“Get out,” I say, as stern as I can. If there’s one thing Garrett understands, it’s dominance, for better or worse. At least there we can agree on something.
“But I haven’t had my desserts yet,” he says with a smirk.
I shake my head, growling out, “I said get the fuck out, Garrett.”
He looks up at me from between my legs, then back at my cock, ignoring my command.
“No,” he says, grabbing my cock as he starts to stroke me again. Normally, I wouldn’t balk at going another round, evenafter a few drinks—my cock clearly has a mind of its own most days—but tonight, given how I feel, I’m not in the mood. I could use my safeword, but I’ve never had to use one with Garrett. Usually the guy responds to my dom tone like butter melts on a hot skillet.
So why is he acting this way now, tonight? It’s not like him.
Usually when I bust out my dom voice, he has no problem picking up what I throw down. Drunk or not.
But tonight, it’s like he’s decided to be someone else and I don’t like it. This isn’t how we operate.
I grab him by the hair and shove him off me, so hard he rolls over onto the floor with a thud.
He should understand that.
I stand, bending to grasp my pants and underwear and shove my soft, wet cock back into my pants as he growls. He looks up at me from his spot on the floor, his eyes glaring at me with disdain. He’s pissed.
Good, be pissed. Get the fuck out of here.
“Go. Now,” I say, looming over him. He scowls as he gets up, looking up at me. I’ve got a few inches on the guy, but he’s not small by any means. And though he’s not as toned or defined as I am, he’s still a big guy who’s more than capable of throwing me around, and he could if he really wanted to.
For a moment, the brutal tension can be felt between us like a living, breathing thing.
“Greedy fucking asshole,” he bites.
“I said get out. Don’t make memake you,” I growl. Not that I couldn’t take Garrett on, drunk or not, but I really don’t want to get into a brawl with him right now because he’s being an asshole. No means no, but I also know Garrett has a bit of a thing for being told no, so there is a chance that he’s reading my resistance all wrong, but he should know me better than that. He knows if I wanted to start a scene, I’d tell himgreen.I haven’tsaid that word, and he’s not fucking deaf, so I implore his gaze with mine.
“I mean it, Garrett.” I hold his gaze steady, like a challenge. I won’t back down. Not now, not ever.
He rolls his eyes and scoffs before turning away.
“Fuck off, Aaron,” he grunts, giving me a hard shove. I stumble more than I should as he saunters to his clothes and dresses with haste, throwing open the door and slamming it in my face so hard, it echoes through the space. My heart is racing in my chest, my mind a mess.
What just happened?
I make my way to the bed, slowly undressing myself as I go, trying to move on from this fucked up night. I set my alarm for six-thirty before plugging my phone in and tossing it on the nightstand.
When I crash in bed, the darkness welcomes me, and I don’t fight it.
Chapter Seven
Aaron
I wake up feeling tired and sore as shit. My back is killing me, probably from the shitty mattress in this damn room. I don’t normally stay inTempesthotels if I can avoid it, unless Garrett’s around, and now I remember why. Their beds suck.
I stop the blaring alarm with a groan, heading over to the bathroom to take my morning piss and start my day. I’ve got four hours until I have to meet with Jacob. My stomach growls as I start the shower, and I debate grabbing something to eat from the cafe downstairs when I’m done.
The hot water hits my skin, eliciting a deep groan from me. I close my eyes and work the shampoo into my hair, relishing in the feel and the mindfulness of the movement themselves. This is my morning ritual, after all, and it doesn’t change. No matter where I go, at least I have a few constants in my life to keep me sane.
My cock twitches, and I groan with defeat. I’m not in the mood to deal with this bullshit this morning, especially after that little episode last night, which I still feel guilty about. Well, I guess I feel more guilty about my thoughts than I do about Garrett.
I’m aware it’s fucked up to fantasize about a guy you haven’t even met, solely because you saw his picture and heard his voice. It feels like one of those sex line things you call in or those cam boy services where they get on video and tease you, but I know that’s not the case. Far from it.
Besides, Jacob said Foxy’s wasn’t an escort service, that there was no sex involved with this gig, so that makes me feel even more guilty than I should about the fact I literally came in Garrett’s mouth because I was thinking ofhis.
