by R. G. Angel
“Just before you come in and realize I'm a little too deep into us and you run away, give me a kiss.”
I frowned, but I was too happy to comply to even question the meaning behind his words.
Smiling, I pecked his lips playfully.
He shook his head, grabbing my neck. “After two months of abstinence? No, that won’t do.”
He pulled me into a passionate kiss, teasing my bottom lip, wanting me to grant him access. As soon I opened my mouth a little, he slid his tongue in. He was not tentative or gentle as I’d somehow imagined a level-headed Grayson to be. No, it was a bruising, invading kiss. He wanted to conquer me with his lips and tongue - if only he’d known that that was already a done job. I’d never relinquished control of a kiss before. I was in control. I was always taking, but I didn't mind this time. I enjoyed Grayson taking control.
When we broke the kiss, both breathless, he sighed, gesturing me in.
I came face to face with me. A huge, sixty by forty portrait of naked me.
“Don’t worry. It’s for my eyes only. It won’t get exposed anywhere.”
He’d painted me lying on a bed, a look of pure ecstasy on my face, a small, secret smile on my lips. My arms were above my head, my fingers intertwined together. The details were staggering and so flattering.
“I call it Euphoria,” he commented as he came to stand beside me.
I trailed my eyes down to the white bed sheet thrown over the lower half of my body.
“Oh, you’re hiding the best part of me.”
He chuckled. “An impressive part, sure, but not the best.”
I turned toward him, an eyebrow arched in question.
“Your heart, Antoine. Your heart’s the best part of you.”
Feeling both elated and ashamed at this statement, I pulled him toward me for a kiss.
“I love that painting,” I whispered against his lips before attacking him again.
Before even realizing it, both of our shirts were on the floor and I was kissing his toned chest, which smelled faintly of coconut.
I nipped at his nipple softly, making him hiss. I looked down at the bulge in his pants, which matched mine, before looking back up. His grey eyes were clouded with desire. He was just as gone as I was.
I reached for his jeans, keeping my eyes on his. As much as I wanted to fuck him, I didn’t want to do anything he was not certain he wanted me to do. I guess this was what it was like to care for someone. How dreadful.
He nodded once. As I undid his pants, he reached for mine, matching my eagerness.
“You came here to do to me all the things we’d talked about?”
I growled, pushing him against the wall. Yes, I was going to do just that and so much more.
His hand trailed down my stomach and grazed my cock, which twitched in anticipation.
“I’m going to rock your world,'' I growled, nipping at his bottom lip before turning him around and bending him over the wooden table. His paint tubes were shoved to the side as I retrieved a Durex extra lubricated condom from my wallet.
“You came prepared?” he said, looking over his shoulder.
“It’s been there since before Christmas. I haven’t had any reason to use it.” It was my way of admitting that I'd been faithful to him. His smile showed me he understood.
I gently ran my hand along his spine before leaning down and pressing kisses all over his shoulder blades.
I took hold of my cock and placed it at his entrance as he gripped the corners of the table, bracing for Colossus' invasion.
I pressed into him gently. I knew he hadn’t had sex in a while and despite the extra lubrification of my condom, I knew my size was not standard. I didn’t want him to hurt. All I wanted to give him was pleasure.
He gasped as I entered him and I had to fight my desire to slam into him. Gritting my teeth, I pushed in slowly until I was fully seated.
I kissed the back of his neck, waiting for him to adjust to my size.
After a few seconds, I started to move with shallow thrusts. Curving his back, he pushed as I thrusted into him.
He moaned. “Faster.”
I thanked the heavens as I grabbed his hips tightly and thrusted deeper, longer, faster. Grunting shamelessly, I looked at his hands tightening into fists on the small table.
Tubes of paint fell onto the floor with each thrust. I wasn’t sure the table was going to survive the intensity of our passionate tryst.
He arched again as I picked up the pace.
“Oh God,” he let out in a breathless mew as I slammed into him, taking the rest of the paint down.
I growled, biting his shoulder. Reaching around with one hand, I grabbed his cock and squeezed, making him groan in pleasure. My man enjoyed a little pain, that was good to know.
I started to jerk him off in rhythm with my thrusts. I knew it probably was not the best handjob I'd given. I was way too far gone to be able to fully concentrate, but if I had to judge by his groans and the jerking of his hips, he was enjoying it just as much as I was.
He came quickly on a scream of pleasure. I quickened the pace, seeking my own release. Wrapping my cum covered hand around his throat, I forced him to arch even more. I came on such a mind-blowing orgasm, I saw stars.
He sighed with satisfaction, leaning against the table.
Pressing my chest against his back, I kissed his neck. I was sure he could feel my erratic heartbeat, but I didn’t care. No, that had not been just sex. It’d been everything.
“I’m in love with you,” I whispered, brushing my lips on the curve of his neck. It was the truth, the terrifying, overwhelming, undeniable truth. I was in love with Grayson.
He turned his head to the side, his eyes reflecting so many emotions. He reached for me and pulled me to his lips, kissing me gently, lazily.
“I love you too, Antoine Martin.”
I gave him a wobbly smile. This should have been one of the most amazing moments of my life, but the name sounded wrong. I’d done what Taylor had - given my mother’s maiden name. St-Vincent was too famous in the art world. And yet, in this moment, I would have loved for my real name to pass through his lips.
I pulled out of him gently, regretfully. After washing up using the small sink, we both got dressed - although that took much longer than planned as we stopped every few seconds to touch and kiss. It was corny as fuck and yet, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
“I’m going to dinner with my parents tonight,” he stated once fully dressed.
“Oh?” I started to pick up the tubes of paint that had fallen onto the floor. “Don’t they live in Yorkshire?”
He nodded, helping me clean up the mess we’d made. “Yes, but they’re going to Jamaica tomorrow for a week and leaving from Heathrow, and they wanted to take me out to celebrate.”
I smirked and winked.
He shook his head. “I agree. That was a shag worth celebrating, but not with my parents. I got into the Saint Academy of Art.”
“Yeah?” I beamed. “That's amazing!”
He cocked his head. “I’d expected more surprise.”
Fuck, I needed to fake it better. “Why would I be? You're so talented, how could they not take you?”
He grabbed my shirt and pulled me in for a kiss. “I’m so happy I met you.”
I rested my forehead against his. “Me too.” But he shouldn't be happy. We had no future. I was a coward, a fraud...a liar. I was going to break both of our hearts. Something he was still so blissfully unaware of. We were on borrowed time and I was selfish enough to want to make it last as long as I could.
“I’m sure they’re really proud,” I added once we parted.
“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”
I jerked back. That was not something I’d expected him to say. “You want me to meet...your parents?” I asked with incredulity.
“Am I going too fast?” he asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
“No, no,” I rushed. Fuck yeah. “I�
��m just surprised, that’s all.”
He shrugged. “I’m all in, Antoine. I told you I don’t take sex lightly.”
I smiled, my heart swelling inside my chest. He wanted me for me, not for my name or my standing in society - just me. Antoine, the man. I wanted to remember this moment forever. “You are important to me too. I… I’ve never been in love before.”
He rested his hand on the side of my face, smiling even brighter. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll take care of this heart of yours.”
How I wished I could say the same.
No, I’m sorry. I think it’s too soon. That is what I should have said instead of, “I’d love to meet your parents.”
He smiled, the tension leaving his shoulders. “They’re going to love you.”
I scoffed. “Of course they will. I’m awesome.”
“Yes, you are.”
I kissed him, hoping that when the truth came out, he would forgive me.
Chapter Nine
“Where’s Grayson?” I asked Taylor as I exited his room, dressed for tonight's dinner.
“He went to pick up the cash order for his parent’s trip. He’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”
I looked down at my emerald dress shirt and black dress pants.
“You look dashing, A. They will adore you. How could they not?” she commented as if she could read my mind and sometimes I was certain she could. We were just that fusional, her and I.
Looking at her sitting crossed-legged on the couch, I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about what I’d just done two minutes ago. She was in flannel pajamas with her hair on top of her head in a messy bun and a bowl of Chocopop in front of her. She was weathering, disappearing into the background of her life. An Archibald size cut had left its mark all over her heart. She refused to heal or move on, or maybe she simply couldn’t. I understood her fears, her pain. I’d been there. I’d witnessed his cruelty. I would not help him get her back, but I would bleed to help her move on. She was my person.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I asked, sitting beside her.
“What do you want me to say? I’d asked you to stay away because I’d thought it would just be a flirt.” She shrugged. “I know it’s so much more now. You’ll have choices to make soon and knowing that makes me hurt for you. I don’t need to add to your problems. I’m here as your judgement-free zone, your support. You’re clearly deeply into him and-”
“I’m in love with him.” Somehow admitting that to her was both liberating and scary. They were not words thrown out in the heat of passion this time.
Her eyebrows arched so high in surprise they were almost at her hairline. “Ah.”
“Ah? Ah?” I leaned back on the seat. “I’ve just told you I'm in love with Grayson and your answer is, ‘Ah’?”
“I’m in love with you too.”
We both froze, then I turned slowly. Grayson stood in front of the open door, but going by the wide smile on his lips, I was sure he’d only caught the last part of our conversation.
“You two are just too cute.” Taylor smiled and I knew despite her worries, she was genuinely happy for me. That was what friendships were all about, wanting happiness for the people you cared about.
“Ready?” he asked me, playing with his keys.
I nodded. I was ready and yet so nervous. I wanted them to like me when they had no reason to and maybe shouldn’t.
Grayson helped me into my coat and then pulled me toward him, holding the lapels. “They’re going to love you.” He kissed me gently. “They only want me happy.”
How refreshing. If only my family was the same.
He looked behind me at Taylor. “You’re sure you don’t want to join?”
“No, thank you,” she said - or at least that’s what I thought she’d said as her mouth had been full of cereal.
“We’re going to eat at the hotel restaurant. My parents are leaving early.”
I nodded. “Perfect.”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “Don’t stress.”
He kept my hand in his as we walked toward the hotel. It was nice not having to hide here.
“Why did you come?” he asked me as we walked up a cobbled street.
“You invited me?”
He gave me a side look. “To Oxford. I know you didn’t come for the sex.”
“It was worth a trip around the world.” That was nothing but the truth.
He sighed. “Antoine.”
“Fine, I’ve got a date arranged for Taylor tomorrow night.”
His pace faltered. “You’re joking right?”
Shaking my head, I took my phone out of my pocket. “No, look.” I gave him my phone. “He’s perfect. His name’s James. He is a teaching assistant at Oxford and studying for his PhD. He is half British, half Italian. He is into all the dorky things she likes.”
“He’s cute.”
I snorted. “I’m cuter.”
He laughed. “No, Antoine, you’re not cute. You’re stunning. You’re in a league of your own.”
I raised his hand to my mouth and kissed the back of it.
We stopped in front of the hotel. A man was smoking a cigarette beside the entrance.
“I thought you’d stopped, Dad.”
I tried to get my hand out of Grayson’s hold, but he tightened his grip.
Grayson’s dad gave him a sheepish smile. “I’m cutting down,” he replied before winking at me.
“Dad, this is Antoine, my boyfriend.”
I flushed a little. I’d never been introduced to parents. I’d never been called a boyfriend when it had mattered.
“Oh, marvelous, we’re all here!” A blonde woman exited the hotel, a wine glass in hand. “Our table is ready, dears.” She walked back in and we all followed.
We sat at a table, Grayson beside me and his mother across from me.
“I’m so happy to meet you, Antoine,” his mom said, happiness swimming in her blue eyes. “I’ve heard so much about my son’s beau in the last few months, I just needed to meet you.”
“Thank you, Madam. It’s an honor to meet you as well.”
“And your accent!” She reached across the table, patting her son’s hand. “I can see why you fell for him.”
He groaned, looking up. “Mom!”
“What, dear? He is absolutely lovely!”
Grayson sighed. “Antoine, meet my parents - John and Moira Clay.”
“It’s really nice to meet you both. You must be so proud of the man you’ve raised.” What the fuck was I saying that for? I was sounding like a grandmother.
“We are,” John confirmed. “Grayson is everything we could have hoped for in a son. Brilliant, kind, and living his dreams to the fullest. I couldn't have dreamed of a better son.”
I smiled, but it wobbled a little. My heart hurt so badly, seeing what could have been had my parents been like this.
I had hoped for more as a kid. For despite my father marrying the woman my grandparents had picked out for him, he had distanced himself from their art business in order to concentrate on technology. He’d created the huge, billion dollars company we now ran.
With whose money did he build this empire? The little voice that sounded like my grandmother taunted. He’d only managed it because I’d allowed it.
“Antoine?” Grayson rested his hand on my arm, jerking me back to reality.
“Sorry, what?”
“Are you okay?” he asked, squeezing my arm.
I smiled and pecked his lips, not even thinking twice about his parents. “Yes, sorry. I was just spacing for a minute.”
“It’s okay.” Grayson relaxed. “My father was just asking about the Sorbonne.”
I turned to his dad. “I’m sorry.”
He waived his hand dismissively. “No worries, young man. I was just saying that the Sorbonne is quite impressive. Grayson was telling us you were studying business.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.” That was partially the truth. One of the hundred half-tr
uths I’d told the man I loved. I turned toward him, my fake smile still secured on my lips.
How had I ever thought this evening would be a good idea? We were built on so many lies and half-truths. Taylor was so right. We were doomed.
“But it’s not as impressive as your son’s talent.”
“Are we still talking about painting?” his mom jested.
Grayson turned toward her, his eyes wide. “Mom!” he gasped with mortification.
I laughed, turning toward her. She was so funny. I loved his family already. I wanted to be a part of it.
“Partially,” I replied with a cheeky grin.
She laughed too and Grayson threw his hands in the air. “Oh, don’t you start!”
She nodded, pointing her glass toward me. “I like him, I like him a lot.”
I raised my glass and clinked it with hers. “The feeling is mutual.”
“Lord help us,” Grayson said to his father.
The older man shrugged. “One thing is for sure, son, it’s bound to be entertaining.”
Dinner was pleasant and so bittersweet. I couldn't help but envy their relationship. I wished I could be that free.
I could be, but at what cost?
I looked at the man beside me, how he laughed so freely at a joke his father had said, how he absentmindedly stroked my hand with his thumb as he chatted away. I started to think that maybe Grayson was worth the price my freedom would cost.
The rest of the dinner was great. I hadn’t expected it, but I was sad to see the evening end.
“He is quite smitten with you,” his father said once Grayson and his mother left to go back to her room. She’d forgotten the present she’d bought him for his patronage and didn’t want to leave without giving it to him.
I took a sip of my coffee. “I can assure you it is mutual sir.”
He nodded, running his finger around the rim of his cup. “My son is an extraordinary young man. He had his heart broken a few years back and I don’t want to see him broken again.” He raised his hand when he saw I was about to answer. “This is not a judgement of character. You are making him very happy and I’m so grateful you’ve brought him out of his shell. I’m just asking you to be good to him.”