by Land, Alexa
As I waited for him to notice me, I took in my surroundings. The huge, perfectly manicured lawn was surrounded by colorful flowerbeds full of exotic-looking blooms, mostly in shades of red, yellow and orange. I recognized clusters of birds of paradise and huge stands of bougainvilleas, but not much else, since plants really weren’t my area of expertise. The garden ended abruptly, giving way to a sheer cliff face and an unobstructed view of the Pacific, which was maybe sixty feet below. It was all just stunningly beautiful and tranquil too, thanks to the steady sound of waves breaking in the little cove below and the almost alien whir of hummingbirds darting among the flowers.
Suddenly one of the tiny hummingbirds appeared a few feet in front of me, its glassy little eyes staring at me as its wings beat so quickly they were a blur. It was cute, until the thing decided to get a closer look at me. Hummingbirds move incredibly fast, so in a split-second it was right in my face, that long, needle-like beak inches from my eye.
That freaked me out a bit and I yelled reflexively, waving my hands to try to chase it off as I dodged to my right. This didn’t deter the bird, though. Just the opposite. It actually became even more interested in me and swooped in for another close look. Okay, no! I yelled again and started bobbing and weaving around the lawn, swinging my arms wildly. I really didn’t want to smack the bird away, but at the same time I wasn’t about to stand still while it figured out that my eyeball wasn’t actually full of nectar.
For some reason, part of my brain was yelling at me to stop, drop, and roll. I don’t know why. The hummingbird wasn’t on fire or anything. But I still went with it, flopping down on the grass and rolling back and forth like a crazy person. The tiny hummingbird dive-bombed me a couple times, its distinctive hum buzzing in my ears as I yelled, “No, quit it! Get away!”
A shadow fell across me and the bird took off like a shot. I stopped rolling and looked up at Vincent as I said, “Please tell me you saw the hummingbird.”
“I did. What were you and he doing, exactly?”
“Well, I assume he was trying to suck the fluid from my eyeball, and I was trying to prevent that from happening,” I told him as I sat up. The grass had apparently just been mowed and watered, judging by the fact that I was totally green with grass stains and lawn clippings, in addition to being completely soaked.
Vincent grinned, just a little, and held his hand out to me. When I took it, he hoisted me to my feet. “Aside from antagonizing the local wildlife, what are you doing here, Trevor?”
“Well, it’s like this. Apparently, your grandmother watched a few too many Disney movies and fancies herself a bit of a fairy godmother. She bought me a new wardrobe, loaded me up in a carriage – in the form of a rented town car – and sent me off after Prince Charming.” I knit my brows and said, “Well crap, I suppose in this analogy I’m Cinderella. I should have thought that through before I started down the fairy tale path.”
“So, my grandmother is setting us up?”
“Apparently she felt drastic measures were in order, since you weren’t returning my phone calls.”
His amused expression dropped away. “I shouldn’t have done that. I was just really embarrassed after coming to you in that condition.” He broke eye contact and I glanced at his wrists. They’d completely healed from his assault. His face had, too.
“It’s fine. Really,” I said. He still wasn’t looking at me. “Well, anyway, it seems we both fell for her ruse. She told me the kitchen needed to be scrubbed top to bottom, and that I had to do an inventory of all the cookware because the homeowner had only the barebones basics. But it looks like the kitchen of a gourmet chef.”
“Nana told me that Johnnie had let the landscaping go completely to hell. She begged me to come down and take care of it so it didn’t ruin the wedding pictures.”
“Johnnie? Your brother owns this place?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. He’s done really well for himself,” I said, and Vincent rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, real well. He’s a professional boytoy, which I figure is a nicer word for him than gigolo. One of his sugar mamas left him this house when she passed away.”
“Seriously?”
He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “Would I really make up a story like that about my own brother?”
“Maybe, if you didn’t like him very much.”
“I love Johnnie. He’s just made some truly bizarre choices in his life. But then, who hasn’t really?”
The conversation ebbed at that at point and we stood there awkwardly, the phrase well, now what? hovering between us. After a moment I brushed my palms together, trying to wipe off some of the grass clippings, and said, “Um, I think I’m going to go and try to figure out how to get cleaned up, although I hate to track all of this into the house.”
“There’s an outdoor shower around by the pool,” he said, pointing to a little path cutting through the landscaping to my right. “That might be your best bet.”
“Good idea. I’ll still need to go inside and get a change of clothes, though.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Thanks. My backpack is next to the front door.”
Vincent went to the double doors and kicked his shoes off, then stepped into the kitchen. “Wait,” I called after him, rushing toward the house. He turned toward me with a questioning expression and a raised eyebrow. “Um…don’t look in the shopping bags,” I mumbled.
“Why not?”
“Because if you do, I’ll die of embarrassment.”
He grinned a little. “Why? What’s in them?”
“Nana sent along a few things. Let’s just say she’s a very modern fairy godmother.”
“Well, now I’m curious,” he said, his grin getting a little bigger. He turned and disappeared into the house.
I yelled after him, “I didn’t have anything to do with it, I swear! Nana’s driver brought the bags into the house, I had no idea what was inside them!”
I knew he’d reached the foyer when I heard his bark of laughter. He reappeared in the kitchen a few moments later carrying all three bags (but not my backpack).
“I told you not to look!” I exclaimed.
“I know, but one of the bags was vibrating! How was I not going to check that out?” He set the bags on the enormous kitchen island and began unpacking them, while I stood right outside the door with my hands on my hips. He started with the huge box of condoms. “It’s a ninety-six pack. That might last us ‘til Wednesday,” he teased. The bottle was next. “This half-gallon of lube is clearly not enough, though.”
“It isn’t?”
“Nope. I’m planning to set up a mile-long slip ‘n slide later and this’ll barely cover it,” he said with a straight face. A big handful of brightly colored briefs was next. “Oh my.” He piled them on the counter, then untangled a skimpy neon yellow pair and stretched them between the index fingers of both hands. “Well, damn. I owe Nana a really good Christmas present this year.” I blushed as he returned them to the pile.
He glanced into the bag, then reached in and did something that made it stop humming and vibrating. “The rest of this is a bit unsettling, though. I mean, I’ve had my entire life to get used to Nana and her particular brand of crazy. But still, I somehow put it past her to go out and buy sex toys.”
“She took her gay hairstylist along. I’m going to go ahead and assume the toys were Mr. Mario’s doing.”
Vincent considered that for a moment, then picked the bag up by the handles and set it on the floor. “I don’t know if I should thank Mr. Mario, or lecture him for letting Nana do this.”
“I’m guessing he was coerced.”
“You’re probably right.” He pulled another bag toward him and plucked out the white tissue paper as he said, “Now what did those two do for an encore?”
“Oh, I think that one’s clothing. Just leave it packed up so she can return it.”
“Why?” he asked, peering into the bag and pulling out a light bl
ue t-shirt. “This would actually look really nice on you. It’d bring out your eyes.”
“Nana must have spent a ton of money on me, and I can’t accept it.”
“She’ll be hurt if you don’t wear this stuff. Besides, she’ll never take it back, not in a million years.” He pulled a couple pairs of shorts out of the bag and grinned at me. “Plus, you’d look really cute in this stuff.”
“I’m not cute already?”
He smiled at me sincerely. “You’re adorable.”
“Dude, I was kidding. I mean, look at me.”
“I am.” He came around the kitchen island and stood in the doorway, directly in front of me. “You’re cute even when you’re disguised as Astroturf.” He reached up and plucked a blade of grass off the tip of my nose.
“That’s it,” I said, turning and heading toward the path through the foliage. “I’m going to get a shower.”
The infinity pool I discovered just past the landscaping looked like it belonged in a high-end resort. A cabana on the far side of the sparkling blue waters had a spa-worthy outdoor shower attached to its right wall, which I got going before stripping down to my boxers and stepping under the warm water. It felt odd to shower outdoors, even though the nearest neighbor was about half a mile down the beach and not actually in sight of the pool area.
“You skipped a step,” Vincent said. He’d brought me a towel, along with a few articles of clothing from the shopping bag. He set them on a nearby cushioned lounge chair, then came up to me and said, “Do you always shower in boxers?”
“Yeah. All the time. I normally shower outdoors, too. It’s all part of my swanky poolside lifestyle.” I tilted my face into the water and scrubbed my palms over my cheeks before turning to face him.
“You got a haircut,” he observed. “It looks nice.”
“Thanks. Skye cut it for me. He did a surprisingly decent job.” I let the water run over my hair next, closing my eyes and tipping my head back.
When I opened them I drew in my breath. Vincent was right in front of me, so close that some of the spray was landing on his chest. His brows were knit above his glasses, and he was staring at my midsection. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he murmured.
He reached out and very gently ran his fingertips horizontally across my stomach, which made me tense up automatically. I had a big, nasty-looking scar there. “What happened to you, Trevor?”
“I got shot,” I answered honestly. “It happened when I was six. It looks that bad because the doctors had to keep cutting me as I got older. The scar tissue wouldn’t stretch to accommodate my growth.”
“Is that why you hate guns?” His voice was really quiet.
“Yeah.”
“Who shot you?” He remained focused on my scar.
“My mom.” Now he met my gaze, his eyes wide, startled. He didn’t ask the question, but the word why was written all over his face. “She didn’t plan to shoot me,” I explained. “She was aiming for her boyfriend Red, but I got between him and the bullet.”
“On purpose?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you do that, Trevor?”
“Because I loved Red and didn’t want him to die,” I said.
“Where is he now?”
“No idea. I’d hoped he’d adopt me after my mom went to jail, but he didn’t want me. Not even after I saved his life.” I didn’t know why I admitted that. It sounded so pathetic.
Vincent pulled me into his arms. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
I held onto him and said quietly, “It’s in the past now. I survived, that’s all that matters.”
After a while, he looked into my eyes. We watched each other for a long moment, and then I stretched up and kissed him, softly at first. When I deepened the kiss, Vincent pulled back and met my gaze as he asked, “What are you doing?”
“I want this, Vincent. I want you. I kept trying to call and tell you that. You wouldn’t pick up the phone though, and I felt stupid confessing my feelings to your voice mail.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely.”
For a minute there, I really thought he was going to shoot me down. A dozen rebuttals flickered subtly across his features. But then he apparently reached some kind of resolution and kissed me tenderly.
Our kisses soon turned hungry, all the lust and attraction between us finally given free rein. Vincent pushed me against the shower’s single wall, a warm ocean breeze blowing over our wet skin, and tasted my mouth as his hands caressed my body. He tugged down my underwear, exposing my erection, and I stepped out of the boxers as I unbuttoned his shorts with shaking hands.
As soon as I got the shorts unzipped my hand was inside them, massaging his big hard-on through the fabric of his briefs. But then he began kissing his way down my chest and stomach, dropping to his knees. I cried out when his warm lips wrapped around my cock, his hands cupping my butt and pulling me deeper into his mouth.
Pleasure radiated through my body. I was glad I was leaning against the wall, because it was the only thing holding me up. As he sucked me faster and deeper, primal moans tore from me. Under normal circumstances that would have been really embarrassing, but I was too consumed with lust to care. I tangled my fingers in his hair, trying to fight the urge to drive myself into his mouth. But then he started to do it for me, grabbing my hips and rocking me forward, taking my cock so deeply that his nose met my stomach on each thrust.
It was so intense, so insanely good that far too soon I ground out, “Oh God, I’m gonna cum.” He didn’t pull off, so a few moments later I came in his mouth, crying out as that powerful orgasm tore through me, grabbing his head with both hands, holding him to me. He sucked me hard, then tapered off along with the force of my orgasm until he was gently licking my cock. When I was finally spent I dropped to my knees in front of him, still holding his head, and kissed him. There was an unfamiliar taste on his lips, and when I realized what I was tasting, it was surprisingly erotic. I ran my tongue over his, tasting more of me.
When I pulled back to look at him, he smiled at me. It was open and joyous and totally unguarded, his dark eyes sparkling. I smiled at him too, running my palm over the bulge in his briefs, and asked, “Do I get to take care of you now?”
“Later,” he said, drawing me into his arms and leaning against the cedar wall, then reaching up with one hand and turning off the shower. “Just rest for a minute, that seemed to take a lot out of you.”
I laughed embarrassedly, and when he shot me a quizzical look, I said, “Yeah, that did take a lot out of me. In more ways than one.” He chuckled and drew me against his chest, and as I ran my hands over his wet skin I said softly, “Thanks for doing that for me. It’s hands-down the best birthday present I’ve ever received.”
He pulled back to meet my gaze. There were water droplets on his glasses and I used the side of my index finger to clear them, like a little windshield wiper. “Is that really what today is?” When I nodded, he said, “I can’t believe Nana Shanghaied you on your birthday! I don’t have a vehicle here, but I’ll call a car service and have it take you back to the city.”
“Why?”
“So you can celebrate. Maybe if you call your friends right away and tell them your plans are back on, they’ll still be available.”
“I didn’t have any plans, Vincent.”
“Are you twenty-one today?” When I nodded, he looked puzzled. “You didn’t have plans on your twenty-first birthday?”
“It’s just another day.”
Understanding registered in his eyes. He said gently, “No one ever celebrated your birthday when you were growing up, did they?”
“Nah. I mean, my mom was a train wreck even before she went to jail, and my dad took off when I was a toddler. I was raised by my widowed uncle, but he didn’t care about much of anything, besides the monthly check he got from child welfare for letting me stay with him. He didn’t even acknowledge his own daughter’s birthday, let alone
mine.” I sighed and added, “I hate talking about my childhood. It sounds so pathetic. But here I am, I survived it, so what does any of that matter, really?”
Vincent watched me for a long moment, and then he got up and turned the shower back on before holding his hand out to me. “What are we doing?” I asked as I let him pull me to my feet.
“First, we’re cleaning you properly. I interrupted your shower, and you’re still a little green in spots. After that, we’re going to celebrate your birthday. We’ll do whatever you want. My only two requests are that you let me bake you a cake, and that we drink copious amounts of champagne, which will involve raiding Johnnie’s truly outstanding wine cellar.”
I grinned as I slipped my hands around Vincent’s waist. “Anything I want, huh?” He nodded, and I said, “Wow, I really have to think about how to best take advantage of that offer.”
He grinned too as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts, then pushed them and his underwear to the ground and stepped out of them. “There, that might help you take full advantage.”
I ran my gaze down his muscular, flawless body and heavy cock as I muttered, “Well, damn. Let’s hurry up with this shower, so we can get to the celebrating.”
“Showers can be fun, too,” he said. To illustrate his point, he dispensed some amber-colored soap into his palm from the container mounted to the wall and rubbed his hands together. Then he began to slowly and sensually massage it into my damp skin, enveloping me in a citrus-scented lather.
“I see your point,” I murmured, resting my hands on his shoulders as he started shampooing my hair. It felt so good. I closed my eyes and just let him take care of me.
When I was completely clean he tried to talk me out of reciprocating, saying it was my day to be pampered, but I insisted on returning the favor and washed him the way he’d washed me. I explored his powerful body with my hands, the front of him first, then the back. When I got to his gorgeous butt, I noticed the remnants of an old, faded out bruise, about three inches long and half an inch high, running horizontally across his right cheek. It was a little odd, but then, as someone who bruised easily and often had random marks on my body, I didn’t give it a lot of thought.