It started innocently enough: a picture of his coffee, the gym setup. Then it escalated.
I’d be in catering, surrounded by producers, and my phone would buzz. I’d open it to see a photo of him fresh out of the shower, water droplets clinging to the V lines of his hips, the towel hanging dangerously low, implying everything but showing nothing.
Then, three nights ago, the nude came through.
Full frontal. Hard. Unapologetic.
I had choked on my water in the middle of a production meeting, earning a glare from Presley. I thought I was crazy. I thought it was all in my head, but through the many frantic handjobs and touching sessions over the last few weeks, Cal’s cock seemed… bigger. I brushed it off. I figured it was my own inexperience; after all, Cal was the only man I’d ever been with. It wasn’t like I really had a roster of dicks to compare it to.
But right now, looking at this picture saved in my hidden folder, he didn’t just feel bigger in my hand. He looked… bigger. He had always been big, but he was definitely thicker now. He filled out the frame in a way that made my stomach swoop with a volatile mix of lust and genuine intimidation.
Jesus, That looks… You look huge.
Scared?
Honestly? Yeah. You look bigger now. And I haven’t been with a guy since you. I don’t know if I can take that.
The dots bubbled for a long time. When the reply came, a shiver rattled my bones.
You really haven’t been with a guy since me?
No. Never. I told you that already.
Yeah but I didn’t think you were being serious.
I’m going to fucking ruin you. I’m going to wreck you for anyone else.
That text had been living in my brain for seventy-two hours. He was stroking his ego, loving the fact that I was nervous about his size and inexperienced with anyone else, and I was eating it up. He wanted me anxious. He wanted me dreading it just as much as I was craving it.
It was a travel day. We had a short two-hour flight from Detroit to Seattle forShowdown.
I was packing my carry on when Cal let himself in with the spare key. He didn’t say hello. He walked over to the bed where my open suitcase lay, his presence instantly sucking the oxygen out of the room.
He reached for my toiletry bag, but his hand brushed against a bundle of clothes, knocking it to the floor. A ball of black fabric unrolled as it hit the carpet.
Cal froze. He reached down and picked it up.
Itwas an old black hoodie. On the back, in cracked, faded white lettering, it read:NO ONE LIKE US.
Hishoodie. The one he gave me all those years ago. The one I wore when I first went down on him. The one I clung to when I thought my life was over.
Cal held it up, inspecting the fraying cuffs. He didn’t look smug; he looked soft. The hard lines of his face smoothed out, revealing the boy I fell in love with.
“You still travel with this?” he asked quietly.
“It’s comfortable,” I lied, looking away, folding a T shirt aggressively. “I wear it when the AC is too high.”
“You wear it because you missed me,” Cal corrected gently, tossing it back onto the pile of clothes. “Need to wear it sometime. I like seeing you in it. Reminds me of the balcony.”
He turned back to my bag, rummaging through the side pocket. He pulled out a small black velvet bag. He opened it and slid the contents into his palm.
A medium sized black silicone plug.
My face went hot, a flush creeping up my neck. “I… I forgot that was in there.”
It was a total lie. I’d bought it online and tucked it away, waiting for the right moment to tell Cal I had it. But judging by the look in his eyes, I think he’d known it was in there the whole time.
Cal looked at the plug, testing the weight of it, then at me. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face. It wasn’t the soft look from the hoodie. This was hungry, depraved.
