"For the tenth time, you look great," Channing said, tone quite sarcastic.
He'd caught me glancing in the mirror yet again, and I scowled. I shouldn't be nervous. It wasn't even a date, Dane had said so himself. Then again, we'd never truly dated before. The chemistry between Dane and I had been hot and heavy from the get-go and not much more, and his emotional barriers had kept it that way.
Now he wanted to get to know me. He wanted me to get to know him. Somehow that was far more unnerving than falling into bed with him, for all that I'd desperately wanted it.
I flipped Channing the bird. He waggled his eyebrows in response. "How does it feel to be going out with a tattooed, bad-boy hottie?"
"I'm not goingout with him," I growled. "But I did end the thing with the guy from a few nights ago, so my calendar was open."
Channing didn't know that I'd only let the guy down after talking to Dane last night, and he didn't need to.
"Thank God," Channing muttered.
The doorbell rang before I could chew Channing out, and my heart did a flip. I started for the door but Channing rushed to beat me to it. When he opened it, he gave Dane the deepest frown he could muster.
"Good evening, young man," Channing said in a mock-deep voice. "I see you're planning on taking my brother out for the evening. Just know that he has a curfew and I have a shotgun, if you're picking up what I'm putting down."
Dane laughed, full and easy, and it felt like he'd unleashed a hundred butterflies inside my belly. Then he looked at me and his gray eyes grew dark and heated. It wasn't a "just friends" look at all and, damn me, I returned it. Heat pooled in my belly and I felt a blush crawl up the back of my neck.
"Well, I just became a third wheel," Channing grumbled. "I'll just leave you two alone, I guess. Don't have too much fun."
We didn't drop our heated gaze as Channing left the room. I was on the verge of hyperventilating, wanting nothing more than to strip bare for Dane, when he cleared his throat.
"You look great," he said.
I'd dressed up for the occasion. A black button-down shirt, unbuttoned at the top, which I'd tucked into dark, close-fitting jeans and—in an effort to look less like a rigid surgeon—some black Converse All Stars. Channing had insisted I wear my hair messy, fussing over it with gel until, after fifteen full minutes, I had the perfect "I woke up like this" hair.
"So, uh, so do you," I said, mouth dry.
It was true, too. Instead of his normal grungy shirt and ripped jeans, Dane had a tight, navy ribbed sweater that hugged every muscular curve of his body. I couldn't help but notice he'd gained back the weight he'd lost in hard, taut muscle. He was also wearing black jeans that left little to the imagination. "Big D" wasn't just a nickname...I knew from experience that Dane came by it honestly, and those jeans had me drooling.
"I clean up okay," he joked with a wink. Yeah, he knew how good he looked and I couldn't even fault him for it. "Come on, let's go."
Dane held the door for me and as I passed through, I felt his hand lightly brush my lower back. I bit my cheek hard to keep myself grounded.
Just friends.
Just friends.
Just...I was so screwed.
In the truck, the silence began to feel like it was growing claws that stroked at the fragile truce Dane and I had. When Dane finally laughed, I jumped at the sudden noise and looked at him questioningly.
"This isn't awkward at all," he said drolly, turning to throw me a wink. I was glad the dark hid most of my blush. "Who knew going out as friends could feel so tense?"
"Going out as friends should come with a warning," I joked, adding my laughter to his.
Just like that, the ice was broken and I felt like I could breathe a little. Dane picked a local Japanese restaurant, the kind that cooked the food in front of you like a show.
"I thought, ironically, that if it was tough to talk we'd have something else to focus on," he admitted as he led me inside.
We were seated next to each other, sharing the table with a family of four. The kids were cute enough, but I was forced to lean toward Dane in order to be heard. I could smell his aftershave over the enticing scent of cooking onions and meats, and there was a corresponding twitch in my cock, a muscle memory stemming from his scent.
"I do want to talk to you, though," I said. "Or, rather, listen."
Dane leaned in, too, his breath on my ear. An involuntary shiver rippled through me. "I used to always want to go to restaurants like this. But mom struggled with balancing two low-wage jobs and raising me. There wasn't time or money and it always made me jealous when I'd hear friends talk about how cool the chefs were."
I bit my cheek before sharing, "I also never went to places like this, but that was because they weren't classy enough for my stepfather. He was an awesome guy, but very 'work hard, play hard,' you know? So he only wanted to go to small, ritzy restaurants and wouldn't be caught dead in anything kitschy or a chain. This is my first time here, actually, so thanks."
Instead of looking at me weird for admitting I came from a lot of money, Dane smiled so large my heart began to swell. "First time for me, too. Cherry-breaking time for both of us, eh?"
We clinked our beers. "Tell me about your mom," I said. "What is she like?"
His features softened, sadness sneaking in. "Growing up she was always tired but generous with her love and affection. But I don't think she knew what to do with a wild child. My dad was a one-night stand for her, so it was just her and me. When I began to rebel, we were like oil and water, and no amount of love could keep me from lashing out."
Our appetizers came and he smiled at the waiter and paused until we were alone. Or as alone as you could be in a family-style restaurant. Then he pushed the food to me to let me try first.
"When did you end up on the streets?" I asked before taking a bite.
Dane frowned. "So, this is a weird phrase, because for Channing, 'on the streets' meant homeless, right? Or for Javi, who never felt at home in the various foster houses that had taken him in. For me, 'on the streets' meant more like getting into trouble with the wrong kinds of people.
"I chased after the gang life. I think I wanted a sense of family and to feel more...I don't know...masculine. The culture was so appealing. And I was able to get into a gang." He pointed to some tattoos that were large and dark, or very bold colors. "These are all coverups Reagan did for me when I got into the mentor program after juvie."
It was surreal to listen to him discuss his past. It made it concrete for me in a way it hadn't been before, which only made it more clear to me how little I understood about where he'd come from and what it had meant for him. It made me feel woefully inadequate to empathize. All I knew of gangs I'd learned from The Wire, and I said as much.
"Some of that was true for me and some wasn't. I was adamant about not selling drugs, so I was usually on detail for robberies. We'd break into houses, small businesses, that sort of thing. After I'd almost gotten caught by the cops a few times, I started angling for something different. The thing was, if I wasn't robbing and I wasn't moving drugs, there was only one more option. And that was aiding in turf defense and revenge shit."
Dane stopped and took a long drink from his beer, his throat bobbing. I sat, mesmerized and horrified by what he was telling me as he continued. "I'd rather not go into too much detail unless you need me to, but I did a lot of things to people that I will always have to atone for. Hurting others never came easily to me, but I wanted to be a part of a community so badly that I just did what I was told to. It makes me sick to remember it now."
As a surgeon whose hospital straddled the bad part of town, I knew all too well what gang violence could look like. It made my stomach turn to know that Dane had some part in it. But I could also see how deep the well of regret ran in him. It was hard to accept the kind of person Dane had been, honestly. And almost impossible to imagine him in that life. But I knew the kind of man he was now. It was clear he'd learned and grown from his mistakes and was a totally different person. A good person.
I grabbed his hand. "You don't have to give me details. I'm just sorry you had to go through any of it."
He shot me a grateful look. "Thanks. Me too. It's done a number on my self-esteem and on how I view the world, and it's taking some work with my therapist to change my thought patterns. The shame of it has always made it hard to be open with anyone." He coughed a little, ears turning pink. "I'm glad I told you, though."
I was glad he'd told me, too. But his admission had my head spinning. This Dane was so changed from the one I knew months ago when we'd been hooking up. He didn't dodge or deflect with humor when things got uncomfortable. He told the truth and didn't shove me away after. It was all I'd hoped for, yet somehow that made me waver. Because hope had always burned me in the past.
But that didn't mean I wasn't desperate for this all to be real.
When the chef showed up, there wasn't room for conversation. But our bodies seemed to be migrating closer and closer, until thighs were touching and shoulders brushing. Each touch sent tremors through me, my body heating with want.
Dane being Dane managed to convince the chef to let him try some of the tricks. To the whole table's delight, they found a rhythm, creating an absurd cooking routine that had shrimp tails flying, Dane catching food in his mouth, and one instance of a scary-sized fire erupting from a volcano of rice. Whenever Dane smiled at me, I felt a clench in my stomach, warm and excited. He made me laugh like no one ever had, so hard my sides ached.
The damnable man was better than a rollercoaster at making me feel light as a feather and holding onto the moment as I soared. Compared to the duds I'd seen lately, Dane was the rainbow that came when the sun hit a prism just right. Precious and beautiful and rare.
I rubbed at my chest. It would be so easy to fall in love with him again. But I knew I couldn't handle another disappointment. Despite how well our night was going, I held back a bit. Not reaching for his hand when I wanted to. Not leaning all the way in when we were deep in conversation. Not going as deep in my answers as I might have before. The risk...it still felt too scary. At least right now.
After dessert, Dane escorted me outside. We were both full and our faces hurt from all the laughter. Somehow Dane had convinced the dad of the family sitting with us to come visit him for a tattoo. He managed to make everyone who crossed his path feel important, even in the smallest ways, for the briefest of moments. It was incredible to watch.
"I know you have a curfew," Dane teased, "but are you in a hurry to get home?"
I should have said I was, but "no," came out instead. Dane's jaw relaxed, like he'd been worried about rejection, and he gave me a grateful smile. He drove us to the nearby lake, parking in the far back corner of the lot under the shadows of the encroaching trees. It was dark in the car and we were very much alone for the first time in months. It was quiet, the kind of quiet you can only get when the nearest strip mall and main road are miles away.
"I don't want to push my luck," Dane said, his voice pitched low and soft, "but I need you to know I've thought about you every minute of every day for three months. Each time shit got hard, it was the promise of you that helped me get through it. I dreamed about you, Chris. You're under my skin, deeper than any ink, and I wouldn't have it any other way. But I've been so fucking scared that I blundered too much, that it's too late for me."
My breath caught in my throat like a bur, painful. It was difficult to swallow. Difficult to think, his words heady like wine that I drank too quickly. I turned fully in my seat to look at him and fell immediately into his dark eyes, allowing myself to drift toward him like a boat to shore.
"I've been afraid of that, too," I admitted, voice hoarse. "But, Jesus...I've missed you."
Reluctance tried to tug at me, to make me see sense: What good could come of trusting him again so soon? But my cock answered, a lot of good. And the truth was I wanted him so much that I itched with need.
Dane leaned in, angling his head to kiss me, but he also gave me a hundred chances, it felt like, to turn back. As if I could turn back. All my resistance toward Dane Hart had been dissolved on our date, his honesty and charm winning me back tenfold. I didn't fight what was now happening between us.
I was desperate for it.
His lips brushed mine like a feather, tickling and teasing, his exhale a whisper on my mouth. I breathed him in and moaned, breaking a little more inside. When his tongue swept my lower lip, I shattered completely.
I lunged at Dane, wrapping my fingers fiercely into his hair and crushing my mouth to his. He gasped and I used the opportunity to slide my tongue into his mouth, tasting the hint of beer and soy sauce from earlier. Scrambling, I crawled over the center console, clumsily dropping myself into his lap. I felt his cock, hard and hot, press against the seam of my ass.
"Fuck," Dane whispered, grinding himself into me. I smothered any other words with more kisses, desperate to taste him, to inhale him, to fill the hole inside of me with him. His hands ran up my back, under my shirt, nails scoring my skin as he clenched at me.
He was the center of my universe in this moment—nothing else could pierce through. Dane's heat, his raw power and personality were a sun and I orbited him completely, desiring nothing more than to fall into the well of his gravity. I released his hair so I could unbutton my shirt. Dane's fingers went to my nipples and he pinched them, hard, until I was crying out and bucking against him.
My cock was swollen with need, thick and hard and aching for him.
"Fuck my mouth," he growled, his words like fingers ticking down my spine. I almost came from them alone, shaky and drunk with desire. "I want you to fuck my mouth and come down my throat."
"Jesus," I breathed. I'd always been the giver in our relationship before. While Dane had gone down on me plenty of times, it was usually as a way to tease me into being ready for him. I was a natural bottom and Dane, oh, Dane was a top who knew how to fuck a man stupid. But he'd never sucked me off just for the sake of doing so.
He didn't wait for my reply, his hands going to my pants. With deft fingers he unzipped them and pulled me from my boxer briefs. The cold air hit my sensitive skin, breeze making the precum leaking from my tip become icy...until his hand closed around me.
Dane had these massive, capable hands. As a surgeon, I was amazed that Dane managed such finesse and artistry with such large hands. But now I was thoroughly grateful for them, fingers wrapped tight around my cock. His thumb, rough and delightful, dragged through my oozing slit and spread my precum around the tip while I moaned and mewled, begging incoherently, my pleas lost in the night air.
He leaned his seat back, stretching his body underneath mine. I was frantic with need, humping his hand, gripping the doorframe for dear life.
"Climb up me, baby," he crooned. "Fuck my mouth. I want to swallow all of you."
I obeyed, clambering up on shaky arms and butter-soft knees, his gentle, whispered encouragement making me senseless with need. I had to angle my body over him, using the seat in the back to hold myself up. He guided my cock into his warm, wet mouth, and I descended into the madness of pleasure.
Dane's tongue, rough and wet, swirled over the tip, slowly teasing me until my ass and abs were clenched, my hips jerking with the need to bury my cock. Only then did he open wide, grabbing my hips and pulling me into his mouth fast and hard. I hit the back of his throat, his nose buried in my curls.
"Oh, shit," I gasped, my chest so tight it felt like I might implode.
When I looked down and under me, Dane's eyes were glittering with tears, his nostrils flaring as he sucked in air, his gorgeous lips wrapped tight around my cock. His cheeks were hollowed as he sucked and tugged with his mouth. It was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.
He winked, and then slapped my ass, hard.
I bucked against the welcome pain, pulling out from his tight hold and then plunging back in. Dane was ready for me, eager to take my length again and again.
So I fed my cock to him, hard. I thrust into his throat until he gagged and grunted, but he clung to my hips, demanding more and more of me. It had been so long since I'd been with anyone—and this wasn't just anyone.
It was Dane, and my heart was capsizing with longing.
My climax swirled at the base of my cock, my balls pulling up and tight. Something primal took a hold of me and I increased my pace, brutally fucking Dane's mouth, the occasional scrape of his teeth sending fire and pleasure warring through me. My cock twitched, the only warning before I came. His hands clamped on my ass and he stretched his mouth open as far as he could.
I buried my entire length in his mouth, down his throat, and I fired rope after rope of come, shouting as I felt him swallow and milk me for every last drop.
All I wanted was to collapse, but I crawled back down him, laying my head on his heaving chest. Any minute I expected him to ask me to get off of him and take me home, or flip me over and plow my ass before he took me home. Any second, old Dane was going to rear his head, frightened by how goddamned intense that had been.
So when his fingers started stroking my hair instead, the low rumble of his contented voice saying, "thank you," I started to shake.
He did push me up, gently, then. "Hey. What's wrong?" he asked, brows furrowed.
In the low light of the moon, I saw a small line of blood at the corner of his mouth. I'd ripped the edge of his lip with my thrusts.
"Oh, God, Dane!" I gently prodded my finger against his lip to test the wound and see how bad it was. "You should have stopped me!"
"Like hell!" he said with a quick smile—and wince, when he felt the tear. "That was magnificent and exactly what I wanted. You taste like a fucking dream. I'd eat your dick for every meal and still beg you to give me dessert after."
I was shaken and sated and distressed and confused, and that proclamation made me laugh like a lunatic. Dane joined in and we held each other gently until the chuckles died down. I could still feel the iron length of him pressed into my hip.
"I've got lube," I said uncertainly, "in my wallet. You can fuck me, if you want."
Dane cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. "Nah, babe. I've had all I wanted. I wanted to please you."
"But it isn't fair, you shouldn't be left," I rolled my hips until he sucked in a breath, "in this kind of state."
"Blue balls haven't killed anyone yet, Chris. Can you just accept that I wanted this to be for you and not for me? I've been missing you, baby, not just sex with you."
For a moment, the sting of rejection rocked me back—Dane had never refused my body before.
He must have seen it, because he hurried to say, "No, baby, don't worry. I want you that way, too. I know you feel how much I want you. And I'll confess that during all that thinking about you, some portion of the pie chart was devoted to fantasizing about fucking you until you collapsed, happy as a clam and drooling all over yourself."
A bubble of laughter burst from me. "That's an image."
My cock twitched, as if willing to go through the effort of hardening once again if Dane would make his fantasy a reality. But, alas, I was thirty-six and had just come so hard I was still seeing stars.
"Come on," Dane said softly. "Let me drive you home. And on the way, I need to know when we're going to have a second date."
My heart pounded as I pulled up my pants. Crawled off him. Buckled my seatbelt. Tried to regain a hold on the wild storm of emotions in me. My pleasure. A second date. Dane was throwing in all the stops to show me how much he'd changed.
And an inkling of hope was growing in me that he really had. I wanted this time to be different, and it seemed like it might actually be.
By the time he'd walked me to the front door, we'd set a time for a second date. Dane leaned into me, kissing me slow and deep, his tongue coaxing small gasps from me while his arms wrapped around me, holding me tight.
When he broke the kiss, I was grabbing at the doorknob for purchase, legs shaky.
"Sleep well, baby. See you soon." He turned and walked to his truck. I watched him the entire way, eyes glued to his well-sculpted ass and strong back.
Somehow I managed to get inside. But that was as far as I went. I slid down the door as soon as I'd closed it, sinking onto the floor with a grin so large my cheeks ached. This went beyond butterflies. Suddenly I found myself reeling from a crush so large it threatened to consume me.
I bit a thumbnail, still smiling. Despite the fact that it would probably be wise to maintain some distance, I knew I'd be counting down the minutes until I saw him again.