Famous Last, page 19
“Can you do me a favour?”
“I thought I already was. What do you need?”
“I’m going to pack a bag with work clothes. But can you nip to the coffee shop along the way? There’s something I need you to get for me.”
Darcy snatched the piece of paper from his hand and let out a huff.
“Honestly, the things I do. I’ll see you downstairs at the car in five.”
“You’re a star.”
“Yeah. And don’t you fucking forget it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Darcy’s driver pulled the Mercedes up outside a stylish Victorian terraced block of flats down a road between Kensington Park and South Kensington Underground station. Spencer yanked the black hoodie over his head and climbed out into the freezing night. As he made his way up the three stone stairs to the double doors of brass and glass, his overnight carryall and suit holder over his shoulder, his anxiousness grew. But before he had a chance to key in the door code Darcy had given him, the door buzzed loudly. When he looked around, a grinning Darcy waved at him from the back seat of the car, her phone clamped to her ear, before turning and giving the driver instructions to drive on.
Spencer pushed the heavy door and entered the overly bright foyer. Ornate antique sofas upholstered in gold and brown stripes sat stiffly opposite a mirrored wall, while all around white pedestals housed slender black onyx vases filled with arrangements of white lilies. The concierge met Spencer along the hallway and led him over to the waist-high reception desk.
“Sir, I’ll need to check your bag before activating the lift. Would you mind?”
Although a little puzzled, Spencer did as asked and allowed the older man to rummage through his clothes. He wondered absently if the concierge had acted as a buffer between what must have been the recent spate of press members trying to gain access, or whether other residents insisted on this kind of security. In less than a minute, the man had finished.
“Fifth floor, sir,” he said, activating a button from his seat hidden behind the reception desk. “Lift’s at the end on your left. When you come out on the fifth, turn right and go to the far end.”
“Does he know I’m here?”
“Not unless someone called him,” said the man with a knowing grin. “And I had my instructions from her ladyship out there not to breathe a word.”
Spencer grinned at the ‘ladyship’ reference, of Darcy being somebody who needed to be obeyed. That much he was beginning to understand. But she was also somebody to have on your side.
Stepping out into the corridor on the fifth floor—the top floor—he noticed the opulent theme continued. At the end of the hall stood only one door. Spencer dropped his bag, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. While he waited for an answer, he bent down to unzip his bag’s side pocket and pull out the brown paper bag. Just as he was zipping the gear back up, a voice came from behind the door.
“Who is it?”
Marshall’s voice sounded strained and guarded. Of course, he might still be cautious about opening the door to uninvited guests, especially if he thought the paparazzi might confront him.
“Hi, Marshall. Sorry, I should have called ahead. It’s me, Spence—”
The door flew open and Spencer, still kneeling, was confronted with a pair of black trousers and beautiful bare feet. As Spencer straightened, Marshall’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He looked as though he had not long arrived home, still in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and collar undone. Spencer had never seen him lost for words but enjoyed the moment.
“Delivery for Mr Highlander,” said Spencer, grinning broadly and holding out a brown paper bag. “Chocolate croissants. Apparently his new favourite. Consider these a peace—”
Before Spencer had a chance to finish, Marshall had scooped him up into his arms and pulled him close, his arms tightening around him, his head thrust against Spencer’s neck.
“Spencer,” he murmured in his ear. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Spencer put his arms around Marshall and tightened the embrace, inhaling the man. Both hung on like that for a long moment, Spencer’s feet almost off the ground. After a second, Spencer felt one of Marshall’s hands caress his back and land on his backside, squeezing gently. With Marshall’s body crushed against his own, Spencer’s heart began to race, blood flowing straight to his cock.
“Marshall,” whispered Spencer, barely able to breathe. “Hate to spoil the moment, but you’re crushing my croissants.”
Marshall began to chuckle and loosened his grip, allowing Spencer to regain his feet.
“What’s with the holdall? Are you moving in?”
“That’s my work suit and clothes. Am I being presumptuous this time?” said Spencer, peering hopefully at Marshall. “Or is that going to be okay?”
“As if you need to ask,” said Marshall, reaching down and taking the bag. “Follow me.”
Along a short, blue Oriental-carpeted corridor, Marshall’s apartment opened into a spacious lounge. Three matching sofas in soft shades of light and dark blue surrounded a predominantly white marble fireplace with gold flecks. A large flatscreen television fixed to the wall showed a news channel. All the walls, curtains, cushions and vases followed a blue-and-white theme. Everything sat perfectly in place. Even the large paintings of ships and seascapes complemented the colour scheme, and Spencer felt as though he had just walked into an interior design set befitting an edition of Collective.
“Do you rent this place?”
“Sort of,” said Marshall, reaching for the remote on the gold-topped coffee table and silencing the programme. Only the pink mug on the table and the various newspapers strewn across one settee implied someone in residence.
“Furnished?” asked Spencer.
“Yes,” said Marshall with a chuckle, dropping Spencer’s holdall and suit holder onto one sofa. “Why do you ask?”
“Because, if you don’t mind me saying—and even though the place is classy and toasty-warm—the décor’s a little cold. Doesn’t match what I know about you. I would have expected at the very least wooden bookcases stuffed with all manner of literary classics, biographies and journals. And maybe photos and souvenirs scattered around from your travels. Although, in all honesty, I don’t know you that well—”
“You tagged me perfectly, actually,” said Marshall, who had already begun laughing as Spencer talked. Grinning still, he sat down and patted the seat cushion next to him. “You’ve just described the living room in my house outside Cambridge. The truth is that my father owns this place and has asked me to stay here while he’s looking for a buyer. I usually spend my evenings here after work and there’s no point in personalising the space. And, yes, you’re quite right. It is a little cold and formal—a lot like my father. But now you’re here maybe you could help me warm the place up.”
Spencer didn’t hesitate. After dropping the brown bag onto the coffee table, he unzipped and removed his hoodie before hurrying across the room to stand over a seated Marshall. Lowering himself down so that his knees went either side of Marshall’s waist, Spencer squeezed his arms along the back of the sofa behind Marshall’s neck and brought their foreheads together. Warm hands clamped onto and caressed Spencer’s backside.
“I’ve missed you,” said Spencer, staring into fathomless brown eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Spencer, I—”
“No,” said Spencer, placing a forefinger over Marshall’s lips. “No apologies. Not in words, anyway. If you’ve missed me, too, you can show me how much.”
They had only kissed a couple of times before, and only tentatively, but the memories had been scorched into Spencer’s brain. This time neither held back. Hunger met hunger, lips pressing together, mouths opening and tongues dancing to an urgent rhythm. Deep inside Marshall, a groan erupted, and his arms tightened around Spencer’s waist, pulling him closer. Their bodies moulded together, Spencer’s knees crushed into the back of the couch, not that he cared because his solid hard-on collided with Marshall’s equally stiff and substantial cock. Spencer removed one of his hands from around Marshall’s neck and reached between them, rubbing his palm the length of Marshall’s erection and receiving a deep growl in reply.
“Spencer, I need you,” Marshall whispered hoarsely.
“That’s kind of why I’m here.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me.”
Marshall breathed out a hot, relieved sigh into Spencer’s neckline.
“Thank God. Hang onto my neck.”
Spencer did as asked and Marshall rose from the sofa carrying him. Spencer couldn’t help letting out a small yelp of delight as they crossed the room and entered through a doorway. Just inside, Marshall leant forward and lowered Spencer gently onto a huge mattress. When Spencer turned his head, he saw a mound of plush pillows and throw cushions aligned perfectly at the headboard. But his attention came straight back when hands began expertly pulling down his sweatpants and underwear. Cool air invaded his midsection—but not for long. Marshall had lowered himself down between Spencer’s legs and now eyed his erection with feral hunger.
“God, Spencer. Every single thing about you is beautiful.”
Spencer pulled his top off completely, before dragging a pillow over and placing the soft fabric under his head so he could watch Marshall take him apart. Every action, every moment of concentration—when Marshall maintained eye contact while caressing him—had Spencer’s heart racing with desire and other parts of his body catching up to respond.
Hot kisses and breath on Spencer’s genitals had his cock straining with anticipation, gooseflesh springing up on his arms and legs, but the subsequent tongue smoothing wetly up the underside of his shaft brought him very close to orgasm.
“No,” he heard himself say.
Marshall stopped and appeared adorably startled.
“I’m stark naked,” said Spencer, stating the obvious. “And you’re dressed like you’re ready for a game of poker.”
“I don’t play poker—”
“Can you lose some of the clothes, maybe?”
With a humoured shake of the head, Marshall rose carefully from the carpet and stood over Spencer. Already the pronounced bulge in his trousers had Spencer’s mouth watering. Far better than any erotic dream Spencer could have imagined, Marshall began to undress. First he removed his belt, slowly, purposefully, dropping the item onto the floor, the celebrated news correspondent far sexier than a professional stripper. Then began the unclasping of his shirt, button by delicious button, revealing his well-defined, hairy chest. With the shirttails lifted out, Spencer’s eyes were drawn to the treasure trail of hair leading down from Marshall’s chest, disappearing beneath the waistline, pointing the way to future promise. Once Marshall had dropped the shirt to the floor, he moved his hands to the trouser button before unzipping the fly and slowly, very slowly, easing down his clothing. Spencer held his breath, watching as Marshall smoothed the fabric down, inch by inch, revealing the beginnings of a mound of dark pubic hair. Still with his hungry gaze on Spencer, who could have sworn he had stopped breathing, Marshall slid his trousers and underpants farther down until his thick uncut cock sprang into view, bobbing a couple of times. Even when Marshall had stepped out of the trousers, revealing his thick muscular thighs, and gravity had stopped the bouncing, Marshall’s cock repeatedly twitched, probably in anticipation of having Spencer laid out before him.
Without a word, he dropped back between Spencer’s legs, this time eliciting a groan from Spencer when his large hands landed at the top of either thigh, massaging gently, and his warm, moist mouth swallowed Spencer’s cock. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, lost in sensory overload, and his heart almost stopped when he felt the fingers of one of Marshall’s hands smooth into his crack. Instantly, when one fingertip probed inside, the groan became a whimper.
Both mouth and fingers withdrew, leaving Spencer empty, and he was about to open his eyes when he heard a drawer slide open and shut. After a sharp snapping sound, Marshall’s mouth returned to work on his erection with a vengeance, and a lube-covered finger returned to loosen him up. A couple of times he squirmed in spasms on the bed, one hand grabbing a mound of the duvet cover, the other tugging on Marshall’s hair as the expert mouth continued dismantling him and the probing finger finally reaching the pot of gold inside, causing him to arch his back.
Soon after, his barely held together restraint dissolved, a disembodied groan of ecstasy issuing from him, his body surrendering to the powerful orgasm that ripped through him. Electricity lit up every nerve-ending, his body shuddering at the intensity, as Marshall swallowed everything he had, turning his bones to liquid.
As he lay back panting, black spots floating across his eyes, a shadow moved over him, a hot mouth clamping hungrily onto his own as the mattress continued to shake. Warm liquid landed on his stomach and chest from Marshall’s own orgasm, the kiss becoming a deep guttural moan, sexy as hell. Marshall collapsed heavily next to him.
Both lay panting for a few moments, Spencer enjoying the way his body gradually came down from a high he had rarely experienced. Once he heard Marshall’s breath calm beside him, he turned to speak.
“Wow.”
“Good?” asked an amused Marshall.
“Incredible. How about you?”
“Better than anything I’d imagined,” said Marshall, turning his head in Spencer’s direction. “And I have a pretty good imagination when it comes to you.”
Spencer warmed inside at hearing that Marshall had dreamt about them being together.
“But I thought we were going to—” began Spencer.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight, are you? We’ve got all evening, Spence. But I thought maybe we could have a breather first.”
“In which case, I might need a multivitamin. If later is going to be anywhere near as good as that.”
“Later is going to be much better,” said Marshall, grinning and nuzzling Spencer’s ear. “Much, much better.”
“Better make that a defibrillator then.”
Marshall laughed aloud before rolling over and kissing Spencer. After that, he leant across and plucked some conveniently placed tissues from the bedside cabinet and cleaned Spencer up as best he could. When he fell back, they lay there both lost in thought, staring up at the ceiling.
“Darcy dropped me here tonight,” said Spencer eventually.
“I’d guessed as much. She’s the only one I talked to about the two of us.”
“She really cares about you.”
“I know. I put too much on her. But she knows how much I like you.”
“She played me the message you left on her phone.”
“Oh no, she didn’t. I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t you dare apologise. It was the kick up the bum I needed to get up the guts to come over here. As soon as I heard what you said, everything suddenly made sense.”
Marshall turned to him and smiled, then pushed his arm beneath Spencer’s neck before leaning forward to kiss him. Spencer loved the intimacy, the proximity and warmth of Marshall’s body. He noticed Marshall thinking as he rested his head back on the pillow and stared into the air above them.
“Joe was playing me at the restaurant. On the way to his parents’ place in the Uber, he suddenly announced he felt fine and could we ask the driver to come here instead. I was so furious for wrecking what was otherwise turning out to be a perfect evening. I’m so sorry, Spencer. I feel as though I’m constantly weighing you down with my baggage. And I fell for his bullshit again. But honestly, it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d rushed him to emergency or taken him to rehab for an intervention.”
Spencer had already guessed as much but felt validated to have had his suspicions confirmed. Marshall’s ex was trouble, and Spencer would be more cautious if ever he ran into him again.
“What did you do in the end?”
“I made the driver take us to his parents’ place in Chelmsford. He became crazy, of course. He’s used to getting his own way. But I was just as furious by then. Fortunately it wasn’t late and his parents were up. We had a long chat together, all of us, well into the early hours. I got Joey to admit the lies written in the paper about us both. His parents are decent folk. Oddly enough, it was his father who talked about me taking out a restraining order on Joe, after I’d explained him barging into the restaurant. Joe couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his own father’s mouth, but the man meant every word. I didn’t take one out, in case you’re asking, and despite Darcy calling me a soft-hearted fool.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Marshall looked away then, clearly pained.
“I should have. But I had a moment of doubt, wondering if I was putting too much on you. Thought I’d give you a few days or a week of calm without all my bullshit. I genuinely was busy, but I still should have called. And then I saw that freebie newspaper with you kissing another man at Blake’s party and I told myself I was being a fool, that you’d moved on. Told myself I should let you live your life.”
“Well, just so you know, that guy is called Nile. He’s the cousin of a work colleague and although he’s a friend, there’s nothing between us. And the kiss was an experiment he instigated, to see if there could be anything between us. I never told Nile this, but it felt like getting kissed by my grandmother. Besides, as I hope you can tell from my appearance tonight, I still have unrequited amorous feelings concerning a sexy news correspondent I met recently.”
“You do?”
“I do. Although that was a good start.”
“Wait here,” said Marshall, jumping from the bed, his tight backside heading for the bedroom door. A few moments later he returned, unashamedly naked with a tub of ice cream and a spoon. When he neared the bed, he turned the label to face Spencer.
“Strawberry cheesecake,” said Spencer, sitting cross-legged as Marshall joined him and did the same. “Were you expecting me?”
“Let’s just say I hoped you might be here one day. And after your enthusiastic recommendation, I thought I’d give the flavour a go. But with you being here now, it seems only proper that I feed you a spoonful or two.”
