Keep Me Wanting by Avril Ashton
Publisher: Self Published
Word count: 30,951
Genre: GLBT Romance
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The last thing on Damian Archer’s mind is a relationship. He’s focused on running the family business and keeping up appearances. He’s fine with the way things are, until the tattooed help at a friend’s party takes one look at him and calls him on his bull.
Fired from a brand new job, Fin Thornton is homeless and penniless. He knows men like Damian. He abhors men like Damian. Despite the wealthy man coming to his aid when he desperately needs it, Fin is hesitant to lower his guard. Yet Damian insists on being in Fin’s face, demanding things and offering help.
In spite of their differences, something keeps them wanting each other. The same connection that has Damian desperate to stake a claim on the skittish Fin. But it will take a ghost from Fin’s tragic past to show both men that what they have is worth more than money.
“We need to talk, Fin.” Damian opened the limo door. “Get in.”
“Fuck off.” Fin didn’t want to be near him like he’d been last night. Didn’t want to smell him. Didn’t want to want him. He walked away, speeding up, but the vehicle was right there beside him, Damian peering out the window.
“This isn’t a request, Fin. Now.”
Why did those rich fuckers always use that tone of voice? The one that hits you like whiplash and have you wanting to scurry along, to do anything to please them? Fin yanked open the car door and jumped inside. Before he got his ass on the plush leather seat, the driver was already peeling away.
He turned to a smug-looking Damian, barely managing to keep a lid on his fury. “Let me tell you something, Archer. I’m not one of your fucking lemmings, I don’t come when called. You get me?” He slid away from close proximity to Damian, all the way to the seat facing him. “Tell me what the hell you want from me so I can be on my way.”
Damian just stared at him, eyes haunting, face blank.
“Christ, I don’t…” Fin dragged his fingers through his hair. Frustration and hunger set his teeth on edge. “Just tell me what you want.”
“Why did you allow yourself to get arrested for something you didn’t do?”
Fin barked a harsh laugh. “Are you fucking serious? Allow? You think I wanted to get arrested, I wanted to spend the night in a cold cell with two other strangers?’
Damian leaned forward, hands folded on his knees. “Why didn’t you tell the truth?’
“Are you for real?” Fin flung the question at him. “Who listens to the truth when evidence to the contrary is right there for all to see? Would you have believed me if the same thing happened, if you didn’t know the story?”
A muscle ticked in Damian’s otherwise impassive face, and Fin scoffed.
“Of course not. The help ripped off the jewelry, it’s a familiar story, and no one there last night wanted to hear the truth. My truth.” He shook his head. “‘But you know what? I’d like to know what gives you the right to stick your upturned nose in my business.”
“You’re innocent.” Damian spoke the words like that should explain it all. “I had to do something.”
“No.” Fin couldn’t understand him. “No, you didn’t have to do anything except mind your own damn business. How in the fuck is that hard?” he asked.
Damian’s eyes narrowed, the first sight of any emotion in a long while. “You’d rather sit in jail for who knows how long instead of me helping you out?”
“Yes!” Now the frustrating man was getting the picture. Damian opened his mouth, but Fin cut him off. “Because then I wouldn’t be beholden to you, Mr. Archer. I wouldn’t owe you.” He sat back in his seat and folded his arms. “Because you want something, I can see it your eyes.”
Damian didn’t deny it, he simply held Fin’s gaze, unflinching. They eyed each other in silence, and Fin swore he could hear his heart beating out of his throat. As much as he hated men like Damian Archer, men with money to burn and unending power to wield, he was attracted to the older man. Attracted to the bald head, the eyes that pinned him in place, the trim goatee.
He was attracted to the very power and money that had taken everything from him and driven him out into the streets.
“Go on,” he said softly. “Tell me what you want already, you know you want to.”
Damian shifted slightly and Fin dropped his gaze, groin tightening in response to the bulge in Damian’s black slacks.
“Or do I already know?” Fin purred. He slid to the floor of the car, between Damian’s legs. He expected the other man to move, do something, but Damian held himself still, barely breathing and stared down at him.
“You want me, don’t you?” Fin placed his palm over the bulge. Fucking impressive. Hard as steel. Fin’s own cock throbbed, ached, but the anger overrode the arousal. “I bet you thought you could buy my ass by getting those charges dropped?”
He squeezed Damian and even though a pulse leapt in his throat and his eyes darkened, Damian showed no other reaction. “I bet you thought I’d be so grateful I’d spread ’em for you, fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name.” His voice turned raspy as those images played out in his mind’s eyes. Still, that bastard had to know he wouldn’t win.
Fin pushed Damian’s knees apart roughly and cupped his erection, stroking, squeezing as his balls drew up.
“Guess what?” He rose up slowly, bringing his face as close to Damian’s as he could bear without inhaling the other man’s heat and spice. “I don’t whore myself out, and no amount of your money will change that. I don’t fuck for money, never have. Never will. So keep your shit and don’t do me any favors.”
He moved to turn away, but Damian’s hand shot out, closing around his wrist, holding Fin’s hand hostage where he cupped Damian.
“Are you finished?” Damian rasped. “Because you talk a lot of shit for a man with his hand on my cock.”
About the Author
A West Indian transplant, Avril now lives in Stone Mountain, GA., with a tolerant spousal equivalent. Together they raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore she’s back to loving it). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing the plot points of Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother.
Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Av remains a believer of love in all its forms.
Addicted to cake, the ID Channel and the UFC, Avril writes Gay and Erotic Romance.