Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (62 page)

arousal to cool. “Yeah. Yeah, we can grab something from the buffet.

Visit. Yeah. I can do that.” I’m rambling, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He’s just smiling ear to ear and moving deeper into the room, grip

firm as he tugs me toward the buffet.

I grab a plate and silverware. I mean, I’m not
usually
so eager to

please, but there’s something about Zeke… his shifts from assertive to

gentle and back again. He just makes me want to take care of him a

little bit.

“What would you like?” I’ve got the plate in hand, ready to serve,

to dart for whatever he’s craving.

Instead, he tugs it from me. “Why don’t you find us a seat? I’ll get

some food for us.” His voice is deep, soothing.

“But—”

“Go ahead, little man.” It’s a whispered order. Somehow he can

sound sweet when he’s telling me what to do. And I should refuse

because this is a munch. Not a play space and not the time to figure

out who’s in charge.

Of course, I listen anyway. Mostly because he’s calling me “little

man” and it just gets to me. Makes me wonder if he has kinks similar

to mine.

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I spy Luca toward the back of the room, talking with the owner of

the restaurant, and his table’s pretty empty. Moving with purpose, I

snag two chairs, nudging others closer together to give Zeke more

room.

Luca sees what I’m doing, what I’ve done, and simply gives me a

nod before he returns to his conversation with the owner, and part of

me shines.

I did a good job.

Go me.

Before I’m ready, Zeke is there, a single plate piled high, a little

subbie I know named Karen trailing after him with two glasses of

water.

I rise to take the glasses, help them how I can, and he just orders

me around. “Sit. We’re fine.”

I do as he says, popping back into my chair, and wait for him to

get settled. The subbie places the glasses on the table and then stands

ready for a mere moment before Zeke dismisses her. “Tell your

Master that I appreciate your assistance and that you did a wonderful

job.”

Karen blushes under his praise before scurrying away and

suddenly
I’m
the center of Zeke’s attention, face burning under his

scrutiny. God, I stripped to almost nothing in front of the man yet

sitting here, fully clothed, unnerves me.

He leans toward me, as if what he’s about to say is a secret

between us. “What would you like first?”

I quirk a brow, noticing that there’s exactly one plate and one

fork. “I think we’re missing a little something.”

He winks at me. “Not a thing, Tev. Now, what would you like to

snack on first?”

Uneasy, I glance at the plate and my mouth waters at the idea of

munching on a bit of fried calamari. But before I can ask, he’s dipping

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 366

a piece in red sauce and bringing it to my lips, watching as I open my

mouth and pull it free from the fork.

“Good boy.” His voice is low, barely loud enough for me to hear,

but my dick doesn’t have that trouble. I’m rock hard before he

finishes the word “boy”, nearly whimpering with the sudden tightness

in my jeans.

Fuck.

This continues. Zeke feeding me, giving me praise as I eat,

exchanging information about each other.

Zeke spent twenty years in the military, making him nearly twenty

years older than me. Geez, I’m robbing the nursing home.

But it’s those eyes that make me not care about his age. The sea

blue, the gentleness, the disapproval, the anger. It all travels through

his eyes.

It’s not long before the plate is empty and I realize I’ve eaten most

of the food he’d brought, him barely taking a bite as we talked. “Oh,

shit. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

His hand on mine, a soft squeeze, stops me from rising

completely. “Shh, it was all for you. Sit down. I ate plenty and the

demonstration’s getting ready to start.”

Right. The demo. But I can’t quit thinking about the fact that a

man three times my size ate merely half of what I did. I squirm,

wanting to scramble and fill a plate for him, serve him, make him

happy. Only, I think it’s the “making him happy” aspect that’s

pushing hardest. I want those smiles.

He rests his arm on the back of my chair, easy down in his,

spreading his legs, and it looks like he’s getting comfortable.

I fidget. Cause that’s what I do when there’s something I want to

do and can’t. I pick at my nails, bounce my knee. Whatever I can do.

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Then a warm hand is on the back of my neck, thumb pressing just

below my ear for a moment before it’s stroking the sensitive skin.

Zeke.

It’s soothing, having him touch me like this, just petting me in a

way that’s not obvious to everyone. I’m not sprawled all over his lap,

searching for his tonsils in a kiss that never ends. Oh, I’d like to do

that. Just not in the middle of Gianni’s.

Besides, there’s plenty of other people putting on that kind of

show.

The wiggles slow, but the tension remains. Humming.

Again he leans close, like every word between us is a secret. “You

need to relax, Tevin. You’ll learn that I mean what I say. Let’s get

through the demonstration and maybe we can go somewhere. Talk.

Huh?”

Yeah. Talk. I can do that. Right.

****

socializing, we duck out, Zeke holding my hand as he tugs me toward

the front door, eventually the sidewalk.

“Where are we headed, little one? It’s your city.”

And there’s only one place I want him. “We could go to my place.

It’s nearby and we could watch the game, order pizza… whatever.”

Please, if there is a god, let him interpret that right.

Because, really? I want him. I have no idea if his kinks are

anywhere near mine, but even if I only get some cuddles out of our

time, I’d be happy.

He releases my hand, traces the line of my jaw with a finger and

brushes my lower lip, teasing me, tempting me, making my dick go

hard. “That sounds good, little one. Where’s your car?”

“Oh. I live a couple blocks down. I walked.”

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His eyes narrow, disapproval written all over his face. True, the

area isn’t the greatest, but it’s not
bad
. I mean, we are near Crestview,

right? It’s just that even bad neighborhoods can be near good ones.

“You walked?”

I nod. I’m not going to feel bad about this. At least, not a lot.

“Well, I’m driving. Come on.” He laces his fingers with mine,

pulling me toward the parking lot and a large, black SUV. I’m

realizing he’s doing a lot of leading while I’m following.

I’m also realizing that I don’t care all that much. I may, at some

point, but right now it’s all good.

A beep comes from the car, headlights flash once, and the Zeke’s

holding the passenger door open for me while I crawl in. Within

moments, he’s across from me, engine rumbling while he pulls out of

the parking space and I give him directions to my apartment.

Okay, now, I’m thinking going to my place might have been a bad

idea.

Again, the area isn’t bad, per se, but it’s got character. Which is a

nice way of saying it’s sorta run down.

Zeke’s frowning as he pulls into a space. “Tevin…”

“It looks a lot better on the inside. Besides, it’s, like, a historic

landmark or something.” Okay, that was a lie, but it’s got wood floors

that I wax once a week and a large living room for me to practice in. I

don’t really care that the walls are thin or that I can’t play my music

very loud. Who didn’t like classical?

Oh. Right. Mrs. Murphy downstairs.

This time, I lead while we stomp up the stairs, me digging in my

pocket as we approach the front door. I precede Zeke, snagging an

errant shirt from the floor while I lead him into the apartment, trying

to remember if I even bothered to tidy my room, even a bit, before I

left today.

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Zeke’s quiet while I kick off my shoes, pad through the apartment,

him trailing behind until we get to the living room. It’s sparse,

furniture pushed to the edges of the room. But it’s home.

“Here,” I snag a pair of jeans from the couch. “Have a seat and I’ll

get some drinks, yeah?” I head over to the coffee table, lift it off the

floor and then he’s there, plucking the thing from my hands like it

weighs nothing.

“What are you doing?” He’s growly and that weird part of me that

likes it, gets turned on.

I stand up, arms crossed over my chest. I can be just as growly and

I’m not so porcelain doll. “I’m moving the table so you have

somewhere to put your feet. And your drink.”

“I can do that.” He turns and thumps it down on the ground before

he’s facing me again, hands on his hips.

“So can I. I do it all the time, damn it.”

He narrows his eyes, glaring at me. “Is that necessary?”

I pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. “What? Moving

the table? Yes, I dance in the middle of the room and don’t usually

have it in front of the couch. I thought I’d move it to make you more

comfortable.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m not really doing this right, am I?”

The shift catches me off-guard and I drop my belligerent stance.

“What?”

He waves a hand between us. “This.” Zeke runs a hand through

his hair, ruffling the style, leaving bits standing straight and making

me giggle.

The tension eases in a moment and he’s half-glaring, half-smiling

at me. “What are
you
laughing at, Tev.”

I can’t hold back the smile, the bark of laughter. “Mister Domm-y

man not knowing what to do.”

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With a growl, he’s after me, laughter in his eyes, and I’m racing to

the bedroom. I want him there, but if it doesn’t go further than a

tackle, at least I’ll fall on something soft.

I’m ducking around furniture in the dining room, slithering down

a hallway and tumbling into the bedroom, the big man on my heels,

and he tackles me from behind, sending us flying onto the bed. But

he’s bracing his weight, like he knows how big he is and doesn’t want

to hurt me.

Zeke’s laughing, whole body shaking with it. He rests his head on

my shoulder, taking deep breaths. “You’ll keep me on my toes, won’t

you?”

I wiggle against him, against the flesh growing hard on top of me.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm… Definitely.” He eases to the side and I do the same until

we’re facing each other. We’re on equal ground now, two men

lounging on a rumpled bed. Eye to eye.

“It’s not a line, but I feel like I know you. And it’s hard not to

tackle you, make you mine.”

Zeke’s words floor me and turn me on at the same time. I’m

having a
very
hard time figuring out which head to listen to.

For now, it’s the big one. Damn it.

“What makes you think I’d let you?” I’m not a pushover sub who

runs into anyone’s arms. Regardless of how I’m acting with him.

“Because you want to. Because every time I talked to Luca these

past few years, he’s told me about you. About your dancing. Your

injury, recovery and eventually, ending up at his club.” He reaches

out, strokes his fingers along the length of my arm and twines his

fingers with mine.

I like it. Like touching without sex being the result. Affection.

“I know how you play with him. About how you’d
like
to play

with someone who can meet your needs.”

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My mouth goes dry. I don’t care that he knows about Luca. It’s

not a secret I’d ever keep. He’s a good boss, but a better friend and no

matter what, any other man would have to accept Luca’s presence in

my life and what he represents.