Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brick
By the time I was done having my way with Ezra and Irving, they were lying on the bed in a sweaty, sticky, exhausted pile. It was already getting dark out, and the streetlights of the parking lot cast an eerie glow over the motel room while the smell of men lingered in the air.
I hadn’t expected to lose track of time that way. I thought I would just tie them up, have a little fun, and say our goodbyes. But then I had seen the way Ezra looked at Irving and the way Irving looked at Ezra. Then I had remembered the sassy attitude Ezra brought, almost like he was trying to push me into disciplining him harder, and the eager need to please that seemed to light up Irving’s face.
I had touched them and remembered how good that touch felt.
I ran my hand through my sweaty hair, trying to gather my composure as I stared down at the geeky guys. After Irving sprayed his second load, I finally untied their hands, freeing the two of them and allowing them to stroke each other’s cheeks and hold each other again. Still stripped down to their underwear, they curled up close on the scratchy sheets, and I watched as their chests rose and fell with steady, tired breath.
They were drifting to sleep already. That shouldn’t have surprised me. I had driven them both into heights of pleasure that surprised even me, and Irving had risen to the occasion in more ways than one, taking a pounding that would have exhausted any guy I had been with before. Now that their eyes had floated shut and the night arrived, I didn’t have the heart to wake them.
Fuck it, I thought. I could leave in the morning, and they could use a good night’s rest.
If I were going to stick around another night, though, I thought I deserved a little treat. It had been enough days that I had shaken off the bender and the hangover that followed it, and there was nothing like a good, cold beer to follow a day of intense fucking. Pulling my jeans and shirt back on, I grabbed my wallet, then snuck out of the room, making sure to close the door gently behind me.
No need to wake those sleeping beauties. Hell, they might even expect more from me if I did, and my dick was sore enough for the night.
There was a little liquor store on the corner, a place I had been eyeing since I checked in. Walking across the parking lot to get there, it was the strangest thing, but I got to thinking about that little house in the woods again and the dog I used to fantasize about getting to play with me in the yard.
I hadn’t thought about that place in years, not until Irving had asked me that question at the diner. For a time, though, it used to be all I could think about. Growing up in Philly, my brother raising his fist to me and my mother ignoring me altogether, it had seemed like my escape. I figured that I would get my own place one day and that things could be better there. I wouldn’t have to let anyone else in my life unless they treated me right, and that house would be a guarantee that no one was going to mess with me again. In my house, there would be peace.
But that was just a childhood fantasy, and it wasn’t like I was making enough money to buy my own place anyway. I had indulged in that dream a little when Charlie and I were dating, expanding it to imagine him alongside me and the dog, but sure as shit, it turned to trash when he revealed his true colors.
That was ridiculous of me anyway. Charlie came from money; he didn’t need some guy like me struggling to put together enough pennies to make a mortgage.
Still, it did something to me when Ezra asked that question. People just didn’t ask questions like that of me. They asked me if I had a spare cigarette, and they asked me what I was glaring at, but they didn’t ask me what my dreams were. Dreams were for people living a different life than mine, but I guess Ezra didn’t know that.
I pushed my way into the liquor store, nodding at the guy behind the counter and grabbing a tall can of beer from the back fridge. Some pop music I didn’t recognize was humming over the speakers, and one of the overhead lights kept flickering. Tossing a few bucks on the counter to pay for my drink, I made my way back toward the door, ready to settle into that armchair and snooze off.
When I stepped outside, though, I stopped dead in my tracks. A man emerged from the shadows between two cars right in front of me. He didn’t look like anything special, just a regular guy in a khaki shirt and jeans and with a baseball hat casting a shadow over his face. From the way he stood there, though, I knew immediately what his visit was about.
“Brick,” he said, his voice soft but menacing.
I spit to the pavement. “How’d you find me?”
“If you think you’re good at hiding, you’re wrong.”
My heart was racing in my chest as I thought of Ezra and Irving, back in the motel. Did this guy know I had company? Had he seen them come into the place hours ago or identified who they were? Immediately, my reflexes and instincts kicked in. My hands tightened up into fists, and I felt ready to launch into the guy at the slightest provocation. Trying to take him in full view of the liquor store and motel lobby was a quick ticket to getting arrested, but it was a hell of a lot better than giving him a chance to come across those angels in my room.
It was like I was already feeling the blows from previous fights, landing hard against my body again. On the outside, though, I just kept glaring at the man who had found me, determined not to show him a lick of weakness.
“I don’t want any trouble,” I said. “I only messed up that guy back in Seattle because he came for me.”
The guy chuckled, still standing in the shadows. “You gave him a run for his money. But that’s not why I’m here. You owe Mr. Frisk a good chunk of money, and he is not the type of man who forgets a debt.”
I gritted my teeth, battling down another wave of rage. “I don’t owe him shit.”
“I’m sure you believe that,” he said, holding his hands in the air. “And Mr. Frisk understands that it was your boyfriend who tried to steal from his fight, rather than you. Considering the circumstances, he’s willing to be quite generous, although the disruption of the evening’s activities still came at some financial cost. Not to mention having his bouncers tossed around put a stain on his reputation.”
“Generous,” I said, spitting the word. “I bet.”
“One hundred thousand dollars should repair the damage.”
I actually laughed out loud, thinking about the meager paycheck I had waiting back in the room and the sorry state of my truck. “You think you’re getting that kind of money out of me, you’re delusional.”
“We imagined you would say something like that, which is why Mr. Frisk has sent along an alternative offer.”
