by James, J. P.
“What are you saying?” he gasps.
“I’m saying you need to tell everyone about us, or we’re through.”
His eyes plead with me to reconsider, but I can’t. Not anymore. I’ve waited around long enough and now it’s up to him to decide how bad he wants me. If he really cares, then he should have no problem proclaiming his love in the open. His fear of being judged for moving on after Ryan’s death is the only thing standing in our way. It’s the one thing that’s holding us back, but I can’t let it be a factor in our relationship anymore. He has to make a choice and decide what’s more important to him: how others feel about our relationship, or how he feels about me.
“Don’t do this Bryce,” Conor pleads in a hoarse voice. The pain in his face kills me, but my expression remains resolute. He has to decide.
“Make a choice Conor,” I say, brooking no mercy.
“Please don’t make me decide,” he whispers again. This isn’t easy for the both of us. I want to be with him, but what kind of relationship can work when it’s hidden from sight? I won’t be his dirty secret.
I don’t want to leave and go back to New York, but what else can I do if Conor says no? I love him, but I’m unhappy with the way things are. He says he wants to marry me, but how can we do that if he’s afraid to admit to the people in his life that he’s in love with me? I’m starting to feel like he’s stringing me along and I can’t take it anymore. If he won’t decide, then I’ll do it for him.
“Fine. I’m out of here,” I say in a flat tone.
“Where are you going?” Conor asks with rising panic in his voice.
“Back to New York City,” I say, storming toward the back door. He dashes to the entryway and blocks it, preventing me from leaving. “Get out of the way Conor.”
“No,” he chokes out. I could haul him from in front of the door easily, but I would never put my hands on him in a way he didn’t want me to.
“Move Conor,” I demand.
“No, you can’t leave me! You can’t!” he rasps while tears begin to fall down his cheeks. He throws me another desperate glance, and literally plants his body in front of me, so that I’ll have to push him out of the way to make my escape.
That does it. I seize his shoulders, holding him tightly in my arms and kiss him passionately, pressing his body against the door with urgency. He goes weak in my arms, but I won’t let him fall. I hold him tighter as I ravish that perfect mouth.
Conor moans softly as I suck on his neck, pressing my body against his. He can’t keep his hands off of me, and they run up and down my torso as he caresses my back and runs his fingers through my hair. I nibble his neck and he claws his way through my shirt, sending tremors down my spine.
I lift him into the air and he wraps his legs around me, squeezing tightly. We make our way stumbling into the bedroom, our lips locked the entire distance. I toss him onto the bed and climb on top of him while ripping off both our clothes.
“Is this what you want?” I ask between heavy exhales.
“Yes,” he utters breathlessly. Staring hard, I look down at his naked body, ready to conquer him like I’ve done so many times before.
He gazes up at me with quivering lips. He wants to feel me inside of him, stroking away all of this goddamn heartache. I wanted to leave and get the hell out of Smithtown, but he’s gotten me so aroused that I need to taste him at least one last time.
I spread his legs open wide and stare at the tight coffee pucker between his legs. It’s aching for my touch and calling out my name. It’s already winking flirtatiously at me, and I haven’t even touched it yet.
“Please,” he whispers, begging me to make a move.
I look deep into his big brown eyes as I gently caress his cock. He bites his lip as he tosses his head back in satisfaction, eyes falling closed. His sweet cock drenches my fingers with pre-cum and I suck his nectar off them. Then I lower my face between his legs and taste the tight pleats waiting for me. They’re so sensitive, and Conor lets out a throaty moan.
“Oh Bryce,” he cries out while grabbing the back of my head, keeping me in place.
If this really is the end, I want him to come so hard that he’ll never forget me. I want to be the best that he’ll ever have. I want him to dream of my cock stretching his ass, moaning at the memory. Revved up, I rotate my tongue in his hole, easing it in more as he moans louder. I’m going to make sure all of Conor’s neighbors know I was here tonight. He tugs my hair slightly, turning me on even more. I reach above my head and caress his rock hard nipples as I tongue kiss his back pucker. He moans again and his cock spurts a bit of juice, the trail landing on his flat abs. He trembles and I can tell he’s almost there. Good. I stroke faster and he moans louder than I’ve ever heard before. His hand starts jerking his cock, and then with a spurt, the pole releases sweet, fresh cream all over his chest.
“Fuck!” Conor gasps, bucking desperately under my tongue. “Bryce, Bryce!”
“Hold still, sweetheart,” I murmur into his anus. “Let yourself feel.”
His asshole jerks and spasms around my tongue, even as his dick unleashes another load onto his abs.
“Oh fuck,” he moans, collapsing on the bed as his balls pump furiously. “Oh god.” He lies on his back, still quivering from my tongue strokes. Slowly, I get up and crawl up Conor’s frame. He groans again, still aroused and ready to go. But the young man wants to take charge this time. Before I can ease myself into him, he pushes me flat onto the bed and crawls between my legs with his back arched. He shoves my stiff cock down his throat and sucks vehemently.
“Shit,” I grunt as I seize the back of his head and thrust myself into his warm, wet mouth. He caresses my inner thighs with his hands as every inch of my shaft penetrates his throat. I stare at his round, muscular ass propped in the air as he satisfies my sexual needs, gyrating his tongue around the head of my tool.
After a few minutes of sheer ecstasy, he draws his head back from my stiff meat. “Make love to me,” Conor begs.
I nod. “Stay right there,” I say hoarsely, easing myself off the mattress and walking behind him.
He keeps his back arched and his juicy bottom in the air. I stare at his dripping cock, admiring the way it’s leaking onto the coverlet. Slowly, I caress that brown pucker. Conor moans, burying his face in the pillow and wiggles his hips a bit, taunting me.
I thrust my dick deep inside of him as hard as I can, causing him to gasp. I grunt with every stroke, still pissed that he couldn’t decide. He moans loud as I plow into his ass, fucking him angrily. He claws at the sheets, nearly ripping a hole into them.
“Don’t stop!” he pants. “Oh fuck!”
“Do you love me?” I grunt as I dig deeper inside of him.
“Yes,” he moans.
“Say it,” I command.
“I love you!” he cries out at the top of his lungs. “Bryce, I’m coming!” I watch as his balls tighten, and then semen blasts in a juicy spurt from his cockhead, coating the coverlet. More and more blasts follow that first one as Conor unloads gallons onto the bed.
But I’m not done yet. I keep fucking him, owning that bubble butt even as he comes messily onto the bed. He gasps, and then cries out. “I love the way you feel,” he moans.
“I’m about to come,” I say through gritted teeth.
I grab a fistful of his hair and pull it as I stroke faster, breathing rapidly. Oh shit, I can’t hold it in any longer. Hot white jism shoots out of my cock and squirts into his ass, painting his inner channel with my virile sperm. It’s so good that I literally black out for a moment. I can’t see as my balls pump, my vision only coming back gradually. Conor’s bottom milks me greedily, even as his own cock drips with desire.
Finally, it’s done and I collapse onto the bed next to him. We’re both struggling to breathe normally.
My mouth opens to talk, but then a light snore interrupts my thoughts. He’s sleeping. No shit. I’ve always loved the way he sounds when he’s asleep because it remi
nds me of a kitten purring. But now, the memory of that sound will be all that I have. I carefully get up from the bed, trying not to wake him. I admire Conor’s muscular body one last time in the moonlight, then gently place a blanket over his sleeping frame. I quickly toss my clothes on in an attempt to get out of here asap.
I want to kiss him goodbye, but I can’t. If our lips touch right now, I’d probably end up changing my mind. So I limit myself to one last look before leaving the bedroom. Conor’s sound asleep and he’s so beautiful, his body bathed in moonlight. My heart clenches painfully, but it’s over. I love him, but I have to let him go because this isn’t healthy for either of us.
“Goodbye, my love,” I whisper.
I sneak out the same way I came in, but this will be the last time. I softly close his back door behind me and scan his neighbors’ houses to make sure no one is looking. As always, I dash into the bushes and duck down, before darting over to my car.
Scrambling into the vehicle, I close the door gently. Loss washes over my frame, and I wilt as I sit in the driver’s seat. Man, this hurts. He cares more about other people’s opinions than he does about me. It’s hard to process this, but the reality stares me in the face. It’s time for me to go back to Manhattan and forget all about my affair here. I used to believe our love could withstand anything, but that was just magical thinking.
I bang my hands on the steering wheel out of frustration. I wish it didn’t have to end this way, but I’ve done all I can do. I gave him two options and he didn’t choose me. I’d be a fool to keep waiting around here like some lovesick lackey. Six months is already long enough.
I start the car, but pain rips through my heart again, and I remain motionless in the driver’s seat. I still want to be with him. I contemplate running back inside and scooping him up in my arms as I kiss him passionately, but it would be pointless. Conor’s not ready to be open about our relationship and I don’t think he ever will be ready. I should just count my losses now and get the hell out of Dodge. I glance back at the bushes, with a tear dripping down my cheek. Should I go back? I love him so much, and doubt I’ll ever find someone like him again.
I place my hand on the door handle, ready to dart back inside, but then quickly change my mind. This isn’t the kind of relationship I want. It’s going to hurt like hell, but I have to end it, or else I’ll be still sneaking through his back door another six months from now. Fighting back sobs, I put my foot on the accelerator and harden my heart. Smithtown and Conor Martin are just images in my rearview mirror now.
19
Bryce
My office wall stares blankly at me. I wish I could say it feels good to be back in New York City, but it doesn’t. Most of the time I feel sick to my stomach, and I haven’t really been eating or sleeping. Thoughts of Conor run through my mind every second of the day, and when I finally do fall asleep, he dances around in my dreams.
It’s like a fucking joke. It’s only been two weeks, but I feel completely lost without him. My mind is foggy and my body feels weak. I need his touch to restore me. I need to hear that throaty laugh, and to see the sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes.
I glance at my phone, wondering if I should call. No. He probably hates me for the way I left him. We haven’t spoken since the night I left and I doubt he wants to talk to me now. Yet in a bustling city full of people, I still feel lonely without him. Go figure. I was so sure of my decision to leave back then, but now I regret it every day. I should’ve stayed and tried to work things out. I should’ve been more patient.
The passion we shared will live on in my heart forever, but I foolishly threw everything away. I want to fly back to Smithtown to beg him to take me back, but he’d probably slam the door in my face. After all, I snuck out in the middle of the night without saying anything, like Conor was worth nothing. Instead, I lost the best thing that ever happened to me.
I ruffle through some documents on my desk and try to get some work down. I have to get the handsome male off of my mind because there’s no way I’ll ever get him back. I stare at the papers, trying to make sense of them all, but everything is blurry. I rub my eyes hoping that will fix the problem, but it doesn’t. My productivity is at zero.
I loosen my tie around my necks because it’s starting to become harder to breathe. I have to get out of this office. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind, and the walls are closing in on me. I get up from my chair and drag my feet toward the door before swinging it open to bark at my secretary.
“Hannah hold my calls.”
“Is everything alright sir?” she asks, concerned about the depressing mood I’ve been in lately.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I mumble like a grumpy old man, but the truth is I’m not. Shuffling, I head towards the elevator. Maybe if I get some fresh air, things will be better. I push the button and wait impatiently. My office is all the up on the forty seventh floor so it’s going to be a while before those doors open.
I stare aimlessly out of the window as I wait. The city seems so small from here, with tons of little cars and little people minding their business down below. You would think being so high up would make me feel like I was on top of the world, but I don’t. Instead, I’ve hit rock bottom.
The elevator finally dings and the doors separate as a crowd of people rush it. I drag myself onto the elevator and take it all the way down to the lobby. There’s a park a few blocks down from my office building that I like to go to when I need to clear my head. The fresh air and singing birds always make it easier to think.
The elevator dings again as the doors open, letting me off. I hang my head low, slouching through the lobby. I’m usually business-like and efficient at the office, but even that professional veneer has worn off. I haven’t had any reason to smile since I left Smithtown. My shoulders slump as I trudge through the revolving door and step out onto the Manhattan street. Everyone else around me is in such a rush, walking fast to get to wherever they’re going. By contrast, I mosey down the sidewalk, probably annoying the New York City natives.
I admire the tall oak trees as I walk through the entrance of the park. Mother Nature always has a way of cheering me up. I sit underneath one of the great oaks on a wooden bench and try to collect my thoughts. Children run and play in the grass as men and women ride bikes along the paved path. The wind blows and the cool New York breeze reminds me of the night Conor and I stared up at the stars in Connecticut so long ago.
I miss nights like that with him. Our love for one another kept us warm, even when there was a chilly breeze. Now my nights are freezing cold and loveless. I’m afraid to go visit my house in Connecticut because there are so many memories lingering around like unwanted ghosts. The sheets probably still smell just like him, and his echoing laughter is probably still bouncing off of the walls.
I can’t shake the thought of Conor. Everywhere I go there’s something there to remind me of the handsome man I once adored. Nothing seems right without him in my life. My body is withering away without his home cooked meals and my sleepless nights make it hard to function throughout the day. My stomach is constantly in knots and my mind is on another planet. I’m falling apart without him by my side.
God, I miss him like crazy and just wish I could feel him in my arms again. We were only together for six months, but the man’s got a hold on my heart. Even worse, I’m afraid that hold might be permanent.
I get up and take a walk, hoping it’ll help if I move around. My steps are heavy, each foot pressing hard against the cracked asphalt. It reminds me of how I feel on the inside, dark and broken.
My head quickly spins around when I hear Conor’s laugh. Is he in the park somewhere? I must be dreaming. My eyes scan the greenery in search of my handsome lover with the broad shoulders and chocolate eyes, but he’s nowhere to be found. Dammit, I must be hearing things. My shoulders sink again as reality sets in.
I head back to my office building with a dark cloud over my head. I doubt I’ll be able to get any work done, but I
am the boss and need to be there. But work feels empty. The office is meaningless, and I don’t want to stare blankly at some computer screen all day. When I left Kentucky, part of me died. I left all of the good parts of me with Conor in Smithtown, and now all that’s left is a dried-out corpse.
I should just catch the next flight back to Smithtown. I could surprise him with a bouquet of roses, and beg him to take me back. I’ll drop down on my knees if I have to and plead with him to give our love another chance. I probably broke his heart the day I left, but if he lets me back into his life, I’ll never hurt him again.
I’m ashamed of the way I left things between us, but sneaking around town was driving me mad. I’m the type of guy that likes to lay his cards on the table and be upfront about things. Hiding the fact that he was my chosen one made me feel like less of a man.
If I go back there now and Conor forgives me, he still probably wouldn’t be ready to be open with our romance. Maybe it’s pointless to even try to get him back because we’d be stuck in the same old rut. I can’t hide out like that anymore. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place because I want him back, but I know probably nothing has changed. He’ll still be worried about what everyone thinks, and it’ll just be one more miserable ride on the merry-go-round.
I trudge through the revolving door, feeling even worse than before. I don’t know how, but I have to let him go. If it was really meant to be, things would’ve worked out and Conor would have chosen me. Yet moving on feels impossible. I’ll never come across another man that makes me feel the way he did, especially not in this cold, heartless city. Anyone else would be like settling because unfortunately, my heart belongs to Conor and I’m starting to think it always will.