You Can See Me (6 page)

“That feel good, Pres?” Ric whispered.

“Fuck yeah.”

“Turn around,” Ric instructed hoarsely.

Pres didn’t put up a fight. He turned so that his back was to Ric, and he let his chin rest on his chest, giving Ric’s fingers complete access.

Ric crowded in close behind Pres, letting the man practically lean into him. Ric used both his hands and oh so slowly began to caress Pres’s solid shoulders before taking the pads of his thumbs and moving them in long, fluid strokes up the back of his neck. Pres moaned again, and Ric had to stifle his own groan. He also had to make sure Pres didn’t come into contact with his eager erection. Pres was at Ric’s complete mercy. He could see the man’s fists balled up and resting on his thighs.
God, what the hell are you going through, sweetheart?
Ric went after each and every kink in Pres’s upper region until he was satisfied that Pres was more relaxed. He slowed his massage and leaned in to rest his forehead on the back of Pres’s soft hair.

“Feel better?”

“Damn. Yeah, Ric. I didn’t realize how much tension I had.” Pres was talking, but he was completely still, maybe because of Ric’s closeness. He turned his body and whispered a soft thank-you before moving to stand.

Ric stood and let Pres get a light grip on his elbow so he could lead him to the front door. “Can I walk you home?” Ric let loose a soft laugh.

Pres’s million-dollar smile flashed at him. “I think I can manage.”

“Okay, then.” Ric didn’t want this man to leave. He wanted to take him to his bedroom and see if he could relieve some tension Pres may have had in other places as well. Ric decided right then and there that this man would be his. “Thank you for dinner, Pres.” He unlocked the door and slightly cracked it open.

“You’re welcome. I had a good time tonight, Ric. It…It…” Pres stalled in his confession.

“It what?” Ric urged. He wanted to hear what Pres thought. He’d refuse to let him run from how Ric made him feel.

“It was nice,” Pres said, his voice sounding like he was out of breath.

“Yes, it was.”

Ric brought his hand up to squeeze Pres’s shoulder and watched him drop his head again at his touch. Ric slowly let his grip move around to the back of Pres’s neck, giving the man time to pull away if he wanted to. But Pres was patiently waiting on Ric’s next move.

“Com’ere,” Ric purred while he carefully brought their faces together. He bypassed Pres’s twitching mouth and let his scruffy cheek rest on the gorgeous man’s soft face. He gently rubbed their skin together before pressing a ghost of a kiss on Pres’s neck. He heard him inhale deeply and turn into the touch.
Damn, this man is starved for affection.
Ric insisted on playing this safe, though. If Pres wanted more, he’d have to come and get it. Ric let his lips linger a second longer before saying, “Good night,” his lips brushing the shell of Pres’s ear when he spoke.

According to the rapid rise and fall of Pres’s chest, he’d definitely lighted a fire in the man, but Ric released Pres and watched him walk slowly down the hall until he was at the door to his own condo. He’d decided Pres needed to process what he was feeling before he would move this further…and most of all, Pres needed to dump that fucking so-called girlfriend, too. One thing Ric didn’t do was share.

It was Friday night, and Pres had come home early to get a few chores done and to take Josey for an extra-long walk in the park. The last couple of days his mind had been filled with Rickson. Goddamn, that man knew how to use his hands. Pres just wasn’t sure he wanted to be labeled gay, or if he was willing to get sex from any damn body since it’d been forever since he’d been laid. It wouldn’t be fair to Ric to use him, just like it wasn’t fair to Leo all those years ago. Look what it had done to a friendship that had meant a lot to him.

Pres didn’t know if he could really be just friends with Ric since the man was so attracted to him and wasn’t afraid to show it. But, no matter how many times Pres tried to reason that starting a thing with Ric might not be a good idea, all he kept hearing in his head was the sound of Ric’s gruff voice when he was turned on and the way the hot fucker smelled.
“I’d only make you beg if you were being bad…but I’d always give in to you.”
Ric’s sexy words echoed in Pres’s mind over and over again.

Pres was sipping on a glass of Merlot and listening to an audiobook when he picked up the cordless and called his “girlfriend.”
I need to fuck.

“Hello,” Vikki said in that sweet voice that immediately made Pres sit up.

“Hey, Vikki. What’s going on? I haven’t heard from you all week. How you been, sweetie?” Pres said quietly while rubbing his palm over his heart. Why was it that whenever he spoke to Victoria, his chest seemed to start hurting?
Probably because you know she doesn’t want you, just like your fiancée didn’t.

Pres shut those thoughts down immediately. He just needed to reconnect with Vikki again. She’d been sweet as pie when he first met her eight months ago in line at his bank. She immediately struck up a conversation about Josey as he led Pres through the line. Pres liked her forwardness and couldn’t resist asking her to dinner after he was sure not to be mistaking her flirting as simple kindness. But the way she brushed her hand over his as he held Josey’s leash was not easy to mistake. Pres enjoyed her company so much, and he felt alive again. Only problem was, over time, the visits to Pres’s home, and their dates, became less and less regular, but the phone calls for money were endless.

“Nothing’s going on, Pres. I’ve just been busy is all,” she said in a bored voice.

“Well you sound like you could use some fun. Hey, I just had a great idea. How about you and me get together tonight? I’ll make us a gourmet meal…the one that gets you real hot, baby. Remember my bourbon shrimp flambé? Then we’ll pack a weekend bag and go out on my yacht. Just us and the salty ocean breeze, good food, and good loving.” Pres moaned, already getting excited, because who could say no to that suggestion?

“I’ve already made plans to go meet some friends at this new bar on the beach tonight.”

“Okaaay. Do you mind if I come too? I mean, are you able to bring your significant others?” Pres tried to keep the hope out of his voice, but it’d been a while since he and Vikki had gone somewhere together.

She let out a long, exasperated sigh before finally responding. “Fine, Pres, you can come. We’re meeting there at ten.”

“Vikki, can you come and pick me up? If it’s on the beach, then you have to come past here, right? It’s just I gave Scott the weekend off.”

“Jeez, Pres. All right, fine, I’ll pick you up. Just don’t try to make me late.”
Click.

What the fuck?
Vikki was really going out of her way lately to make him feel like shit. He didn’t remember doing anything to make her act like such a bitch toward him. However, Pres was finally getting to go out on the town for a little while, so he didn’t ponder the negative thoughts for too long.

He had only forty-five minutes to shower and get dressed. All his clothes were labeled and color coordinated. His stylist put together complete outfits for him. All he had to do was feel the raised Braille label on the garment bag, unzip it, and voila! He was dressed like a Calvin Klein model.

Pres knew he was wearing dark denim jeans and an untucked cream-and-blue striped collared shirt. He pushed up the sleeves of the light-colored Kenneth Cole blazer, just like he’d been taught when he was going for sexy casual. He put a couple dabs of his most expensive cologne on his neck and waited for his date. He was lightly sipping his fourth glass of Merlot and feeling a slight buzz when he heard a persistent tapping at the door, not with a hand but with an object, probably her key fob or cell phone.

“Coming,” he called out and hurried to answer her impatient knock.
Damn. Let the whole building hear your knocking.
He opened the door with a wide smile on his face. “Hi, babe.”

He heard her huff and step past him into the apartment.

“Well, can I have a hug, Victoria? Jesus, I haven’t had you over in weeks.”

He stood there in his entryway with his arms outstretched, feeling slightly foolish. After a few too-long seconds, she was in his arms. He hugged her tight, basking in the embrace. He turned his lips toward hers and felt her draw back before he was able to make contact.

“I can’t have a kiss?” he asked, sure that his forehead was creased with a ton of frowns.

“I don’t want to smear my lipstick, Pres. Besides, we’re gonna be late. So come on.”

“We don’t have to be there right at ten on the dot, do we? I mean, it’s not a surprise party or anything. Maybe we can have a little pre-cocktail cocktail right here before we go…if you know what I mean.” He moaned and reached for her small waist.

“Pres, no. I don’t want to get my clothes all messed up,” she said as she pushed his groping hands away.

“Describe to me what you’re wearing, baby.” He spoke in sexy groan as he rubbed his aching cock.

“Oh, come on, Pres, Jesus. Can’t you control yourself?” she practically yelled.

“Damn it, Vikki! Control myself for what? I thought we were together. You know, a couple. And is it so bad that I want to be intimate with my woman?” Pres was so frustrated he thought his head might explode…both of them.

“We are a couple. I’m just trying to unwind with a stress-free weekend after working hard all week. I didn’t come here to be fussed at. Just forget it, Pres. I’ll go out alone.”

He felt her breeze past him, slightly knocking him in the shoulder as she went. He reached out fast and grabbed her arm.

“Babe, I’m sorry. Don’t go, okay?” Pres released a shaky but frustrated breath at the obvious lack of affection he was going to get. “Look, I still want to go and meet your friends, if that’s all right with you. I didn’t mean to pressure you or fuss at you, okay? I just miss you so much.” He gently massaged her arms and heard her let out another breath.

“Fine. Let’s just go,” she said.

“All right, just let me use the bathroom real quick and—”

She turned and opened his door to leave. “What! No!” she screeched. “We’re already late. Dang, what are you, five years old? Use it when you get there. It’s a short ride.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled. Pres didn’t bother to reach for her hand. He grabbed his long cane off the shelf by the front door.

“Oh no. Leave that cane here. I’m not going to have you hitting me in my ankles all night with that damn thing,” she scoffed. The disdain and disgust in her voice made Pres’s neck jerk back so hard it cracked.

Pres stood there numbly with his mouth hanging open.
I’ve never fucking hit you with my cane. Damn, that shit was mean. Fuck. Am I that damn desperate? There’s gotta be a woman out there that will treat me better than this…or maybe a man.

“Pres, leave it, or else I’m leaving…alone,” she threatened.

“Vikki, how the hell am I not going to run into something if I don’t have it? Are you going to help me if I need it? I don’t want to burden you every time I need to move around, go to the bathroom, or whatever.”

“Just leave the freakin’ cane, Prescott,” she hissed. “If you need help, I or someone else will help you. Now come on. You’re making me late…like I knew you would.”

This is a bad idea. Shit.

Pres stepped out into the hallway minus his cane. He made it to the elevators and paused when he smelled spicy cologne again. He smiled just a little.

* * * *

Ric had to bite his tongue when he walked by Pres’s open apartment door. There was an extremely attractive blonde witch fussing at him about not taking his cane with them. Ric wanted to push her out of the way, fold Pres into his chest, and tell him it was okay and that he’d never be embarrassed by him.

When Ric walked by and caught a glimpse of the man’s hurt expression, it almost crushed him. How could someone be so goddamn insensitive? Regardless that that beautiful creature was blind, he was still a person with feelings.

He didn’t know where the couple was going for the evening, but it didn’t look like she’d be providing him any assistance with the way she turned her back and made her way to the elevators without even a backward glance. Maybe Pres was going to break up with her and she knew it.

Ric was waiting for the elevator when he looked up and saw Pres slowly making his way to the elevators. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sight. Prescott looked stunning in his evening attire. The pin-striped shirt was untucked from his expensive-looking jeans, making him appear dressed up but casual at the same time. The blazer looked expensive, too, and so did his shoes. Everything matched and went together so perfectly. Ric found himself wondering if the mean lady had dressed him.

Although Pres was blind, he didn’t move his head back and forth like Stevie Wonder or gaze off into space. If it wasn’t for the obviously custom-made, sleek black-and-chrome cane, then you probably wouldn’t even know he was blind. When he removed his designer shades, his beautiful blue eyes appeared focused as if he was looking right into you.

Pres walked down the hall with one hand casually in his pocket, looking like he owned the world. The man had so much finesse to be blind it was ridiculous.

Pres was only a few feet from the elevator when Mean Girl turned and gave Ric a seductive once-over. Ric immediately turned up his lip in disgust, making her suck her teeth at him and turn her head away. He heard her murmur to herself, “Now I’m stuck babysitting him all damn night.”

Ric didn’t wait for Pres to reach the elevators. He opened the door to the stairwell and began to walk down the twenty flights of stairs so he could calm himself down.

He didn’t know why he was reacting so defensively when it came to Prescott Vaughan, but something inside of him wanted to protect the gorgeous man…and make him his.

“Vikki, over here!”

Pres heard a female yelling his girlfriend’s name, even over the loud music. The music wasn’t blaring like in a club, but it was still loud. Pres’s other senses went into overload. He smelled many scents: sweat, liquor, beer, cheap cologne, and lots of bad breath. The bass from the music made his chest vibrate. He tried to hold on to Vikki’s hand as she moved them quickly through what felt like a thick crowd. He was thrust into people and stumbled a little over a chair leg, when he finally pulled on her hand gently to get her to turn around.

“What!” she yelled directly in his ear, making him cringe at the pain that caused in his head.

He placed his hands on her waist and put his lips on the shell of her ear. “Please slow down, baby. I know you don’t mean to, but you’re knocking me into people and making me stumble. I think I may have knocked someone’s drink over back there.” He kissed her ear tenderly, enjoying the smell of her sweet perfume.

“All right, fine. There’s a barstool right behind you. If you’re tired, just sit there and buy a drink while I find my friends,” she ordered.

“Wait. I’m not tired at all. I can go with you to look for your friends. I was just saying you were kinda dragging me back there.” He tried not to sound too needy, but he didn’t really want to be left alone sitting on a barstool.

“It’s all good. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

“Vikki…Vikki!” he called out, but got no answer. She’d left him on the barstool, and he couldn’t fucking get up or leave. He didn’t have his goddamn cane or Josey. He had his cell phone, but he couldn’t call his driver or his assistant because he’d specifically told them they had the entire weekend off. He wasn’t going to call them at midnight and say, “Stop what you’re doing and come and get me from a bar.” He’d have to wait for her.

“Hey, want a drink, buddy?” a male voice called from in front of him.

Pres hoped the bartender was talking to him as he nodded his head. “I’ll have a Bud Light.” He figured he shouldn’t drink too heavily since he was still buzzing a little from the almost entire bottle of Merlot he’d consumed earlier and he didn’t know if he was going to be on his own for getting home. He reached into his wallet and felt for the bills that were folded longwise, his ones. He counted out five and reached out to hand it to the bartender when his knuckles hit a glass and sent something—probably his beer—crashing to the floor.

Fuck me.

“What gives, dude? That was my drink, man. What the fuck are you? Blind?” An extremely pissed man was close to his left side, yelling at him for knocking over his drink.

“Actually, yeah, I am,” Pres replied drily.

Why the hell was your drink so damn close to me in the first place?

“Oh” was the man’s only response
.

“It’s all right. I’ll buy you another one. If you could signal the bartender for me, I’ll buy you whatever you were drinking.” Pres tried to reason with the drunk man. His breath was foul, and as he spoke to Pres, little pieces of spittle hit him on his cheek. Pres desperately wanted to get off this fucking stool, now.

“I was drinking a bottle of Cristal,” the man stated boldly.

Bull-fucking-shit! There’s no way you were drinking a two-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne.
Unfortunately, for Pres, his supernose was immediately able to detect the man’s foul breath and knew exactly what the man was drinking. It was vodka, and it wasn’t even premium.

“Look, man, I’ll buy you a double shot of Ciroc vodka with a Corona back. How’s that?” Pres said, hoping the man didn’t push this ridiculous issue.

“Whatever, man.” The guy accepted his drinks and moved on.
Thank God.

Where the hell is Vikki now?
Pres felt the raised hands on his platinum Cartier watch.
I’ve been sitting here over an hour.

Pres had had three beers sitting on his lonely stool, and coupled with the drinks he had before he left home, he really needed to use the bathroom.

I knew I should’ve brought my cane. This is crazy. She can’t pretend I’m not blind.
It wasn’t like he could just ask some stranger to take him to the men’s room. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Vikki. It went straight to voice mail.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Pres waited for the bartender to come back and ask him if he wanted another drink. He politely refused and asked him to direct him toward the men’s room.

“Dude, I’m not gonna help you take a whiz, man,” the bartender laughed.

“I don’t need help. Just tell me which way it is,” Pres hissed.

“To your left,” was all he said.

“And…” Pres prompted, but the man was gone.

Goddamn it.

Pres hadn’t felt this stupid in a long time. He’d let his idiot girlfriend talk him into doing what he knew he should not have. Pres slid off the stool and immediately bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” he tried to apologize over the music.

This was ridiculous. He had to put his hands out in front of him to keep from falling over something. He knew he looked crazy, but what else could he do? People were bumping into him as he walked extra slow through the crowd. Some were not so polite in moving him out of their way.

He ran smack into a stool that was occupied by a woman. “Sorry,” he murmured as he heard a recognizable giggle.
What the fuck? Vikki.

“Vikki!” he yelled angrily over the pop music.

“Better watch where you’re going, Pres.” She laughed hysterically, and so did several of her friends who were in close proximity.

Watch where I’m going?
Pres was humiliated. She’d probably been watching him the whole time, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move without her.

I’m done with this bitch. I’d rather be alone the rest of my life than put up with this.

“That’s it. Take me home right the fuck now,” he growled in her ear.

“Hey. I’m not going anywhere. I told you you wouldn’t like it here, but you begged to come with me. Now, you can wait until I’m ready to go,” she slurred.

“Well at least show me to the bathroom.” He held her shoulder and spoke sternly in her ear, not wanting anyone else to hear his request.

“Awww. Poor baby needs to go to the bathroom and can’t.” She mocked him.

“Hey, man, I’ll take you to the bathroom and help you hold it up too,” a man purred very close to his ear, making Pres jerk away. His feminine lisp told Pres that he definitely didn’t want his kind of help.

“Okay, Vikki. Fine. You’ve succeeded in humiliating me, and rest assured, I will not bother you again…ever. Will you just show me to the bathroom and walk with me out of this bar so I can hail a cab, and you’ll never see me again.”

Pres could feel the heat in his face, he was so angry. He didn’t want to go to the bathroom on himself, and he feared if he didn’t get there soon, then those four beers and glasses of wine were going to come out whether he liked it or not.

“I don’t know why the hell you’re treating me like this. Why would you treat anyone like this? I thought we were togeth—” Pres stopped talking. “Forget it. That doesn’t matter anymore. Just show me to the bathroom, and I’ll call a cab.”

“Oh, go on with Danni. He’ll take good care of you.” She laughed some more.

“I don’t fucking know him, Vikki. And I sure as hell don’t need him to hold my dick while I piss. Look, don’t be a bitch, okay? The least you could do—”

His angry sentence was abruptly cut off by a hard slap across his face.

“Augh. Fuck!” Pres yelled as he held one side of his face waiting for the ringing in his head to subside. Vikki had hit him so hard across his cheek that he saw bright lights as his head snapped to the side.

“Don’t you ever call me a bitch! Find your own way home. I hope your blind ass left a trail of bread crumbs. Don’t think I didn’t see that you canceled the payment on my Visa this month. I have no further use for you, Pres. Now get out of my damn face!” She shoved him backward—hard—sending his arms windmilling wildly. He couldn’t recover fast enough as he toppled over a low table a few feet behind him, knocking himself and all of its contents to the floor.

He heard people gasping, but no one came to help him. He was in a heap of broken glass and alcohol. He put his right hand on the ground to pick himself up and felt a sharp piece of glass go into his flesh. He yanked his hand back quickly and could feel the blood running from the very tender gash. He wanted to call out for help, but figured it futile.

“All right, buddy. Out ya go. You’ve caused enough trouble in here for one night.” Pres felt a beefy hand wrap around his arm and haul him off the floor.

“Are you shitting me? I was just assaulted. I want to press charges,” Pres argued. He was angry and so embarrassed for being beat up by a woman he could scream.

“Did anyone see this man get assaulted?” The bouncer’s deep voice bellowed into the room.

There were several nos, and one person nearby yelled, “He actually assaulted her.” The insults and rants rang out of the crowd as Pres was shoved toward the front door.

“Get the hell out of here, and don’t come back. We don’t take kindly to men assaulting women in this fine establishment.”

I have to be dreaming this nightmare.

The man shoved Pres again, making him hit the side of his head against the entrance to the door as he stumbled out onto the busy sidewalk.

“Goddamn it! Take it easy. I can’t fucking see, man.” Pres turned his head back toward the club. The once-blaring music now sounded muffled. It was safe to assume the bouncer had closed himself back inside.

Shit.

Pres didn’t know how big the sidewalk was or how far he was from the curb. So he put his hands out a little in front of him and moved forward. He took a couple steps and felt a burly man stumble over his feet and holler in his face.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, dipshit.”

Shit, shit, shit.

Pres’s injured hand was throbbing. The part of his head that had come into contact with the club door was surely showing a nice bruise now. He didn’t know if the glass was still in his hand or not. All he knew was that it hurt like hell. The tears were flowing down his face from anger, but he still felt like a pussy. No matter what, he couldn’t stop them. And worst of all, he knew he was going to piss himself any minute now, right here on the extremely crowded oceanfront strip. He could hear so much activity going on around him, but was too afraid to stick his hand out and beckon someone to help.

Oh my God.
Pres put two nasty, alcohol-drenched fingers in his mouth and whistled, hoping to signal a cab, while he clutched his bloody hand to his rapidly beating chest. He raised his hand to his mouth and whistled again, this time a lot louder.

Before he could process the deep growl, he was shoved forward violently. “Thanks for doing that in my ear, asshole.”

Fuck! Where the hell am I…in Brooklyn?

“It was an accident…I—I—I didn’t see you!” Pres stammered. He assumed the guy had said his piece and moved on because he didn’t hear anything else.

Now after that shove, he really didn’t know how close he was to the street. He took another couple steps and stumbled off the steep curb. Horns blared and tires screeched as he jumped backward, running right into a rock-hard chest.

Pres ducked and shivered violently as the warm urine ran down his pants leg and pooled around his feet.

You got to be fuckin’ shittin’ me
. Pres put his one good hand out in front of him to hopefully ward off the attack he was about to get. “Please don’t hit me. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you, I swear. Just…don’t hurt me, please.”

“I’d never hurt you, baby. Com’ere. Hold on to me.”

Baby?

A very masculine, rich voice was in his ear as a strong arm took Pres’s good hand and wrapped it around a narrow waist as the man held his limp, bloody hand up in the air. “Keep it elevated, Pres. Jesus. I’m so sorry. It’s all right. I’m gonna take care of you.”

This person just said my name. Okay…so it’s someone who knows me.

Pres’s keen senses had shut down because of the surge of fear coursing through him. He couldn’t figure out who this kind stranger was.

Pres heard a shrill whistle as the deep voice yelled, “Taxi!” The man had one thick arm around Pres’s back as the other kept his throbbing hand up in the air.

“I got you, gorgeous. Just hold on to me.” The deep voice was smooth and soothing.

Pres was in no condition to fight that it was a strange man holding him like this and calling him “baby.” He’d never been so terrified and abused since he’d lost his sight. He’d never been abused, period. He lost the fight at trying to hold on to a small amount of dignity and buried his head in the strong chest and let his tears fall quietly. He felt himself being ushered into a car, a taxi, he presumed.

“Chesapeake Hospital,” the deep voice told the driver.