Memories of Saturday night assaulted me, the hot thickness of his cock in my hand, the needy way he whimpered when he came between my thighs. Smith was the perfect submissive, and he didn’t even know it, barely even understood what it meant. He was so touch-starved and needy for attention, giving mine to him had been like pouring water into drought-cracked dirt. Smith had sucked it all up and asked for more, but I worried he wouldn’t know when—or how—to stop himself.
I worriedIdidn’t know how to stop myself.
Scarier still, I didn’t know why I wanted him so much. I’d talked to Damon about it on Sunday, at length, and I hadn’t gotten any closer to an answer. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t anything particularly special about Smith besides everything about him. More concerning, my interest in him, and how that would or would not play out if things between us went further.
It had been easy with Ev to explain that I was some confusing kind of asexual I wasn’t sure there was a label for. Not repulsed but ambivalent. More focused on the pleasure of my partner than my own. Erections—when I managed them—rarely ended in orgasm for me, and I was never the one who had an issue with that. Other men, other partners, they were the ones who viewed my participation…my enjoyment, as a requirement for theirs.
“Pull the bandage off,” Damon had told me on Sunday. “Make sure he knows what he’s getting into with you before he gets into it.”
It was the responsible thing to do. Even if I wasn’t ace, I was a responsible dom and that involved clear communication andconcise boundaries with my partners. Smith deserved that, and so did I.
Swiping across the screen, I read his message, not realizing how much I’d wanted it until it was there.
Smith
I’m afterglow free.
Can I come over?
Licking my lips, I pulled them between my teeth to fight back a smile.
Come over for what?
I want to talk about being something different than I was.
Than I am.
I didn’t want Smith to be anything different, but I was willing to have the conversation with him.
I’m here.
I’ll see you soon.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket so it didn’t turn into an embarrassing kind ofno, you hang upconversation. Turning my attention back to Merrick’s portfolio, I tried to focus on his art, but there wasn’t anything to see I hadn’t already noticed on the first pass. He lived in Hollywood, and he’d been tattooing for seven years. The owner of the shop he’d been at passed, and he didn’t want to work for the guy’s son, so he’d decided to look for something else.
Ink and Ember would be a perfect fit for him and his art, and before I could talk myself out of it, I slid his book toward theedge of the counter, making it my unofficial yes pile. The next book up was a young thing, barely out of an apprenticeship at a shop that wasn’t going to be a good long-term fit for somebody still learning the ropes. Colton was sweet, but he’d been more nervous than I wanted for my shop, so I slid him into a no pile.
At the end of the review, I had four in the yes pile and two in the no pile, and I hated how well Damon knew me. Going from four to two was not going to be easy, and I decided that was a problem for tomorrow-Riggs when the bells on the front door jingled. A gust of cool air whipped into the shop, and I glanced up to find Smith had arrived.
He looked completely different from how I’d seen him last, dressed for work with a pair of khaki pants cuffed at the ankles and a tucked in white button-up. He wore a camel-colored pea coat and white sneakers. Smith looked like the kind of man who didn’t belong anywhere near a tattoo shop, let alone near a man like me.
But he does.
“Hey,” I said, shoving the leatherbound books to the side.
His mouth quirked into a nervous smile as the door swung closed behind him.
“Hi. Do you want me to lock it?”
“Yeah.”
Smith engaged the lock and flipped the sign from open to closed, then approached the pass-thru, his mouth still fighting the smile.
“Can I come back?”
“Always,” I told him before I could think better of it.
He lifted the door and came through, smelling a lot like old houses and pencil lead. He was so close to me, and I wanted to kiss him. Lord, I wanted to kiss him.
