Reluctantly You (Our Exception Book 3)

Mitch

Gideon drops me off at my place with a serious look on his face.

“We start over today,” he tells me, his hand moving to my wrist, burning me where his fingers meet my skin. “Everything else doesn’t matter. Moving forward, do better.”

I just meet his stern gaze and let those words slowly sink into me.

“Yeah. Sure.” It’s not that easy, but I’ll give him platitudes to get him off my back.

“Are you going to be okay today?” he asks, and I nod.

“I’ll be fine. I’m always fucking fine.”

He watches me intently. “You should call the psychologist. I left his number on the fridge.”

“Yeah, will do,” I reply, with no intention of doing that. We never believed in therapists or psychologists growing up, a bunch of mind voodoo my dad called it. And that mindset stuck. What good can they do? Am I supposed to talk about feelings I don’t possess? I don’t fucking know.

As I make my way into the house, the cat moves up to me and rubs against my ankles, meowing loudly, annoyed that I’d left.

“Yeah, well, I fucking fed you already, you asshole.”

But then I give it some treats, pulling up a nearby vet on my phone so I can get this little shit some shots. Don’t want to get rabies. Don’t need to die yet.

I may have wanted to end it yesterday, but I’m back again, a flicker of anger over Gideon fueling me. He has the perfect life, the perfect job. Probably even has a family who loves him. I want a fucking smidge of that, just a taste. And maybe, if I work hard enough, I can have that too.

Yeah, that’s it. It’s nothing more than the desire to get back some of what I lost. And a need to do whatever it is to get it back.

I make an appointment for the cat and schedule it into my calendar. Tomorrow at noon, I take Little Shit Pants to the vet for vaccinations and a checkup. For my own safety. That’s all.

I make my way to my bedroom and change for work, trying to amp myself up to work hard today, or at least to do better than I was before.

Little Shit Pantaloons cries loudly when I start to make my way out and I debate bringing it with me. Maybe Shiloh would enjoy taking care of it while I attend those boring-ass meetings. But then again, the cat is a lot of work, so maybe not.

Be better,I think on the drive to work.

I can be a little better. Not much, but a tad. I can try.

It’s some positive thinking bullshit, but I’m giving it a go.

I finally make my way into the office with my shoulders squared and my head held high. Fake it until I make it.

I nod at Shondra, who gapes at me, as I’ve never acknowledged her before, and then I say hello to a man with thinning hair and a missing eyebrow. I should know his name, but I never learned it. I never needed to know it. He’s inconsequential.

But like Gideon said. Do better.

I’ll try. For a few minutes, I can try. I won’t last longer than that.

I head into my office and turn on my computer, with five minutes to spare. I hate that I’m early, that his words affected me so much. But him showing up and caring for me, bringing me outside and keeping me company helped. It fucking changed something inside of me. It’s like I could suddenly see through the black smog I had been wrapped in for days. There is now light at the end of the tunnel, as small and insignificant as it may seem.

I may have lost so much through the years, but I still have brothers, half-brothers they may be, but brothers nonetheless. And Magnus responded. It means something, right? That has to mean something. It means I haven’t lost all hope. It means that I can at least be good enough to keep him around.

As soon as nine o’clock hits, I pull up my calendar as a knock resounds on my door.

It opens a second later, and I see Shiloh peering through, a paper coffee cup in his hand.

“Gideon wanted me to give this to you. Motivation, he said.”

He sets it on my desk, and I stare at it. A vanilla latte. I see it printed neatly on the side of the cup. I can’t believe he did this. For me.

“Thank you,” I say, and Shiloh nods.

“Of course. Anytime, you let me know. I’m happy to make a trip to the coffee shop. Caffeine always helps my productivity.”

I nod and take it from the desk, putting it my lips and taking a sip as Shiloh strolls away.

Vanilla and smooth espresso burst on my tongue, and I let my eyes close momentarily. Fuck, that’s good. When have I actually indulged and bought myself something like this? Years, I think.

Setting it down, I stare at it, my lips slightly wet from the milk. My tongue slips out and I run it along the front of my teeth.

Fuck. I don’t want him to be nice to me. Not when I could rage and scream about the injustice of everything he’s done. But that won’t do any good. It’s too late. He already owns the company, and I just work here. I can do my job for a short time and then leave when I find something better, maybe even something I enjoy.

My mind goes to the art classes at the local community college, but I push them aside. No time to focus on that. I need to work. So I double down and attend the meetings I need to and work on my spreadsheets.

And when it’s time for lunch, I meander outside and sit on a bench beneath a tree, next to a sputtering fountain. I scoff at myself as I stare at it. My dad hated this feature, bitching when the owners of the building installed it.

For pussies. What’s next? Sound therapy?

Yeah, well, look at me, enjoying it.

I pull out my phone, staring down at Magnus’s message back to me.

Magnus

I’m glad it wasn’t the mushrooms. And thank you for the apology. Although Sem says you need to prove you’re really sorry.

I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know how to prove myself. Do I need to marry some guy too, walk around in rainbow shit and march in their Pride parades?

I fucking hate it all.

Hate that I want it.

I pull out a sandwich I bought from the downstairs vending machine and take a bite just as my eyes land on a young man who is prancing up to the double glass doors of the building. He’s wearing a flowing shirt and pants, and looks far too pretty to be a dude. My eyes slide to his mouth and for a moment, I envision it wrapped around my cock. Until I see Gideon stride out and pick him up, pulling him right off the ground and spinning him around.

The sandwich lodges in my throat, and I swallow it down roughly.

Who the fuck is that?

My chest constricts, and I rub at it. Just heartburn or something.

I take a swig of my water and lean back, hoping they don’t see me. I don’t want them to fucking see me. Luckily, they don’t. They just head off, arm in arm, their heads tucked together, whispering to one another.

I’m suddenly not hungry. I toss my sandwich away and stand up, brushing the crumbs from my shirt.

Doesn’t matter. Gideon doesn’t matter. I just need to focus on my damn job and go home.

But I can’t seem to get Gideon and that other man off my mind for the rest of the afternoon.

And as I’m leaving for the day, I hear Gideon’s voice down the hall tell Shiloh, “Can you call that restaurant? A reservation for two.”

My heart lurches in my chest, and I pick up my pace, not wanting to see him. I did my fucking job and now I want to leave. Thank fuck it’s Friday. It means that I don’t need to see Gideon for another two days.

But before I can disappear, Gideon stops me by the double doors, a hand to my shoulder.

“Good job today,” he says and my cock twitches at his praise, at his approval.

“Yeah,” I murmur and then step away, not looking at him as I make my way outside and to my car.

My hands clench on the steering wheel as I drive myself to the gym.

As I park, my phone buzzes and I see that Max and Matt have both messaged me. I stare down at their messages and my skin heats. Yellow bursts behind my eyes, and I hold my breath. Have they spoken to Magnus? Did he put in a good word for me? Fuck knows I don’t deserve it, but why else would they both be reaching out at the same time?

Matt

Miss you too, bro.

Max

I miss you as well.

Matt

Let’s plan dinner sometime?

Max

I think that’s a great idea, with some precautions.

Fuck, they’re talking like I’m some kind of biohazard. But maybe I am. I’m a fucking disaster.

Matt:

That’s fine. We can all talk before dinner. Is that okay, Mitch?

I tap my fingers on my phone and then reply.

Me

Yes. I can do that. When?

I’m scared they’re going to ask for something more from me, something I can’t give. Like I need to kiss a dude and like it.

Just tell them guys give you blow jobs. Maybe that will be enough.

Something ugly pierces my stomach and I feel it roil in disgust. I hate that I do this, that I crave it. That I’ve never wanted a woman the same way I’ve always wanted a man.

Matt

How about you all come over tomorrow for dinner. Coop wants to cook for us. Before we go up and introduce you, let’s meet on the beach and have that little chat.

Me

Sure. Send me what time and where and I’ll be there.

“Fuck this,” I murmur as I step from the car and move toward the gym. Inside, I change into my athletic shorts and T-shirt before pushing my earbuds into my ears. I decide to go for a run first, needing to burn off some anger.

As soon as I round the corner, I see Emery on a machine, a lollipop in his mouth, his legs going a hundred miles an hour. Sweat pours down his temples and his cheeks are red.

Asshole is going to choke.

He slaps the stop button and my eyes go to the timer. Two minutes.

“Oh fuck,” he says, wheezing, his hands landing on his knees. “That was too hard.”

I eye him and when he sees me staring, he stands up and waves. “Hi there, muscle man!”

I reach out and pull the candy from his mouth. “You’re going to choke to death,” I say, tossing it into a trash can. “No fucking running while eating.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, half of it sticking straight up from the sweatband he’s wearing.

“And next time, start off slow.”

“I hate slow.”

“I know, but that’s how you build up your stamina.”

He waggles his eyebrows at me. “I have excellent stamina.”

My eyes roll and I begin to turn on my music when Emery stops me. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Mitch.”

“Mitch, the badass bitch.”

My lips twitch at that and he watches as I stand on the treadmill and start at a slow pace. He copies me, trying his best, but he taps out after a few minutes, lying on the floor and panting loudly.

He doesn’t move until I finally get off twenty minutes later and then scrambles after me.

“What are we doing now, Mitchy?”

I sigh, realizing that I can’t get rid of this guy. I already told him my name. Seems I’m stuck with him.

“Arms.”

I lead him to a machine and show him how to use it. He oohs and aahs over the amount of weight I can press and when it’s his turn, I make sure there are no weights attached to the machine at all.

He scowls at me.

“You couldn’t even lift five pounds the other day.”

His lips turn up in a smile. “I know. I’m just kidding.” And then he starts to move the machine frantically. The metal bangs dramatically as he pumps his arms, and I sigh.

I slow him down and tell him to work at it a little more carefully. He listens and pretty soon, we’re in an odd little routine. He follows me around to different machines, babbling most of the time about random shit while I try to listen. And when it’s time to leave, he holds out his fist for me to bump.

“I’d hug you, but I don’t think you’d like that.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t,” I say and then knock my knuckles with his.

He grins and then pulls a lollipop from his pocket and pops it into his mouth.

“See you later, Mitch Bitch!”

People turn their heads to stare at me, but I ignore them, disappearing into the locker room to shower. When I head home, I’m thankful I didn’t run into Gideon. Although, why would he be here on a Friday night? He’s on a date with that guy.

I frown the entire way to my house and only let it dissolve when I go through the door and Shitty Pantaloons rubs up against my ankles. I pick it up and let it nuzzle into my neck.

“It doesn’t fucking matter who he’s out with,” I lie to myself and then head into the kitchen to make myself dinner.

That night I have a dream of him, his hands on my neck, his body between my spread legs. His warm breath hits my cheek as he ruts against me.

“More,” I beg, my body arching into his, vibrating with need.

“Say please,” he rasps, and I feel myself melt in that moment.

“Please, please.”

His hands leave my neck and he pushes my knees up to my chest, and then I feel it, the press of his cock at my hole.

And with a cry, a desperate moan, I open up for him…

I suddenly shoot up in bed, my cock hard and aching, my asshole clenching around nothing.

“Oh fuck,” I murmur, running a hand down my sweating, flushed face.

What the fuck was that? Why did I dream of that?

I reach down between my legs and grasp my cock, squeezing it tightly. I positively ache. Rolling out of bed, I head toward the bathroom and shut the door, not wanting Little Shitty Pants coming in here and interrupting a very private, embarrassing moment.

I pull open a drawer and grab some lube, squirting it on my oversensitive cock and fisting it. My head falls back as I jack myself, my legs starting to shake immediately. My hole clenches open and closed and without thinking, I reach behind myself and slide my finger around my rim. It’s sensitive, forbidden, nothing I’ve ever done before.

I’ve never allowed myself to do this.

Never.

My mind shifts to the guys I’ve had between my legs, their wet mouths, their sloppy tongues and then, without warning…Gideon.

His strong body, the way he commands me. The feel of his hands on my throat, his body above mine.

I groan lowly at the thought of him, letting myself experience the sensation of being filled for the first time in my life.

I push my finger further inside, knuckle deep. I feel the sting of it, the pain of being breached, and my cock jerks roughly, spilling my mess across my hand. A groan escapes me, and I stand there, my softening cock in my hand and my finger up my butt.

Well, fuck.

Fuck.

Thank fuck it’s the weekend. I wouldn’t be able to look Gideon in the eye after what I did, how I envisioned him for a few seconds as I came. Even worse, every time I think of him, I wonder if he slept with his date, the happy little twink. Did that guy get to see Gideon’s big dick? Did he get to see what he looks like when he comes?

Shit, I should go cruising and find someone to suck my dick again, to set me back to the Mitch I used to be, to re-regulate my bent-as-fuck brain.

At the moment, though, those plans need to wait. I’m at the vet, getting Little Shit Pantaloons her shots. Apparently, it’s a girl.

The vet cracks a smile at me when he sees her name scrawled on a piece of paper.

“Interesting choice of name.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the truth. She is a little shit, and I never planned on having a cat.”

“Ah, the cat distribution system at work, I see.”

“Yeah,” I murmur as I hold her in my arms. She snuggles into me, and I absently pet her soft fur. I brought her to the vet in a cardboard box and she was not happy, screaming at me the entire way here. I really need to get a carrier.

“Well, let’s see, Little Shit,” the vet says, picking her up and checking her out. He’s gentle with her, but still I cringe when he gives her the necessary vaccinations and she meows sadly.

“Would you like her to be microchipped?”

I pause for just a moment. I really shouldn’t bother. “Yeah, guess I should.”

By the time we leave, I’m hundreds of dollars poorer.

“You better be nice to me,” I tell Little Pantaloon, who just meows forlornly in the cardboard box. “Yeah, meow it up. You cost me far too much. I should put you back in the bushes.”

When we get home, I grab the packages waiting for me on the porch, unpacking a new cat bed and cat tree, and of course Little Pantaloons is all over it, crawling and purring and scratching up a storm.

I’ll get rid of the shitty lady tomorrow.