Page 73 of Sin Deep
“A chain would look very nice around your throat, petit. Very nice. Your eyes made up, a heavy but decorative chain around your neck, and something…a harness like Sam’s or a corset like Oliver’s…you would be beautiful.”
His cheeks burned—less from embarrassment than pleasure, because he wanted Winter to watch him, think of him as beautiful.
“And that blush only makes the picture sweeter. Do you like that idea, petit? Dressing for me?”
“I like the idea of you looking at me. I like the idea of you wanting me.”
“You like that I enjoy watching. Watching you. I like that you are mine after the watching is over.” Winter sipped his juice and…watched him.
“I’m yours all the time, but I like how I turn you on.” He’d never felt ugly, but Winter made him feel sexy and beautiful and necessary.
“You do. I’m waiting—patiently—for your thigh to heal enough that I can prove it to you. It’s not a bad thing, having to wait.”
“I was so mad it happened,” he admitted. “I was looking forward to dressing up for you.”
“I do like your fancy look. Dressy cowboy. Soon, petit. It will be delicious. We just have to be patient.”
“Patience isn’t my strong suit…”
“Nonsense. You just have to want it bad enough. Like when you wait all week for me, not touching yourself, even in the shower, saving all that need just for me.” Winter set his empty juice glass down. “You can wait when you want to.”
He swallowed hard, his body reminding him that Winter was absolutely right. “You have a point there…”
“Yes.” Winter’s smile was bright and happy. “You see? Wonderful boy.”
“You make me ache some.” And he didn’t mind that at all.
“Well, if we’re being truthful, you have a similar effect on me, petit.” Winter winked at him. “I always want you.”
“I like to hear that. I never felt hot before you. Never.” Now he felt sexual, strong, desired.
“So many new things all at once. New feelings, new desires, new lifestyles…but you’re handling it all beautifully, petit. I’m so impressed. So proud.”
“Thank you.” It was mostly a lie, but he was beginning to understand that was being a grown-up—you faked it until you figured it.
The doorbell buzzed, making them both jump. “My goodness. Are you expecting anyone, petit?” Winter got up and went to the door.
Who was he going to expect? Raul from the work crew? Fuck.
“Is he okay? What was with all the blood?” Oliver sounded like he was high.
“Oliver? It’s customary to call before you—”
“Is he okay?” Ollie pushed past Winter and into the apartment. “Harley? Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”
“Ollie? Are you high?” He sat up straight, frowning deep. “I got hurt at work. Nothing serious. A couple stitches on my thigh. Are you okay, man?”
Ollie rolled his eyes and sat with him. “No, I’m not—well, maybe a little but that’s not—Raymond is at work. Don’t tell on me. How is bleeding everywhere not serious?”
Winter stood a few feet away, arms crossed and silent.
What the actual fuck? Harley wasn’t sure what was up, but he could be all comforting and shit. “I won’t tell anybody anything. I bled on my jeans. Cuts bleed. What’s wrong? Do you want a bite of pastry or something?”
“I just heard you were hurt, and you didn’t come home… I mean I know you’re with Winter now, but I—”
“Oliver. That’s enough.” Winter took Ollie by the shoulders and stood him right up. “Harley said he was all right.”
Ollie’s eyes were huge. “I was worried.”
