Kage pushed his tongue deeper into my mouth, and suddenly I was sucking hungrily at his tongue, winding my arms around his neck, and pressing my lower body against his. I was desperate to get closer, to feel through the barrier of my clothing what he had pressed against me. My hunger knew no bounds, growing exponentially with each passing second as it became clearer that this was not some fevered fantasy. This was actually happening.
And I was going to let it.
He unwound my arms from his neck and reached down to pull my t-shirt over my head so that we were skin to skin. The scrub of chest hair against my nipples was exquisite torture, and I moaned, pulling back to catch my breath.
“Fuck no, you’re not going anywhere!” Kage yanked me back against him. “I’ve waited too long for this. Been patient enough.” He covered my mouth and face with kisses, moved down to my throat, and bit the sensitive skin there until I cried out. I was overcome with passion, my breath coming in quick gasps as I fought to keep it together. I had always thought of myself as a player and a skilled lover, but I swear Kage made me feel like a virgin all over again.
“Take off your pants,” he said.
“What are you planning on doing to me?” I asked, my voice distant to my own ears as I worked my shorts down my legs, leaving my boxer briefs on.
“What I should have done when you first got here…”
“How did you know I’d let you?”
He chuckled. “I could tell by the way you look at me. Like you’re eating me alive with your eyes.”
“I don’t do that,” I protested. “I don’t even like guys.”
“Liar.” Kage shook his head and took a step back. “Get on your knees, Jamie.”
“Don’t give me that look. I said get on your knees.”
I wanted to tell him no, that this was insanity, and that I wasn’t gay. I wanted to point out that I’d just recently had a girlfriend whom I’d fucked soundly on a regular basis. But instead I sank to my knees in front of him and waited, looking up at his unbelievably perfect body, all muscles and planes and smooth skin. The boyish face with the five-o’clock shadow, the dark locks of hair that fell loosely around his face… and that’s when I felt it. He was right. I was devouring him with my eyes, because God help me I could not get enough.
My name is Jamie Atwood, and I’m an addict. I never thought I’d say such a thing. Never had a problem being overly-attached to anything in my life. I came from a perfectly middle-class family, made good grades, and had a hot cheerleader girlfriend… but the truth is, nothing ever really moved me. So how did a guy like me become an addict?
I met Michael Kage.
Kage is an MMA fighter. A famous one. I like to think I helped him get that way.
He’s charming as hell, with looks to rival any movie star and talent to back it up. So why did he need to hire me as an intern Publicist? Simple. He has a darkness in him– like a black hole so deep it could swallow him, and me, and everyone we know– and that’s not good for business.
The first time I met him, I felt the pull. I think the addiction began at that very moment. And even if I’d known then what I know now, I would have fallen for him. How could I not?