Avery
Friday night I pulled my ancient Corolla into the driveway of Graham’s house, which turned out to be a mansion on a lake. It was made of light gray stone with plenty of windows, gas lanterns at the entrance, and a dark red door. No wonder he wasn’t as awed by the Misty Mountain Lodge as I was. His house was probably fancier. I felt so wrong standing at his front door in jeans, a faux retro rainbow shirt, and fuck-me red lipstick. Did I really belong in his world?
Hopefully, after seeing me here, he’d still think I did. I hoisted my bag up on my shoulder and rang the bell. Footsteps approached, and then Graham answered the door wearing a navy pinstriped suit. My mouth dropped open as I forgot everything but how fucking hot he was. I’d thought I remembered how good he’d looked in a tux, how I’d been unable to resist walking over to him when I saw him by the ballroom windows, but my memory had not been doing him justice.
Graham smiled. “Like what you see, boy?”
“Yes, so much.”
“Then get in here.”
I stepped in, and Graham closed the door behind me.
“Put your bag down and turn around.”
I obeyed without thinking, and that felt good, really good, like things were supposed to between us.
I placed my hands on the wall and spread my legs. He stepped behind me and took hold of my hips, pulling them back to let me feel his cock against my ass.
“I’ve missed you, boy.”
“I’ve missed you too, Daddy.”
“I don’t even want to wait to get you upstairs. I just want to fuck you right here.”
“Please,” I whined, fully hard now and ready to beg for him to do exactly what he wanted.
“Don’t move.”
He walked away, and I tried to take slow breaths to calm my racing heart. I wanted this, wanted him to yank my pants down, pull out his cock, and drive in, no prep, no time to undress, just the need to get his dick in me.
I glanced his way when I heard him return. He was carrying a bottle of lotion that I guessed he’d gotten from the downstairs bathroom. “This is going to have to do for lube, boy.”
I nodded. “Fuck me, Daddy. I don’t need to go slow.”
He reached around me to fondle my cock. “I know what my boy needs. He’s a slut for my cock, and he needs it inside him.”
“Yes, God yes.” How did he have me this crazy this fast?
He leaned down and licked at the edge of my ear, drawing a whine from me. “I want to push right into you, make you take it, give it all to you.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Do you remember your safeword?”
“It’s red, Daddy. Please, I want this.”
“I know you do.” He unfastened my pants and pushed them and my briefs over my ass, letting them pool at my ankles.
“Don’t take your hands off the wall. Don’t struggle or try to control this. All I want you to do is offer your hole.”
“Fuck.” How did he know I needed it rough like this? I heard the rustle of fabric and then the slick sound of him greasing his cock up.
He dug his fingers into my ass cheeks and pulled them open. I tensed, expecting it to hurt when he pushed in, but he surprised me by drizzling lotion down my crack.
He smeared it around my entrance with the tip of his cock.
“Brace yourself,” he whispered in my ear, his warm breath tickling me.
I pressed all my fingers into the wall and arched my back, presenting my ass to him.
“Good boy, you know what your daddy needs.”
He teased me again, brushing my hole with his cock. Then he pressed in, not hard but relentlessly, pushing forward, opening me up. I couldn’t help trying to pull away from him. I wanted this badly, but the instinct to fight his invasion was too strong. He slapped my ass.
“Boy, this is my hole, give it to me.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He gripped my hips to hold me in place and pushed in harder.
“Fuck, oh fuck.”
“Relax and open for me, boy.”
“It burns, Daddy.”
“You can take it, boy.” He pulled out, and the sensation was a counter to the pain. But he didn’t wait before driving back in harder than before.
I cried out, writhing in his grip.
He pulled out again and caressed my side. “You’re a good boy. You can do this for me.”
“Yes, Daddy, I’m good. I’ll take it. I’ll take all of it.”
“That’s right, you will.” He drove in until he was all the way in and his body was pressed against mine.
“That’s it. You’re so tight, boy. You’d never think I could fit a dildo in there next to my cock.”
I whimpered. “That felt so good, Daddy.” He reached between us and ran his finger down my crack until he came to the stretched rim of my hole. He pressed against his cock, slipping the tip of his finger inside.
“Fuck. That’s… Fuck.”
“You could take so much more than this,” he said. “You could take my whole hand.”
“Yes, Daddy, I want to.”
He pulled his finger out and took hold of my hips. “But right now, I just want a simple, hard fuck, and that’s what I’m going to have.”
“Please.”
He drove into me, pushing me against the wall, my face pressed into the cool surface. He didn’t slow down as he thrust deep, over and over.
“Don’t come,” he ordered as I was getting near the edge.
“Daddy, I don’t know if I can wait.”
“You can!”
“Please,” I begged as he kept going, hitting my sweet spot just right, lighting me up with pleasure.
“I love your ass, boy. I love how greedy it is for my cock.”
“Yes, Daddy. I love your cock.”
“I’m going to come in you, boy, and then if you’re good, I’m going to suck you off while my cum drips down your legs.”
“Fuck, Daddy. Please. I can’t—”
“You better, because it’s what I want. I like good little boys.”
“I’m good. So good, Daddy.”
“Yes. You. Are.” He punctuated each word with a thrust. Then he drove in hard and shuddered. “Feel that. Feel me coming in you.”
I bit down on my lip and dropped a hand to my cock, squeezing it tight at the base, desperate to hold back my orgasm.
Finally he finished pumping out his release inside me. When he pulled out, I loved the obscene feeling of his cum running out of me and down my legs. “Turn around, boy.”
I did, and Graham sank to his knees and took my cock in his mouth. There was no teasing, just efficient sucking. I was ready to come in seconds. He pulled off and worked me with his hand. “Come for me, boy.”
I cried out, my release hitting almost instantly. My cum coated Graham’s hand, and when I’d finished, he slid his fingers along my thigh, scooping up some of his own cum and then lifting his fingers to my mouth. “Taste us both.”
I groaned, my cock never softening as I sucked my cum and his from his fingers. Then he kissed me and I slid my tongue along his, silently asking him to taste us too.
When he pulled back, he glanced down and saw that I was fully hard again, already needing more. “So needy, such a good, slutty boy.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Thank you for driving here, for taking the day off, for being amazing.”
He drew me into his arms, and when I laid my head on his shoulder, it felt just right. Maybe things would be okay after all.
***
I smiled as everyone else laughed at something Leo had just said. I hadn’t been listening closely. I was too busy watching Graham smiling at his friends, looking so comfortable here. It wasn’t like me to be quiet, even when I was with people I didn’t know. I genuinely liked Leo as well as Max, who was Succumb’s bookkeeper, and Foster, Leo’s assistant manager, but I found myself just listening or watching instead of participating in the conversation.
They weren’t intentionally leaving me out, but most of the conversation centered around stories about the club. Some of which were hilarious, like when one of the servers “tripped” and spilled a pitcher of ice water on a Dom who was acting like an asshole to a sub who had no interest in him. The man had slunk out of the club looking like a drowned rat, his hair matted and flattened. Or another where a new-to-the-scene Max had managed to dismantle a sex swing while nervously toying with it as he negotiated with a Dom. That story had a good ending, though. Max and the Dom ended up together for nearly a year.
I knew I shouldn’t be jealous of Graham and his friends. Of course they had shared history just like I had with Felicity, Sean, and many of the other stylists at Oasis Asheville. But I couldn’t help thinking how Graham had a life here in Charlotte, a good life, that I wasn’t part of. The only way I could ever truly be part of it was if one of us moved, and that wasn’t fair to either of us.
The server came and asked if we wanted another round.
“Yes,” Max said. “It’s on me this time.”
“None for me,” I said. I didn’t want to get drunk even though it might help me stop feeling so hurt. If I was hung over in the morning, I wouldn’t force the conversation that needed to happen between me and Graham.
Graham scooted closer to me and leaned in to whisper. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’ve just got a headache, and I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” That wasn’t a lie. I’d lain awake thinking about seeing Graham again, about how strained things had been the weekend before. “Would you mind if I went on back to your house?”
“I can leave too,” Graham said.
“No, I want you to enjoy this. Stay out however long you want, and we’ll have all day tomorrow.”
“But you drove down here, and—”
“You’ve already made the trip worthwhile.”
Graham grinned, and it made my pulse speed up. He was so gorgeous and caring and good. The thought of not being with him hurt like I was being cut in two, but I needed to do what was right for him. If he was happy here in Charlotte, I couldn’t ask him to move.
You didn’t ask, he offered.
Graham frowned. “I don’t like you leaving on your own.”
“I’ll take a Lyft. It’ll be fine.”
He studied me for a moment and then nodded. “All right. But you text me when you get back to my house. Do you have the spare key I gave you?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I reached into my pocket and held it up. I had asked him to take care of me, and he was trying to do just that.
“Do you two need a room?” Leo asked.
Graham flipped him off as he leaned in to kiss me. Oblivious to the others, I wrapped my arms around his neck and opened for him. When he took possession of my mouth, all my concerns melted.
“Tomorrow I’m going to make sure you remember how to listen to your daddy.”
“Please.” The word came out in a sexy purr.
“Now go. If you have any trouble or need anything, please call me.”
“I will.”
I turned to Leo. “Congratulations again. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do with Thrust.”
“If he runs it like he does Succumb, it will be fantastic,” Foster said.
I nodded. “I’m sure it will be. It was nice meeting you, Foster, and you too, Max.”
“Tell Graham he has to bring you to Succumb sometime,” Max said.
I didn’t respond to that. I simply said, “Have a good rest of your night. I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime.”
Graham stood when I did and insisted on walking me to the door. When my Lyft pulled up, he said, “Go home, take some ibuprofen—it’s in the center drawer in my bathroom—then go to bed, naked.”
“Yes, Daddy.” A moment later, the car whisked me away.
***
I woke early the next morning to the warm feeling of Graham spooning me. I wasn’t sure when he’d gotten in. I had only a vague memory of him kissing my neck as he snuggled against me. I needed to go to the bathroom, so I carefully lifted his arm and slid out from under it. By the time I emptied my bladder and drank some water, I knew I wasn’t likely to fall back asleep. I needed coffee, and while Graham had given me a brief tour of the house the night before, I wanted to explore. Not spy really, just find out what I could learn about him from the things he left out for anyone to see.
I pulled on my sleep pants and headed downstairs. Before going to the kitchen, I checked out the books on the shelf in the living room. There were a lot of biographies, thrillers, mysteries, and a not insignificant collection of Harlequins. The latter made me grin, but I supposed it made sense considering Graham’s affection for romcoms—a confession I’d forced out of him our first day together.
He also had a shelf of colored glassware, enough that he must be at least a semi-serious collector. There were vases, bowls, wine glasses, and what I guessed were dessert cups in red, royal blue, and emerald green. The glass was especially beautiful in the early morning sun. He’d situated the shelf in the perfect place to catch the light coming through the French doors that led to the deck. I’d had no idea about his collection or what he liked to read or anywhere near enough about his life when he wasn’t with me in Asheville.
I stepped into the next room. I’d thought it would be an office, but it wasn’t. A beautiful baby grand piano stood by a bay window, which faced the back yard. Did Graham play? He must. He didn’t strike me as the type who would own a piano if he didn’t.
I crossed the room, drawn to the well-polished instrument. There were a few books on the stand, one filled with waltzes and the other a collection of country dances. I tried to picture Graham playing the piano, reading a biography in his well-lit living room, and searching antique shops for glassware. None of that seemed wrong, but it also wasn’t a side he’d shown me. How well did I know him outside of sex, and how would I ever know much more when we only had weekends and not even all of those?
He’d seemed sincere when he said he was willing to move to Asheville, but after looking at all this and going out with him and his friends, I couldn’t understand why he’d want to leave his life here. There were so many things we needed to talk about. It was easy to kiss him and fall into bed—or against the wall or down on my knees. I wanted to do what he said, be what he needed, and it felt so right, but last weekend had shown us we couldn’t keep things as they were forever.
I brushed my hand over the piano keys, letting some of the high notes tinkle out over the still room. Then I walked into the kitchen. The coffee pot was on the counter and luckily, Graham stored the coffee and filters in the cabinet right above it.
While the coffee brewed, I stepped onto the back deck. The sun was coming up, but it was far from bright yet, and the air, while not quite cool, was far more refreshing than it would be later. I walked down the steps into the yard. A few terraced gardens led to a gravelly area near the lake. The closest garden had a bed of roses that didn’t look too healthy. Some of their leaves were yellowed, and many of them were wilted. As I looked closer, I saw he’d labeled them, and they looked fairly newly planted. When I saw the ones with pale pink and orange variegated blooms, I realized these were some of the varieties he’d shown me as we’d walked in the gardens at the Misty Mountain Lodge the day he’d stuck a remote-controlled plug up my ass.
Graham had told me then that he wanted to do more gardening, that it relaxed him. But he’d ended up spending so many weekends in Asheville he couldn’t have had much time. That must be why the roses looked so sad. If I kept taking him away from home, would I eventually make Graham wilt the way these roses had?