by Tara Lain
He stuck out his hand. “Thank you. You’ve always been a role model for me, so maybe that will happen.”
She stepped back and waved. “I’ll be seeing you.”
He nodded. How about that? He picked up his two boxes, and with his official escort, left his old life behind.
CRAIG PUSHED open the door to his new home. Their new home. Jesse practically skipped in behind him “Was that fun or what?”
Craig waved an arm toward the dining area and the kitchen beyond. “Now we just have to clean up the mess. Who knew you could make beef bourguignon?”
Jesse twirled twice. “I have many hidden talents.”
Oh my, that was the truth. “I think my mom loved the dinner, and she really liked our new place.”
Jesse tossed his jacket on the new blue sofa—their one big purchase. He walked toward the kitchen that now included a pile of dirty dishes. “She was very lively tonight.”
Craig slipped up behind Jesse and slid his arms around him. “I think she’s better around you. You didn’t know her before, so you accept her as she is. I think that makes her more comfortable.”
Jesse looked up at Craig and smiled. Heart expansion time. “She’s a wonderful lady, and I love having her in my life. After all, I kind of missed out in the mom department.”
He hadn’t quite thought of it that way. That his mother might be more of a joy than a burden to Jesse. “Thank you.”
Jesse lifted a hand up over his shoulder and touched Craig’s cheek. “We take care of each other, right?”
Those beautiful lips. Craig pressed his mouth against Jesse’s. Gentle—ooh, then hot. He slipped a hand down Jesse’s front and got a handful of bulge. Just one gentle squeeze got Jesse moaning.
Craig pulled back from the kiss, still holding Jesse’s jewels in his hand. “Let’s get these dishes in the dishwasher, because I have something of yours I’d really like to take care of.” He pressed his hips against Jesse’s butt.
“I’ll race you.”
The two of them flew around the kitchen; rinsing, slamming dishes into their new-to-them dishwasher, laughing like kids. Once the pans were soaking and the whir of the dishwasher filled the kitchen, Craig grabbed Jesse and pulled him around into a full-body hug. “Want to fuck you.”
“My pleasure.” Jesse wrapped both arms around Craig’s neck and hopped. Craig caught him under the butt as those strong legs wrapped around his waist. Jesse dropped his hips until their cock bulges pressed together in their jeans, and then he started to grind. That felt good.
Staggering a little, since he only outweighed Jesse by about twenty pounds, Craig walked around the kitchen island to his favorite sexual landmark. He lowered Jesse into the big, ugly, super-comfortable brown recliner neither of them had been able to give up when they moved in.
“Celebrating our anniversary, baby?”
Craig nodded. “This chair is the first place I ever topped you.”
Jesse pulled his sweater over his head. “Let’s mark the occasion. Get that cock out.”
Craig had his sneakers, jeans, briefs, and shirt off in seconds. Jesse was already nude and watching his every move. Craig grabbed the condoms and lube from the end table and waggled a finger at Jesse. “Let’s do this face-to-face.”
“Oh yeah.”
Jesse perched his butt on the arm of the big chair as Craig pulled on the condom. He swiped some lube on Jesse’s finger and drooled as he slicked his own hole. Meanwhile, Craig slathered some on his cock. He tossed the lube on the floor.
Channeling America’s Got Talent, Jesse managed to balance on his back on the chair arm and pull his legs up beside his ears. Craig stepped up and positioned his rod at the most beautiful target he’d ever seen. With a nudge, he inserted and pushed just enough to get past the ring of muscle. Oh yes. The heat from inside Jesse flowed up his cock, into his balls, and through his entire body like some life elixir delivered by a good witch to a sleeping creature. Jesse had in fact brought him to life.
Jesse wrapped his legs around Craig’s waist and pulled him all the way in with balls jangling.
“You were sleeping on the job, baby. Fuck me!”
And he did. Craig grabbed Jesse under the shoulders, leaving just enough of his back on the chair to support his weight—and fucked. Jesse’s legs linked behind him and his butt pistoned onto Craig’s cock so hard they could have found oil. Craig leaned his head back and laughed. “Man, I sure know what that T-shirt means now.”
He gripped tighter. It took all his strength to hold their fucking machine together. The machine made noises, grunting sounds as Jesse’s butt hammered against Craig’s groin. Craig’s cock thrust deep inside, and his testicles flew like tether balls, banging against his own thighs and Jesse’s lower back.
He couldn’t think.
“Oh baby, oh baby. You turn me inside out. I never want you to stop topping me.”
Craig gasped. The best. Of all the wonderful things that had happened since Jesse came into his life, those words were way up there.
“I’ll never stop, my beautiful bottom. Never.”
“I’m so done. I’m going to explode into a million pieces because you are the bessssst.” Hot spunk splashed on Jesse’s chest and his body literally danced on the end of Craig’s cock as he trembled and thrashed.
Too much. No, not too much. Just right. “Oh God, Jesse.” Red light exploded behind Craig’s eyes as his balls gave up their load into the condom in Jesse’s ass. Who knew in all his life he could ever feel this way? He chuckled as the two of them fell over the arm of the chair into a heap on the seat. “You bottom me so hard.” They giggled their way into a quick shower together and then lay in bed snuggling.
Craig sighed. His brain could barely catch up with reality. “I never dreamed the day I got up the nerve to ask you to tutor me that it would change everything.”
Jesse petted his chest. “But that’s what you were asking for.”
“I was?”
“Yes. You were this caterpillar ready to break out. You just needed some nibbling instructions.”
Craig laughed and tightened his arm around Jesse.
“But I haven’t quite finished my tutoring yet.”
Craig nodded. “I hope you never will.”
Jesse rose up on one arm and looked down at Craig in the soft light. “There’s one more very important lesson.”
Craig laughed. “Yes, I promise I’ll believe I’m good enough to be vice president of marketing.”
“Of course you will, but that’s not it.”
“No?” Oh God, what had he forgotten?
“Repeat after me.”
Craig nodded.
“I”
What? “I.”
“Love.”
Craig’s eyes widened. “L-love.”
Jesse tapped a finger against Craig’s nose. “You.”
The word came out on a sigh. “You.”
Jesse leaned down and gently kissed Craig’s parted lips. “Thank you. I love you too.”
And all because of a T-shirt.
Exclusive Excerpt
Love You So Madly
A Love You So Story
By Tara Lain
Ben Shane has it all… and he’d like to give some of it back. While he loves his job heading a foundation that funds worthy causes around the world, his engagement to one of America’s wealthiest men leaves him feeling more like a trophy wife than a valued partner. The first warning that his relationship might not be designed to last is his irresistible lust for Dusty Kincaid, the golden-haired, bright-eyed handyman for his company. Though Dusty is odd for a twenty-three-year-old—no liquor, no sugar, and he can’t even drive—the more Ben gets to know Dusty, the more he admires him.
But is Ben going to give up a guy who drives a Ferrari for one who takes the bus? He must be mad. Dusty knows he and Ben can never work. After all, Ben’s perfect… and Dusty isn’t. But Ben might surprise everyone with proof that he’s only mad in love.
&nbs
p; Coming Soon to
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Chapter ONE
OH MY freaking God. I’m mad.
Ben Shane forced his eyes back to his computer screen so he wouldn’t stare at him. Him.
Outside the huge glass wall of his office, across the aisle in his admin’s cubicle, the handyman crawled on his knees under the desk, ratting out some kind of wire and cord nightmare. His blue T-shirt had pulled from his jeans and showed off two exquisite inches of creamy beige, slightly muscled, zero-fatted skin.
Ben swallowed hard and released his breath, long and slow, contracting his lungs as he couldn’t quite contract lower parts of his anatomy. Perfection. Wide shoulders narrowing down the middle of his back like a roadway to even finer things—tiny waist, round butt. Oh crap. And yet he wasn’t big. Dusty Kincaid—Ben had casually asked his admin the guy’s name—couldn’t stand more than five eight with those lean muscles, like maybe a swimmer or long-distance runner. He bounced around ClearWater Tech, shedding sunshine into every corner, seemingly undaunted by all levels of stress and hysteria over impending deadlines and missed product releases. Apparently his job was simple. He was a gofer, handyman, box filler and carrier. Whenever anyone needed any menial task done fast, they seemed to yell, “Dusty!”
But Ben didn’t know his story. Why was a guy who appeared to be maybe twenty-one or twenty-two doing this work? Did he have aspirations? Goals?
And why the hell do you care?
His phone buzzed on the desk, and he smiled. Well, kind of smiled. “Hi, Alan.”
“Hi, dear. What time shall I pick you up?”
Ben stared at the volume of emails that had come in just while he was mooning over a tight ass. Seriously? “How about seven?”
“Jesus, Ben, give it a rest. You’re the damned head of the foundation.”
“Yes, which means I work hardest and longest.” Wealthy from birth, Alan Ashland didn’t know the meaning of work. Man, what Ben could do with Alan’s money in the ClearWater Foundation. It could mean clean water. Malaria cures. Alzheimer’s protocols. But damn, I’m lucky to have him.
The annoyance in Alan’s voice vibrated across the phone. “And if you’d get those gorillas out of your house, maybe I could spend the night, at least.”
“You can spend the night now. You just have to excuse a little mess.” He sighed very quietly.
“‘Little mess.’ Good God, the construction of the damned pyramids didn’t create such chaos.” Okay, his house had exactly one habitable room currently. In Ben’s defense, that habitable room was the bedroom, but Alan didn’t seem willing to wade through construction workers to get to the bed. Shortsighted of him. Some of those workers were adorable.
Ben snorted. “Come on, Alan. You wouldn’t like it if it were as quiet as the Egyptian tombs. You just hate the house.”
“Hurry up with your construction. When we get married, you’ll get better money for it if it’s got a new kitchen and bathrooms.”
Ben didn’t have time for the same old argument. “I’ll see you at seven. Pick me up here.”
“Okay.”
Ben hung up and set the phone carefully on the desk. Alan was fun—sometimes. And everyone loved him so much. That includes me, right?
He glanced up again, but no Dusty. Good, maybe I’ll get some work done. He wiped a hand over his face. Right, and maybe I should spend some time working on why a happily engaged man is staring at other guy’s butts.
He settled down to answering the emails, but after about half an hour, a tap on the door brought his head up again. “Hey, Craig.”
Craig Elson, his VP of marketing, stood in his doorway. “Hi, Ben. Got a minute?”
“Sure. Come on in.” Ben sat back, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from inspecting the hall and every person who walked by.
“I wanted to go over the advertising strategies for the foundation.” Craig followed Ben’s glance to the window. “But if you’re waiting for someone, I can come back.”
“Oh, no, sorry. I’m not.” He pointed at the round conference table in the corner of his office. “I’d love to see them.”
Craig sat and slid his laptop toward Ben, who started scrolling through a series of bullet points on the goals for the campaign—showing corporate America and private donors the brand-building advantages of corporate responsibility. In other words, why they should give money to save whales or cure cancer instead of buying their CEO another beach house.
Craig leaned back in his chair. A tall, nice-looking guy, Craig tended to be on the shy side but was still confident in his skills and really excelled at marketing planning and analytics. He’d come to the company the previous year, right before Ben had been brought on as VP of the ClearWater Foundation—the youngest VP in ClearWater’s history.
Movement beyond the glass wall of his office caught Ben’s eye. He looked up, and froze. Dusty was back. This time he slowly bent at the waist as he unwound wires around Mary Kaye’s desk. Dear God. Ben’s face went cold, then hot.
“Uh, Ben?”
“Oh God, Craig, I’m sorry. I was just, uh, concerned about the wiring going in at my assistant’s desk.” He dragged his eyes back to the laptop screen, trying to ignore the little smile tugging at Craig’s mouth.
Ben furrowed his brow in forced concentration.
Craig murmured, “He’s something, isn’t he?”
“What?”
Craig nodded his head toward the window. “Dusty. Like a ray of sunshine captured in a beautiful bottle.” He smiled. “He reminds me of my Jesse.”
Ben smiled to cover his embarrassment. “Do I know Jesse?”
“Oh, right. I forget everyone hasn’t met him. My fiancé. Jesse Randall. First time I ever saw him, he was bounding into a coffee shop wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed I Would Bottom You So Hard.” Craig shook his head, but the smile on his face spoke of the sweetness of joy. “I was pretty much done for at that moment. He changed my life at every level, like I’d been someone else and suddenly became me.” He looked back at the screen. “I’ll bet Dusty has that power.”
Ben stared at the laptop. “Why do you say that?”
Craig shrugged. “It seems like it would be hard to ever tell him a lie.”
Just the idea made Ben swallow a lump in his throat.
“The hardest thing for me was making myself believe I deserved Jesse. I think that’s how it is with the special ones.” He smiled dreamily.
Ben dragged in a long but silent breath. He pointed at the laptop. “We need to add a reference to the importance of personal recommendation in the Asian community.” Maybe if he forced himself to talk about marketing, it would stop him from discussing Dusty Kincaid for the rest of the day—the way he wanted to.
A few minutes later, he managed to not look up when movement in his peripheral vision indicated that Dusty had left the area.
He glanced at Craig. “I didn’t realize you were gay.”
“Yeah. It’s nice to work at a company where that’s not a topic of discussion. Actually, it was Jesse who inspired me to apply for the job at ClearWater.”
“I’d love to meet him.”
Craig nodded. “We should make that happen.”
For a second Ben held Craig’s gaze. Damn, he wanted to talk. He wanted to spill his guts on—everything, but what the fuck did he have to complain about?
After Craig left, he settled down and worked his ass off until quarter to seven, and then he escaped to the men’s room, used his electric razor, brushed his teeth, and practiced smiling. Show how happy you are to be in this rarified company.
Fifteen minutes later he left the lobby and stood outside to meet Alan. They’d have to come back for his car, but Alan really liked to pick him up, so meeting at Ben’s parents’ house didn’t work.
Ben sat on the bench beside the entrance, leaned his head against the granite wall, and closed his eyes for a minute. Working hard was his drug of choice. He’d been injected with it at his parents’ knees. Hi
s mom and dad started with nothing, both of them raised by single parents, if you could call them that—drug addicts who never held a job for more than a few days. All they wanted was to have a kid and give him a better life than they’d had. By the time Ben came along, they’d made a small success and worked even harder to expand it, sending Ben to the best schools, giving him lessons in music, art, tennis, golf—anything that could establish him in a new class of society. They celebrated every one of Ben’s successes, but getting engaged to Alan Ashland crowned Ben’s achievement in their eyes. He would be a duke to the crown prince of one of the world’s richest families.
Ben heard the lobby door open. He sighed and opened his eyes—to a dream.
Earphones plugged in his ears, Dusty sort of danced to the curb, then just kept bobbing and humming to the music only he could hear as he jotted something in a small notebook with a worn pencil.
Ben wanted—what? To go talk to Dusty? But what would he say? Something. Anything. Just to make contact. Would the guy think he was nuts? Oh God—
A car beeped, and a second later an old, faded silver sedan driven by a woman pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and Dusty hopped in the passenger seat. Just like that, any chance of actually meeting Dusty Kincaid drove away.
Who was that? His mother? Maybe even wife? No, too old.
Again the question arose. Why the hell did he want to know?
Like a reminder from heaven, the rumble of Alan’s black Ferrari sounded through the circular drive in front of the ClearWater building, and then the car pulled in front. Ben rose from the bench, walked to the sexy sports car, bent down, and peered inside. He got a shiny smile back. Wow. Sometimes he forgot how plain gorgeous Alan was. The evening sun shone off his pale hair and made his brilliant blue eyes sparkle even more than normal.
He leaned across, opened the door, and Ben slid into the low, womblike leather seat that managed to vibrate with the purr of the car right through his balls.