Wrecked

by Deanna Wadsworth

  He was lost and he never wanted to be found.

  “Yes!” Rief thrust back to meet him, the wet sounds of his frantic strokes filling the air, along with their grunts of passion.

  The faster Mathew moved, the better it felt, stroking him to a euphoric place of bliss. A sharp sensation connected deep in his stomach, and he growled. He gritted his teeth and forced his body to wait, wanting this moment to last as long as possible. Beneath him, Rief writhed, gasping and panting as Mathew rutted him.

  Then suddenly Rief groaned in glorious relief.

  His ass clenched down, making every exquisite sensation so much stronger. Once Mathew let go, his own pleasure hit fast. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him, wracking his entire body with a spasm. Losing himself to the sweet bliss throbbing beneath his skin from scalp to toe, he filled Rief with hot, fluid passion.

  Breathing heavy, Mathew massaged his cheeks, his lower back, wishing he could verbalize all the thoughts and emotions whirling within him. How good his body felt, how peaceful it was waking beside him. And most of all how important Rief had become to him so quickly.

  Before he could put any of it into words, a laugh, muffled by the mattress escaped Rief. “Well, good morning!”

  Mathew couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Indeed.”

  With a sigh, Rief collapsed into the bed, and Mathew went with him, the motion squeezing his spent cock until he half thought he could go again. Panting, they stayed like that awhile, Mathew lying on top of him and still tucked inside. After he caught his breath, he withdrew from the precious confines of Rief’s welcoming body and rolled over. He folded Rief into his arms, his release slicking their bodies.

  “I see you stopped worrying about hurting me,” Rief joked.

  “Stop teasing. Last night was different. You were hiding things from me, you were hurting. In here....” He placed a hand over Rief’s heart. “I refuse to add to your pain. Now this morning, well?” He felt his cheeks heat. “It was just about mutual pleasure, I think.”

  Eyes closed, Rief took his hand from his heart and brought it to his lips. “I like this mutual pleasure business.”

  Stroking his face, Mathew leaned in to kiss him, but a shout from the warehouse downstairs made them both freeze.

  Rief’s grip tightened and all humor faded. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.”

  Thrusting their wet cocks together, he whispered, “You wished I wasn’t here?”

  He nipped at Mathew’s neck. “I can feel your seed inside me, and I’m still in your arms. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re probably really glad I’m here.”

  “I am, but you need to go.”

  Rebelliously, he squeezed Rief. “Just another minute.”

  He nuzzled Mathew’s hair and kissed his neck. “That will just leave us wishing for one more and another after that.”

  “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

  “Me too.” Rief groaned, hugging him tight. “You haven’t even left, and I already miss you. I don’t know how I’ll be able to make it through the day. Night cannot come swiftly enough.”

  “I have to see you sooner,” Mathew said with sudden conviction. “After some appointments this morning, I am free the rest of the day. Meet me somewhere. Anywhere. Name the place.”

  Brows furrowed, Rief shook his head at once. “No. It’s too risky in the daytime.”

  He shifted to prop up on an elbow, a burst of excitement coming over him. “Not for this. I just want to see you. Buy you an ale? Lunch? I can’t wait for the shadows of night to walk in the sun again.”

  “If we are seen together, it might draw suspicion.”

  “I don’t care. It is less suspicious if we behave as if nothing has happened. We said lovers and friends. Friends can spend an afternoon together, can’t they?”

  “You and I don’t have a good reason to be friends in the eyes of the rest of the world.”

  He placed a reassuring hand on Rief’s arm. “Yes, about that. Please don’t fear. I know my father and Mr. Kirkwood have pressed charges against your company, but I have a say in the business as well. I will see to it you are fairly compensated. I would never cheat the man who saved my life, and I would never cheat a friend.”

  Yawning, Rief stretched and rolled onto his back. “I haven’t spared the money much thought, because it’s out of my hands. Judge Marvin decides how and when we get paid.”

  “Yes, well—” Mathew bit his lower lip. “—they intend to do everything in their power to reduce the award to make up for the losses we incurred during the auction. I—”

  Rief cut him off with a finger on his lips. “That is business. What will be, will be. We can’t waste time debating the very thing that brought us together. I don’t care if I see a penny. As far as I am concerned, I received my award a million times over, and he’s in this bed with me.”

  Those tender words brought tears to Mathew’s eyes, and he blinked them back. “Why can’t men like us have a chance at real happiness like everyone else? I don’t know how I’m going to live without you. Without this.” He stroked a trembling hand through the hairs on Rief’s chest.

  Rief held very still, shaking his head after a moment. “I don’t want to discuss that either.”

  “Please, then, let me see you today,” Mathew pleaded, widening his eyes. “Name the location.”

  A slow smile crept across his face and his solitary dimple appeared. “How about The Bloody Hog down by the docks, at midday?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “That sounds rather unsavory.”

  “It is,” Rief said, making no apologies. “They have a gambling house in the back with whatever you want to bet on, from cockfights to cards. They’ve got whores upstairs, and a tavern that sees more fights than laughs. It’s the only place where people worse than me can drink in peace. No one cares who comes and goes there.”

  He hated how Rief had been forced to live in the shadows when his very smile brought so much sunshine to Mathew’s spirit he fancied it might give him sunburn. “Then it’s a plan, I will meet you there as soon as I finish my business. I don’t want to waste a moment.”

  “There you are!”

  Startled, Mathew drew up short as Maggie accosted him in the foyer, her posture wound tighter than her black curls. “G-good morning, dearest.”

  “Where have you been?”

  Mind soaring on the clouds, Mathew had felt as if he were walking in a dream state. However, being greeted by Maggie the moment he stepped inside the inn caused reality to race to the fore. Swallowing his panic, he fumbled for a reply. “I-I went for a walk.”

  “You are lying,” she declared, scrutinizing him with shrewd brown eyes. “You are wearing the same fancy coat you wore last night.”

  “You must be mistaken. Now, if you will excuse me, your father and I are meeting with a ship’s chandler and the insurance adjuster this morning.” He tried to brush past her and make for the stairs, heart pounding and sweat itching his skin. After leaving Rief, he’d lingered near the Lucky Clipper wreckage to create a plausible alibi for being at the wharf so early. The delay had forced him to all but run back to the inn in order to meet Mr. Kirkwood on time. Sticky and hot, he needed to freshen up.

  Maggie effortlessly blocked his escape and crossed her arms. “You question my keen eye for fashion? That is the same red frock coat you wore to dinner.”

  “Perhaps it is the same coat,” he said dismissively. “I must have selected it in a hurry. What does it matter?”

  “Because you are lying. You never wear the same thing two days in a row, yet, head to toe, you look exactly as you did last night.” Her mouth twisted with a disapproving frown as she continued to study him. “Albeit, a bit more unkempt and wrinkled. Your face is flushed and you smell terrible. Tell me the truth, where have you really been?”

  “Thank you for your polite observations, Margaret.” He scowled but tried to remain casual, wondering if his “terrible” smell was their seed. R
ief had offered him a place to bathe, but he had refused because he’d wanted to keep Rief’s essence with him a little while longer. Could she actually smell it?

  “I don’t mean to insult you.” She dropped her hands to the side and let out a trembling sigh. “But I kept imagining all sorts of maladies befalling you.”

  “There was no reason for concern. I was in my room, and just now on a walk. I wasn’t out being murdered.”

  “Why do you insist upon lying? I went to your room several times last night, and you weren’t there. You left a candle unattended, however, which could have burned down the entire inn.”

  “Why would you come to my room at night? That is not proper at all.”

  “Oh, pishposh,” she said flippantly. “Where were you? Tell me the truth.”

  This had gone on long enough, and his delightful mood was fast waning. He should feel more guilt over betraying his fiancée, but she had ended their engagement. For all intents and purposes, he was free to pursue whatever intimacy he chose. But to think of a reply that would satisfy this doggish persistence of hers....

  “I went to a cockfight,” he finally declared, barely masking his amusement at the perverse pun. “Then I partook in some all-night drinking and general carousing. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “I cannot believe you would do something so crass!”

  He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Honestly, you cannot refuse to be my wife yet still continue to be my keeper, Mags.” Forgiving her assault and tireless questions borne of concern, he placed his hands on her slim shoulders. “I have stayed out many a night before, without suffering ill for it. You did not need to worry.”

  She looked taken aback. “When have you done this?”

  “Many times.” He gestured with vague annoyance. “I don’t tell you of all my comings and goings.”

  She stared at him, then blinked, her stunned expression shifting to sadness. “So this is the person you choose to be? Staying out all night and carousing, as you say? And cockfights no less! You truly are not the boy I used to know.”

  “Of course I am not that same boy, nor are you the same girl. Time changes us all.”

  Lips pursed, she shook her head. “No, I have not changed. It is only you who are different. I thought by coming on this journey, I would have a chance to reintroduce myself, but it seems to have been all for naught.”

  “What do you mean reintroduce yourself?”

  “I had hoped that if we had this time, things might return to the way they used to be, before you went away and changed into someone else entirely. But no matter how hard I try, nothing has worked. You spend time with me, but your mind is elsewhere. You talk to me, yet you tell me nothing. Everything that we once shared is gone forever,” she whispered, eyes watering.

  “Dearest—”

  Burying a cry in her hand, her face contorted. In a twirl of skirts, she spun around and fled the room. She nearly collided with her father as he entered the parlor, but she never slowed.

  “Come back, Mags, please,” he called to her retreating figure.

  “Margaret, where are you off to?” Mr. Kirkwood said with a startled laugh.

  She disappeared up the steps, and the sharp sound of a slamming door rattled the very walls.

  Mr. Kirkwood chuckled awkwardly. “A lover’s quarrel, eh?”

  “A simple discussion gone awry,” he admitted, having no other way to quantify her behavior. “Which seems to be happening more and more frequently.”

  Arguments like this would continue, and there was nothing Mathew could do to stop them. While he did not wish to destroy a friendship that meant so much to him, if Maggie ever learned why or how he had altered, she would never forgive him. As much as it pained him, he had little choice but to allow her to blame herself or college for his withdrawal. Even an imagined love for that vapid Lucy Cogswell was a safer alternative to the truth.

  Truth.

  With a sad heart, he realized embracing his own personal truth meant he would always have to deceive the people in his life, leaving strife and turmoil in his wake. Though a double life was the very essence of lying, being in Rief’s arms had been the first thing he’d ever done that felt like real truth. Honest. Even when Key West became a distant speck on the horizon, Rief Lawson was forever burned onto his soul.

  Rief was Mathew’s new truth.

  “I see you are dressed and ready to go, Weston,” Mr. Kirkwood said, twiddling his fingers and drawing Mathew’s attention. “Let’s be off, then.”

  Apparently, only Maggie noticed he wore the same clothing. He took a moment to check his appearance in a mirror hanging in the hallway, straightening his top hat and readjusting the hasty knot of his cravat. Then he followed Mr. Kirkwood to the door. “Isn’t Father joining us?”

  Glancing at him, Mr. Kirkwood tapped his walking cane on the floor. “Not today.”

  Only mildly curious about Father’s absence, he stepped outside. An open-air carriage with a stalwart-looking pony and driver awaited them. Being of such a large stature, Mr. Kirkwood wasn’t much for walking, but he managed his way up to sit heavily in the passenger bench. The sky was overcast, and the humid air made Mathew thankful for the respite from walking.

  “The insurance adjuster will be there when we speak to the chandler,” Mr. Kirkwood said after signaling the driver they were settled. With a snap of the rein, the vehicle lurched forward. “I don’t know how long until the Lucky Clipper sails again. Hopefully we can get her repairs scheduled and finish this unsavory business with the wreckers, post haste. We need to acquire a ship soon if we wish to sail before the storm season is upon us. I’ve seen enough of storms at sea to last a lifetime.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I was entertaining asking Torino to oversee the repairs. What do you think?”

  Mathew smiled, appreciating the chance to share his opinion as an equal. “He came highly recommended by Father. He may not be able to navigate a storm, but I believe him to be a moral, honest fellow. Recall how he got us out of that potentially bad tobacco purchase in New Orleans?”

  “Yes, I recall,” he agreed. “So that is settled then. I am anxious for the judge to return so we can put this behind us and go home.”

  Home.

  Mr. Kirkwood referred to London, but the city no longer conjured warm feelings of serenity or domesticity, merely nostalgia for times past. For most of his life, home had merely been wherever he lived at the time. Pembroke Manor, Cambridge, Aunt Elaine’s brownstone, and lastly the Lucky Clipper. Anywhere felt like home after long enough.

  Yet now, how could a place ever feel like home without Rief?

  Refusing to allow morose feelings to consume him, he studied the streets slipping past. Neat and tidy homes, dark green leafy trees, a few random chickens pecking at the dirt. Coconut trees dropping their nuts and leaf debris. This place was exactly as it had been a few days ago and doubtless how it would remain after he left.

  The same could not be said for Mathew.

  He had come to this island completely wrecked in heart and mind. Rief had saved more than just his life at sea. He’d helped Mathew salvage his dignity, and he’d taught him confidence. With Rief’s guidance, a wrecked boy had become a man in Key West.

  Would Mathew revert back to that same floundering, lost soul without Rief?

  Worse... what would become of Rief when Mathew was inevitably forced to leave him behind? His mother had taken her own life, so would their parting break Rief so badly that he might consider death a better alternative to despair?

  Though arrogant to think he held such a powerful effect on the man, had not Rief himself voiced that very concern? He’d been painting Mathew most of his life, even claiming to be in love with that image. Was Mathew a fool to entertain the notion that Rief might love the real Mathew?

  Then again, what did love matter when the whole world was determined to curse them to a lifetime of secrecy and isolation? Mathew might long to capture Rief’s heart, but he was dest
ined to become a baron, and as such, he needed a wife and to make heirs. Dismissing those responsibilities was impossible.

  What choice did either of them have?

  “We’ve not had any time to speak privately for some time,” Mr. Kirkwood said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Is there something you wish to discuss?”

  “Yes.” He swatted away a fly buzzing about his head. “Have you examined the loan contract with your father, now that matters have so drastically changed?”

  “No. To tell the truth, I have not given it a thought.”

  Mr. Kirkwood pursed his thick lips, his moustache shifting to resemble a walrus Mathew had seen once in a picture book. “As I feared.”

  He bristled. “What are you implying, Mr. Kirkwood?”

  “Simply, you are about to marry my daughter, and it is her future that you need to start thinking of, not your father’s. God made them male and female. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife. And they twain shall be one flesh.”

  “I am familiar with the Gospel of Mark.” He disliked the reminder of the life he would eventually lead and the subtle, scriptural condemnation of the one he so badly wanted.

  Mr. Kirkwood smiled. “Of course you are. You are a God-fearing man. As such, you must follow that principle and leave behind the wishes of your father and cleave to my daughter. You have an inheritance, but if you are not careful with every shilling, you can quickly become a pauper. I cannot sit back and watch your father take advantage of your generous nature and disabuse or cheat you. I want you to go over every line of that contract. You will find several things therein which will be to your personal benefit, and Margaret’s.”

  “I will, Mr. Kirkwood,” he promised, wondering what “things” he referenced.

  “Good,” he said, the obvious pleasure at having his own agenda met so much like Maggie’s it was almost comical. “What has befallen our first business venture was tragic, but the time has come to start looking out for your family’s best interest. As your fiancée, Margaret is the only family you need concern yourself with. You need to take care of her, do you understand, Weston?”