Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) (6 page)

Gallons of alcohol travel through my body, maybe less. My veins carry five whiskey sours, and the other concoctions I ordered. In my hand I hold the crystal that the insane bartender gave me as I left Silver Moon. She sent it with one of the waitresses wrapped inside a napkin. The napkin read:

You’re not alone.

Who gives her the right to send me shit? No one.

I step inside the apartment, my temporary house, and see Matthew right across the room. He sits at the piano. His eyes are closed and his hands move gracefully along the keys. As I shut the door, his eyes open wide, and the music comes to a complete stop. Our gazes lock onto each other and my heart skips a few beats as my dick stirs. I want him so fucking badly.

Shit, that’s not me. That must be the alcohol thinking for me. Acting for me, I think as I make my way to where he sits. I shove that weird crystal inside my pocket and conclude that she was right. I’m not alone. I can have Matthew for the night. Forget everything that’s wrong with my life.

Let him take you the way you like
.

His gaze narrows. “Are you okay?” Matthew rises from the stool, wariness in his expression. His lips are slightly parted and I can’t stop it.

Please, take me.

Being drunk makes me do stupid things. At this moment my reflexes aren’t responding. My gut clenches as I realize what’s about to happen.
Stop it, idiot.
I can’t. It’s like a car collision you can’t avoid. Even as I’m aware that the car in front of me has come to a stop, my foot can’t reach the brake pedal in time to evade it. Yes, I’m going to crash.

“Tristan?” His gaze carries worry, confusion, and he lowers his head a few inches.

My body heats up as his lips come closer, my head continues to move forward, and my lips slam against his. My hands reach his neck and I tug him closer to me. The voices in my head scream for me to stop, but I don’t.
I can’t.
Our tongues fuse. His hands glide along my body. Our hard cocks rub against each other. I close my eyes, letting myself feel and forgetting what’s wrong about what I’m about to do.

Yes.

Yes, Matthew, take me.

“Stop.” He pushes me away. “You’re drunk. I can’t do this to you,” he says, his forehead resting on top of mine. “Tomorrow you’ll regret everything we did, from this kiss to whatever happens after.”

I open my eyes, encountering a couple of mirrors filled with lust, but also sadness. Maybe it’s pity. My balls ache and so does my dick. Matthew doesn’t understand that I need him tonight. He can make me feel better than I’ve felt in a long time, I just know it. I needed the liquid courage I ingested, but I need Matthew more. He doesn’t understand how much.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m going to say this.” He takes a step backward and rakes his fingers through the long strands of his hair. “Sober up. If we ever do anything, you’ll have to be stone-cold-sober.”

Matthew spins around and leaves without another word. I shove my hands inside my pockets and that fucking rock pokes my knuckles. I retrieve it and see it up close for the first time. It’s an insignificant crystal, a purple rock.

“I am alone,” I scream at the beautiful bartender, wishing she could hear me, see me from where I stand. But she’s back at that seedy bar where I met her, and I’m alone. I throw the crystal against the wall and it bounces back landing at my feet.

One night. I only wanted one night to forget everything. Or was it to remember who I once was?

T
he early morning foggy mist drizzles my bare forearms. It’s not every day I go for a run before six at night, but today I chose it as a way to burn some of the energy trapped inside my body. Maybe after this I can get some
Z
s before I head back to Los Angeles. If not, I might have to drink an entire bottle of Benadryl to send my system into a comatose state. Not a healthy alternative. My mind can’t stop thinking about yesterday’s events. To say that my day sucked is putting it mildly. During family dinner my parents told us that our grandmother has a heart condition. My heart broke with the news, and my sister didn’t take it well either. I wonder if Jacob knows about it, but for now I won’t bring it up with him. Grandma Janine is like a mother to us. She tried to compensate for the lack of a maternal figure in our lives. I doubt we required that, but we adore her for being so loving with us.

Afterward I went home, and instead of heading to my apartment, I decided to pay a visit to my downstairs neighbor. Another big mistake. For years I’ve had this sex-no-strings arrangement with my downstairs neighbor. It changes every year. As they move out, I restart with whoever moves in. Of course, sometimes it ends early when they expect more from me, and I have nothing to offer. That’s the case with Serenity. She pressured for a real relationship—boyfriend status—and we decided that our relationship had become a hassle for us both. Also, it made me realize that I’m too old to continue along this lonely path.

To top it all off, Tristan arrived fucked up around midnight, making me wish I was an asshole that would take advantage of his drunken state. I didn’t. I had to peel him off my body while my own begged me to make an exception. He was ready to take off with me. We could’ve done pretty amazing things together, except, he wouldn’t have been doing it consciously. If I have him, he has to be a willing participant body, not so drunk on whiskey he’d forget what we had together. Sometimes I pity him. When he’s close by, I sense his sadness, his struggles. Something is eating him inside. Whatever happened to him destroyed a part of himself. Maybe it’s an ex, his family, or his own fear to be himself. He’s alone. That’s what he screamed last night. His wailing voice was a knife that sliced through me, but instead of heading back to aid him, I went to take a cold shower before I regretted my own actions.

The drive to my apartment doesn’t take more than a half hour. I leave my Jeep in front of the penthouse for Joe to park and head inside the building. I’m tired enough to fall asleep. Maybe I will be able to squeeze a three-hour nap before my flight. That should adjust my fucked-up mood. Or not, I think as the elevator doors open and my roommate appears.

Fuck!

Tristan’s forehead drips with sweat and the fucking jerk isn’t wearing a shirt to cover his well-defined torso. Those fucking chiseled muscles glisten making my mouth water with the desire to lick each one of them. Yesterday he threw himself at me, and today he’s half-naked. A man can only hold himself off for so long. My dick comes to life the moment I lay my eyes on his full lips. The ones that kissed me with an intense passion and left me breathless for an entire night.
Down, boy, down,
I order, but he’s not having it. In fact, he wants to have him—Tristan.

“Feeling better?” I question, stepping in.

He glares at me then switches those piercing eyes toward the closing doors.

“Sorry about . . . I drank too much.”

“Really?” I say, my eyebrows raised. “I barely noticed. Want to clue me in on what happened?” He shakes his head. “Next time I might not be able to contain myself, Cooperson. You’re fucking hot. I’m not strong enough to let a guy like you slip away.”

I’m half kidding and half serious about it. Next time he throws himself at me, I will not stop. Unless he’s too wasted, then I might shove him onto my couch and let him sleep it off.

“You won’t?” His tone is defying, and he stops the elevator, slamming me against the glass wall. His body presses against me, his mouth lingers close to mine. My breath hitches in anticipation, my cock pulsates against his. Fuck, his body wants this as much as mine does. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

His mouth smashes against mine. An agonizing grunt escapes me. I don’t waste a second and kiss him back. My lips move hard and fast. My tongue demands access and I plunge it inside his mouth. My hands hold on to his slim waist, pressing his body against mine. I push him toward the opposite wall grinding my pulsating dick faster against his. Fuck, I will come fast and hard if he lets me continue this assault.

Tristan doesn’t resist. I savor the moment. Enjoy every second of it. His spicy taste makes me want to do more to him. My cock throbs begging for more. I run one hand through his hair, and his long dark strands electrify my fingers, energize them with a current that makes me want to explore him for the rest of the day. Our tongues dance together while we both touch. I nip his bottom lip and then run my mouth over his powerful jaw until I reach the end and suck his earlobe. Then lower back to his neck and onto his shoulder where I suck his tender skin, marking him. Tristan shivers against my body.

He’s about to be mine.

“Let me make this good for you, baby,” I offer, as I glide my hand from his head all the way down to the elastic of his gym shorts. I cross that barrier and grab his thick, throbbing dick. “Tell me how you want me to make you come. With my mouth or my hand. I can palm you as I fuck that firm ass of yours.”

I circle the tip of his moist cock with two fingers. As they’re wet with pre-cum, I move them to his behind, and thrust them inside his precious hole. They go in easily. He closes his eyes while I move in circles. I knew it; he likes to bottom. Fuck, he’s a bottom. He’s the perfect kind of guy for me.

My mouth waters at the thought of the kinky things I can do to this fine specimen if he lets me. The toys we can use to play around. A vibrating plug in that sweet hole while I take him with my mouth. God, my dick and my mouth water just imagining what we can do. That sole picture is taking me to the edge of the abyss where we’re about to fall—if he lets me. As I’m about to insert a third finger, he shoves me away from him.

“Fuck, what’s wrong with me?” His raging voice matches the frigid posture.

My body freezes at his words, and I make sure he’s sober. Maybe he’s still drunk or just plain hates me. Or likes to make me suffer. His dark eyes produce a hate-hurt wave that stares at me for a few long breaths. Tristan shakes his head and taps on the elevator board to let the doors open.

“What is it?” I finally recover my breath. “You’ve been driving me crazy since the day I met you.”

He huffs at me. Trying to recover that business-dark-mysterious glare. Meant to impose some kind of fear that I don’t believe at all.

“You want me too, Tristan.” It’s an accusation.

“Not the fucking point.” He lets out another long breath while opening the door of the penthouse. “I can’t.” He taps his temple with his index finger once. “I know it’s wrong, unnatural. Plus, I don’t want anyone to know that I like to have sex with men too. I can’t.”

Wrong? Unnatural? Different thoughts swarm inside my mind. Who the hell told him all that shit?

God yes, I want to fuck him so bad, my balls ache when I see him. However, I’m not planning on having any kind of physical relationship with a closeted man. Wait, a relationship . . . That’s a mouthful. I don’t have that capacity, at least I don’t think so.

“You’re hot, Matt. And yes, I want you to fuck me hard. But I don’t let anyone touch me that easily—guys the least. For you though . . .” I arch an eyebrow, interested in what he’s telling me. He scratches the nape of his neck and scans the apartment. “How did you know? That . . . I like guys too?”