I let out a nervous laugh. “The police,” I mutter.
Two officers just left the suite and despite Mitch’s attempts to keep me in the dark, I found out exactly what was left for me in my dressing room. When I heard what it was I threw up until everything in my stomach was gone and then continued dry heaving for another fifteen minutes.
My fingers rub across the smooth surface of my stone, turning it over in my pocket, praying it will help bring me some sort of peace. No such luck.
“Come here.” Mitch holds out a hand, urging me to join him on the sofa. “Everything’s going—”
“Mitch, don’t you dare fucking tell me it’s going to be all right!” I snap.
He holds his hands up in defeat. “I’m not—”
“That sick fuck had photos of you! Of us! Private photos, Mitch!” I turn on my heel and continue pacing, squeezing the stone tightly in my palm. “What he left…” A sob wrenches its way free.
“I understand.”
“You don’t fucking understand how I feel! This might be a day’s work for you, Mitch, but having someone I care about targeted by a sick…” I inhale sharply, the pain like a knife between my ribs. “He scratched out your face and the…the… Mitch, I can’t.” My voice cracks, my battered heart ready to rip out of my chest.
Strong arms wrap around me and I’m pressed against a warm body. I accept the comfort willingly, sagging into Mitch.
“Come on. Let’s go to bed. It’s late.”
I nod into his shirt and breathe in deep, letting his familiar scent calm the pulse that’s hammering behind my ears. In his embrace I feel safe, despite the terror gnawing at the edges of my mind. Without Mitch, there’s no way I could get through this.
Mitch leads me into the bathroom, slowly removing each piece of clothing until I’m naked. He sheds his own clothes and turns on the shower. Once it’s ready, Mitch pulls me under the spray, gathering me in his arms. It’s not sexual at all. His actions are caring and tender and… if I let my thoughts go there, I’d say loving.
Mitch soaps up his hands and gently washes every part of my body. He massages my scalp with strong fingers until my muscles go limp then thoroughly rinses the shampoo from my hair. After he does the same for himself, I pull him to me and lick the droplets of water from his soft lips. I raise my hand and brush my thumb across the roughness of his throat.
“Mitch—” My heart is beating so fast it feels as if it might break right out of my chest. The feelings coursing through me are scary, and so powerful they’re nearly overwhelming. I don’t want to screw this up, ruin what we have, but I need him. I need more. “I want… I mean, I was wondering if you’d…” Those clear, grey eyes lock onto mine, the mirrored emotions in them giving me the strength to follow through. “I need you, Mitch. Will you fuck me?”
I hear Mitch’s breath hitch, and the pupils of his eyes dilate as I watch. His huge cock twitches against my hip.
“It’s a lot to ask, I know. If you’re not ready—”
Mitch takes my face in his hands and kisses me passionately. “I… I want to, but…” His eyes dart off to the side and color spreads up his neck to his cheeks. Without looking at me, he continues. “I kind of always imagined myself as…” He stops, swallowing loudly.
“As what, Mitch? Tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen. I just need to feel close to you.”
Those steely eyes meet mine, still nervous but suddenly determined. “I want you to fuck me.”
Holy shit. Johnny Utah is a bottom. I think I just died and went to heaven.
Chapter 11
Mitch
“Are you sure?” Gavin asks.
He is clearly excited by the idea of fucking me. The man’s cock turned to granite when I admitted what I wanted, what I’ve been fantasizing about for a decade. But Gavin is worried about me having regrets.
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s how I always picture myself in, ummmm…” Shit this is embarrassing. “I’ve used, you know, toys and stuff before.”
“I understand,” he murmurs, thankfully not making me describe my fantasies in detail or how I’ve used plugs and dildos to get myself off.
Gavin reaches back and turns off the water. He grabs a towel and dries me off before doing the same for himself. I hesitate when he turns to leave the bathroom, suddenly thrumming with nerves.
“Mitch?” Gavin holds out a hand. It’s his turn to comfort me. He wears the role well, kind, protective, gentle. I never knew that I would want to be taken care of. That it would actually turn me on. “I won’t hurt you.”
My hand shaking, I put it in Gavin’s. “I trust you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. Whether it’s desire or nerves or plain old stress from everything swirling around us right now I’m not sure. I only know that this feels right.