Page 34 of Winning You
To the way he somehow seemed to soothe Frankie in ways no one ever had before. It was bizarre. He hardly knew him, but Christ, he wanted to. No, he wanted more than that. He was done trying to deny it.
He wanted Lucas’s competent, gorgeous hands all over him. He wanted Lucas’s smart mouth to kiss him. He wanted to tell Lucas what to do and watch as he fell apart under Frankie’s hands. Because the one thing Frankie was best at was spoiling the people he cared about.
Fuck, he would spoil Lucas. He would ruin him for all other men if he were given the chance to do it.
For now, he had his fantasy.
Touch me, he’d say. He gripped his dick as the Lucas in his mind reached for him. Frankie knew how it would go—Lucas would graze the tips of his fingers over the length of his cock. He’d feel how hard it was, feel what Lucas did to him. He’d hold him by the throat at first, and his voice would sound like a growl when he said, “Kiss me.”
And Lucas would obey because he was a brat, but Frankie could also tell he liked to be bossed around. He liked to be given strict boundaries of control. He liked to know exactly what was expected of him.
For him, Frankie knew that was freedom.
Lucas would taste good. Like the cinnamon buns he’d left on the doorstep. Like summer citrus and autumn spices and the sharpness of winter snow.
His body would be pliant as Frankie fucked him with his fingers and then spread him wide and bounced him on his cock. Frankie would pin him to the wall with his legs in the air, and he would introduce Lucas to god. Over, and over, and over.
His entire body began to shake, his arm aching as he jerked himself raw. He managed to get his free hand over his mouth to catch his cry as his balls tightened, and his come splattered the wall as he let go.
“Fuck,” he gasped against his palm. His knees felt weak as the aftershocks rolled through him, and as he let the water wash away the evidence, shame crept back into his body.
God, what would Lucas say if he knew that Frankie had done this to the fantasy of him? Was he really that fucked-up?
He swallowed past his personal little wave of humiliation as he washed himself clean, then got out and threw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Creeping back to the living room, he noticed that the couch was empty, and he assumed Fallon was in the guest bathroom, so he took the chance to sneak into the kitchen for what Lucas had left him.
Most of the plate was still intact, sitting under the cling film.
Frankie peeled back the plastic and pulled one edge of the bun away. It was still covered in frosting and thick layers of cinnamon. He wished he’d been able to try it fresh from Lucas’s kitchen, but this was just as good.
The pastry melted on his tongue, the perfect blend of spiced and sweet. Just like Lucas, he thought with a near laugh. He reached for another bite when he heard a sudden noise coming from the hallway.
It was a thud. Then a sharp cry.
Lucas was the first thing on his mind as he darted to his front door, and he wasn’t disappointed when he saw the man standing there with Gage. But neither of them was hurt as far as he could tell. No, it was Fallon. He had pressed himself against the wall, and Charlie was lying at his feet.
The fucker was staring up at Gage, and there was an obvious red circle around his left eye that was getting darker by the second. Charlie looked pissed off enough to spit fire.
“What the fuck is going on?” Frankie demanded, looking from Charlie to his brother.
Lucas jolted. “Frankie?”
“Yeah, hey,” Frankie said. “I heard a shout.”
“That was him,” Gage said, pointing at Fallon. “This motherfucker hit him.”
Rage like Frankie had never known ripped up his spine. He was so consumed by it that he didn’t realize he was being held back by strong arms until he tried to swing. Then Gage was blocking his line of sight, his back to Frankie.
“Better not,” Lucas murmured in his ear. He had both arms wrapped around Frankie’s chest, and his presence alone was the only thing that was taming his fury. “You don’t need to go to jail tonight.”
“I’m calling the fucking cops!” Charlie spat.
“And I hope you do,” Gage said, folding his arms. He stepped aside so Frankie could see Charlie better. “We saw what you did to your boyfriend.”
“Oh yeah, a drunk guy and a blind guy. I’m sure the cops will believe you.”
Gage burst into laughter. “Oh, my dude, try us. I’m being so for real. I’m begging you to call.”
Lucas’s grip on Frankie loosened slightly. “He’s having a bad night,” he whispered into Frankie’s ear.
