Asshole.
“Not exactly,” I seethed. “The Maxwell case. The charges against the father are falsified and you know it as much as I do.” It was really only a partial lie. Her voicemail was pretty damn close to an admission, but it fell just short of the real thing. Measuring his reaction with his usual precision, he simply sat there and let me continue to talk. “But I met with Harvey this morning and found something that might be of interest to you.” Baiting him was the only tactic I could think of to raise some reaction out of him.
“And that would be?” He kept calm, in control, but I could tell his mind was racing through all the possibilities. His ‘tell’ was his bouncing leg–a nervous tick I’d picked up on over the years. Even though he knew nothing about me, I knew people. I could read him like an open book and he had no clue.
“A tirade of a voicemail from Avery, saying she’d do anything to keep Harvey from his kids. She admits to the charges being false.” I kept up the half-lie, needing him to take the bait and admit it himself.
“And how do you know–”
“That the recording is real? It’s been authenticated. And she was drunk as a fucking monkey, too. So even if you ask her what she said, she probably won’t even remember it. Now, you have two choices here.”
“Oh, do I? Please go on,” he quipped with heavy sarcasm.
“Harvey isn’t planning on using it.” Dropping that out there, I watched my father’s face brighten, hope springing in his devilish eyes. “He actually cares about his son’s welfare.” I didn’t think guilt would work against my father, but it was the card I was going to play. Mainly because I had so much I needed to unload on him. “See, Harvey knows Avery is lying through her teeth. She’s willing to drag her son’s name through the mud just for an extra zero on that child support check. This is something Ashton’s going to have to live with for the rest of his life. She probably twisted his words against his own father, which is why she’d never let me meet with him. But that doesn’t matter much now that the police came up empty.” The look on his face was all the confirmation I needed. He knew the truth all along and played me to get what he wanted. A win, and a taste of Avery.
“Where exactly are you going with all this?” His frustration was multiplying by the minute and I wasn’t entirely certain I’d sway him, but I had to say my piece.
“For once in your life, do the right thing. She’s already due a shit ton of money. Advise her to sign the settlement, keep her mouth shut with the media, and move on. The police and Child Protective Services have already come up empty. Don’t put Ashton through any more. Call her out on making shit up and warn her of the consequences.”
Standing from my chair, I walked to the large window overlooking the courtyard of the building. “You know there was a time in my life I thought the world revolved around you. You were a king in my eyes. I wanted to be like you in every way I possibly could. I thought if I was more like you, you’d actually pay attention to me. But I realize now that I never should have bothered with it. Your opinion of me never mattered to you. It never should have mattered to me either.”
Walking past him, I didn’t care enough to see what he thought about my words. Needing to say one last thing, I stopped before the door and turned to face him. His hard stoicism was cracking, a tiny fissure of anguish working its way through the stony shell of a man he’d always been. “Don’t take away from Ashton what you took away from me. He still has a chance to have his father in his life. Just do the right thing. Get your client her money and tell her to stop. Let the man see his kids and be the father they deserve.”
The world would have to stop rotating for him to apologize for ignoring me all these years, for hating me simply because I was born, for loathing my very existence for turning out gay. I didn’t have time for such miracles.
I had more important things waiting for me on the other side of the door.
My future.
His harsh voice, calling to me from his desk, stopped me from leaving just yet. “If I get her to agree, will he destroy the tape? Will he agree to the terms we presented? Since they found nothing against him, if I can get Avery to sign the papers, will he make the tape disappear?”
“Concerned all of a sudden, huh?” Taking two steps back toward him, I felt a twinge of victory. “You worried this will all blow back in your face because you know he’s right?”
Avoiding eye contact, he looked straight through me. “Will he destroy it?” His sole motivation was the firm’s reputation, and that was enough to make me know he’d talk Avery into signing the papers.
“I don’t know,” I barked. “That’s something you’ll have to work out with him and his lawyer, but I will tell you he wants what’s best for his kids. I know that’s a foreign concept for you, but some fathers are actually capable of loving their children enough to see more than dollar signs. Get your client to do the right thing, and I’m pretty sure Harvey will do the same.”
And with that, I walked out of the building in which I’d started my career. It had been a prison sentence, and my final moments with my father the parole hearing I’d been due for years.
“This has to be the last of the boxes,” I complained, dropping yet another box of books to the floor in Parker’s new office.
He pretended to count them all, as if he actually knew how many we should have. “I think that’s about it. But maybe there are more out there. You sure you don’t want to take another trip?” he joked.
Laughing, I stepped into his space and draped my arms around his neck. “You’ve been packing up and moving into this office for a week. There are no boxes left and my arms are killing me.”
With his arms snaked around my waist, he smiled against my lips. “You’ve been amazing through all of this, you know?”
“No, I don’t. Tell me,” I toyed with him, loving the smile we shared as our lips joined once again.
Parker’s face had become lighter, younger somehow in the last week. Breaking away from his father had done wonders in helping him become freer. And I was the lucky person with whom he chose to share his new life.
He pulled me over to the small sofa covered in a drop cloth. We sat next to each other, twisted so that we each had a leg bent under our bodies. He held my hands in his, stroking his thumbs over my wrists. The vibration of something significant pulsed on the horizon. It had been there all week, as if it came to life with Parker’s increasing happiness. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I couldn’t imagine doing half of this without you.”
“All I did was move a few boxes.” Deflecting his appreciation wasn’t what he wanted from me.
He cupped a hand to my jaw, running his thumb over my lip like he always did.
Always did.
I wasn’t sure when Parker and his affections had become an always in my life, but hearing the word echo in my head calmed me, brought me a sense of peace I didn’t realize I’d been looking for. “You did so much more than that, and you know it.” His words cut through my side-tracked brain.
Pressing my lips against the pad of his thumb, I laid a gentle kiss there. “It was my pleasure, really. I love seeing this new side of you. And I’m so proud of you for finally doing what you’ve always wanted to do.”
“Thank you,” he said shyly. “It scares the ever-living shit out of me, but somehow”—he scooted closer to me, resting his leg right against mine—“knowing that you’re right here with me, it makes me feel like it’s all meant to be.”
“You make me feel the same way,” I whispered against his lips before taking his mouth in a hard kiss. Holding his face in my hands, I swept my tongue by his lips and teeth. There was something different in the way he kissed me back. Something softer, more meaningful. Something Earth-shattering.
Not sure if I was ready for what he was about to say, I pulled away from him. “We better get a move on painting if you want to be done by the end of the night.” Tipping my chin at the supplies in the corner, he took my hint and let go of
whatever he’d intended to bring into the conversation.
“Okay,” he said, standing from the couch. “Let’s do this.”
Crouching down next to the can of paint, I watched him try to open it. Stifling my laughter, I held the screwdriver in my hand. “You’ve never painted before, have you?”
Looking up at me, his mouth pulled into a lopsided smirk. “How can you tell?”
Squatting next to him, I worked the tip of the screwdriver along the rim of the paint can. “Well, when you try to open a can of paint with your bare hands, it’s pretty clear you know nothing about painting.”
“And what—are you some kind of expert?” Though his words were intended as a joke, they quickly changed, as he was impressed by the ease with which I opened the paint.
“Maybe?” I laughed, stirring the paint. “You want to cut or roll?”
Dumbfounded, Parker stared at me, utterly clueless as to what the hell I was talking about. When he didn’t answer, I couldn’t help but laugh some more. “I’m certainly more of an expert than you, that’s for sure.”
Handing him the roller, I made the decision for him, figuring he would screw up less with this task. He listened intently as I explained how much paint to get on the roller and in which direction to move it so it didn’t come out uneven.
“Like this?” he asked after a few test runs.
“Yep, you got it,” I encouraged as I prepared my supplies for cutting in the edges.
The afternoon sun hadn’t yet burned off, and after an hour of humping boxes to his new office, I was hot as fuck. After stripping out of my shirt, I tucked it into the waistband of my jeans. I dipped the brush into the container I was holding, careful to get rid of the excess. In one careful stroke, I cut a line along the corner of the wall. I surprised myself with the precision of the line. It had been years since I painted and it was like riding a bike—it was something I clearly wouldn’t forget. When the spongey sound of the roller pressing against the wall ceased, I looked over at Parker who had me in a dead-lock stare. “Were you a painter in a previous life or something?”
“When I was younger, I did some painting on the side. Needed the money and work was slow at the shop. It was easy enough, and mindless. I was good at it and the money wasn’t bad.”
“Have any other random jobs I don’t know about?” He returned to his task as we talked of old jobs.
“I was a valet once, but the pay sucked and I was even a cashier at one point.” There were so many times in the last six weeks that I’d almost slipped about my past, letting phrases like “before I ran away” nearly come out. This conversation was no different so I treaded lightly, kept the focus mostly on him.
“What was your first job?” I asked as I refilled my container.
“Lawyer.” His roller stopped moving. “Kind of pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” I deadpanned as he walked over to me. There was a fire in his eyes, and it became even more dangerous as it paired with the sparks of playfulness there as well.
“Did you just call me pathetic?” His smile belied the false tone of anger in his voice.
“I did,” I admitted, biting back laughter. “And what are you going to do about it?”
“This.” In a quick move, he brushed the roller against my bare chest, the cool paint making my skin tingle.
A hiss passed my lips as the cold paint became warmed by my skin. “Oh, is that how you want it?” I threatened, but he didn’t move. The mischievousness that was originally in his eyes vanished, replaced entirely by desire. Careful not to spill anything, I put down my container and brush and then took his roller from his hand and placed it next to my supplies. Curling my fingers around the edge of his shirt, I lifted it easily over his head. Willingly, he raised his arms to help me strip him. Pressing my painted chest against his, his back arched at the cool touch.
“I think we ought to christen this office,” I growled, moving my lips against his jaw and neck.
“Hmm.” He nodded, letting me continue to assault his body with my mouth. The silkiness of his skin under my mouth, the scrape of his nails through my hair, the stilted breaths shared between us—they were all coming together in that singular way that was only our own. We’d been together enough times now to know what brought the other pleasure. He guided my mouth down to his chest, skirting the edges of the paint, as my fingers worked at his jeans. A soft nip on his nipple raised a groan of pleasure from his throat.
Resting back on my calves, I watched in awe as he stepped out of his clothes, kicking his shoes and socks to the side. Standing before me, completely naked and very much aroused, Parker was a thing of beauty. “God, Park.” Running my hands from his calves up his thighs, and then all over his torso, I rested my cheek against his flat stomach. “Just looking at you . . . I can’t put it into words.” The irony wasn’t lost on me that I was trying to convey to him the exact emotions I wouldn’t let him say to me.
Parker’s fingers laced through my hair, cupping the back of my head gently. “I know, baby. I know.”
Tracing his stomach with wet, lush kisses, I reveled in the feeling of his body both melting and hardening all from my touch. Gripping his cock at the base, I ran my tongue along the underside, from root to tip, swirling my tongue around his wide crown. Filled with emotions I couldn’t handle just yet, I knew I needed to take it slow. Wanting to savor him, and the passion between us, I took him into my mouth, loosely wrapping my lips around his shaft. Letting them glide over his length, I used as little pressure as possible. Parker’s hand covered my jaw, gently guiding me back and forth over his dick. “Your mouth . . . my God . . .”
My need for him overcame every single inch of my existence. As my tongue and mouth worked over his cock, I snaked my arm around him, casually scraping my nails over his ass. He widened his stance, letting my fingers delve between his tight muscles. Swiping at the moisture gathered on his balls, I wet them and sunk them into his ass. “Liam,” he groaned my name. “Suck me harder. Please,” he begged. “Your mouth, your fingers . . . more. I need more of you.”
Moving his hips erratically, he fucked my mouth and pushed back onto my fingers. He swelled impossibly huge in my mouth, drips of his cum coating my tongue. On a loud pop, I let him fall from my mouth. He stared down at me, his eyes heavy and lidded with lust.
Reaching up, I pulled him to the floor with me. By the time he curled up next to me, I was already shedding my pants. With his cock throbbing hard and heavy, pressed alongside mine, he covered my body with his. The sinuous thrash of his tongue in my mouth made the blood pound in my ears so loudly I could barely make sense of any thoughts. There was only room in my mind for us, for the feeling of his skin on mine, his mouth on mine, and his body in mine.
Rolling behind me, he hooked my leg in the crook of his elbow. “Suck on these,” he demanded, pushing his fingers in my mouth. When he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers from my mouth, spreading the moisture over my ass, pressing his fingers deep inside. “Jerk yourself, Liam. Fuck your hand while I fuck your ass.” His breath washed over my ear, flowing down my neck sending shivers of pleasure across my skin.
My own hand over my dick wasn’t the same as his. It was him I craved and even though his fingers were scissoring inside of me, stretching me, readying me for the invasion of his cock, it wasn’t enough. “Park, please . . . I want you. I need you now.”
His lips danced along my neck, his smile tickling my skin. “I know, baby. I want you, too.” Hitching my leg up higher, he exposed every inch of me and yet I’d never felt safer than when I was with Parker like this.
His wide crown pressed into my body, a slow delicious burn melting into blinding pleasure as he filled me completely. With my leg still in his arm, he slid his other arm under my body. Pressing his hand flat against my chest, he pulled me hard against his body. There wasn’t an inch of space between us.
“Do you feel that?” His voice was thickly laced with need, but he didn’t pull back. He si
mply pushed deeper inside of me, the fullness of his cock throbbing inside me. He pulsed again, growing impossibly hard. “You do that to me. This,”—he pressed forward again, offering me no relief by pulling out—“this is us. I’m nothing without you, Liam.” His admission made my chest swell with love.
Love.
And there was no point in denying it any more—in making him hold his words back. Because even if we never said it, even if the words remained concealed forever, we would both feel it in moments like this.
“I have to move now. I need to.” The last of his words came out shaky, his voice only half-filled with his usual confidence.
“Take me,” I begged. “Please move.”
It wasn’t hard and fast like it had been so many times before, rough and demanding. He didn’t control me and I didn’t need it. Everything I wanted was in the smooth sway of our joined bodies. It was in the effortless glide of his body in mine.
As my mind swirled with everything—with pleasure, with lust, with love—he rolled on top of me. Face to face, I saw everything in my head reflected in his eyes. Propping himself up with one arm, he reached between our bodies and stroked my cock. On each thrust, he squeezed me tighter then released the pressure as he pulled back. “I love how hard you get when I’m inside you. How you swell when I push forward, like this.” His balls slapped against my ass and a drop of moisture beaded at my tip before rolling over his fingers.
We stayed locked like that for what felt like forever. His hand working me over, his body invading mine, his eyes holding mine prisoner. It was the eyes that threw me over the edge, made my chest swell with too many emotions.
“Park,” I cried as I clutched his back. “I’m coming. My God, I’m fucking coming.” And as I poured my orgasm over his hand and across my stomach, his cock throbbed inside me. His hips stilled, his breathing labored.
With his forehead pressed against mine, he kissed me softly, his lips hot and swollen from our hard kisses. “I love you,” he breathed, smiling that beautifully lopsided grin. “I don’t know much about where my life is going, but I know that I love you.” His words were shrouded in a promise so deep I could feel it in my bones.
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