Battered and Bruised, But not Broken Read online

  I nibble at his neck, taking tiny bites, and then reach down unbuttoning him, freeing his throbbing cock, massaging him. His dick’s so fucking firm and perfect. He’s making my mouth water like it never has before.

  Gotta taste him, and lick every bead straight off the tip as he hardens, but that’s too easy to do, and not my standard route of handling things. I prefer him on his knees in front of me first, it’s just how I work, and don’t bend or cater to any other options when it comes to matters like these. But blondie’s got to give me a fucking name. I mentioned control issues earlier, right? This is number one with me. Want me and want me hard…but, give me something to scream when you get me off, for fuck’s sake!

  His warm tongue glides in circles around mine and just— fuck me. I bite into it, then release slurping him into my mouth, as he moans. And with that, I damn near lose it. ‘Mr. Whatever his fucking name is’ reaches down between my legs, then stops.

  No, don’t fucking stop!

  His body breaks out in goose bumps and he freezes for a few seconds. I lap at him, nipping at his neck, and stroke him again. He jerks away from me, but I kindly guide his hand back to my cock and help him run it up and down me.

  “Dear fuck, that feels so good.” I release my grip on his hand and dig into his back, then trickle my fingers down to his ass.

  He never says a word, and it’s so innocent. The boy is sweet, yet afraid too, which I totally respect and decide to shift gears. I NEVER do this for anyone, and it’s kinda messing up my head, but here goes…

  All thoughts of him going down on me vanish, as I lower myself in front of him, anxious for a taste and to feel him thrust that beautiful hard, glistening rod inside me.

  He leans back against the wall with his upper body, arching that delicious cock forward and tenderly pushes inside of my mouth. The head of his dick is so full and thick, so swollen, and I need more. I push forward, slathering my tongue along the side of his shaft, then back up to the tip, and repeat along the other side.

  His fingers twist in my hair, winding up and tugging me in closer, and I can’t resist. This is not me, I never go down on anyone first, personal rules, and one I’ve never broken. Until now.

  I can’t get enough of him. I shimmy his pants down over his hip bones as he pumps into my mouth. Fucking-shit. I grasp his ass in my hands, and jerk him forward, guiding him in deeper.

  “Oh, God,” he rumbles, and I take him even further down my throat.

  Something about him, his voice, the throaty way he moans is getting to me. I reach down and grab my own dick and jack myself. As he thrusts harder and faster in my mouth, I stroke myself to the same beat. I’m so ready to come.

  His breathing deepens and his jolts increase. He jerks me into him and I start to lose it, as he does. Faster, deeper, harder and harder. He lets out another delicious moan.

  “Yes, it feels so…oh my God—” His voice hitches in his throat and he fills me with his warmth, and I explode in my hand.

  I slurp up every drop he expels, and then make my way back up to my feet.

  “Not a hands-on guy without a name first, huh?” He smirks at me.

  I grab a paper towel off a shelf and wipe up and laugh, zipping myself up before kissing his neck.

  He doesn’t speak a word, but gives me a grin that would shoot someone straight to the realms of hell, yet lift them to Heaven at the same time. And with that, he turns and leaves the room.

  I fall against the wall, trying to regain my composure. A few minutes later, I leave the room too, intrigued. As I scan the club for him, the only thing I find is that he’s long gone.

  Well, fuck!

  Chapter Two

  Elliott

  Living in your grandmother’s basement isn’t ideal, by any means. Especially when you want to bring home a hook-up, but it beats the alternative.

  When I was thirteen, my dad caught me kissing Trevor Parks behind the tool shed out back. He flipped the fuck out, beat me to within an inch of my life. He left me in the back-yard, immobile and bleeding before heading to the bar. As soon as he left, my mom called the cops and told them where he was and then loaded me up in the car and took me to the ER, telling them I was playing with other boys when things got out of hand. While I was in the hospital, my mother called my grandmother to tell her my dad had been released. My father showed up at the hospital when Granny was visiting me and she threatened him with her cane. She told him, “If you ever come near him again, I’ll shove this cane so far up your ass, surgery won’t be able to remove it.” It took all I had not to laugh. My mother had packed my belongings and taken them to my grandmother’s house and I have been there ever since.

  Sure, I could move out. I make more than enough money as an online security support operator at Globo-Tech, the world’s leading on-line security firm. But honestly, I love helping my Granny out around the house and she doesn’t cramp my style. Not that a gamer nerd like me really has any style. I’m nothing to write home about. Standing just under six feet tall, one hundred-sixty-five pounds wet with shoulder length curly, sandy blond hair. I’m built like a runner, even though exercise is my nemesis, but luckily, they aren’t picky about how we look at Globo. And I can bike to and from work easily from Granny’s house when weather permits.

  My mom comes over every Sunday to hang out and eat dinner with us. She never left my dad after that incident and I don’t bring it up, but I suppose that’s her burden to bear and I’m sure she has her reasons. Many of which revolve around my dad’s fist connecting with her face.

  Onto more pleasant thoughts like my last hook-up... I don’t know what possessed me to go to Morph, maybe loneliness, but I’ll never forget that tattooed Adonis. We didn’t exchange names or numbers, but he was cool and hot as fuck. I’m not sure what came over me when I led him to that secluded room because I had no idea what in the fuck I was doing. I wonder if he knew that because the same time I thought it, he dropped to his knees blowing my mind and swallowing my load.

  I’ve only received one other BJ, well only attempted one and lesson learned— never let a guy wearing braces anywhere near your junk.

  The drink I ordered, totally gay, but when I saw those cobalt blue eyes staring at me I froze. A mai-tai? Really, Elliott? Could you have been any lamer, but fuck, I’ve never had such a hot-ass bad boy stare me down like that before. Then flirting? I’ve never flirted a day in my life, it was like my dick was leading me, and my brain went numb.

  Walking into work this morning, I plunge into yet another day of cleaning out spy-bots planted in online servers from idiots surfing unsafe porn sites. No matter how hard I try to focus on the tasks at hand, my every thought is consumed by that mind-blowing event. Of my hands wound tightly through that dark hair, face-fucking a stranger, which was truly monumental in my book. Why couldn’t I have been bold enough to get his name or number?

  My supervisor walks up to my cube, snapping me from my sexually induced trance. “Elliott, hello Elliott, is anybody home?” He knocks on the top of the cubicle wall.

  Fuck, I hate this ass-munch. “Good morning, Shane, what do you need?”

  “Well, we’ve only received a handful of resumes for the new physical security guard spot, so I’d like you to call them and set up interviews.”

  “How can I do that when I don’t even know your schedule?”

  “You have access to my Outlook calendar now.” He tosses the list on my desk before walking away.

  Fucker, how did I become his bitch?

  Luckily, there are only five resumes in the pile so I start calling them. The first two already found jobs so on to number three.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, this is Elliott from Globo-tech. We received your resume and would like to know if you’re available to come in for an interview Friday with our supervisor, Shane King?”

  “Yes, hello. I can come in Friday, but not until after three. Would four o’clock work for him?”

  That voice, why does that voice make my dick
stutter?

  “Um, yeah, that’ll work. Do you have the address?” I ask.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Okay, check in with the receptionist and she’ll let Shane know when you get here.”

  “Great, thanks Elliott. Have a good day.”

  “You too.”

  I don’t know what to say, for some reason my dick is waking up from merely hearing his voice.

  ***

  Friday, after finishing more of Shane’s bitch work, I realize it’s lunch time. I walk down the street to the deli to grab a sub and people watch. Sitting by the windows at the front of the shop provides me with a great view of the passers-by. Watching random strangers walking about is sort of a Zen for me.

  When I return from lunch, calm, cool, and collected, I dive into uploading the latest updates to the server for our security software. Shane’s ugly face reappears above my cubicle wall.

  Fuck, I wish these walls were taller than four feet.

  “What’s up, Shane?” I question without taking my eyes away from the computer screen.

  “Geez, don’t look so happy to see me. Reception just called me to tell me Hunter’s here for his interview. Could you get him and bring him up to my office please?” Then he walks away without waiting for my answer.

  I take the stairs down to reception and tell her I’m here to escort Shane’s appointment upstairs. What I’m not expecting to see is the man whose lips were wrapped around my dick not so long ago.

  Staring at each other completely dumbfounded, I scratch the back of my neck before breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Um, Hunter?”

  “Ha, yeah.” He reaches his hand out for a shake. “You look as surprised as I am.”

  “Can’t deny that. I’m Elliott by the way.” I shake his hand. The chills his touch exudes shoots straight through to my dick. Internally, I scold my soldier, now is not the time nor the place.

  The ride up in the elevator is somewhat uncomfortable. “So, I guess we have each other’s names now?” I laugh.

  “Ha, I guess we do. Now where do we go from there?” he flirts, at least I think he’s flirting.

  I’m not sure how to respond and luckily the elevator stops at our floor. I walk him to Shane’s office and then close the door behind me. Once I’m tucked into the sanctity of my cubicle, I release the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  Where do we go from there? I know where I’d like to go.

  Desperately trying, but failing to get back into the day’s tasks, I can’t get Hunter off my mind. What I thought was a one-time deal, is now turning into a borderline obsession for me. I want to see him again. I need to see him again. The need is overwhelming me, fuck…

  As the other lab rats scramble out calling it a night, I’m so fixated on seeing Hunter again that I can’t get myself to leave for the day, so I wait for him to exit Shane’s office. Around five-thirty, Shane emerges asking me to escort him downstairs.

  After we get into the elevator, I start with the usual questioning. “So, how’d it go?”

  “I think it went alright. He’s a strange guy, isn’t he?” Hunter asks.

  “You have no idea, but he’s harmless,” I tell him. “So, um,” I stutter.

  “Ya, so I was thinking maybe we should actually go on a date or something,” Hunter reluctantly asks.

  “Dude, don’t feel like you have to date me just because you blew me.” I’m not sure if I should be offended by the way he asked me out, or happy because he asked me out. My fucking emotions are all over the damn place.

  “Fuck man, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Let me try this again. Elliott, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

  “Uh, ya,” I say, nervously scratching the back of my neck again. “Okay, that would be cool.” We exchange numbers to text a date and time that would work for both of us before walking to reception for him to turn in his badge and say goodbye.

  I feel like a stalker watching him walk away, but damn, he has one fine ass. As he reaches his bike, he turns and waves. My face flushes knowing it’s me he’s waving to as I nervously wave in return.

  I fidget with the buttons on my shirt on the elevator ride back up. I’ve never been on a date, only had some seriously fucked up hook-ups. Well, aside from the stellar oral Hunter gave me. I can’t get the sight of his beautiful lips wrapped around my cock out of my head. Fuck me, I’m so out of my comfort zone.

  Shit, what if he thinks it’s totally lame that I live with my grandmother like some dumbass little kid?

  Is it a curse or karma that he walked into my office today?

  As I go back upstairs and sit down, Shane barks out my name, “Elliott.”

  I walk to his office, leaning against the door frame crossing my arms across my chest in irritation. “What’s up, Shane?”

  “What did you think of Hunter? He’s not in the same league as you, so he’ll end up in an entry level building security position, but if his references check out, I’m thinking of making him an offer.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I respond, “I don’t really know him, but he seems pretty cool.” Who am I to cock block anyone from getting a job? Obviously, he needs one or he wouldn’t have come in today.

  “Here,” he says tossing Hunter’s resume at me. “Check out his references and let me know what they say.”

  I barely catch it before it hits the floor. “You want me to call on his references?”

  “Yes, did I stutter?”

  Sometimes he’s such a fucking prick. “Dude, I’m not an admin and I’m in the middle of a coding project.”

  “Dude,” he repeats, “I’m your boss and this won’t take more than half an hour to complete.”

  Shaking my head in defeat, I walk back to my cubicle and set the resume aside. It’s too late on a Friday to be calling references. Besides, this feels like I’d be invading Hunter’s privacy. With a sigh, I go back to my coding project. The references can wait till Monday.

  Chapter Three

  Hunter

  Of all the people, in all the places, it’s him— golden curly locks.

  My heart threatens to pound straight out of my chest. My interview’s probably a big wash now, because I zoned, not gonna lie. Got caught completely off guard, and totally by surprise, to the point I let way too many other thoughts take over. Especially the ones of us at Morph the other night. Damn, I need this job too.

  Elliott, the sinfully sexy man with the golden locks, does have a name other than ‘Oh God, yes’, after all. Fits him to a fuckin’ tee, not to mention the way it sounds as it rolls off the tip of my tongue. I say it again, silently of course, just to feel the vibrations, and the way my tongue curls against my teeth at the ‘Ell’ part of it. That so would have enhanced…well, never mind, there goes my mind again, gutter bound. It seems to have taken up residence there.

  As I strut my way across the parking lot to my ride, I notice him still watching me and give him a wave. God, that was so freaking dorkish.

  I tuck my phone along with the paper with his number on it in my shirt pocket, straddle the black leather seat, and crank up my bike.

  Decisions, decisions.

  To call or not to call him, that’s the million-dollar question?

  As the breeze flows through the loose strands of my hair, I hit the road hard and open her up, anxious to get away from this brain clusterfuck I’m experiencing.

  I reach my place in minutes, kill the bike, fumble for the correct key, and insert it in the door to open it. I’m in my own little nook of a comfort zone now. Whew. I kick the door closed behind me and head straight for the fridge.

  Taking out a beer, I pop the top and take a big gulp. Then another and another until it’s empty, then go for another one. I bend over and take two instead. My head’s a wreck.

  Placing the cold beers on top of the small, round wooden table, I sit down in one of the old, half rotted chairs. Reaching inside my shirt pocket, I pull out the slip of paper with his number on it, and glance at
his name. I twirl it through my fingers, trying to decide whether or not to text him.

  Elliott, that man was mind-blowing because he had me going down on him without even blinking twice. Truth be known, I kinda liked it. A lot. But it also pisses me off at the same time.

  The catch twenty-two in this is I don’t know whether to be mad at him, or be livid with myself. It’s sort of like a love-hate thing going on. I hate that I dropped so quick for anyone, and lost all sense of composure and coolness, yet love that Elliott, without even trying, could accomplish that.

  Opening another beer, I take a sip, trying to sort out my head. My eyes close and I remember the way he moaned. So, good. So, fucking hot and sexy, yet innocent at the same time. The way he quivered and shook as he filled my throat and how quick I shot off when he did.

  God-dammit! I lean up straight, take the paper and toss it across the room. Screw this, it’s way too close for comfort.

  Kicking off my boots, I strip down and hit the shower. Steam floods the bathroom and I step inside, enjoying the way the water trickles down over my body. My thoughts wander back again, and I replay our moment. I want to jack off so bad, but refuse to let him get the upper hand on me. For God’s sake, he’s not even here to do that and what gives him the right to invade my headspace like this?

  I hop out, wrap a towel around my waist, and open the door. The cool air hits me and calms me down. The fog clears and I take a good look at myself in the mirror.

  Who in their right mind would want this anyway? Want me?

  The first thing that sticks out at me is the scar across my chest from a car wreck I had years ago. It’s an ugly one, one that almost ended my life, but somehow didn’t. I was mangled and shouldn’t have survived, but I did. Thank God, I guess. That one is still up for debate.