Ex-Daredevil by Zoe Lee

Chapter 6

Eliott

Gavin’s fingers, which had been shredding a paper napkin, stopped abruptly. His blazing purple eyes shot up to meet my hazy eyes, but I was too busy trying not to care about the answer to dissect his look. Finally he retorted, “Do you really want to know?”

I gave in and tugged the knot in my tie apart, undid the top button of my shirt, and pushed my opened collar away from my throat to get some air on it. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know,” I responded firmly, too honestly.

“Yeah, but you don’t really care, do you?” he shot back.

The words were a harsh lash, but his eyes were fixed to my throat, what had to be a wedge of shadowed skin exposed now. I felt the last of the wine burn out of my mind and bloodstream in one white-hot lance of fire. As slowly as if it were a striptease, testing him, I began to roll my sleeves up my forearms, and his eyes followed my fingers.

“Maybe caring isn’t exactly an accurate word to use,” I said thoughtfully in my quietest, most calming tone, “but I am curious—I don’t know very much about you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he stated, just daring me to contradict him.

I scratched my cheek idly, not breaking eye contact, and dared him right back with the blunt truth. “I know what you taste like and what you smell like, and I know that you had your appendix out because I saw the scar when I was on my knees for you.”

Gavin was frozen for a moment, his lips parted.

But then he scowled. “What are you, a lawyer or something?”

“I am, actually.” I couldn’t help but smirk a little when he goggled at me before catching himself and rolling his eyes as if to say, Of course you are. “Only stubborn people argue with me. Or sometimes people who think they’re cleverer than everyone else. Now you know I’m a lawyer, you know my father’s a philanderer, and you know I live in Chicago. That’s more than I know about you—even if what I know about you is more fun than what you know.”

“I didn’t come looking for you,” he retorted. “I’m just planning my next jump and remembered I left my gear in your car and that I had your number, and took a chance.”

Suddenly tired of the pretense I sensed from him, I shrugged, a study in nonchalance just as fabricated as his avoidance of my question. “How about I settle up at the bar and then you can come pick up your stuff at my house before you disappear again?”

I shoved up from the table before he could even open his mouth.

My heart was pounding with lust and confusion at what the hell I was thinking and doing. It only took a short time to pay, but I took another minute to breathe until my mind was clear enough to put this thing with Gavin into perspective. I was a good, responsible man and if I found him desirable and wanted to have sex with him once—or twice—then it wasn’t anything to get all twisted up over. And if I didn’t want to, that was just fine, too.

Centered again, I went back to him, scooping up my tie and stuffing it into my pocket as I looked down at him and inquired politely, “Are you ready to go?”

Gavin stood and hitched his pants up, then told me, “Come on, take me to your car. You’ve had a lot of wine, but I just had one drink, so I’ll drive us to your place.”

We walked out of the bar and back towards my office building in silence, the cluster of after-work bars giving way to near-empty streets of skyscrapers occupied by corporations, banks, and the odd boutique. As we passed an expensive faux diner-style restaurant, a sense memory of Gavin coming with violent heat over my hand echoed through me.

“So what really happened with the three-date guy?” he chose that moment to ask. It could have been coincidental to where we were, but his eyes were on the faux diner too.

“Nothing,” I denied simply, refusing to rise to the bait.

“I just can’t picture you tonguing someone named Philip’s balls,” he goaded.

Whether it was that sense memory or the way his mouth shaped the crass word tonguing, it had me hauling him against me. I growled, “I didn’t tongue his balls, or his cock. If you think I don’t care, then why do you care what happened with him anyway?”

Gavin laughed at me, the whiskey he’d had burning over my lips and down my throat. He grabbed my neck, digging in with his short nails, and drove his mouth against mine, biting my bottom lip so hard he drew blood. I let him shove me into the recessed doorway of the bank right across the street from my office, gripping his tiny waist.

“Jealous?” I gasped as he groped me through my suit pants.

“I’m never jealous,” he tossed back, yanking down the tab of my fly and twisting his fingers through the tight opening, but I was too hard and too big for him to pull out.

I dipped my head to lay bites along the sharp ridges of his collarbones and shoulders, unbuckling my own belt and popping the button helpfully. He made that feral purring noise I hadn’t been able to forget as he finally got his hand around me. I tossed my head back with a swallowed moan, my blank mind suddenly filling up with everything I could do to him—

But then, the reality of where we were slammed into me.

“Shit, Gavin—fuck, stop,” I managed through loud pants I couldn’t hide or control, dragging reluctant hands off his hips to stay his hand. “We’re in the middle of the city!”

“The lightbulb in here is burned out,” he pointed out, his voice damnably even and unaffected, pointing up at the ceiling of the darkened alcove with his free hand.

“That’s not the point and you know it,” I said vehemently, forcing my cock back into my briefs and doing up my pants as fast as my shaking hands would go. He sent me a look that called me a prudish coward. “This might be a fantastic fucking fantasy, but it’s illegal and I’m a lawyer,” I carried on, aware of how condescending I sounded, as he turned away. “My car is in the underground parking of that building right across the street.”

“Stubborn,” he grumbled, striding towards it while my eyes skated over his ass.

I caught up, gratified to see the way his jeans were distended around his cock too, and led him to my car, grateful my lust-crazed mind remembered where I’d parked.

Suddenly I hated the idea of being caged in my car with him and this strained silence.

So I caught his head in my hands and took his mouth again, luxuriating in his hungry, unhesitating response. Once he was making glorious, sexy ah, ah, ahs with every rut of our hips together, I tore free, nearly smiling at the narrow-eyed look on his face.

Shoving my keys in his hand, I said, “I meant we can’t do it in public, not that we have to stop forever. Get in the car already.”

Gavin drove too fast as he followed my directions to my affordable but upscale neighborhood, where I had a little condo with a garage as the first floor.

We came to an abrupt stop a foot from my garage door, the car rocking.

As soon as we’d unbuckled, Gavin was climbing into my lap. His body curved tightly over mine, his head touching the roof while his ass ground down on my lap roughly.

My erection returned to full force in one painful pump of blood and I dug my hands into his hair, then cursed when they gripped his braid instead. I tore off the rubber band at the end and pulled the braid apart so that those cool, rumpled strands brushed my face and throat. I’d never had a thing for hair before, but fuck, I liked Gavin’s. I wanted to see him fling it in an arc up over his head and down his back as he rode me.

But that couldn’t happen here, so I opened my door and hauled him out. Luckily he’s a tiny thing, I thought as he twined his legs around my waist, making a little noise of surprise.

I was headed for the comfort of my bed fifty feet away, Gavin sucking on my earlobe, until he murmured huskily, “I like your free-standing porch swing. Touch of the country.”

“It squeaks,” I answered inanely, nonetheless striding to it, my knees buckling so that I crashed onto it, the chains rattling. He laughed softly as he unwound his legs, stood, and pulled my hips forward so he could undo my belt and pants all over again.

I stared up at him, everything dark around us on my quiet street, while he efficiently stripped, his heavy belt buckle thudding onto his shoes. Something new took root in me as I took in the sight of him, utterly naked and less skinny than I’d remembered, bold and hungry and wild. He climbed back into my lap, kissing me with unhurried sumptuousness as he undid the buttons on my oxford and ran his hands over my torso in soft appreciation.

I’d never had sex outdoors. I shivered as I imagined the clouds shifting away from the moon so that I could see his snow-white skin gleaming in the distant moonlight.

But then practicality won out again and I groaned in frustration as he tasted my neck. “I don’t have a condom or lube out here, if you—and this is still sex in public, damn it.”

“No condoms in your wallet?” he replied without the acid I was used to from him. I swallowed and shook my head as he shifted, one of his thighs brushing against the tip of my cock. He sighed as he slid free, the noise somehow sweet.

“Trying to avoid temptation, I bet,” he said, and while I thought he’d meant to be mocking, it didn’t have quite enough grit to pull it off properly. It sounded as though he liked me. “You’d better let me in your house then.”