Alexander Bryant has lived his entire life making everyone else happy. After meeting Lincoln, will he have the courage to finally do what makes him happy?
Alexander – I like to consider myself a rebel – an ass-kicker that takes what he wants regardless of what others think. I make my own path and flip off the people who don’t agree. I laugh in the face of conflict. Nobody tells me what to do.
In reality, everything about me is a lie – past, present, and future. The Bryant family name requires certain things and all my decisions are based on those requirements. I like football, but the family name demands I love it. I want to be an artist, but the family name demands I be a lawyer. The family demands I fall in love with a nice girl, but I’m falling for, well, the opposite of nice AND girl. I’m a coward and a liar.
Lincoln – I like to imagine myself a loner – a cold heartless bastard that takes what he wants. I lived the biggest part of my life with parents that were ashamed of me for more reasons that one could begin to count, so I trust no one. I have a low tolerance for bullshit and hate liars. So why did I go and fall in love with the biggest liar of them all?
I lay there, or at least I think I’m lying down on some sort of soft surface. Soft and cozy. Smells nice. Yeah, it feels like a mattress, but it also feels like I’m floating on a fluffy cloud. I can hear things, some soft music playing, but it sounds like everything is so far away. I’m toasty warm. Even in my sluggish mind I know I’ve never felt this relaxed in my entire life. I can’t explain it – other than I never want the feeling to go away.
I should probably open my eyes and try to at least wake up, but it feels so damned good that I keep them clenched tightly together. There’s a nagging twitch in the back of my mind, telling me something isn’t quite right and I should be concerned, very concerned, but I don’t want to listen. I try to shut out my mind and focus only on what my body is saying.
I want to relax and enjoy whatever the hell this is. I don’t use drugs, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to start if this is the result of pill popping. Did I drink too much? Nope; if I had, I’d be feeling more like a rattlesnake being poked instead of a cuddly slug cocooned someplace…that smelled so damned nice. What the hell was that scent? I liked it. I’m pretty sure if I was able, it would turn me on. For the first time in my life, I feel like I might not have the energy to even get it up…and it feels so good that I don’t even care.
What had I been doing? Where was I? What had happened and how could I make it happen again?
“Alexander.” A husky voice invaded my state of peace and relaxation.
I peeked an eye open and immediately wished I hadn’t. Fuck. Fuck. Double fuck. What the double fuck? I tried to scramble away from the man looming over me but my limbs felt like fucking jelly that had been left out in the sun. My arms wouldn’t work. My fucking legs wouldn’t work. The only thing that was fucking working was the voice inside my head screaming for me to run for my fucking life. Well, shit. I’m naked. Yep, naked and apparently I’m in another man’s bed. I don’t belong in the beds of other men. Nope, not me. Especially not the bed of Lincoln Montgomery, spanker of bare asses.
“Calm down, Alexander,” Lincoln said in that deep, sexier than sexy voice. “You’re going to feel weak after our scene. It’s natural so don’t be alarmed. Don’t move,” he ordered as he turned away to reach for something. Before I could even consider trying to at least slide across the bed and belly crawl for the window so I could jump to my death, he was back around and offering me a bottle of water. No way was I drinking that shit. I’m sure it’s drugged; just like whatever I drank last night had to have been drugged. That’s why I was feeling so weak. And fucking wonderful.
Oh, shit. The scene! I had actually let another man spank me with a crop. In front of a crowd. Practically naked. I’m pretty sure I begged for it. I eyed the window again, calculating if I could make it before Lincoln grabbed me and hauled me back to his bed. Sure, I’d die naked and humiliate my parents and grandparents, but that would have to be their fucking problem. For the first time in my life, they would just have to deal with me breaking the rules. Technically, I suppose, I wasn’t breaking them. Mother just always said to have clean underwear on in case you are in an accident. I suppose in her mind no underwear would surely beat dirty underwear.
“Stop acting like a child, Alexander. We’re on the tenth floor. You would splatter,” Lincoln scolded. “Now drink your water. After an especially intense scene, you need plenty of rest and fluids. You’ve gotten the rest, so let’s drink our water, shall we?”
Apparently he could read my mind. Perfect.
“I don’t want your water, Lincoln. You’re probably just trying to drug me again,” I spat. Hell, I knew he hadn’t drugged me, but it sounded a hell of a lot better than I was stone-cold sober when I stripped in front of strangers and let a grown-ass man spank me. Oh wait, I’m also naked in his comfy bed. We probably fucked, too.
It gets better and better.
I wiggle a bit to see if I’m sore in places I shouldn’t be sore. Yep, I sure the fuck am. Of course that could very well be from the spanking I received, but, then again, it could be from something much worse. Shit, did I let this man fuck me? Double shit, why does the thought of that not piss me off like it should?
“Are you implying I’ve drugged you, Alexander?” Lincoln asked as he opened the bottle of water. I opened my mouth to tell him I damned straight thought he drugged me, but before I could get it out, he had scooped up my head and forced the bottle against my lips. “Drink,” he ordered.
“Very good,” he praised and I glowed like a fucking moron. Why the hell would I care if he was happy or not? I should be feeling the opposite. Actually, I should probably punch him the face – if only my damned arms didn’t feel like a ton of lead. Since an angry glare was the only weapon I possessed at the moment, I glared. And glared. And glared.
He laughed – the motherfucker.
“You’ve got a pretty pout, Alexander. I’m sure you use it to get your way on most occasions, but it won’t work with me so put it away. Don’t waste your time and mine.”
His voice sounded like a growl. A very sexy, very arousing growl. Something inside of me wanted to purr. I settled for, “Fuck off, Lincoln.”
“Do you remember what happened earlier?” He pulled a chair right up against the bed and leaned closer to me than I felt comfortable with. No, scratch that. He leaned closer than I wanted to feel comfortable with. As it turns out, what I think I want and what my body wants might be two different things, as in on opposite ends of the chart. My head is screaming “no” but my body is dying to get closer to him. As my nostrils flare, I realize the scent that has been driving me crazy with lust is none other than Lincoln Montgomery. Could it get any worse?
“I’m straight,” I blurted out, trying to convince myself more than Lincoln. “Not gay.” Yeah, clarify it like he didn’t have a clue what straight meant. I’m a fucking idiot.
He smiled. It was one of those indulgent smiles that parents give children when they say or do something ridiculous. “Yes, thank you for telling me, Alexander. Again.”
Oh yeah, I had already told him that. Shit.
“Don’t worry. Straight men end up on the other end of my crop and then naked in my bed all the time.” Another indulgent smile. “It happens alllll the time.” He mocked.
“Did we?” I asked. I had to know. Shit, I didn’t want to know.
“Did we what?” Lincoln asked with a smirk. He knew damned well what I wanted to know. “Did we fuck?” I hissed, furious he made me say it and even more furious at the blush creeping across my body.
Lincoln remained perfectly quiet and I knew the delay was only meant to make me suffer as long as humanly possible. His eyes, a deep midnight blue, twinkled with merriment at my expense. I wasn’t sure of a hell of a lot of things at the moment, but I was one hundred percent certain that if Lincoln had fucked me, I enjoyed it. There was an aura of arrogance that he wore like a second skin – not the stupid kind of arrogance, but the kind that one got from being told how incredibly awesome they were. At fucking. He was probably awesome at fucking.
Finally, he said, “Trust me, Alexander; you would know it if I’d fucked you.” He leaned closer to me. “Every inch of you, inside and out, would know you’d been properly fucked.” His hot breath tickled my cheek as he spoke the words…the words that tickled me somewhere else. Fuck. How horrifying would it be if my cock got hard right about now? Pretty fucking horrifying.
“Plus, you’re straight, remember?”