Who We Are (The Seafare Chronicles 2)

“You know,” I say as I answer the phone and head up the stairs, “it was cute the first four hundred times you did it, now I just really hate that song.”

“Is that so?” he growls in my ear. Uh-oh. Either something’s wrong or something is very right.

“Uh-huh,” I say carefully. “So… what’s up with you?”

“Where are you?” Otter asks me.

“In the bathroom,” I tell him, obviously not checking my hairline in the mirror. “How’s work going?”

“I didn’t call you to talk about work,” he snaps at me. “Where’s the Kid?”

“In the kitchen with his friend Dominic. Dude, he’s not imaginary, but you should totally see him. He’s got to be like the biggest fifteen-year-old I’ve ever se—”

“Later,” Otter says, his voice low. “Our bathroom?”

“Well, yeah, I’m not going to—”

“Lock the door.”

Without even thinking about it, I do. The lock clicks into place, and I glance at myself in the mirror again, seeing that my neck is flushed, my eyes a little wider than they were just a moment before. I know this voice now, this one that’s breathing heavily into my ear. I can’t believe what the fuck we’re about to do, especially given the fact the Kid and Dominic are literally like twenty feet away. This is so fucking wrong.

“You know,” Otter says heatedly, “when I left you this morning, you looked so fucking edible curled up in the blankets. I was awake awhile before the alarm went off, just watching you, wondering if I should wake you up.”

“Yeah?” I manage to say, my dick already half-hard, pressing against my sweats. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was in no mood to be gentle with you,” he grumbles. “And you looked like you needed gentle.”

Oh fuck. “I don’t always need it gentle,” I tell him as quietly as I can.

“You know you can….”

“Can what, Bear?” Otter asks. “What can I do?”

I swallow past the desire lodged in my throat. “Whatever.”

He laughs, and it sounds harsh in my ear, raking against my skin, causing me to shudder. Say what you want about the man, but he knows exactly what buttons to push. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells me. “You hard yet?”

“Fuck you,” I snarl at him. “You know I am.”

“Grab your dick, but don’t jerk off.”

Rational thought tries to break in for a moment, and I curse myself for allowing it. “Aren’t y

ou at work?” I ask him as I thrust my hand down the front of my sweats, squeezing my cock but not pulling on it. “People can hear you!” I bite back the moan threatening to burst out.

“Only one in the studio today. Where’s your hand?”

“Where do you think? We can’t do this, Otter. The Kid and Dominic are in the kitchen! They’ll fucking hear me.”

“Then you better shut up and let me talk, don’t you think? But, I do have to say I like the little noises you make. There’s times when I’ve got you spread out in front of me, your face pressed into the pillow, that hot ass of yours sticking straight up into the air.” His voice drops again. “Those are the times I just want to break you in half. You should see yourself like that.

Like the only thing you want is me. Like the only thing you see is me. God, how you fucking moan my name.” He groans softly. “Words can’t do it justice, Bear. Maybe next time I’ll record it so you can see exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Ah… Jesus.” This isn’t something we do very often, the dirty talk, the words I can barely get out, knowing how stupid I sound when I say them.

But Otter must have his master’s in smut because the words that pour out of his mouth sometimes are not something that I would ever hope to hear repeated outside the bedroom. But he knows exactly what kind of an effect it has on me, the bastard. Lately, it’s turned into a sort of game, to see who comes first. The score is currently eight to zero. Yeah, who do you think has eight?

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks me, his breath quickening. “Want to make a movie with me, Bear? We could play it later, when I’m fucking you again, so you can watch yourself getting fucked. See what you look like when I’m buried in your ass?”