Heartsville 04 - Clique (Jayden Brooks) (9 page)

I sent him and his Joey a tired smile. “Sleep, hopefully.”

As we wrapped up the shoot, I confirmed the best time for Joey and Max to visit the studio to look at proofs.

“Or we could come over now, and help you unload… your gear,” Joey murmured.

Did he just….
As I turned to reply, Max and Joey closed the space between us, leaving me sandwiched between them, and began kissed passionately over my head.

My sleep-starved brain wasn’t able to keep up. Their actions brought every neurological function to a standstill.

“Um.” I squeaked, too startled to say much else.

They both looked down and grinned as I tried to shift to the side. “We want to give you a hand,” Joey explained.

A sharp voice cut in, “If he needs a hand, I’ll be the one giving it.”

Max stepped away from my back to face a Brandon like I’d never seen before. And Max appeared determined to make it worse. “Is that so?”

Barely contained rage exploded in Brandon’s gaze. It was enough to jump-start my vocal cords. “Yes, he’s right. Guys, this is my boyfriend, Brandon.”

Joey muttered from behind me, “Make a mental note, honey. Your boyfriend isn’t the sort to share.”

Of course Brandon heard him. “No, I don’t fucking share.” He glared at Max, whose stance clearly conveyed his readiness to intercede if necessary, and scoffed, “Is that what this is about?” The look he turned on me was filled with anger and hurt.

I wanted to fucking cry. “No, not at all.”

He stared at me for a heartbeat, then shook his head. “I don’t do scenes like this.”

“Brandon. Hold on a second and listen.”

He didn’t stop. Just left without a backward glance.

I couldn’t fall apart. I had to hold it together. Because regardless of feeling like my heart was being torn from my chest, I couldn’t make this more of a spectacle than it already was. I spun around, wanting to know who had witnessed my personal disaster.

“I don’t think anyone else was close enough to hear,” Joey assured me in a quiet tone. “This is our fault. We can explain it to him.”

With a shake of my head, I gathered my gear, said my good-byes, and headed back to Clique. On the way, I tried calling Brandon, only to get his voice mail. I shot off a text asking him to call me. I considered heading to his house but decided against it. He needed to cool down, and frankly, I needed sleep.

And that’s just what I did for the next eighteen hours straight.

***

I wasn’t in the habit of requesting extensions on projects, but unless I took care of the workload problem now, my backlog was only going to get worse. It was time to reevaluate. Things couldn’t continue like this. I wanted to share a life. I was more than ready to work on building a forever with someone. Maybe a someone who wouldn’t give up and walk away over a misunderstanding.

Grrr.

“How understanding would I be if the situation was reversed?”
Not very fucking much
. Apparently I was destined to spend the day bickering with myself. On one hand, Brandon should have trusted me. On the other, would I have reacted any differently? My honest answer was yes. I would have reacted a whole lot worse.

Okay, fine. But to walk away, like it was so easy to cast me aside—fuck that noise. I already felt shitty over the stupid situation. Him walking off that way hurt. And I didn’t like hurting any more than I liked how he hadn’t even tried to call or text me. In fact, it pissed me off.

I stomped into my bedroom and dressed in the first thing I found on the floor. Yeah, the floor. Pissed-off people don’t stop for a nice shower and a loofah scrub. Nope, they clomp down stairwells, yank open doors, and send hostile glares at everyone who crosses their path. Well, at least that was how I handled it. When I sailed into Market Café and ordered a pumpkin latte, I lost some of my angsty thunder.

But standing at the counter, I worked myself back up to a full steam.

And then I saw him.

I grabbed my latte, flew out the door, and called out, “Brandon.”

He froze but didn't turn around.

When I stood in front of him, his haggard expression shocked me silent of every angry word I’d been prepared to spew. “Jesus, are you okay?” I reached out to touch his arm, but he jerked back before I could make contact.

It hurt. I hated it. But the man before me didn’t look like he’d been unaffected by recent events. It gave me the courage to push.

“Um, can we talk? We can go to my place.”

His head was shaking before I finished. So I pushed some more. “Please, Brandon.”

Without a word, or even meeting my gaze, he turned, crossed the street, and headed toward Clique. I rushed to catch up but wisely kept quiet until I led us inside to my apartment.

He took up a spot on the wall near the door and looked at me silently.

And so I explained. And he listened.

But when I was done, he simply asked, “Is that all?”

Is that all?
Like it wasn’t enough. As though my request for an acquittal had been denied. I needed to rattle his stoic countenance. “Okay, I get it. You’re not perfect.” If I had thought he was perfect before, he was certainly clearing up my misapprehension.

For the first time since entering the apartment, his expression contained something other than passive disinterest. “What?”

Since I finally had his attention, I just kept talking. “I understand why you were jealous, but it wasn’t what it looked like. You wouldn’t listen. And the way you just walked away, like I didn’t matter to you. It fucking hurt, Brandon.”

“You don’t think it hurt me to walk in and find you in the middle of their make-out session?” he countered heatedly.

I sighed. “I’m sure it did, and I’m sorry for that. I was too tired to see straight, and they took me off guard when they closed in on me. They didn’t put a hand on me, and I was edging out when you came in,” I explained again.

His mutinous expression remained firm. This was getting us nowhere.

“I want to be with you, Brandon. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “But if you can’t believe that….” I shrugged. “These guys are people I’m working with in a professional capacity. Yes, they’re attractive, but their appearance shouldn’t make me less deserving of your trust.”

When he still said nothing, I nodded sadly to myself, stepped around him, and quietly opened the door for him to leave.

He didn’t move a muscle, and I was glad. I didn’t want to watch him walk away again. So I lowered my head and closed my eyes.

I heard the floor creak, followed by an explosion of movement accompanied by a guttural snarl, and the slamming of the door. The next thing I knew, he had me pinned to the wall.

He crouched down to make eye contact and said in a hoarse whisper, “I imagined all sorts of things.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“You could have called me.”

“I’m stubborn.” He gave a broken chuckle. “Instead I walked along this street a dozen times yesterday and today.”

Hearing that went a long way to easing the hurt. I leaned up, nipped his beard, and smiled at the resulting grumble. “I’m going to have a bald spot on my chin if you keep doing that.”

Looking up at his face, I noted again the exhaustion etched around his eyes. It took a little doing, but I managed to get us both stripped to our shorts and into bed. When I climbed in beside him, he pulled me close and was asleep within moments.

***

“Adam, babe, wake up.”

I tried to shoo him away. “No. We need more sleep.”

“Wake up.”

I became fully and beautifully aware courtesy of the fierce streaks of pleasure emanating from my cock. “Ugh.” My eyes shot open; the room was so dark I couldn’t see, but I sure as hell could feel and hear. The slick slushing sound of my dick being worked over and rapidly stroked in a tight, heavily-lubed fist… and released. “Keep going.”

Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, release.

“God, I’m ready to come.”

“Nope, you’ve gotta wake up.”

I slapped the mattress on either side of my hip. “I’m up.” I thrust my hips to illustrate just how
up
I was.

Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke, release.

Grabbing his arm and wrapping my leg around his hip was enough to tip him onto me. But not enough to keep him from regaining his footing, so I wrapped my arms and legs around him in an effort to keep him right where I wanted him.

He shifted, palmed my naked ass, and stood. Gah, the way the muscles of his back and butt rippled and flexed was sexy as fuck.

“Where’re we going?” I asked, confused. But not so confused that it interrupted my grind against his abdomen.

He nuzzled my neck and murmured against my skin. “Not far.”

“Ack.” I jolted and tightened my grip around his neck trying to arch away from the cold wall against my back. “Dude! You woke me up so I could freeze to death?”

Brandon adjusted his grip and widened his stance. “I’m gonna fuck you against the wall.”

I sucked in a shocked breath only to release a keening cry a second later when two slick fingers entered my ass. “Yesss. Do it.”

He worked me with those fingers, but I was too needy for more buildup. “You’ve gotta fuck me now.” He tapped my gland, and I shouted, “Jesus Christ, hurry the fuck up before something else gets in the way.” I mean, really, this fuck was way past due and my ass was ready to collect.

And then I felt his condom-covered cock enter me, in one long glide. My head banged against the wall. The stretch stung like hell. When it eased, I flexed my channel and leaned forward to nip his bearded jaw.

He growled, captured my bottom lip between his teeth, and set an urgent pace. But I needed more. I dropped my hand to stroke my cock and began countering each of his thrusts.

“Fuck. Put me down… down.” The second he released me, I turned to the wall and presented him clear access to my ass.

And he took it. His bruising grip dug into my hips, lifting me to my toes with each deep lunge. I braced myself against the wall on my forearm, using my other hand to stoke my leaking cock in time with each slam of his hips.

So close.

His rhythm faltered and he curled along my spine, resting his jaw against my ear. The sounds he made were pure animalistic heat. And it pushed me closer to the edge. He sank deep and whispered slow and reverent, “I’m coming in you.”

I stilled my fist, and with my eyes closed, held my breath. And I felt it. His dick pulsed deep in my ass, tipping me into my own blinding release.

***

We woke up a few hours later and cuddled in bed, touching each other and talking. For once we had no pressing engagements; we were tucked away from the world and I loved it.

A need for coffee was what ultimately compelled us to get up and shower. As I pulled on my socks, I noticed an area on the wall that needed wiping down. Which reminded me. “Brandon.”

“Hmm?” he peeked out of the bathroom while brushing his teeth.

“What made you wake me up?”

His back straightened and he shot me a foamy toothpaste grin, speaking in garbled gibberish I had no hope of deciphering.

“Yeah, no. Finish brushing your teeth, then tell me.”

A minute later he stood in the doorway, his hands crammed in his jean pockets. “I was thinking about how things could have gone differently. My communication skills are questionable, and I guess I can be pretty stubborn.” He scratched his beard and shifted feet. “If you hadn’t chased me down and made me hear what you were saying, and actually think about it… would we be here?” He hesitated and looked at his hands.

“I think so.”

He shot me a startled look. “Why would you think that?”

I stood and walked over to him and gave him a hug. “How many times had you walked Market Street?” His blush made me smile. “There you have it,” I said happily.

“I still think I made the right choice.”

Chuckling, I asked, “What choice?”

“To stake my claim,” he answered in a but-of-course tone.

I gave a long suffering sigh. “How?”

His smile was altogether too pleased for words. “I fucked you up against the wall.” He hummed. “Forever and ever. All mine.”

That might be long enough.

***

“I heard your new hire has taken Clique by storm.” I briefly glanced to where Brandon stood on a boulder a half-dozen steps in front of me.

“Who’d you hear that from?” I asked while continuing to search for the cleverly hidden cache rumored to be nearby. Thus far my stomping around hadn’t unearthed it. My boots, however, had found plenty. They were heavy as hell with the thick clumps of mud and twigs caked everywhere. Brandon had warned me, so griping about it was out of the question. The December weather had been all over the place. Heavy snow, followed by mild temps and the ugly, muddy aftermath of a sudden thaw.