CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nick

 

I held onto Jeo during the ride home, the warmth of his back easing a little of the pain and frustration inside me. Still, by the time we reached my building, I had worked myself into a snit.

How dare Julianne blame me? Couldn’t she see how my father drove me to act the way I did? He’d fucking ignored us like we were nothing. And he’d called Jeo trash, which fucking pissed me off more than anything else.

My father had never been welcoming to me or even civil, choosing cold and clipped as his normal mode when dealing with the son he detested, but this was the first time he’d goddamn ignored me outright. I guessed showing up with Jeo had been the straw that broke the homophobe’s back, so to speak. And, yes, I’d known it would make him angry. I’d wanted it to. I’d wanted to break that stoic facade he always had in place when I came around. I’d wanted him to fucking blow up.

But it seemed my father didn’t have even an once of emotion where I was concerned, other than contempt and hatred.

When Jeo brought the bike to a stop, I hurried to climb off, ready to say goodbye and race up to my apartment to lick my wounds in solitude. I was sorry now I’d asked Jeo to go with me to the party. My father had insulted him, and Jeo had seen how little the man thought of me.

Maybe I’d drink that bottle of scotch I’d been saving and then throw the bottle against the wall, one perk of living in an empty building—no one to call the cops on me. As I swung my left leg over the bike, I cried out in pain as the inside of my right calf pressed against the hot exhaust pipe.

I hopped away from the bike and almost fell face-first onto the pavement.

Jeo cursed and climbed off the Harley. “I told you to be careful of that,” he said as he swung me into his arms.

“Put me down!” I protested, pushing at his shoulders as he strode toward the building. “I’m fine. Go home.”

“Not happening,” Jeo muttered and carried me through the doors the security guy held open for us.

“Do you need some help, sir?” he asked.

“Nope, I got it, thanks.”

I harrumphed and crossed my arms over my chest, which probably looked really stupid since I was hanging over Jeo’s shoulder. My leg pulsed with pain, and I bit back a groan as we got onto the private elevator. The trip up was spent in silence.

“Keys,” Jeo pulled the keys from my pocket and managed to unlock my apartment without putting me down. I expected him to carry me to the couch, but he walked into the kitchen and placed me on the countertop.

“I forgot,” I told him, wincing as he examined the burn on my leg from the exhaust pipe. He took off my shoe and sock and turned me so my leg was in the sink, then proceeded to run cold water over it. I chewed on my lip, pain mingling with lingering rage. My skin seemed to shrink around my body, tightening me in its grip, smothering me.

Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over while Jeo rummaged in the cabinets. Embarrassed, I turned my head to the wall. It wasn’t my fault I preferred men and liked pretty clothes. Why couldn’t my father see that?

Jeo came back to the sink, turned off the water, and gently dabbed my leg dry with a soft towel. Then he spread cool aloe over my burned skin and bandaged it. Finished, he handed me two tablets of pain reliever and a glass of water.

My wet eyes met his briefly as I swallowed the pills, and I quickly lowered them.

“Feel any better?” he asked.

The sweet way he’d taken care of me, combined with the gentle tone of his voice, completely undid me, and fuck, no way was I going to burst into tears and add one more humiliation to this day from hell.

Miserable ire burning a hole in my chest, I let out a furious yell and sent the glass of water careening across the room to shatter against the wall.

“What the fuck, Nick?” Jeo stared at me.

I slid off the counter and limped into the living room, fists clenched.

“That asshole wouldn’t even fucking look at me! He’s a coward. A complete and utter bastard. How dare he act as though we didn’t even exist? How dare he fucking call you trash?” I paused and leaned against the desk, hand to my mouth, swallowing down bile.

As long as I insisted on being where my father was, I would feel this pain. Julianne had made her feelings clear. Did they all feel that way? Morris? Jim? Grandma? Did they all wish drama queen Nick wouldn’t show up and make a scene?

Like a toy wound too tight with no option but to spin out of control, I flew into a full-blown rage.

With an agonized yell, I swept everything off my desk—bills, a cup full of pens, the plate I’d eaten toast from that morning. I cursed and made for the couch, slinging the pillows at the wall, the soft poofs they made when they hit the plaster doing little to appease the monster inside me. I wanted more crashes and breaking glass. I wanted the hurt to end.

So, I threw a vase, water and flowers going everywhere, but the heavy vase rolling ineffectually across the carpet. The table lamp was next. Ripping the cord from the socket, I hurled it over my head to crash against another wall, seeing my father’s face when he’d told me I disgusted him.

Anger, hurt, and terrible hopelessness drove me to trash my apartment, and only when I’d expended every ounce of strength I had, did the red begin to recede from my vision. Breathing hard, I wilted against the wall.

“Are you finished?”

I’d forgotten Jeo was there. I nodded raggedly.

“Good. Strip.”

I looked up at him. “What?”

“I said, strip. Then stand nose to the wall.”

Great. Flashback to Royce telling me to stand in the corner like a recalcitrant child. Figured. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t have any tears left. Somehow, I’d expected more from Jeo. But why? This was the man who partied and fucked so hard he couldn’t get himself out of bed for work most days.

A voice inside me said that was no longer true, but I shoved it aside. I could tell him to go to hell, end this thing between us there and then. Tell him to get out and never come back. But something stopped me.

Numbly, I kicked off my remaining shoe before tugging off my T-shirt, shorts, and swim shorts. Last, I pulled off the sock on my left foot and limped over to the wall, feeling half annoyed, half sorry for myself.

“Nose touching the wall,” Jeo said quietly.

I sighed and pressed my nose against the cold plaster.

“Take a step back, ass out.”

Well, at least this is new, I thought, following instructions. My cock stirred.

I heard Jeo walk away, boots heavy on the carpet, then return again.

“Reach back and pull your cheeks apart, boy,” he said, and I heard the squirt of the lube bottle. I bared my hole to him, cock twitching again in its cage.

“There’s Daddy’s pretty,” Jeo said softly as though my hole was a separate entity, guiltless of the destruction around it. He slathered lube between my ass cheeks with soft strokes of his fingers. “So sweet.” He pushed his pinkie inside me, and I bit my lip to keep from making any noise. I shut my eyes and took even breaths, then gasped as something cold pushed and twisted its way inside me. I realized it was my steel butt plug. Jeo must have gotten it from the drawer.

I swallowed at the full feeling of the fat plug inside me. A firm believer that the way to repentance lay in complete and utter boredom, Royce had never plugged me while I took my punishment. This—cock tied and ass plugged, bent over with my nose to the wall and fingers spreading myself for Jeo’s perusal—was humiliating as hell, particularly with our history of fighting, but it was also incredibly arousing, and my cock screamed to be let loose.

An odd calm settled over me as I listened to Jeo moving around in the room, picking up my mess, surprised he wasn’t leaving it for me to do.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Jeo returned to me, but my neck had begun to get sore from holding the position, and my fingers were becoming slick on my skin, making it difficult to keep my ass cheeks spread.

“How’s your leg?” Jeo asked softly.

“Okay,” I answered. The pain reliever had done its job.

“You deserve a spanking for getting that burn after I’d warned you to be careful.”

I shivered in equal parts anticipation and dread. Was he going to spank me like this? Nose to the wall and plugged?

“But first, I’m going to fuck you senseless, boy. And you don’t get to come.”

The sound of Jeo unzipping his jeans drowned out my heart thumping in my ears. God, he was going to fuck me with his monster cock. Must be the reason for plugging me. The masochist in me wished he’d fuck me dry and unprepped, hurting me like I deserved to be hurt, but another, self-preserving part that wanted to keep my ass intact said otherwise.

I heard the rip of packaging and some fumbling.

“Keep your nose to the wall, or you’ll regret it when it comes time for your spanking,” Jeo warned.

Panting, and also incredibly turned on, I waited, still holding myself open.

Jeo tugged teasingly at my rim before popping out the plug. He ran his thumb over my opening.

“Stretched out and waiting for me,” he said with satisfaction. Before I could even think of a reply, caustic or pleading, his lubed cock slid all the way inside me in one swift shove.

I couldn’t hold back the harsh cry that tore past my lips. The motherfucker was huge, and it hurt, but at the same time, I craved the pain, and Jeo somehow fucking knew that. He’d prepped me enough though. I wasn’t going to rip.

As Jeo began relentlessly pounding me, taking my breath from my lungs and squashing my nose against the wall with every stroke, I struggled to remain in position. I didn’t want my spanking to be too severe, but I also really wanted to be good for him.

“Keep those cheeks spread,” he ordered, and my fingers, which had started slipping as my pleasure mounted, scrambled to obey. Jeo’s former days in porn meant he had terrific stamina, able to keep an erection for thirty minutes or more before coming. Usually that was a good thing, but not so much at the moment. My nose was sore and my neck ached, but neither discomforts was enough to overcome the tingling in my groin as Jeo’s long, fat cock pegged my prostate over and over again. My own cock stuck out stiff between my legs.

“Do not come,” Jeo warned, then gentled his voice and said, “You feel so good. Daddy’s boy.” The words washed over me, healing the hurt. He reached around and tugged at the rings in my nipples, making me gasp.

“Baby throws a tantrum, he has to be punished.” Jeo slammed into me hard. “But I think my boy knew that to begin with, didn’t he?”

I gasped when Jeo’s hand encircled my throat while his other arm wrapped around my chest. He lifted me off my feet and away from the wall, holding me like a doll while he fucked into me with powerful strokes of his hips.

By the time he came with a strangled cry, I was half out of my mind, body lit with desire and so close to coming I could barely hold back. Jeo helped me to straighten up and stretch my sore muscles.

As uncomfortable as the whole ordeal had been, I realized I felt better, and when Jeo sagged into the desk chair, chest heaving, and motioned for me to get over his knee, I didn’t hesitate or complain.