Infuriating - Onley James Page 0,12
at being the one who fucked him for the first time, as if being the first one to stick their dick in him was some kind of fucking prize. But Day was the one who’d made it a prize.
Day slid his gaze to Jackson, who looked so relaxed as he drove. His one hand draped over the wheel and the other draped over the center console. Day found himself wondering what it would feel like to just ride in the car, hands clasped together like a couple. Jackson seemed so calm. Day’s outburst hadn’t raised so much as an eyebrow from him, and he’d even said he’d liked it. Day had never been part of a real couple. He didn’t really think love was a real thing, at least, not for somebody like him. There was too much wrong with him.
It sucked, too. Day had never met anybody like Jackson. He exuded this calm that made Day want to curl up against him, like a cat finding a warm spot in the sun. Jackson had this innate confidence. He was tall and large and sexy, and he unapologetically took up space. Day bet he’d never been embarrassed a single day in his life.
He sighed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to fuck Jackson or be Jackson.
Jackson looked over, catching Day staring at him like an idiot. He could already feel his cheeks pinking when Jackson flashed those perfect white teeth in a wicked smile, his eyes hidden behind his Cartier sunglasses. Nope. No. Day was sure. He wanted to fuck Jackson. But worse than that, he wanted to call Jackson Daddy, wanted to snuggle on the couch with him, wanted to know each other’s coffee orders.
Day didn’t even return Jackson’s smile, just snapped his gaze to stare out the window, his heart beating out of his chest as he did his best to hold back the panic attack trying to claw its way up his throat. What the fuck was wrong with him? The whole Daddy thing was a gimmick. A way for Day to work his baby face and pouty lips for the older guys who didn’t know a thing about actual BDSM. Not that Day really did, either. Not in reality. He’d looked on fetish sites, like Fetlife, once, but had panicked when he’d seen how many guys had aggressively messaged him to tell him in detail to sit, stay, or obey as if they had a right, making him feel less like a sub and more like a dog.
Jackson definitely looked like a man who was used to being in charge, not because he wanted to be but because people seemed to naturally turn to him for guidance. Maybe it was his military training. Day couldn’t miss the Special Forces tattoo on his forearm. But just because somebody liked being in charge didn’t mean they wanted to Dom a stranger. Although, when Day had baited him with Daddy, Jackson had responded in kind. So…maybe?
What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d known the man less than a day. This was why Day stayed home. Why he rarely went out or tried to date. He was permanently broken in every way. Too much work for little reward. A dark shadow fell over his mood, chasing away the butterflies Jackson had put in his belly.
Jackson pulled into a parking garage in front of a sky-high building made of chrome, glass, and steel, parking in a spot marked 25. He then walked around to Day’s side and opened the door, once more extending a hand to help him up. Part of Day wanted to refuse and be the bitch he’d always been. Better to pull the tape off quickly, let Jackson know that he talked a good game but was, deep down, a big bag of crazy. When Day hesitated, Jackson gently took his hand and tugged him from the seat before grabbing the bags and leading him to the elevator. Day immediately felt uncomfortable in the mirrored box, meeting Jackson’s curious gaze as the floor numbers ticked off above the doors.
Jackson placed his hand at the small of Day’s back again, guiding him to the last apartment at the end of the hall, pressing numbers on a keypad before using a key to turn what sounded like a heavy tumbler. Jackson pushed the door open and stood aside to let Day in. He stopped short just inside, scanning the enormous apartment. It was ultra-modern with glass windows that spanned