ICOULDN’T PENETRATETHEwalls Mark erected to keep people out. It seemed to me the only person who could affect him was Xavier. I saw the look on his face when he recalled something about his visit and I wasn’t buying that it had anything to do with Xavier moving on and finding happiness. I wanted to believe Mark; hell, once I believed every word that came out of his mouth.
I knew that I was the problem, that he didn’t like the man he saw when he looked at me. I wasn’t sure I could change even if I wanted to. The part of me that wanted Mark for keeps insisted that I change, but it was shouted down by the part that had seen nothing but rejection or backstabbing every day since I left Howard and Dorey’s house. They say hindsight is 20/20 and I knew it to be true because had I known how my life would turn out, I would’ve tried to stay with the Davises and most importantly Mark.
He had changed so much over the years and not just his physical appearance. Sure his dirty blond hair had turned to a medium shade of brown and his body had morphed into a vision of muscular beauty, but the biggest changes were the look in his eyes and the way he carried himself. He no longer had a lost boy look in his light green eyes; instead, I saw a confident man. He walked proud and tall; he made me want to do the same. The one thing that hadn’t changed from the Mark I used to know was the crooked, boyish smile. It might’ve taken me a while to coax it out of him, but I couldn’t help but stop and stare once I did.
All the money in the world couldn’t buy you real friends and it couldn’t buy you love. The Beatles nailed it on the head with their song. All it got you were sycophants, tailcoat riders, and users. Sure, I could vacation anywhere in the world whenever I wanted. I had no problem getting ass and I sure as fuck didn’t have to chase it. A few whispered words and they sought me out. I never cheated, I never lied to them with false promises, and so I didn’t feel guilty when things backfired in their faces. No, I wasn’t a good man and I often reveled in my competition’s misery when I took away their fun. They wanted to know what it was like to be fucked by me and I gladly showed them. End of story.
The game had gotten old long before Jackson set up the lunch with Mark and I felt the stirring of genuine feelings I thought I had buried. In my mind, Mark betrayed me too. His betrayal cut much worse than an awkward father who didn’t know what to do with a sensitive, heartbroken son and did nothing to shield me from the acerbic tongue of his wife and family members. I. Was. Not. Wanted. I was made aware of that fact every single second of my life.
Everyone wanted a piece of me now, except the one man that mattered. Mark found me lacking. I wanted to be a better man and to look into his eyes and see approval, comradery, and longing. I needed Mark to want me as badly as I wanted him, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it. I nearly stopped having sex altogether since he returned and it was making me a miserable man. Jacking off did the trick, but it wasn’t exactly fun. Sex toys spiced things up a bit, but it wasn’t the same as sliding my hard dick into a willing, tight ass.Fuck, I needed to get laid and fast.
I felt weak in that moment as my body shook with frustration. I picked up my phone to make a phone call and a text message from Mark came through. Suddenly, calling a male escort no longer seemed so appealing to me.
Mark: Thank you again. It means a lot that you were waiting at the airport and you’ll be there with me tomorrow.
I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. I appreciated his gratitude, I truly did. I felt it was a step in the right direction of showing him that I wasn’t all bad. Mushy wasn’t my thing, but playful and flirty was.
Me: I can think of fun ways you can show your appreciation. ;)
It took a while for him to respond and I began to think I had made a huge mistake. I worried that I had undone the tiny step forward I’d taken by being at the airport when he arrived home.
Mark: You already helped me out with that too. I’m feeling MUCH better and completely relaxed now.
Son of a bitch! He just confessed to jacking off while thinking about me. So, hedidwant me physically. Well, it was a start and I’d accept it. I just needed to decide how far to push it.
Me: You are a cruel, cruel man. The visual will help me “relax” too.
Mark: Mmmm. Glad I could help. Night.
Me: Goodnight.
My thoughts had turned down a dirty, sexy road where the only thing I could see on the horizon was Mark stretched on his bed as he stroked his cock. I bet he bit his lip to keep from making noises and crying out. Or did he let my name roll off his tongue when he came? Frustration burned hotter and I knew I could make it all go away with one phone call, but it just wouldn’t do. Not anymore. I’d ignore my body’s demands and begin working on winning Mark over. It was a new challenge and one I was definitelyupfor.
I walked into my oversized, lonely house and whistled for the only warm-blooded body I would willingly share my bed with that night. “Frankie girl, where are you? Daddy’s home!” I heard her toenails clicking on the marble floor long before I saw her. I squatted down in preparation of her launching herself at me when she got close. “There’s my girl!”
My five-year-old French bulldog rounded the corner of the family room where she’d apparently been sleeping soundly. Just as I knew she would, she leapt into my arms and I held her against my chest as I rose to my feet. I ran my hands over her shiny, sleek black fur and kissed the top of her head. I was a complete sucker for that dog and I didn’t care who knew it.
Frankie squirmed when she was ready to get down and I could tell that she wanted to play and that it would be awhile before she would be able to settle back down and go to sleep. “I wasn’t gone that long, Frankie girl.” She danced excitedly as I made my way to her basket of toys. I held up each one until she barked her approval at that evening’s choice.
We played for at least an hour and I was ready to drop to sleep where I sat. Frankie was finally ready too, so we headed up to my bedroom and got ready for bed. The little diva even lay on the pillow beside mine and I had a fleeting hope that Frankie would have to learn to move over and make room for Mark someday. Okay, it might’ve been a pipe dream, but it was a happy enough thought to drift asleep on.
I woke the next morning feeling fresh as could be, well not exactly. My dick ached like it had been stuck in a fucking vice for a week, so I had no choice but to take care of business in the shower. What could a man do? Surely not limp around all goddamned day with blue balls. I didn’t mind limping around after a night of hard loving, but a case of blue balls was not acceptable.
I tried to keep the sly grin off my face when Mark arrived at my home the next morning per his usual routine. He would drive over to my house and ride with me into work, except that morning we would be stopping by the police precinct before heading into the office. I kept my dark aviator sunglasses in place so he couldn’t read my expression, but I so easily read his. I saw the guilt and uncertainty in his eyes when we shared a look above the car. I knew he was regretting his drowsy text he sent me the previous night. He was silent and sullen when he slid into the back seat next to me.
I could’ve pushed him right then, I could’ve teased him or pursued him, but I didn’t. Instead, I said, “Don’t be nervous.” I let him think I chalked up his expression and body language to anxiety about meeting with the police. “Duncan Morgansen is a total dick, worse than me,” I added with a playful reproving scowl to lighten the mood, “but, he is the best criminal attorney that money can buy.”
“That is my problem, Mitch, not meeting with the police. I can’t possibly afford an attorney like him.” Mark turned to me wearing a scowl of his own, but his wasn’t the least bit playful. “Don’t you dare tell me I can repay you with sex either. I’m not a whore. Well, I was Uncle Sam’s whore for nearly two decades, but I’m out of that business now. My body, my mind, my soul, belongs to me now. I won’t barter them again for money.”
His words shocked me. My text last night was meant to tease him. I wasn’t really asking him to whore for me as repayment. “Mark, I would never ask that of you and I’m sorry that I gave you that impression. If this is about the text, I was only…”
“It’s not about the text, Mitch. Not really.” He cringed and his face turned a lovely shade of pink. Funny, I wouldn’t think a man like him capable of blushing, but there was the evidence right in front of me. “I started the flexting, not you.”
“Flexting?”
“Flirting and texting,” he explained. “I started it, so I can’t be upset with you when you went there. I know that you really weren’t asking me to whore for you last night, but I felt like we crossed a line and need to step back over it. I need to make my position known that nothing has changed between us.”
He meant that there wasn’t an us and never would there be. God, it hurt more than it should. It hurt so much worse than when I stole my dad’s car and drove to Howard and Dorey’s after being separated from Mark for five months. I missed him with every breath that I took and I had cried myself to sleep many nights during that separation. I was so eager to see him that I didn’t care if my step monster pressed charges and had me hauled away.
