Reluctantly You (Our Exception Book 3)

Mitch

I’m awoken by a whimper, a thrash of limbs. I sit up, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness around me, and see Gideon’s face twisted as if in some kind of pain.

My hands reach out and I grab on to him, shaking him slightly. Another whimper, a plea, and then his eyes shoot open, his gaze disoriented.

“You’re okay,” I tell him, and he swallows, running a shaky hand over his face.

“Fuck.”

I’m silent, unsure if that dream was based on reality or just something his brain conjured up.

“I…that hasn’t happened in ages.”

“Maybe it’s sleeping here with me,” I say, and he scoffs.

“No. It’s my past trauma. It has nothing to do with you. I promise.”

The words soothe an ache that was building inside of me. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t the cause of this.

“What was it?” I ask, lying down next to him, my head resting on his pillow.

He turns toward me and our eyes meet.

“With my dad’s addiction, I was exposed to some bad things…things a child should never be exposed to.”

My hands clench the sheets beneath me as he turns his gaze and stares up at the ceiling.

“This dream was about the time my dad left me at home. Alone. And someone broke in.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah…they…well, I hid, but they found me and I was…assaulted. I’ve worked through it in therapy for years. Wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me, but it was…well, I’d like to not relive it in my dreams.”

I don’t know what to do with such vulnerable information. No one has ever trusted me with things like this, so I just reach over and cup his cheek. His gaze turns back to me, and I can see the swirl of tears in those dark eyes.

“If I ever find them, I’ll murder them.”

His lips twitch. “I love that for me.”

My hand starts to leave him, but he grabs on to it, holding it tightly.

“Thank you. For waking me up. For helping ground me in reality.”

“Sure,” I say, uncertain what to say. Our gazes lock for a long, lingering moment and then I turn away.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep. Want to just go to the gym and play a game of ball?”

“Thought I sucked at the game.”

“You do, but I’d really like a win this morning and you’re easy.”

I snort and shove at his arm gently. “I’ll have you know, I was on varsity team in high school and played in college. I’ll kick your ass this morning.”

“You’re on,” he says, turning his lips to kiss my palm and then he sits up and stretches. I watch him with hungry eyes, letting myself feel for the first time.

I want him.

That thought swirls around inside of my brain, disappearing into fumes of red smoke.

I’m not thinking about that now.

Not ever.

My mind focuses on the game we’re going to play.

I need to beat him. Just this once. I need to take something back.

I don’t win, but at least I gave him a run for his money. His chest is heaving, sweat dripping down his cheeks as he grins at me.

“Better game than last time.”

“I would have won if you hadn’t cheated.”

He laughs loudly. “It’s not my fault you kept checking out my ass.”

My cheeks flame and I shove at him, trying to move past him, but he stops me, his hand wrapping around my neck.

“I love it. You checking me out.”

I lean into it for just a moment before moving away, the two of us walking toward the lockers.

As we do, I hear a familiar voice, “Hi, Mitchy!”

I sigh as I turn around and see Emery waving at me. His shirt is inside out and his pants are on backward. He looks half asleep.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask, my brows furrowed in concern.

He shakes his head and then nods. “Just tired. Thought it would be a good idea to get up early and come here, but it was a terrible idea… Hey, I know you!”

Emery bounds up, tripping slightly, and I have to catch him in my arms. He pats my shoulders and then takes a step away, staring up at Gideon.

“Giddy.”

Gideon pauses a moment, his eyes widening. “Emmy?”

“Yes! Hi! Oh my god. I was wondering what happened to you. And look, here you are with my bitch!”

I sigh when Gideon grins over at me.

“I think you’re mistaken, Emmy. Mitch is my bitch.”

“Oh, will we have to fight over him?” he asks with a giggle. “Oh, never mind. You can have him. I’m married now, anyway.” He waggles his hand and when both of us stare down at it, he swears. “Damn. I think I lost my ring again. I could have sworn I put it on this morning.”

“Some things never change,” Gideon says and then he turns toward me. “Emmy and I were in the same group home toward the end. This was before all those tattoos. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Well, I had some, but you just didn’t see them. My firsts were on my back. Hm, that sounds dirty…”

“And now look at you. All grown up and covered in art.”

“I’m a chaotic mess,” he replies with a grin and then throws his arms around Gideon, hugging him tightly. “But oh my god, I’m so glad I got up and came here today. Can we skip working out and catch up?”

Gideon looks at me, and I shrug. He can do whatever the fuck he wants. I’m not his boyfriend.

“You don’t want to work out first?” Gideon asks, and Emery rolls his eyes.

“Not really. I’d honestly rather die.”

My lips twitch at that and then Emery links his arm with Gideon’s, “So, breakfast? I’m thinking a large cinnamon roll with extra frosting.”

“Thought you were worried about your moobs,” I interject, and Emery gasps.

“I am, which is why I’m going to only get one extra frosting. Not ten.”

Gideon laughs and ruffles his hair. “Well, we need to shower and then we’ll meet you out front?”

“Sure!” Emery says, bouncing on his feet.

We turn to walk into the locker room, and Emery trails after us. Guess he’ll be watching us lather ourselves up.

“Think he missed the waiting out front bit,” I murmur as we grab our towels and walk to the open shower.

“Typical Emmy,” Gideon says as we strip down.

Emery leans against the wall, pulling a lollipop from his pocket, and continues to talk to us.

“Oh my god, Giddy, you have gotten ripped,” Emery says, popping the candy from his mouth and waving it around. I turn slightly so he can’t see that my dick’s half-hard just from being in Gideon’s presence. “When did that happen, and how can I get pecs like you?”

“Just hard work, little Emmy. Hard work.”

“Ugh, I hate hard work, unless it’s eating ass. Then I really like working up a sweat.”

My eyes widen, and Gideon grins at me, a wink thrown in there as well. My dick hardens even more.

Fuck.

“A good ass-eating is always worth the effort.”

As Emery blathers on about it, loosely comparing it to a stuffed turkey—God knows what that’s about—I envision it. Me bent forward, my hands grasping the sheets beneath me, Gideon’s scruff abrading my ass cheeks, his tongue pressing into me.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

I rinse off quickly and grab my towel, placing it over my erection and waddling out of the shower. Emery doesn’t even bat an eyelash, just continues chattering happily to Gideon while sucking on that damnable piece of candy.

I move toward my locker, talking down my newfound libido, before quickly drying off and throwing on some clothes. My cock is tucked beneath the waistband of my shorts as Gideon finally comes up next to me.

I can’t look at him or I may end up…begging.

Fuck. No.

“Come on, let’s wait outside,” I interrupt Emery, who stops speaking and then nods.

“Yeah, totally. Outside is so nice. Kinda hot, but you know. I am too, so it works.”

He beams at me, his teeth slightly red, and I sigh, walking out of the locker rooms.

Gideon appears moments later and Emery waggles his lollipop between us. “Are you two like, dating?”

I shake my head as Gideon clears his throat.

“He’s my boss.”

Emery gasps, his lollipop falling to the ground. “Oh damn. That was my last one. The rest are on backorder.” His gaze turns back to us. “What were we talking about?”

“Nothing,” I reply, and he nods.

“Yeah, probably so. I’ll remember tonight at three a.m. Where are we going to eat?”

“I’m not joining you,” I say, and Gideon peers over at me.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I’d beg to differ. You are coming with us. You need to eat.”

I let him place his hand on the back of my neck and lead me forward. I should fight, should refuse, but we just walk side by side across the parking lot to a small, casual dining place.

“Oh, they have the best French toast here,” Emery says.

“Thought you wanted a cinnamon roll.”

He groans and rubs his stomach, which grumbles loudly. “I want both. But my insulin and glucose monitor will beep at me aggressively, so I have to make a choice. I hate choices. They’re the bane of all my existence.”

“I’ll make a choice for you,” Gideon says, and I eye him as he clutches Emery’s shoulder. “The cinnamon roll.”

“Oh thank god. I would have been here for ages making that decision.”

We order at a small counter and take a seat, Gideon and Emery already starting to catch up before our coffees even arrive.

“Have you kept up with anyone that I know?” Emery asks, and Gideon taps his finger on the small metal table.

“Rory and Shiloh.”

“Oh my god. Are you for real? I’d love to catch up with them.”

“Give me your number and we can arrange it.”

They quickly swap as the coffees are brought over and Emery’s gigantic cinnamon roll. Gideon’s and my breakfast burritos are taking a bit longer to make.

“Oh my god,” Emery groans, taking his finger and dipping it right into the extra serving of frosting. “This is heaven and so much better than working out.”

Gideon grins and then looks at me, putting his finger in the frosting as well and lifting it up to my lips.

“Fuck off,” I murmur, but I can feel my cheeks flaming.

Emery is wiggling in his seat, not paying any attention to us, just happily whispering to the cinnamon roll.

“I’m gonna devour you,” he says, and Gideon’s grin widens, holding his finger up closer and smearing it onto my bottom lip.

Fuck.

My cock twitches between my legs and my tongue sneaks out, swiping across my lip and the tip of his finger.

Gideon’s eyes darken as I lean forward and suck it clean.

His cheeks flush and I watch as his nostrils flare. But his finger disappears when Emery apologizes to his pastry and stuffs his mouth full.

“Oh ma gaw,” he moans and then leans back and stares at the ceiling. “So gooo.”

“Was he always like this?” I ask, and Gideon shakes his head.

“When I knew Emmy, he was…broken. Chaotic, but broken. He’s happier now.”

Emery leans forward and nods. “So much happier. Wait till you meet my man, August. He’s a dreamboat. We’re technically stepbrothers, but…you know how I like it.”

I have no idea how he likes it, but before I can ask, our breakfasts are set before us and I dig in while Gideon and Emery chat. I catch bits and pieces of it—a past long gone, the shame and trauma of growing up in the foster care system and the hope they now both have after finding peace.

Fuck, the idea of him, Gideon Masters, pulling himself from his lowest point and making something of himself.

It’s impressive. Worthy.

And part of me wonders, if he can do it, can I as well?

We make our way out of the breakfast place, Emery loping off to his car, a to-go bag with another cinnamon roll in his hand. We watch him get into his car and then Gideon turns to face me.

“That was unexpected, seeing him again.”’

“Yeah, I bet,” I say as his finger comes and twines with mine, pulling me into him. I go willingly, not even hesitating.

Who have I become?

“Why don’t we spend the rest of today at my place?”

I shift on my feet, my finger curling around his. “What about Little Pants?”

He ponders that for a moment. “Good point. Let’s go to my place and I can pack a bag.”

My eyes narrow. “Pack a bag for what?”

“I’m sleeping over tonight, Mitchell.”

“What if I don’t want you to come over?” I ask, even though my heart is beating frantically at the thought of spending more time with him. Fuck, to be alone together. To explore.

My mind swirls with the possibilities, sapphire and garnet, lust and need.

“You do. You want me more than you can ever admit. You’re peering out of that closet, aren’t you? You like what you see.”

I scoff, but still my words come out assuredly. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

His entire palm engulfs mine at the admission and we walk hand in hand back to his car. I stare at the ground the entire way, worried if I look up, I’ll see someone staring at me. Judging me. A man holding another man’s hand.

An abomination, foul.

Beautiful, true.

By the time I make it into his car, I’m a heaving mess, a cacophony of emotions.

“Was that so bad?” he asks as he turns his car on. “You’re sweating.”

“I don’t like…I just don’t like…PDA.”

“Is that so?” he says and then turns to look at me, his eyes narrowing, his gaze intent. And then his hand wraps around the back of my damp neck and he pulls me forward, the seatbelt digging into my shoulder.

His lips press against mine and his tongue pushes into my mouth, taking, plundering. I lean into it, wanting it more than I will ever admit as a low groan escapes me, my cock lengthening in my shorts.

Fuck. Why is he so addicting? Why do I want this so bad?

You never let yourself admit what you wanted.

You’ve never been honest.

He pulls away slowly, his lips wet from my spit, his pupils blown out.

“Fine, my little horny boy. I’ll kiss you in private then.”

I let out a shaky breath, turning my gaze to the parking lot. No one saw, no one is staring.

No one fucking cares.

What a goddamn relief.

When we make it to his place, I’m feeling surly, anxious, and turned on. It’s a confusing mix of emotions, and I don’t know what to do with them. My heart is frantically pulsing in my chest and I can hear it pounding in my ears.

The things I want.

The things I need.

“Come on,” he says as he starts to walk toward the bedroom.

I stare at him, folding my arms across my chest.

“I’ll fucking wait here.”

He scoffs at me, his tongue snaking across his front teeth.

“Okay. If you say so.”

I shift on my feet and watch his ass as he goes, those thighs bunching and flexing as he walks. Goddamn it, I think as I adjust my hard cock, pulling it up beneath the waistband of my shorts again… I need a fucking reality check. I need a fucking punch to the head. A smack back to reality.

My hand squeezes my dick.

I need to come.

I need a distraction.

My eyes take in the airy space, the expensive cabinetry, the sleek leather couches. The money he spent on this place. It’s so goddamn nice. When I bought my house, in that artsy neighborhood, I told myself it was because it was cheap, but really, I think I liked the color, the eccentricity.

I liked the freedom I’ve never felt a day in my life.

The freedom to possibly, one day, be me.

The time ticks down, an endless wait while Gideon packs, my foot starting to tap anxiously on the floor as I huff in frustration.

What the fuck is he doing? Why the hell is he taking so long?

“Gideon,” I grunt as I start forward, walking down a hallway toward the bedrooms. There have to be at least five, a sprawling mansion on a golf course, a show of wealth and means.

I hear shuffling, a clink of metal as I round the corner into his bedroom. He’s crouched on the floor, his hands attaching something to the base of his bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, my eyebrows rising, and he grins slyly up at me.

“Preparing.”

“For what?” I ask, already feeling my cock start to leak. I fucking hate that he’s reduced me to this, a needy, desperate mess. But my whole life I’ve walked around in the dark, my hands grazing along the rough walls, trying to find my way out of the shadows.

And then suddenly there’s a light.

Warmth.

Desire.

I can’t turn away and go back to the way things were. Not when I finally see it, finally understand.

“For you,” he says, standing up and moving toward me. I back away, trying to fight him even though my body aches for whatever he has planned.

His hand reaches out and grasps onto my wrist, pulling me toward him, my chest hitting his, his mouth meeting mine. His hands fist in my hair as his mouth devours mine and I’m left limp in his arms, my dick straining against him. Needing this more than I need air.

I need him to live.

“The things I want to do to you,” he murmurs as he nips his way across my cheek to my ear. “The things I want to show you.”

I arch my hips up against him, feeling his own dick hard and straining.

He wants me. He wants me too.

But I can’t. I can’t.

I rip my mouth away from him, trying to move backward, but he stops me with a tug of his arm. Suddenly, within a blink, I’m flailing forward, my chest against the bed, my hands moving up to catch myself. They fist in the sheets and I try to move myself up, but he pushes me down once more, something clasping around my left ankle.

I grunt, trying to pull my leg free, but before I can, my other is spread wide and clasped tightly. I can’t move. I’m spread against the end of the bed, a willing sacrifice.

“What the fuck, Gideon?” I grunt, and he stands up, running his hands up my shirt, my skin breaking out in goosebumps as he goes.

“I knew you wouldn’t take this willingly, but I want to give it to you all the same. I want to make you fucking scream.”

I bite back a low groan at the thought that I have no idea what he has planned. Is he going to fuck me? Going to split me wide open?

Oh god. Oh my fucking god.

His fingers ruck up my shirt and a second later, he rips it from my body, tossing it aside.

“But if you really don’t want it, you tell me, and I’ll stop. I’ll fucking stop. I promise.”

I open my mouth to tell him to let me go, to tell him to unclasp me from the bed, but nothing comes out. Nothing but a low moan.

“Fuck. Yes. I knew it. I fucking knew you’d want this. You want me to take it from you. You won’t admit it, but you want it all the same.”

His fingers curl around my wrists and he roughly pulls them behind my back, tying them there with something soft. Silk. A tie.

“Anytime you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” he reminds me and then his hands are pulling my shorts down my spread legs, getting stuck halfway down my thighs.

“This won’t do,” he grumbles and then a moment later, he’s cutting them off, the snick of the scissors meeting my ears.

“What the fuck, Gideon?” I grumble—again—but he just chuckles.

“Just want you naked for this. I want you completely bare for me.”

I shift on the bed, my cheek pressed to his soft sheets. My cock is nestled against the cool fabric and I arch up slightly, dragging it across it, making it leak even more.

But before I can continue to rut, to try and get myself off on my own, he reaches between my legs and pulls my hips up and my cock down, exposing it to him fully.

“Yes. Yes. That’s better. Such a pretty cock.”

I groan when his fingers trace up the exposed underside of my dick and around my balls before dragging up my ass.

“What the fuck are you going to do?” I ask, my voice hoarse, wanting to know but also not. I don’t know if I want to know.

Like he said. I want him to take it.

“I saw the way you blushed when Emery spoke about eating ass. So I’m going to eat your ass, Mitchell. I’m going to eat it until that needy cock comes.”

My eyes screw shut and I try like hell to tell myself to make this stop, but the thought of it, his tongue pushing inside of me, eating me, moaning as he tastes me makes me desperate.

I want it.

I want so much more than I’ve ever admitted.

I want more than I ever thought I could.

“Do it,” I rasp, and he grabs on to both of my cheeks and spreads them.

“I will. I’ll do it so well you’re going to be chanting my name.”

I don’t know what he sees or if he even likes it, he just massages my ass gently before his teeth sink roughly into one globe.

I cry out, the pain snaking through me as my back arches off the mattress, my legs trying to move but are unable to, still restrained.

“Good. You take it, my little slut. You take it like a good boy.”

“Fuck you,” I manage to hiss, but only receive another rough bite on the opposite cheek in response.

“So contrary. So fucking stubborn, but I’ll get you to bend. I never lose.”

His tongue drags up my crack and I groan lowly at the sensation of being touched there. Besides me, he’s the only one who’s ever been close to my hole.

That secret, forbidden place.

He’s going to be my first.

And he knows it.

He knows the power he holds.

His lips pucker around my asshole and he sucks on it, making it contract in anticipation. It wants more.

It wants it all.

I whimper, eager, needy.

He chuckles, knowing what’s swirling through my mind, but he’s not giving it to me. Instead, the tip of his tongue rolls around the rim, licking and sucking, kissing it like he kisses my mouth, but chaste. Not enough.

I want more.

Not enough.

I’m grunting, pushing back, trying to get him where I want him, but unable to say it. To admit it.

It’s what he wants from me. I know it.

He wants me to beg.

Well, I fucking won’t. I won’t.

Please.

It’s a breath, a whisper, but his tongue surges forward into me, making me arch off the bed, my cock dragging against the sheets where it’s been pulled downward.

His hand slides against it, jacking me off as his tongue pushes into me, over and over. My eyes cross, my mouth forming words I’ll later regret. But my mind is a scramble of mismatched phrases and thoughts, my feelings soaring, my lust unparalleled.

“Please. Gideon. Please!”

His mouth leaves me, and I hear the metal clank and then my feet are free, my hands untied. He pushes me forward and I go willingly, letting him turn me over until I’m face up, my hands reaching for him.

“Knees on your chest. I’m not fucking done with you,” he murmurs as I do what he commands. My knees hit my armpits, and he lifts me up, his tongue lapping at my entrance, my dick slapping my stomach as I try and get him to fuck me deeper.

I want it deeper.

I want him inside of me.

“Fuck me. Fuck me.” I’m chanting it now, a hymn, a religion.

Gideon only slides his tongue deeper along with a finger, holding me up in his strong arms as he wets me, massages me until I’m shouting his name, my cock exploding across my abdomen.

I can’t find air, my chest heaving as he crawls up my body, his cock angry and dark purple, a bit of precum sitting on the tip of him. A pearl, a treat.

“You’re gonna suck this, my little cockslut. You’re gonna suck it and swallow.”

I moan as it hits my lips and he slides inside. The taste of him, the weight on my tongue making my hands slide up to his hips and pull him in closer.

My brain is fuzzy, warm, a low hum as he grabs on to my face and fucks down into me, slowly at first and then harder, rougher.

I take it all, letting his dick slide down my throat.

I don’t even gag.

I was made for this.

My cock stirs, hard again as he continues to work inside of me, his praise slipping from his tongue.

“Such a good boy. You love it rough. You love it when I fuck your throat. Such a good little slut. My little whore.”

My eyes slam into his, and he stutters, his thumb gently stroking over my cheek and then he comes, his head thrown back, the bitter spill of his seed hitting my tongue and then my throat.

I swallow it like he told me to, letting myself experience something I only dared to dream of, and even those were discarded in a fit of rage. But now, for just these few minutes, I’m letting myself have what I always told myself I couldn’t.

I’m letting myself have it.

For once in my goddamn life.