When I wasn’t working to pay my bills or performing for an audience, I performed for Zac. He taught me how to please him, and I became a devoted pupil. Making him happy fulfilled me in a way I’d never felt before, and I couldn’t get enough. He encouraged me to allow my stage persona to bleed further into the rest of my life. “Always be seducing your audience,” he told me. “Look like a rock star, act like one, fuck like one. One day you’ll be one.”
I liked the way he made it sound. Liked the rush of living in a constant state of creative arousal. So, I went with it.
When I began pushing for more progress in my career, he grew frustrated with me. We argued. He confessed he’d called in favours to get me into those clubs, but no one had wanted me back a second time. He said he’d played my music for the people who mattered. They’d been unimpressed. He’d done all he could to keep his promise. I hadn’t made the cut.
Devastated, I begged him to help me. I promised to work harder, play more gigs, write more music, anything. Being a musician was all I’d ever wanted. By then, I had nothing else.
Zac told me about one more contact he could approach. If I impressed this man, it would be a first step down the right road. Like an idiot, I agreed to do whatever it took.
He threw another party the next time the man flew into town. To provide atmosphere, he said. I was nervous and desperate, terrified of letting Zac down. When he kept putting drinks in my hand, I drank them. He offered me one of the blue pills I’d taken that first night, but I refused. I didn’t want to ruin my last shot by being high.
Zac took me to a living area at the back of the house for the meeting. It was quieter, private. He told me to take off my shirt and let down my hair. He kissed me then—fiercely, thoroughly. His hands tangled in my hair before running roughly across my bare skin. He clutched at my arse, rubbing himself against me and biting at my lips until I groaned like the horny fool I was. “That’s better,” he said after releasing me. “Now you’ve got a freshly fucked quality about you.”
I licked my lips. “You could bend me over right now,” I suggested, running my hand over the back of the couch beside us. “Do we have time?”
“I have time.” The voice came from the doorway, and I spun around to face the man Zac had been drinking coffee with the morning after we met. Hunger still burned in his eyes.
Zac moved in behind me, his chest to my back. “Ned, this is Hugh.” As he spoke, he stroked my bare stomach with one hand. “Be a good boy and say hello.”
Hugh strolled over to stand in front of me. “Zac has told me all about you, Ned.” Lifting a hand, he brushed his fingertip against my nipple. I flinched. “I’ve waited a long time to hear you sing.”
Dread clawed its way into my gut. He wasn’t talking about music. “I don’t have my guitar,” I murmured, hoping I had it all wrong.
His chuckle was all the confirmation I needed. “Don’t worry. I know all sorts of ways you can perform for me.”
Yanking free from between them, I glared at Zac. “You want me to fuck him?” The words sounded obscene, and bile stung the back of my throat. “How will that help me?”
Zac’s sigh came with a condescending smile. “You have talent, Ned, but so do thousands of other musicians with your exact skill set.” He cupped my face in his hands. “Hugh can help, but you’ll have to make it worth his while. Sweeten the pot. It’s the way these things go sometimes.”
“But I love you,” I whispered, gripping the front of his shirt.
“I know, but sex and love are different things. You must realise that by now. You’re a grown man, not the same wide-eyed teenager I met.” Zac angled my head down, so he could kiss my forehead. “You can love me and still fuck other people.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want other people. “I only want to be with you.”
His gaze hardened as gentleness morphed into impatience. “Ned, monogamy is a bullshit line fed to you by the mundane masses who can’t be bothered looking for a fresh fuck. You’re better than them.” He yanked me close, his hands roaming over me as he backed me up against the couch. “You’re a greedy boy, Ned. Insatiable. Keeping you all to myself would be selfish.”
Urging me up onto the back of the couch, he spread my legs to stand between them. My whole body shook, and I grabbed on to him to keep from falling. “You love giving it up,” he said in a rough voice, his mouth crowding mine, “and I know people who would line up to satisfy all those little kinks you have inside. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be fucked into submission?” He palmed my dick and I bucked against him, as I always did, as he’d trained me to do. “That’s it, such a good boy,” he crooned, licking my lips. “Forget music, it’s a dead end. Your arse is the goldmine here, and that hungry little hole of yours belongs to me.”
My body may have reacted to Zac’s touch, but his words froze my mind with confusion and fear. He’d never told me to forget music before. He’d expressed frustration at my lack of progress, but he’d never called my career a dead end.
In that moment, I flashed back on all the times he’d put me on display and treated me like a plaything. The times he’d made lewd suggestions about gifting me to others, having me service them while he watched. Yes, the idea got me hot—multiple times—but it was a fantasy. A game we played. I never thought he would try to make it come true.
My gaze strayed to the man watching us from the sidelines. His pants were undone, and he stood there stroking his dick as he waited… for his turn with me.
“This is the anything you said you would do for me.” Zac’s words were harsh in my ear as he undid the button on my jeans and lowered the zipper. “Be a good boy, and I’ll take good care of you.”
“Wait.” I shoved at Zac’s shoulders as I stood, and he fell back a step. I had to get out of there, but they were between me and the door. The only other door led to a bathroom.
“Christ,” Hugh growled. “You said he was ready.”
“He is ready,” Zac argued, holding up a hand. “What the hell, Ned? I’ve invested a lot of time in you. I’ve called in a lot of favours. This is how you repay me?”
Staring at the two of them, I weighed up my options. I was bigger than Zac, but Hugh was bigger than me. It was two against one and I was still half-drunk—as Zac intended me to be. Thank god I hadn’t taken the pill he offered, or I would’ve been fucked. My stomach lurched at the literal truth in that statement.
“I won’t let you down,” I said, forcing the words out. “I drank too much. I need to piss.” Stalking into the bathroom, I locked the door behind me.
There was one small window. We were on the ground floor. I escaped before they thought to stop me.
