Cross Island

by Santino Hassell

  “Mmm,” he hummed, dragging his tongue along the length of my dick. “You should let me take care of this more.”

  I slumped lower and tilted my head back. “I like sucking you.”

  “So, should I stop?”

  “Fuck no.”

  Clive kissed my stomach even though it was covered in layers of fabric, then returned his attention to the rod of flesh begging for attention near his mouth. I closed my eyes once I was enveloped in warm wet heat, forgot about everything else, and just experienced this moment. It wasn’t just the fact that Clive was lavishing me with bomb blowjob skills while I lazily thrust into his mouth. It was the way his fingers slid under my layers to stroke my stomach, the way he alternated between sucking hard and slow licks as if he wanted to draw this out. How, after a weekend of turning me out six ways to summer, he was yet again showing he was addicted to touching me. He’d had me at least seven times in the past couple days, and he wanted more.

  “Ay, Clive…” I swallow deeply and throw my head back against the seat. “Christ.”

  He hummed against me again, a smug sound that fit him perfectly. It was tempting to grab the back of his head and fuck his mouth, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it without him giving the instruction. I was more interested in him leisurely dragging his tongue over my cock, of taking me in so deep I could feel the back of his throat.

  “God… traffic better not start moving again,” I whispered, breath labored. “I’m already close.”

  Clive pulled off me and sat up, but not before wrapping his fingers around my saliva covered length. “Do you want to know what I really like about you?”

  I looked at him blearily. “That I can get hard again in like fifteen minutes?”

  “No, fool.” Clive kissed me, brief and hard. “I like how much you enjoy being taken care of.”

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but a denial didn’t come out. How could it, when he was giving me that half-smile of his? The kind of look you only give someone once you have them figured out, know how to push their buttons, and really enjoy the reaction you get once you do. It’s how Angel and Stephanie had been looking at each other for ages.

  “Shut up,” I muttered. “And kiss me.”

  Clive put his hand on the back of my neck and drew me in for another kiss. I opened for him before we touched, and he growled at the back of his throat. For the next few minutes, as horns honked around us and angry-ass New Yorkers cursed out their windows at nothing in particular, our tongues tangled while his hand worked. He was tugging me fast and tight, causing pleasure to well inside me until I was humping his hand and chasing a release.

  I pulled away from his kiss only when my nuts drew up so tight that my impending orgasm was curling my toes. I pressed my forehead to his as my lower lip trembled.

  “God, you’re pretty to look at,” he said against my face. “You think you’re so fucking tough, but that face…”

  “Ahh…”

  “Your mouth…” Clive pulled my lower lip into his mouth and sucked hard before releasing it. “I could kiss this mouth all day long, Victor. Listen to those little moans of yours all. Day. Long.”

  “Clive.” My voice went high and wavered. “Check the—”

  “Fuck the traffic. Look at me, directly in the eyes, while you come.”

  I wrenched my eyes open and met his heated gaze. He slid his hand over my dick faster, twisting his hand and pressing his thumb against the slit.

  “Yeah,” Clive said, sliding his hand up and down faster. “I wanna see that look you get.”

  My mouth dropped open, and my eyebrows drew together. A tortured moan filled the car, so loud it muffled whatever the DJ on Hot 97 was saying on the radio.

  “Yes, that one. Right there.” Clive’s breath hitched. “You always look surprised that I’m making you come so hard. Surprised and grateful. Like you’d do anything for me.”

  “I would,” I gasped. “Anything.”

  Clive’s eyelids lowered. “Vic, you’re getting to me.”

  The admission snared me, then he chose that moment to jerk me so fast that the building pressure in my gut spilled over. I came with a long low moan, pressing my forehead to his and staring at him even as I breathed harshly right in his face. He didn’t stop stroking me until my dick stopped pulsing and spurted every drop onto his hand. And when he pulled away? I watched him lick my cum off his fingers.

  “God,” I groaned. “Why couldn’t I have met you like ten years ago?”

  “Because I was a junior associate and working until two in the morning every night while you were beat up supposed straight boys at the handball court.”

  I burst out laughing, and horns erupted around us. Traffic was moving again.

  ***

  Clive

  I was falling for Victor Quinones.

  It was the most cliché thing to think to myself, but as we parked in front of the house and I found myself loathe to lose the warm close intimacy of the vehicle, it was a fact. This was escalating quickly. I knew myself enough to notice the signs, and they were hovering in the air around us in flashing neon LED.

  I wanted Victor to be mine, and because I wasn’t a fan of bullshit, I was going to tell him.

  “Let me check the house before you get out of the car,” he said, undoing his seatbelt. “Chester dropped by a few times over the weekend, but just in case.”

  And there went my goddamn happy boner. I’d spent an entire weekend trying to pretend he wasn’t paid by Kenneth Stone to be my bodyguard, and that my email wasn’t filling with the needy demands of a stalker, but it all came back as soon as we’d gotten off the Cross Island Parkway.

  Bitterness filled my heart. If I hadn’t hated Travis Gills before, I hated him now. Although, reasonably, without his obsession I would have never been in the position to meet Victor. This was usually when my mother would tell me that everything happened for a reason, which could be true, but I was just about done with my life being dictated by a white man who needed someone to blame for his problems.

  I slipped out my phone as Victor prowled around the house. My Twitter account had remained closed all weekend as I’d spent three beautiful days getting to know every inch of my new lover’s body, but my inbox illustrated several new messages.

  You’re more like me than you think.

  If you tried to understand more than $$$, you would know WHY all this happened. People like QFindr heads only care about their own agenda at the expense of everyone they step on. They elevate people who fit their own image and crush everyone else, They don’t care about sharing pieces of the pie or sharing credit for new ideas. They outright steal and present those ideas as if they came up with them. They’re thieves who will only ever support people like them… and you aren’t like them either. You’ll soon learn.

  I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to understand.

  My eyes widened a bit. Excitement took hold and I was tapping out a message before I could think better of it. Why not be upfront, T? I think it’s time we speak freely and stop the pretenses. I want to know where you’re coming from. And yes—maybe I will understand. Maybe we’re not so different. Maybe now, after the fact, I’ve come to see what you mean.

  I hit send just as Victor returned to the car. He started to speak but stopped when he caught me fumbling with my phone and shoving it back into my pocket.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” The old lying lawyer stereotype was proving me wrong time and time again. But this time, it was coming to light in the way of me being unable to effectively cover my own ass in the face of someone I had zero desire to lie to. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah…” Victor studied me closely, clearly skeptical. “Why do you keep tripping over your phone? Seriously. You on Grindr or some shit?”

  My mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”

  Instantly, the shutters came down on his face. “Never mind. I’ll mind my business.”

  He slammed the
door shut and returned to the house while I stared after him in confusion. What the hell was this mess?

  Mystified, I got out of the vehicle and followed him into the house. It was cold enough for me to see my breath as I toed off my boots and stood just inside, but I couldn’t worry about trivial things like thermostats when I had a sulky twenty-four-year-old in his feelings over imagined rejection.

  “Victor,” I called. “Come here.”

  The footsteps I’d heard creaking around upstairs paused before redirecting and heading to the stairs. The noise, and the fact that this old house left no room for privacy, was one of those weird peccadilloes that I’d forgotten existed because I’d been alone here for so long. It was also something I was willing to deal with because knowing Victor was in the house with me had become more than a comfort.

  His long legs appeared on the stairs before he did, and I bit back a smile at his serious face. Sometimes I forgot how young he was, but the actual sullen expression on his face was really something.

  “You’re really going to put that question out in the world and then run back to your room?”

  “I didn’t run.”

  “Okay, walk back to your room.” I sidled over to him. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Victor, I thought we were over this.”

  “Over what? I just asked you a fuc—a question.”

  “Yes, a question that could only possibly exist because you’re still on that insecure bullshit. Even after I just spent the weekend turning you out.” I grabbed Victor’s collar and drew him closer. Almost instantly, his eyes darted down to my mouth with the kind of anticipation and hunger I’d come to love seeing on his handsome face. Yes, Victor grew hot when I touched him. When I took his clothes off or gave him an order or command. But he absolutely melted when I did something as simple as kiss him, touch the angry scars marring his face, or cover his beaten-up knuckles with my own hand. It was clear that to him, those touches were anything but simple. It was the type of low key affection he’d been missing all along. “Victor, I was ready to ask you to be my full-time boy toy, and you’re accusing me of hopping on Grindr to find someone else.”

  His head snapped back, brows crashing down. “What you mean?”

  “Victor…”

  “Clive…” he mimicked my exasperated tone, in full-on insolent mode. “What do you mean by boy toy?”

  “It means I want to brand your ass with my name so no one else touches you,” I said dryly. “And an added post script that says for Clive’s eyes only.”

  His eyes widened, and the shape of a smile formed on his lips, but he bit it back. “All right, bet, but do I get to brand you in return?”

  “I think before you ask stupid questions, such as whether I want you to be monogamous to me while I continue fucking other people, you should consider the fact that you’re the first person I’ve become attached to on multiple levels in years.” I grabbed his chin and rubbed my thumb over his thick stubble. “If you do the hoe math, I’ve probably fucked close to a hundred and forty random men since breaking up with Michael. At least three a month.”

  “Damn.”

  “Right?” I shrugged, unapologetic and not caring. “I’ve not kept any of them around. But you? You have me begging you to stay in hotel rooms for full weekends. I haven’t been this attached to someone this quickly since I met Michael. And unlike with Michael, I don’t doubt you feel the same way.

  Victor’s big-eyed stare made him look as young as he was, vulnerable and shocked and adorable. I brushed a kiss to his lips, and sighed when he returned it with a low groan.

  “I’ve never been with anyone regularly except for Shawn,” he said after pulling away. “What if I screw it up?”

  “Unless you start trying to model my predecessor by planning to literally murder people who may be competition, you’re all set.” I gave him another firm, brief kiss. When he continued to look uncertain, I mimed shaking him. “Vic, we’ve been living together for almost two months. If that’s not a good trial run to whether or not we can tolerate sleeping together on a regular basis, I don’t know what is.”

  He relaxed a bit, the tension leaving his broad shoulders as he melted against me the way he always did. “You’re right, and I’m paranoid. My bad.”

  “There are many ways you could make it up to me.”

  Victor winced. “Look, you know I’m feeling you way more than I ever thought I’d feel anyone, but… I think we need to chill out when we’re here. We joked about being caught with our pants down, but deadass? That could really happen. I’m not trying to have someone bust into your house while you’re balls deep inside of me.”

  The wind was taken from my sails so fast that there was no hiding the irritation on my face. “That’s bullshit.”

  “No, that’s me trying to scrape for some measure of professionalism, baby. If Kenneth Stone found out, he’d fire me in a hot minute.”

  I tried to hold onto my disappointment and be pissed off at his hardheadedness, but him calling me baby had slightly melted my insides. Who knew that deep down I became gooey over something so trivial? Michael had never called me baby even though he’d had a number of endearments for his little friend.

  “Fine,” I said, taking up his sullen mantle. “But I took off this day to be with you, so we can start our hands off in the house policy tomorrow.”

  Victor wiped a hand over his face, eyes dropping. I fully believed he was struggling with the idea of being unprofessional, but I could also see that he was smiling at how thirsty I was for his body. “Okay,” he relented. “Starting tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.” I smoothed my hands down his shoulders. “Now, let’s go upstairs and get naked for the rest of the day.”

  He laughed then, eyes twinkling. “Is this what being your boy toy is gonna be like?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I’m ready for it.”

  Cross Island, ch 18

  Chapter Eighteen

  Victor

  Clive talked me into going to lunch with Stephanie and Meredith only because he was going to be locked down at QFindr all day, and there were already two in-house security guards watching the office.

  He saw the hesitation in my face, the genuine fear of letting him out of my sight, and had kissed my forehead. He’d also promised not to do anything to cause me stress. So, I cleared it with Chester, and I went.

  It didn’t stop my stomach from tying itself into knots on my commute from the office to a crowded lunch spot in the Village that seemed to specialize in lobster rolls. I’d never had a lobster roll before in my life, but Stephanie made it sound like the best thing since blow jobs, so I didn’t complain. I was too busy stressing over leaving my charge in the potentially inadequate hands of guards who didn’t know how slippery he could be to think too much about food, anyway.

  It was that distraction that caused me to zero in only on Steph once I walked into the restaurant. It took a couple of seconds to realize she was at a table flanked by not only Meredith, but Jace, a curly haired dancer named Charles who I’d seen around her circle, and a blonde socialite named Ashton Townsend. Even I knew enough to realize he was more famous than anyone I’d ever banked on meeting.

  Instead of star struck, I was confused.

  “Vic!” Stephanie beamed at me. “You’re here.”

  “Uh, yeah.” I stood at the only open chair at the table, one at the far end next to Jace and Charles. “I thought it was gonna be three of us?”

  Stephanie smile faded a bit, but Charles arched an eyebrow at me. “So, you’re not happy to see me?”

  I stared at him—this long legged person in shiny leggings, a huge hoodie, and hair so wild it almost defied gravity.

  “Well?” he pressed, leaning forward with a smirk. “Because the whole squad has been dying to meet you since Meredith mentioned the hot tatted bad boy who was shacked up in her—”

  “I did not use those words,” Meredith cried around a mouthful of beer.

  “Li
ar. You said, flat out, that Stephanie’s brother was a piece of ass—”

  “Shut up, Charles,” Meredith shrieked.

  “She did say it, though,” Ashton confided in me with an innocent smile. “She also said you’re quiet and sweet, and you made her want to bundle you in blankets and take care of you.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Uh…”

  Meredith glared at her friends. “I hate all of you.”

  Stephanie clapped her hand over her mouth, snickering wildly.

  Jace on the other hand popped a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Don’t mind them. They have less home training than me, and I was abandoned as a child.”

  What exactly had I walked into? I looked between them, confused and caught way off guard, but my chest didn’t tighten to the point of my guard slamming shut on them. That was what happened when I was around the Rodriguez crew from my old neighborhood. Yet watching this random ass group of people make fun of each other, in obnoxiously loud voices, was just kind of… funny.

  You knew shit was critical when I was the calmest and most normal-acting person in the bunch.

  I took my spot next to Jace and snagged Stephanie’s menu. They were still making fun of each other, but I was aware of Jace’s big heavily lashed eyes focused on me. When I glanced at him over the top of the menu, he raised an eyebrow. My eyes skipped over to Charles, and I realized he was giving me similarly shifty looks.

  Irritation almost formed before I caught sight of Ashton fiddling with his napkin, and Meredith gnawing on her lip.

  Hold up—they were nervous? Who was checking out who, here? I’d been under the assumption I had to pass their cool test, but they were shifting uneasily as if they had to pass mine. Like my opinion of them mattered.

  Somewhere, there had to be some pigs flying.

  “I’ve never had lobster,” I said since icebreakers weren’t in my wheelhouse. “Is this something I’m going to hate?”

  “Get the one with bacon,” Jace advised. “If you hate it, you can just eat the bacon.”

  Ashton wrinkled his nose. “That’s stupid. They have fish sandwiches too. And the fries are to die for.”