Page 59 of Give Me What You Will

“You already are, baby.”

He was and they both knew it. He had wanted this for years. To be claimed by this man. To crawl, begging, over hot coals to be possessed by him.

Frankie shifted nervously again, looking uncertain. “You—uh, wanna come back up? Watch the fight?”

Sam wordlessly shook his head. There was no way in hell he was going to be ignored again—not after watching him nuzzle and kiss his fucking dick.

Frankie nodded, fingers twitching. “Come back to my place, then.”

He stared, lips parting in stunned silence.

“You left Papi’s box at my place.”

Shit.

Sam raked a hand over his tired face. “Spare key still in that hide-a-key rock?”

Frankie’s lips turned upward, licking his lower lip. “Yeah. What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Around 10.”

Frankie nodded, covering the passing emotion by scrubbing a hand over his mouth and glancing up the stairwell. “I shouldn’t be longer than a couple more hours.”

He couldn’t ignore the vulnerability in his eyes and hesitated, swallowing hard and trying to look somewhat in control of his conflicted emotions. Going back to Frankie’s meant only one thing. And for the first time all evening, he suddenly knew exactly what he needed to do.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam replied.

“Yeah?” Frankie asked hopefully.

“I said I would.”

Frankie reached out, cupping the side of his face, “Good. See you in a couple of hours.”

He watched him race up the stairs back to the arena, wondering how the hell he was supposed to survive this man.

I can’t.

And I never will.

That’s why I have to leave.

Chapter 10

Frankie practically jumped the last step of his front porch, his knee only giving him a minor protest, which he promptly ignored due to the thrill of victory. Ryan had won his fight, and it had been glorious. So incredible in fact, that it felt like Frankie had won. He never thought anything could come close to winning in the arena, but watching Ryan’s gloved hand held up by the referee and his name announced over the stadium's loudspeakers, followed by thousands of cheers, Frankie was transported, standing right next to Ryan and feeling it all.

And the only person he wanted to celebrate with was Sammy.

He wanted to share this moment with him, but he knew he was waiting for him, and fuck, he couldn’t get home fast enough. He drove recklessly through downtown Boston, heart racing the whole time, knowing that Sammy was there.

Frankie noticed the darkness of his front porch as he reached for the handle. It was still locked. The smile on his lips slipped, and he unlocked it quickly, stepping inside. The house was dark.

“Sammy?”

No answer. The house was still.

No.

It took him all of five seconds to sweep the house and find it empty. Sammy wasn’t there.