed the anonymous club sex, but he’d learned the hard way that depending on someone to be there for you was pointless, so he wasn’t much for relationships either. Hitting the clubs was the easiest way to take care of his sexual urges. He’d stepped out of his comfort zone often enough to keep from dying of unfulfilled lust, but the last few times he’d hooked up with someone in a grungy bathroom, he’d felt more sick than satisfied after it was over. For the last few months, he’d reveled in his nerdy side, the side of him that still hoped to go back to college, get his degree in chemistry, and then move on to grad school. Instead of going out he’d been spending his time off reading scientific journals and watching his favorite Star Trek episodes over and over. Perhaps he was experiencing temporary insanity from lack of sex.
CHAPTER 2
Over the next few weeks, Jack and Gray became frequent customers at Nathan’s, and Mason never got tired of watching them . He often caught them giving each other appreciative glances, and while most of their casual touches fell within acceptable limits for straight-male camaraderie, their expressions were more tender than he would expect from hardened cops. He’d nearly convinced himself they were more than friends. Every time he saw something that hinted that they were lovers, he scolded himself for wishful thinking, but that didn’t prevent fantasizing about the two of them rubbing their naked, sweaty bodies against each other from becoming his favorite pastime. Jack and Gray had inspired a full-on cop fetish.
One night, the two cops came in when their shift ended. After eating dinner, they ordered dessert—tiramisu, Mason’s favorite. During a break in taking orders, Mason watched Gray stab his fork into the confection and then proceed to lick at it like it was a lollipop. It was the most erotic thing Mason had ever seen. Every swipe of Gray’s tongue made his cock throb. Finally, panting and painfully hard, he forced himself to turn away and think about things that were sure to make him lose his erection—disposing of the mouse traps he’d placed under the kitchen sink in his apartment or the dishwasher who’d started working at Nathan’s last week who’d apparently never heard of deodorant.
When even those thoughts didn’t deflate him, he knew he had a serious problem. He didn’t have a break for several hours, and even if he could slip away, was he really going to jerk off in a bathroom stall at work like he was sixteen? He needed to get a grip. Clearly he’d been a recluse too long, but if he went clubbing with this obsession riding him, he would end up comparing every man he danced with to Gray and Jack. Chances were, he would find them all lacking.
“Bring me another round, Mason.” A shout from Chris, one of the regulars, interrupted his reverie.
Mason had already served him a slew of drinks, and he looked ready to slide off his barstool. “You’ve had enough. Let me call you a cab.”
“Fuck no. The last place I want to be is home.”
Mason sighed. Chris’s girlfriend had found a new love interest a few weeks ago, and Mason didn’t think the man had been sober since.
“You’ve wallowed long enough,” Mason replied. “Go home, get some sleep, and start over tomorrow.”
Chris shook his head. “I just don’t get it.”
Mason blew out a long breath. The man had really thought the girl he’d been dating was The One. Mason was sure she had just been looking for someone who’d pay for her drinks and buy her gifts, but he hadn’t told Chris that. Chris’s drama was wearing thin on him. The lending-a-sympathetic-ear part of bartending did not come naturally to Mason. He’d much rather contemplate the chemistry behind mixing the perfect cocktail than chat with customers, but he’d needed a decent-paying job. When his friend who’d had the job before him finished his degree, he’d put in a good word for Mason. Elizabeth, the manager who’d bought the bar from Nathan himself, agreed to hire him despite his lack of experience. He learned quickly and impressed Elizabeth so much that she made him assistant manager.
He turned away from Chris to take an order from a pink-haired girl who didn’t look sixteen, much less twenty-one. As he asked for her ID, he saw Chris’s ex, Heather, walk through the door, arm wrapped around the waist of her new man. He sighed. Chris was going to make an ass of himself at the very least, and wind up spending the night in jail at worst. He looked for Jack and Gray, but they no longer occupied the corner table.
He checked the ID of the youngster, which appeared to be real. After he made her a rum and Coke, he glanced back at Chris, who still hadn’t noticed his ex. She was cozied up to the man she was with and petting him every chance she got. Mason took a deep breath and focused on making more drinks, ignoring the nasty looks Chris was giving him for not bringing him one.
A few minutes later, after taking drinks to a few tables for waitresses who were too overworked to keep up, Mason heard raised voices from the far end of the bar. Heather had come over to Chris’s table to say hello. Was she trying to start a fight?
He rang up a customer who was ready to pay his tab while continually glancing toward Chris and watching the situation escalate as Heather’s new boyfriend got in on the action. When Mason had given the customer his change, he looked toward Chris and cringed. He was off his stool confronting the boyfriend. Punches were going to start flying any second.
Mason held up a finger to indicate he’d be right back to help the next person in line and made his way over to Chris. He came around the bar and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Let me call you a cab.”
“Fucking bastard says I stole his girl,” the boyfriend said, looking like he was itching to knock Chris on his fool ass.
Desperate to diffuse the situation, Mason said, “Why don’t y’all find a table, and I’ll bring you some drinks on the house.”
Heather and her boyfriend started to walk off, but when he slid his hand down her back and squeezed her ass, Chris lost it. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, turned him around, and punched him. Mason doubted Chris was even really angry with the new boyfriend. It was Heather who’d come over and flaunted him in Chris’s face, but while Chris might be an ass sometimes, he would never hit a woman, so her boyfriend got it instead.
The guy returned the punch, and Chris staggered, falling against the bar then springing back up, ready to keep going. Mason tried to pull him back, but he charged the other man like a bull going for a matador.
Everyone in the bar turned to watch the fight. If they were in a Wild West saloon, Mason would have fired his gun into the air to scare the brawlers. As it was, he shouted at them with no effect.
Relief hit when he saw Jack pushing his way through the gathering crowd. He’d thought the two cops had already left, but they must have vacated their booth and headed for the pool tables or dart boards.
Mason made one last attempt to pull Chris back. “You’re about to get yourself arrested,” he yelled as he tugged at Chris’s arm. Chris shoved him, and Mason fell against the bar.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
Mason nodded then Jack whistled. The sharp sound startled the two men who were fighting. The new boyfriend’s eyes widened when he took note of Jack’s uniform, but Chris was too far gone to pay attention to what was happening. He pulled back to sink another punch, and Jack grabbed his arm. Chris spun and punched him in the face.
Mason winced. Now Chris was really fucked. Mason should have sent him home much earlier.
Chris’s eyes were wide, crazed, and Mason wondered if he’d been doing more than drinking. Chris yanked himself from Jack’s hold and charged the boyfriend, who’d tried to back away but hadn’t been able to get far because of the crowd.
“Chris,” Mason shouted. The man glanced toward him, and Mason threw a well-timed punch. Chris slumped to the ground and didn’t move. Mason turned to see Jack staring at him in surprise. Mason was small, but he had taken self-defense classes years ago as a scrawny gay teen after the first time he was beaten up. He’d sworn he’d never let himself be that defenseless again, and he hadn’t.
Before Jack had a chance to say anything, Gray came barreling toward them, making on-lookers scatter. “Is everything ok here?”
Jack turned to his partner. The look on Gray’s face when he saw Jack’s black eye confirmed Mason’s suspicions; the two men were more than work partners. Gray looked like a vengeful archangel, ready to rip apart anyone who dared harm the man he loved. He laid a hand on Jack’s arm, then pulled it back quickly like he had something to hide.
“Got the jump on you, did he?” Gray asked, tough cop façade back in place.
Jack shrugged. “I overestimated my calming charm, but our favorite bartender saved me.”
Favorite? Did he really just say I was his favorite?
Gray looked at Mason then, his gazing sliding up and down as if once again he’d forgotten where he was. How hard would it be to play the macho cop when you loved your partner? While there were plenty of things Mason disliked about his job, at least he could be himself.
“Did he now?” Gray’s low resonating voice sent a shiver through Mason.
“Chris was running down. I just gave him the nudge he needed to end things.”
