by N. R. Walker
Then Cooper burst out laughing. “You look like the responsible dad driving the kids home… Oh my fucking God, it actually says that!”
“Yeah,” I grumbled, “but you don’t need to laugh about it.”
And yet he was still laughing. The little shit.
“It’s not that funny.”
“I’m gonna send this to Mom and Dad,” he said, still chuckling. “They might put it on the fridge.”
“I don’t think they’re ready for that,” I said.
“It’s not like we’re snogging in the gutter or anything,” he replied. “You’re not even holding my hand… Hey, you’re not even holding my hand!”
I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “You were pissed at me, remember? Because I didn’t beat my chest and drag you back to my cave by your hair.”
Cooper laughed into the phone, then he spoke like a caveman. “Cooper laugh. Tom. Make funny.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’ll see you at home tonight.”
“Yes, and thanks for offering to cook Thai fish for dinner. Sounds great.”
“I didn’t,” I started to say, but was only talking to a dial tone.
I hung up the phone and rubbed my temples.
I really should take a vitamin pill, a shot of Scotch and one shot of adrenaline before having phone conversations with him.
Chapter Four
I was in the kitchen, trying to separate fillets of fish with one hand while I held my cell to my ear with the other. “Well, I’m trying to cook dinner,” I mumbled into the phone. The line was quiet for a long moment. “Sofia?” I asked. “You still there?”
“Yes,” she said. “What exactly are you cooking?”
“It’s supposed to be some Thai fish thing.”
She snorted out a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Cooper’s mentioned it a few times,” I told her. “I thought I’d try. We order it, so I know what it’s supposed to taste like…”
She chuckled, somewhat amused at the idea. “Anyway, what I was calling for,” she said lightly, “was that there are a few things up at the Casa that belonged to your dad… I thought you might want them.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, I know they came with the house, and technically they’re mine,” she said. “But they’re not, Tom. They’re yours. It’s the old telescope in the study, and there’s a chessboard in the den.”
This was the Sofia I knew—this was the Sofia I’d been married to for twenty years. “Um, thank you, Sofia,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”
“It’s no problem,” she said. “Not this weekend, but the weekend after, you’re more than welcome to go up to get them. You and Cooper can stay…if you want.”
I could hardly believe it. I smiled into the phone. “Thank you, Sofia.” I wasn’t thanking her for the offer of the Casa for a weekend. I was thanking her for her acceptance. “That means…that means a lot.”
“It’s okay, Tom,” she said.
“So, what are your plans this weekend?” I asked. “You mentioned plans?”
Sofia cleared her throat. “Well, there might be someone…”
“Really?” I asked with a smile.
“Yes, Tom.” Then she mumbled something about how the girls had set her up through a friend of a friend, how she’d seen him a few times since and his name was Phil. She sounded nervous, but happy. It sounded like she was finally starting to move on.
“That’s good, Sof,” I said softly. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
There was the familiar sound of keys at the front door, and when the door opened, Cooper walked in. Well, it was more New York Times than Cooper. It was his legs and hips, but he was holding up the social page, page eighty-seven, with the picture of us on it.
I laughed at him, and he shook the paper and hollered, “We’re in the New York Times, baby!”
“Is that Cooper?” Sofia asked, obviously hearing him through the phone.
“Yes, that’s Cooper,” I answered into the phone, making Cooper lower the newspaper to see who I was talking to. “He’s being…Cooper.”
I grinned at him, walking around the island bench to kiss him. He swatted me with the newspaper and gave me a pouty smile. “That’s for calling me names.”
I chuckled, still holding the phone to my ear. “Thanks again, Sofia. I’ll check with him and let you know, if that’s okay?”
Realising I was talking to my ex-wife, Cooper raised an eyebrow and walked into the kitchen. He inspected the fish and the tube of Thai spices, and looked at me, rather alarmed. Then he called out, “Sofia, dear God help me, he’s going to try to cook!”
“Ignore him,” I told her, knowing she’d heard him. I followed him into the kitchen. “I cook sometimes.”
Cooper held out his hand, and reluctantly, I handed the phone over. While I separated the fish and dabbed it with paper towel, Cooper spoke to Sofia. He gave her a commentary of my culinary skills and I heard her laugh through the phone. The entire conversation lasted all of thirty seconds. And when he slid my phone onto the counter, he sighed. “She loves me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, she can take a number.”
“She told me to tell you that you should cook more often.”
“Of course she did.”
“Even though you’re cooking fish, when I specifically asked for chicken.”
“You did not!”
“Well, I meant to,” he said. “And she said you should stop looking so damn sexy in jeans with no socks and shoes,” he said, looking at my feet.
I smiled at him. “Right. She said that.”
Cooper nodded shamelessly. “She also said you were lucky to have someone as awesome as me.”
“Oh, yes, we all know that,” I said flatly.
“Then she said you should stop what you’re doing, drop to your knees in the kitchen and give me a blow job.”
I laughed at him. “Are you sure she said that?” I asked. “It wasn’t a very long conversation, and that’s hardly an icebreaker for short conversations with ex-wives.”
“Yes, that’s what she said,” Cooper said seriously. “Or something like that, I was having trouble concentrating. I was distracted by your naked feet.”
I washed my hands in the sink, dried my hands on the dishtowel and walked over to stand in front of him. I pulled his chin between my thumb and forefinger and pulled his lips to mine. Sliding my hand down his neck, his chest, further down his stomach and even lower, I expertly popped the button on his suit pants with one hand.
He smiled against my lips, then he nodded. “Do it.”
I slowly lowered to my knees and, right there in the kitchen, undid his suit pants and freed his semi-hard dick from his briefs. I took him into my mouth, and sucked his cock to life.
I listened to him moan, and just before my eyes closed, lost to the feeling of him in my mouth, I saw his fingers grip the marble countertop. I loved how his cock hardened, how it felt like silk on steel in my mouth—hot, hard and pulsing.
I wrapped my arms around his thighs and opened my throat to take all of him. I skimmed my fingers between the cheeks of his ass, over his hole to his balls, and with a strangled cry, he came. His cock swelled and lurched in my mouth as he tried not to thrust into me, and his cum shot thickly down my throat.
I licked him clean and when I let go of his hips, he slumped against the countertop and slid down so he sat on the floor in front of me. He had a blissful, lazy smile and his eyes were heavy-lidded. He chuckled. “Jesus, Tom.”
“You’re gonna have to get up,” I told him.
His eyes took a second to focus on me, and grinned. “Why?”
“Because I’m old and my knees are locked up from kneeling on the floor.”
He laughed, really loudly. I pushed his shoulder. “It’s not that funny, asshole. Now help me get up.”
He was still laughing, but got to his feet and pulled me up. He slowly tucked his spent cock back into his briefs, making sure I
watched, then took my face in his hands and kissed me. He was still smiling.
“I suppose I should cook dinner now,” he said. “Considering you just ate.”
“You’re such a little shit,” I said. Then I squeezed his ass and gently pushed him out of the kitchen. “You go get changed, I’m cooking.”
“Only if I get dessert later on,” he said as he walked towards the hall. “But I’ll make sure your knees don’t lock up.”
I was frying fish, and still pouting by the time he came back out. He’d changed into cargos and an old college shirt, looking like he was about to play football in the park. I huffed at him. “If you don’t mind not looking so fucking cute when I’m mad at you, thanks.”
He slid his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my neck. I could tell he was smiling. “Don’t be mad,” he mumbled into the skin behind my ear. “You’re perfect and gorgeous, so incredibly sexy, even if your old knees find tiles unforgiving.”
I sighed. “You know, maybe I wouldn’t have such a complex about my age around you if you’d stop making fun of it.”
Cooper stood back and with a hand on my shoulder, he turned me around. There was no joking in his eyes, only concern and a seriousness I rarely saw in him. He opened his mouth, unsure of how to say something. Then he shook his head and whispered, “I don’t mean it. I don’t care about the age difference, I promise. I just joke about it…well, because that’s what I do. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
I put my hand to his lips and smiled at him. “I know you don’t mean anything by it.”
He shook his head, and he looked genuinely worried. “I don’t. I don’t mean anything by it. Don’t be mad. I’m fucking cute, remember?”
I pretended to have to think about it.
So then he kissed me.
All-consuming, hands, lips, mouth and tongue. Soft, slow, deep and sure, he held my face to his and kissed me like I’d never been kissed.
I forgot about the sizzling fish. Hell, I forgot my own name.
He pulled away, licked his lips and took the spatula out of my hand, while I stood there, dazed and out of breath.
Cooper turned the fish in the pan and nodded smugly.
I exhaled in a rush and wiped my thumb across my bottom lip, feeling where he’d just been. “Jesus, Cooper. You can kiss.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”
“I better be the last.”
Cooper turned the fish again. “Is that some Thomas Elkin way of telling me you want to be with me forever?”
I leaned against the countertop and sighed. “I’m pleading the Fifth on that, because no matter what I say, it will be wrong.”
Cooper laughed at that. “Yes, it probably will.”
Seeing the fish was nearly done, I grabbed two plates. “It seems whenever I ask something, it’s wrong.”
“Only the big stuff.”
I snorted. “Good to know.”
Cooper plated the fish, threw on some sliced lemon and I carried the salad and cutlery to the table. He sat at the table, still smiling. “What did Sofia call for?” he asked as he dished up the salad.
“There are a few things that belonged to my dad at the Casa,” I said. “She offered for us to have the place to ourselves next weekend.”
“The Casa?”
I nodded, spearing the first mouthful of fish. “Do you think you might want to spend the weekend in the Hamptons with a sexy, older man?”
“Do you know any?” he asked.
I tasted the fish. “Mmm, this is really good,” I said. “And yes, I think I know someone who might be available.”
Cooper slipped a forkful of fish into his mouth, and smiled as he ate. “This is good,” he said, finally swallowing his food. “So is this guy hung?”
“Like a horse,” I answered. “Or so he’s been told.”
Cooper laughed, but we ate in silence until our plates were almost empty. “My next two weeks are busy as hell, so I’ll probably look forward to a weekend away,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I have the next two weeks working with Xavier, so God knows I’ll be needing some serious, sexy-older-man-who’s-hung-like-a-horse time.”
I pushed my plate away, leant back in my chair and smiled. “Then you shall have it.”
Cooper rubbed his stomach. “Dinner was good. I should cook more often.”
“Cook?” I scoffed. “You turned the fish in the pan.”
“Like a chef,” he said proudly. “Oh,” he said as though he’d just remembered, “I spoke to my mom today. I told her about the photo in the paper. I emailed it to her.”
“What did she say?”
“That I’m awesome!” he said simply. “Well, she’s my mom. Of course she thinks I’m awesome.”
“I happen to think you’re awesome too.”
“You’re my boyfriend. You have to say that.”
“I call you a lot of things.”
“I know. Some of them not very flattering, I might add.”
“Such as?”
“You call me a little shit all the time.”
“Because you are…some of the time.”
“I think I prefer the term sassy.”
I laughed at that. “So, if I call you sassy, it will be like a secret code instead of little shit?”
“Exactly!” he said. “Like if I stop saying ‘because you’re old’, I could say you were being ‘funny’.”
“Funny?”
Cooper nodded brightly, apparently thinking this was a great idea. “Mm-hm. Funny is much nicer than old.”
“What if you wanted to actually call me funny?”
Cooper cocked his head and looked off into space. “Well, it hasn’t happened yet.”
“You’re such a—”
Cooper raised one eyebrow. “I’m what?”
“Sassy. You’re a sassy little shit.”
Cooper sighed, trying not to smile. “Well, it’s true. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
* * * *
Cooper was right. For the next week, work kicked his ass. Early mornings, late nights, but he never lost that buzz for what he was doing. He’d get home late and show me the latest developments, excitedly demonstrating what he’d done that day.
On the Friday night, Cooper got in around eleven and as he sat on the edge of the bed, he took his shoes and socks off and sighed tiredly. He said Xavier was still all over him like a rash, but he had told Xavier again and again he wasn’t interested. “If he stands too close, I talk about you,” Cooper said. “If he even looks at me like he’s about to say something not work related, I talk about you.”
I put my book on the bedside table and smiled. “Don’t let him bother you.”
“Does it bother you?” he asked, stripping down to his briefs.
“No,” I said quietly. “If it upset you, then that would upset me, but he can want you all he likes. Doesn’t mean he’ll get you.” I pulled back the bed cover and Cooper climbed onto the bed.
He rested his head on my chest and snuggled into my side. “No, it doesn’t.”
We’d had a similar conversation to this that had ended in a fight, so I was wary as to how this would go. I kissed the top of his head. “I trust you, sweetheart.”
This time he didn’t argue. Instead, he whispered, “Thank you,” then he just kissed my chest, held me tighter and fell asleep in my arms.
* * * *
He worked most of the weekend at his office, which was fine. I got work done from home, but it was eerily quiet. No music, nothing to trip over on the floor, no smell of food cooking in the apartment, no one swearing at the coffee machine.
It wasn’t lost on me just how much he brought to my life.
Or how much I missed him when he wasn’t there.
When he got home late on Sunday, I asked him if he wanted me to heat his dinner for him. He shook his head tiredly, and without a word, he took my hand and led me to bed.
He was tired, his movements were
unhurried, his kisses slow and languid. “I really need you,” he said gruffly. “Please, Tom.” It didn’t take much for me to be turned on by him.
I laid him on his stomach on the bed, and I lifted his ass. Slowly, tenderly, I readied him for me, and when I finally pushed my sheathed cock inside him, he arched his back and moaned.
I lay down over him, filling him completely. His eyes were closed and I slowly rocked my hips into him, savouring every moment. “Fuck,” he moaned, long and low.
I kissed his neck, his shoulder, everywhere I could reach, while I thrust slowly into his ass. Cooper put his hands over mine, threading my fingers with his, and spread his thighs even wider.
I was buried so far inside him, every inch of me, and he lifted his ass for more. I rocked harder, I thrust deeper and when his ass squeezed my cock, I couldn’t hold off anymore. “Gonna cum,” I rasped in his ear.
He threw his head back and groaned, while I filled the condom, deep inside him.
When I pulled out of him, I rolled him over. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling, his cock still hard. “You didn’t cum,” I stated softly.
“Didn’t need to,” he replied sleepily, still with his eyes shut. “Just needed you.”
I discarded the condom and licked the length of him, from his balls to the glistening tip of his cock. When I took him into my mouth, I slipped my finger into his still-slicked ass in search of his gland.
He bucked his hips, gripped the sheets and his eyes shot open. “Fuck!” he croaked out.
I sucked and licked, and rubbed and swiped his prostate until he came with a hoarse cry. His body convulsed, racked with waves of pleasure. Completely spent, boneless and smiling, he fell asleep.
* * * *
The next week was much the same. He worked hard, as did I, and I missed him terribly. I still got a text message when he had a spare moment, a phone call at work every now and then, though he sounded tired.
He’d come home late every night, crawling into bed and falling asleep, only to wake up and go into work early. I knew he had to do it. Long hours came with a successful career. So as much as I missed him, I understood.
On Thursday night after work when I walked into the lobby of our apartment, Lionel beamed. “Special delivery for you, Mr Elkin,” he said, the crinkles at his eyes telling me it was a genuine smile.