†† Ellis ††

"Why the fuck was I here again?" I muttered to myself, staring at the weird old building.

Risk... LA.

It looked different like I was seeing it for the first time when in fact I'd been here the day before to meet Jason.

The question was philosophical and one I'd been pondering since I stepped out of the Uber fifteen minutes ago.

My phone buzzed and I dipped into my pocket. It was from Sasha. Dad didn't have a heart attack. Call you later, it read, and Miss you.

That made me smile.

Another came through. And don't use your fists—your mouth's much better for this. 😉

That made me laugh.

Having fucked her another two times—what can I say, I'm just too irresistible to resist. Sasha had tried to sneak me out of her house.

It was a bust.

We ran slap-bang into her dad.

I'd wanted to come clean, no point in beating around that crazy bush, that, and it was pretty obvious what we'd been doing, Sasha looked well fucked... hell, we both did.

He wasn't happy and the glare he shot me should have planted me six feet under, however, he also looked confused.

This wasn't surprising, considering that my usual interactions with his daughter resembled a reality TV showdown, complete with bitchy comments and synchronised scowls.

On the upside. Sasha had handled it better than I thought fluttering her eyelashes and dropping a kiss on his cheek before ushering me past me him and out the front door.

And just to make sure he got the memo because he was watching through the open doorway, I wouldn't let her go back inside till I'd thoroughly kissed her.

Everyone including my family would know by dinner time.

Suited me just fine. I wanted to tell-every-fucking-one.

So, from there I headed home, showered and got in another Uber and here I was.

Was it crazy?

That was yet to be decided.

But like I'd told Sasha, and she had agreed and been supportive, I needed to figure my shit out. The last few weeks, he had become this relentless obsession in my head, like a splinter that you just couldn't remove.

And who knows, I might come face to face with him and feel ... nothing now.

And I was good with that.

I looked up at the building as I gawked at the intricate stonework, trying to see past the grandeur of the place. It looked more like a gothic mansion... but I'd heard this place was once owned by Marilyn Manson.

I slid my hands into my pockets.

Well, you're here now, Asshole.

Now I was actually here, I hadn't thought this through. Not only that, I wasn't even a member and they might tell me to fuck off. That, and he might not even be here, I just assumed he kept an apartment here as he did in London, Paris and Amsterdam.

My dick twitched when Amsterdam flashed through my head.

Not the time.

I pressed the intercom expecting to hear a voice but the huge double door cracked open to reveal a black-suited bouncer with oil-slicked hair. His body jammed the doorway like a mountain while his face crossed somewhere between a bulldog and a bull.

His eyes froze me to the spot. His pupils almost seemed black but had a cocky glint in them.

"Hey, man, I'm looking for—"

"Ellis Jenson?" he cut me off, his mouth twisting into a cutting grin.

My forehead creased. "Yeah."

He opened the door fully. "Mr Coles is expecting you."

Well, that was unexpected. Or maybe it wasn't. Zack was always a step ahead. Knew what I was thinking before I did.

He stepped back. "Take the elevator, top floor, he's left the door open and he asked you to wait if he's not there."

Riding up in the elevator oddly I felt calm and ran through what I wanted to say. As the elevator dinged. I stepped out and looked left and saw a door open a crack. Heading that way I pushed it open and peered inside, "Zack?"

No answer.

I walked in. Jesus, it was like stepping into the London apartment, although I shouldn't be surprised the Amsterdam place was the same.

The man was a fucking anomaly.

I jumped when I heard, "Ellis."

I flipped around and there he was with his perma-scowl and general leave me the fuck alone attitude.

Weirdly those were things I stayed away from, but now face to face with him again it suddenly seemed to be everything I wanted.

So much for hoping I felt nothing.

Maybe I was the anomaly here?

"You don't have to stand there. Go in." His tone was at once soothing and commanding.

And fuck me if I didn't like it too.

Zack took a step closer, then another until I swore I could feel the heat of his body. I fought the urge to move back because I was the one instating this visit. I also made sure my face stayed blank.

He cocked his head then walked past me and I caught a whiff... he smelled familiar but there was an underlying smell, something new. Strawberry... which reminded me of Sasha.

And now my eyes wandered over him. His hair was damp and stuck to the back of his neckline. He was wearing Gucci joggers and a plain black tee and in his hand was a small towel and water bottle.

He'd been working out.

How the hell he managed to make it look good baffled me.

Following him into the main room. "Drink?" he offered,

"You were expecting me?"

He turned around. "I wasn't sure if you'd come." He paused, one eyebrow lifting. "But I'm also surprised fists aren't flying."

In the full light, I could see his face. Sasha had mentioned her dad had worked him over and yeah, I could see that now. Annoyingly it didn't even dent his attraction. Fucker wore his bruises like a badge of honour. But what was more concerning was the stubble lining that rock-hard jaw had my fingers itching to touch.  It was rare for me to consider any man beautiful, much less one so masculine, but that was Zackary Coles. "Looks like someone beat me to it."

"It was well deserved." He nodded and asked again. "Would you like something to drink?" he waved his hand toward the kitchen. "Anything but alcohol."

I rolled back on my heels, shrugging. "I don't want a drink." This wasn't a social visit. "It was a dick move what you did to Sasha."

"It was." He dropped the bottle and towel onto his coffee table and looked up. "I'm glad you came. You look good."

The sudden switch in conversation unnerved me and warmth flared in my cheeks, and I knew even without access to a mirror that my face had colour bleeding right across it.

"I owe you an apology and an explanation, therefore we need to have a conversation before we move forward. I would like you to sit down so we can talk."

His tone wasn't exactly hard, but it left no room to disobey.

But move forward?

Did I want that?

I knew Sasha would most likely be swayed by this fuckers charm. She may be saying no right now... but her eyes didn't lie. She still wanted him.

A part of me wanted to say no, but curiosity crawled through me.

My boots trod softly over the rug as I made my way to his sofa, sitting my ass down and tipping my chin up I met his cautious gaze with one of my own and tried to keep my tone unaffected. Bored. "Sasha's already told me the highlights. Pretty fucked up past you got there."

Zack didn't move to sit or react to my tone. He remained standing his posture confident as ever, but I didn't miss the subtle sign of unease, the brief lowering of his eyes. The swallow that made his Adams bob and the slow intake of breath.

Perhaps not as inhuman as I thought.

"I have a past." Zack began, his voice strong and steady. "I'm not proud of it and I won't deny I'm a selfish bastard and unscrupulous in getting what I want."

Blunt maybe, but it didn't come as a shock.

"And I won't stand here and lie telling you I'm sorry for any of it," he said matter of factly.

I scoffed. "If this is an apology, it's pretty fucking shit so far."

I wasn't even sure 'sorry' was in his vocabulary, and the thought stoked a sudden rise of anger, raw and unfettered as I remembered the extent of his manipulation and I'd been part of his sick game.

"You have every right to be angry with me," he said, stretching his arms out to his sides. "If you need to vent it physically. I won't stop you... this time."

It was tempting, however, everything was a tangled mess—my mind was a tornado of opposing thoughts. So much shit had happened—was still happening. I couldn't get a grip on it, on myself.

But I did have a question. "Why—why me?" I hadn't stuck around to hear his answer back in London.

He lowered his arms, meeting my gaze. "It's pretty simple, I wanted you, Ellis. But I didn't use Sasha and I never intended to hurt either of you." He let out a sigh. "I'm sorry for not being upfront from the start."

My skin prickled with goosebumps hearing that and give him his due, it was evident this wasn't easy for him to admit and I noted the sincerity in his tone.

Or was that an act too?

Zack was a man with many faces. Charming. Arrogant. Manipulative. Dominant and fickle and most likely even more that I'd not seen yet.

Which one was the real him?

But the truth I had to face had nothing to do with him if I was being honest with myself. Zack didn't force me into any of it.

From sucking his dick to being fucked by the man. I'd liked it. Wanted it.

And damn it all to hell... because I still wanted it.

I wanted him.

And that was something I would tuck away in the mental box marked CRAZY SHIT so I could pull it out and deal with later.

But that was later. Let's just deal with one thing at a time. "So back to you being a dick," I snarked. "Sasha showed me the video."

Ignoring my caustic remark he asked, "How is she?"

He genuinely seemed concerned and I noted as I'd done before how his eyes softened whenever he thought about Sasha. 

"If you think it's as easy as showing her that video—" I hissed through my teeth, shaking my head. "—will make everything go back to the way it was, it won't."

I didn't stop there. "You preached non-stop about trust in this game. Respect. And you go and do something as fucked up as that."

Another nod from him.

"I'm not sure she can forgive that."

I was lying. Sasha was too forgiving—hell, she forgave me.

"I don't expect forgiveness."

"Then what do you expect?"

"I don't know."

This was new. Zack had a plan for everything.

So I asked. "What do you expect from me?"

He went quiet.

I guess we were done here. I pushed to stand. "Well, thanks for the apology, great talk. I'll see myself out."

I started to head out.

"Ellis, wait." He grabbed my arm to stop me.

I turned around and matched his scowl with one of my own.

"How about we start with the truth, Ellis," he suggested.

"The Truth?"

"Why are you here, Ellis?" His eyes narrowed. "You didn't just come to tell me I was a dick... you wanted something from me."

I tried to brush him off but his hand held firm.

Now it was my turn to stay quiet.

I should tell him what I want, that I want to explore this thing between us, but instead— "I never should have come here. This is fucked up, more fucked up than—" He cut off my words with his mouth, smashing into mine.

Grabbing onto his neck, I devoured his touch, his mouth, the warm rough sensation of his tongue as it swept past my lips. A low groan shuddered through me as I latched onto him, feeling him fist my tee-shirt in his hand.

He stopped but only moved a fraction, his lips still brushing mine as we shared breaths. "Do obsession and possession go hand in hand?"

Was I supposed to answer that when my head felt barely connected to my shoulders?

"Is it supposed to make you feel as if you would lose your fucking mind over someone? That's what you and Sasha do, fuck with my head."

"And what—you don't think you fuck with ours?"

"Then what do you want from me, Ellis? Give me your truth."

I felt his cock hardening and I moved on instinct to rub against it with my own cock jumping in response. Moving back a fraction so I could see him. "I want to hate you, but I don't. I want this."

It was safe to say I wasn't waiting to deal with my crazy shit later.  It was full steam ahead.

I brought my mouth closer to his until I felt the heat of his lips. He pressed back, his tongue teasing until I granted him access. His hand reached for my jeans, gripping my cock through the denim. "You should hate me," he muttered as he flipped the button and quickly pulled down the zipper and his other hand pushed my jeans down as he slipped inside my briefs, wrapping his hand around me and sending my mind far away where it couldn't think, only feel. "I want everything from you. Your control. Loyalty... the way you look at Sasha."

Before all the shit that went down I was halfway ready to give him everything, completely submit because as much as I wanted to be in control with Sasha. I wanted to drop to my knees for this man.

And did I understand that? Hell no.

His other hand pushed down my underwear.

The harder I squeezed his neck, the tighter his fist gripped my dick. Pulling back from our kiss, he glanced down at what he was doing, and I watched as he spat on the head, using it as lube as he stroked me, fast.

But before this went any further, I had demands too. This was a defining moment, one I wouldn't fuck up.

"I'm never going to be just one of your boys," I said, grabbing his dick through the material, but he flicked my hand away.

Keeping up his assault on my cock, my breathing started to stutter. Just when I felt my balls tightening and drawing up, Zack grabbed me by the throat and stared me in the eye. "You've never been that to me."

I gasped for breath, my eyes rounding. "Prove it."

He slowed stroked and my pending explosion receded and even though I wanted him to take my control, he's got to show me it can go both ways.

That I'm not the only one to lose control and be vulnerable.

I moved my hand to his shoulder and shoved.

He froze and I reached down and swatted his hand off my dick and wrapped my hand around the steely length and slowly palmed it.

Realisation dawned and he dropped to his knees and stared straight ahead at my dark red, engorged cock in front of him.

"Open up," I muttered, and he looked up at me, with suspicion obvious in his eyes.

Then fuck me, he did. Slowly he let his tongue roll out of his open mouth, letting me thump the head of my dick against the heat of it.

"Show me I mean more," I demanded as I squeezed the tip and spread the small beads of pre-cum against the surface. Then, I fed him my cock, and he closed his lips around me like he's been dying to do it again.

It was a fucking rush and I nearly came on the spot.

Yeah, he'd sucked my cock in Amsterdam but that was on his terms.

This right now was on my terms.

I hit the back of his throat as he swallowed my cock, but he didn't let up. He started bobbing up and down almost angrily, but he wouldn't look up at me anymore, practically suffocating himself. When his eyes started to water, I ran my hands through his damp hair, pulling his head back so he had to look up at me.

For a brief moment, as my blues met his dark storming one, it was just him and me. No one else. Nothing else mattered.

And my heart exploded into a rapid beat against my ribs and euphoria blazed through my veins with sparks running up and down my dick.

The man could suck dick, I'd give him that. He wasn't holding anything back. "Those tears tell me all I need to know."

With my hands buried in his hair, I fucked his mouth, five or six hard strokes until I shot down the back of his throat.

When he pulled away, he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, staring blankly ahead as I stuffed myself back into my jeans.

Oppressive silence descended like an unpleasant visitor. Slowly, he rose to his feet, glaring at me with something new. Not anger. Not hate.

Respect.

Trust.

And that look hacked at my heart with a rust-edged knife.

It didn't fix everything. But it was a start.