More, page 10
“How about you, Matthew?” Richard asked.
Matthew gawked at him, his eyes wide. “Why?”
Richard crouched next to his chair. “I'm offering my place because I want to. I like to help when I can. Luke needs a place to stay. And I'd like you to be here too. I think we'll have a great time together.” He wrapped his hand around Matthew's neck and drew him in for a kiss. “I'd like you both to stay for as long as you need or as long as it works out.”
“I can't stay here. I mean— we'd have to talk about money and stuff.”
“Why can't you stay? I thought— ”
“I can't afford to pay you for this place and help my mom.”
“I'm not asking you to pay anything.”
Matthew's stare met the far wall.
“Kid.”
“What do you want from us? What are you expecting from us?” Matthew looked at me as if he wondered if I had the same question.
Richard straightened, his hands on his hips. “I'm not expecting anything, not in the way you're implying. I offered my place because I wanted to.” He paused and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I have no interest in keeping you around for my own amusement.” He sighed and dropped next to Matthew again. “Listen, let's not talk about money. We'll see how this goes first. See how long you guys can stay, or want to stay. For now, you're crashing at my place. All right?”
“I guess that sounds okay.”
“Then you'll stay?”
“I'll stay.”
A loud, uncontrollable laugh spilled out of my mouth. “What the hell are we doing?” I slumped into the chair beside Matthew. “God, I lose all ability to think when I'm with you two.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “I'm beginning to understand that's a good thing, Luke.”
Matthew laughed. The sound eased my nerves. I was already addicted to that low giggle.
Hell, I was already addicted to both of them. Maybe I needed to sign up with a twelve-step program before this got out of hand.
Chapter Ten
I left Richard's house unsure how I'd gotten into what I'd agreed to, and why the hell I'd agreed to it in the first place.
I was pretty far gone in lust when he'd suggested Matthew and I stay. If he'd asked me at the Haven before he'd fucked me, I'd have laughed until I puked. But having the man's dick up my ass did things to me. Combine that with Matthew, and I had no control left.
My attraction to them was powerful, and it hadn't waned since I'd met them. And it wasn't just the sex. I liked them. Matthew was funny. His good mood rubbed off on me. And Richard knew how to work me and push me like no one else. He was the take-control kind of person. I'd never have guessed I would agree to live with a man like him. Not considering the father I'd been on the run from most of my adult life.
The best sex of my life had seriously fucked with how I liked to live.
We'd exchanged phone numbers, and Richard promised he'd check his schedule before he called to tell us what time to be at his house on Friday night.
In less than one week, I'd be living with them. Two men I hardly knew. Two men I'd already slept with. Two men I'd spent the night with, talking, laughing, eating, with not one ounce of cum spilled.
It was all too much to contemplate.
In spite of that, a smile emerged on my face as I hailed a cab. What would my father say if he knew? It would drive the man crazy.
But when the hell had I ever done anything to either please or piss the man off? Never. I did what I wanted to do. I played by my own rules.
Then why the hell am I breaking all of them? To be with a man whose thick cock filled me like no one else's? Or a guy— not much more than a kid— who could keep a man hard after a long blowjob?
No, it was more than that. Was I ready?
I stopped off at a bar a block from my apartment. After three beers in less than fifteen minutes, I felt no concerns at all and laughed at how I'd have to pack my shit by the next Friday.
By the seventh beer, the bartender cut me off. Never did hold my alcohol all that well.
I'd just taken a swig of coffee when a man sat on the stool next to mine. I watched him swallow a gulp of his beer. Dark hair complemented his high cheekbones and bronzed skin. He set the bottle on the bar and glanced my way. He looked familiar. Had I slept with him before?
Even though the bar was usually heterosexual when it came to pickups, I was convinced the man was going to ask me for what I'd just agreed to give up— a quick fuck in the men's room or a back-alley suck.
“You're pretty drunk,” Mr. Not-So-Innocent said.
“Uh-huh.”
The heat of his body washed over me as he closed the distance between us. “You need help to find your way home?”
“Nope. Got it covered.” My words slurred. I was fucked. Even in a non-inebriated capacity, it'd be hard to turn the man down.
It wasn't like my dick controlled me, but some reactions were hard to ignore— especially when you hadn't had to do so for fifteen years.
His stare pierced me. It unnerved something deep in my chest. I forced myself to look away. I needed to finish the coffee, let a few minutes pass since my last drink, and hit the street. I didn't need to be sober to make it to my apartment.
“Your father wouldn't want anyone to see you like this.”
His words sent a chill up my spine before my brain managed to capture their meaning. I whipped my head in his direction, and my sobering mind put all the pieces together.
Barry Fowler. He'd worked for my father as an assistant since I was in high school. He'd also managed my father's senatorial campaign. And obviously still worked for him, doing dirty little tasks like following the man's gay son into a bar. But he had never been one of the men following me before. Why now?
“Fuck you, asshole.” I managed not to slur any of those words.
“No, I don't play for your team. You won't be getting a fuck from me.” The man's voice had changed. It contained the same level of contempt my father's held when I last heard the man speak to me. The tone made his next words sound odd at best. “I want to make sure you get home safely. Get you out of here before someone sees you.”
“No one knows who the hell I am. Leave me alone.”
“I'm taking you home.” His hand clutched my arm and yanked me off the stool.
“Don't touch me.” I jerked away. Unsteady on my drunken feet, I stumbled two steps and groped for the barstool.
“I know it isn't far, but I'd prefer to help you get there before you do anything embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing for me or my father?” I threw enough cash on the bar to cover my bill and stumbled toward the exit. I heard his steps behind me. I spun around. “Are you the one who was in my apartment?”
He crowded me against the wall.
“Did you find anything you liked? I have a dildo in the closet you should try. Although it might be too big for your tight ass.”
“Shut up. Let's get you home.” He yanked on my arm again.
I shoved him away. “Why does he always need to know where I live? Why does he have me followed?”
“I'm not here to answer your questions. I'm here to make sure nothing hurts your father.”
“I'm not doing anything to him.”
“You're entire life is a threat to him. Don't you get that? I've seen you. Every night you go to that club, I watch you walk off with man after man. You barely know them and you're up the stairs, getting your ass fucked all night. I should give the senator more details than he's asked for. Then maybe he'd stop playing these games. Then maybe he'd do what he needs to.”
“And what's that?”
Fowler smirked.
I turned away and stormed out of the bar. I didn't look to see if he followed. There was no point. He and my father knew where I lived— and where I played.
Not for long.
In less than a week, I'd be playing and living at Richard's. If I was careful, they wouldn't find out for a while. Maybe long enough for me to get Matthew and Richard out of my system.
I staggered into my apartment and slammed the door closed. I headed straight for bed, and for the first time since I'd met Richard and Matthew, I didn't fight the images. I allowed myself to relive the moments of my nights with them— the touching, the kissing, the fucking, and even the talking.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I planned out several ways to get from my apartment to Richard's again without being followed. Neither Richard nor Matthew had asked for any problems. They didn't deserve to be fucked with in that way.
And if the need arose, my father would fuck with them in all the horrible ways he was capable of.
Chapter Eleven
“You're moving in with them?”
The shock in Walter's voice confirmed he hadn't heard about my self-imposed, ill-conceived fate. Hearing someone else say the words aloud was worse than the repetition of it in my own mind.
I switched the phone to my other ear. “I think my brain melted. I guess that's what happens when you spend a night with the best fuck and the best suck you've ever had.”
“Three nights,” he said.
“Yeah. That's where I went wrong.”
“I wouldn't say you've gone wrong, Luke. I told you I think they'll be good for you. But I had no idea it would have progressed this far already.”
“I know. I mentioned needing a new place to live, and he asked me to stay for a few weeks. Then Matthew said he'd move in too. I don't know how it happened.”
“How long can you make this work?”
“You mean how long until my father finds out? Or how long until I mess it up?”
“I meant your father.”
“I don't know. Until I find a new apartment. I can't risk it for long.”
“Decent of him to offer. Surprising, though.”
“Yeah. I couldn't have hooked up with a guy who wanted to date for years before becoming exclusive, could I? No. I have to get with someone who not only asks me to keep it in my pants unless I'm with him and the kid but also wants me to move in with them.”
“He asked for exclusivity?”
“Oh, yeah. And I agreed. We'll be getting tests and everything.”
“You play it safe until you get those results, you hear?”
“I'm not an idiot. I won't be doing anything bare until I say it's okay. Forget any tests.”
“Good for you, but... don't hold back on everything. The sex is one thing. That's your physical safety. But the emotional shit— getting to know them. Open yourself to some of it. Don't make it all about the sex. It isn't why he asked you there.”
I knew that. And it had me reeling. If it was him being a nice guy and giving me a place to stay, or about a guaranteed, live-in fuck buddy, Richard's invitation wouldn't have concerned me, at least not as much. It was something else.
“Walter, I've agreed to give it a try. Yeah, mostly I've agreed to because I don't want to give up sleeping with them, but I'm at least going to try. That's all I can do.”
“Yep. Just don't forget to try, Luke.”
Asshole. I needed to find a friend who didn't know me so well.
The next call came Tuesday night.
I carried a stack of briefs and socks from my bedroom into the living room and set them on the couch next to the ragged suitcase with duct tape securing its corners and clothes piled high inside. Another suitcase, in worse shape than the first, sat empty on the floor. I should've splurged on new bags, but I couldn't bring myself to give that much import to the move.
I went into the kitchen and removed the leftover pizza from the oven. My cell rang. I chucked the pan onto the stovetop. “Yeah.”
“Luke?”
“Hi, Richard.” I headed back to the living room, my dinner forgotten.
“I guess it's a good start you can recognize my voice with just your name.”
“I haven't known anyone with a voice as deep as yours. It sort of does something to me.” Flirting. I was flirting.
“I can talk all night, Luke.” He laughed when I didn't respond. “I hope you don't mind, but I've already called Matthew. If you haven't noticed, he has a bit of a self-esteem issue. I thought it'd be good for him to know I called him first.”
I plopped onto the couch next to the suitcase and draped an arm behind my head. “Very perceptive of you. Of course it doesn't bother me.”
“I knew you'd understand. I have an early dinner meeting on Friday. I should be home by eight. I told Matthew to come at nine. Will that work for you?”
“Sure.”
“Have you packed anything yet?”
“No.”
“I thought not. You sure you don't want me to rent a truck?”
“I don't have much. I'm going to stash most of it at a friend's.” I didn't bother to tell him I'd spent thirty minutes earlier convincing myself to take more than one change of clothes to his house. I considered the two suitcases a huge step.
“Matthew said he'd just bring a few bags too. I've got pretty much everything else you'll need here.” He paused. “Okay, then. I'll see you at nine on Friday. And Luke? I'm looking forward to this.”
“Uh... yeah.”
He laughed with a deep bellow. “Okay. See you on Friday.”
I hung up and shoved at the open luggage. It fell on the floor and spilled its contents.
I paced the living room like a caged animal searching for the weakest link in the fence. After twenty minutes, I hadn't found any way to get out of what I'd agreed to with Matthew and Richard. And I wasn't sure I wanted to find it even if it did exist. Instead, I returned to the suitcases and struggled to accept what my life would become.
Only I had no concept of what that was.
I stopped at a clearance table in front of Desert Island Books, a bookstore boasting “the best collection of books to be stranded anywhere with.” I stared into the reflection of the store window and scanned the crowd behind me. The busy plaza was host to an odd mix of people. Tourists sporting bag after bag of souvenirs from shops like City Skyline Gifts. Teenage boys with the dangerous combination of no money to spend and time to kill. And the occasional suburbanite family shopping for anything they couldn't get outside the city limits, like a basket of twenty-eight gourmet cheeses that no one in their right mind would eat.
None of them were whom I needed to see. I picked up the nearest book in a practiced shopper's move. Who'd spend $9.95 on a self-help book titled Live Today Like it's Your Last anyway? Maybe not the best book to read when you're stranded alone on a deserted island. Shouldn't there be something like How to Survive on a Deserted Island?
I dropped the book, picked up another, and scanned the crowd in the window's reflection again. A man sitting alone on a bench reading a newspaper caught my eye. He lowered the paper and glanced around the plaza, his gaze sweeping over my back along with everyone else. He raised the paper again, hiding more of his face than before.
Bingo.
I set the book down and hefted my laptop bag higher on my shoulder. I'd gotten pretty good at dodging them. It wouldn't take long. Except... my stalker was smiling, his paper folded on his lap, his arms out. A young boy ran toward him.
“Daddy!”
He scooped the small boy into his arms and gripped him in a bear hug. A woman trailed behind the boy, an infant cradled in her arms.
What were the chances my father hired an entire family to stalk me? Did I want to know?
I turned and watched them walk by. The family made their way to the end of the plaza and into an all-you-can-eat seafood joint. My gaze lingered on the boy's small hand tucked inside his father's.
I almost missed the man I needed to see. Thankfully, Tony's Seafood kept the large glass windows clean. There, under the neon sign indicating Tony's had the freshest fish in the city, was Fowler's reflection. He was leaning against the doorway to a souvenir shop behind me. He sported dark sunglasses and watched my back as intently as I watched him in the restaurant's window.
I'd left my apartment an hour earlier with the two suitcases in hand and my laptop bag over my shoulder. I'd already dropped off everything else I owned to Walter's the night before. As I stepped out of my place, I gave one last glance at the apartment. It looked identical to the day I'd moved in— minus one cheap folding chair. How had I spent over eight months in a place and not left any sign I'd been there? If I dropped off the planet, would anyone notice? Would anyone know I'd ever been alive? I shook my head and closed the door behind me. When did I get so maudlin?
I'd spent most of the week trying to figure out if I could take my surveillance cameras. And if I didn't, how long I'd even last at Richard's before my father's men or another reporter found me. I settled on ditching the cameras and taking a chance for once. A short-term plan. And despite that I usually did everything in those terms, it surprised me I didn't like thinking of Matthew and Richard as temporary. I'd taken one hell of a chance to start down a new path, and I wanted to give it a little time before I bailed. I also wanted to take every precaution I could manage.
I glanced at the table of books again as I pulled out my cell phone. Usually I'd weave in and out of stores to shake my tail, but I was running late. I still needed to get my bags from the hotel where I'd paid the cab driver to drop them off. And Fowler seemed a cut above my father's other men. Time for something more sophisticated. No sense taking a chance right off the bat.
All you had to mention to get someone stopped was a possible explosive hidden under a jacket and a public place like the Erie Street Market. I gave Fowler's description and hung up. I grabbed another book. Love After 50: Learning to Love Yourself, Extra Baggage and All. What kind of baggage did people living on a deserted island have? Jesus, were there this many screwed up people in the world? When did we stop making decisions without the advice of complete strangers? And when the hell did love gain such a rosy picture? Life after love sucked more than life before it. I should write that book. How long before it'd find its way onto the 70 percent off table?
Quick footsteps sounded farther down the plaza. I tossed the book onto the clearance table and faced him. Fowler didn't duck behind a nearby shopper or sales rack like so many of my father's other men did. He stared back at me. I threw him a smile and winked before heading into the bookstore.
