But not tonight.
“I’m not anywhere but here,” I said before stretching my lips around his dick.
He seemed to believe me. He moaned and thrust his hips up as I brought him to the edge and yanked him back before he could go over. I stretched his ass with one, two, then three fingers, taking my time opening him. When neither of us could stand it any longer, I opened a rubber, rolled it on and lubed it up, and then slowly eased into him. His tight clench fought me at first before pulling me deeper into his body.
We both groaned.
Remi looped an arm around my neck as I moved inside him. My thoughts tended to go down a dark road when I set them free, so I didn’t think. I just felt. I pressed my lips to his throat and rocked my hips forward. He grabbed my face and tugged it back to his, giving me slow kisses.
“I missed this,” I said, panting. “I missed you.”
“Show me how much,” he responded just as breathlessly.
Bracing my weight on one arm, I sat back a bit and canted my hips, fucking into him at a different angle. The angle.
Remi groaned and gripped my hip, his nails digging into my flesh. “Jesus. Right there.”
Our bodies slapped together as I increased the tempo, driving my cock into him and hitting his sweet spot. When he shuddered with his release, I snapped my hips forward again and again. His eyes met mine right before my orgasm hit me, and he leaned up to claim my lips as I turned to jelly in his arms. The kiss was soft. Tender. I felt a pang in my heart as our lips lingered together even after I’d spent myself.
The kiss was full of love.
I broke the connection and pulled out of him. I flipped to my back and stared at the ceiling. He angled his body toward me, grazing his finger from my chest to my stomach and back up again.
“What happened just now?” Remi asked.
“We had sex.”
“That’s not what I’m referring to.” He scooted closer and rested his head on my shoulder. “Knowing I love you still freaks you out, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t freak me out. I wouldn’t be here if it did.” I glanced at him, unable to resist the urge to brush my fingers through his messy dark hair. “I’ve opened myself up to change, but it will take more than a day to do it.”
“Just like Rome.”
I smiled. “Sure.”
“You never did tell me what you said that night.” Remi traced my collarbone. “The night before everything got weird between us. You said something in Russian.”
It took me a moment to remember. “Ty tak mnoga znachish dlya menya.”
“Yes. That.” He studied me curiously. “What does it mean?”
“It means…” The words lodged in my throat, and I swallowed hard. “You mean so much to me.”
Remi stared at me in silence, and the finger that had been drawing designs on my skin stopped moving. The room was dark, but light from the other room streamed in through the sliding door that had been left ajar. Tears pooled in his eyes, and when he blinked, one slipped free.
I caught it with my thumb and wiped it away.
“You’re an asshole,” he muttered, pressing his face against my chest.
“I know I am.” I slipped an arm around him. He didn’t need to say why. I knew the answer. “I basically confessed my feelings first and then checked out emotionally once you did the same.”
“But you’re here now.” He tilted his head up, staring at me with soulful eyes. “What’s in the past needs to stay there.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
He closed his eyes and snuggled against my side, a smile on his lips. “I believe you.”
***
Three days passed so fast.
The morning after our first night, we’d lazed around in bed, giving each other slow kisses before Remi had rolled on top of me and rode me so good my toes had curled. We had then done more sightseeing, visiting the WWII museum and walking through Jackson Square. The days after that had been just as good. Beignets at Café Du Monde, going into a few voodoo shops, and visiting historical sites—it was an experience I’d hold on to forever.
And it wasn’t over yet. We still had one more day in New Orleans, and I planned to make the most of it.
“Are you worried about the trial?” Remi asked over lunch. We were eating at the M-Bistro inside the hotel, both of us getting lighter dishes since we’d eaten like shit the whole time we’d been there. We were definitely enjoying our vacation, but it wasn’t a bad idea to cut back on the carbs and fried food.
“I wouldn’t say I’m worried,” I answered before taking a drink of my iced tea. “Perhaps a bit concerned but mostly eager to get back to it. It could go either way at this point.”
“Court will resume next week?”
I nodded. “For closing statements. Then the jury deliberation will begin.”
“Do you think she’s guilty?” Remi ate more of his salad.
“I’m not sure I can answer that. From a legal standpoint, there’s evidence to suggest it was premediated and not done in self-defense as she claims. Do I believe her husband abused her and maybe drove her to kill him? Well, that’s for the jury to decide.”
“That’s what I hate about lawyers,” Remi said with a grin. “You all talk around the question instead of actually answering it.”
I winked and popped a grape into my mouth.
After lunch, we left the hotel and walked toward Bourbon Street which was only a block away. The temperature was a comfortable seventy-four degrees, and the constant breeze kept us from getting too hot under the cloudless sky. Holding his hand as we moved at a leisurely pace down the sidewalk warmed me more than the sun above us ever could.
Remi smiled as we reached the intersection of Bourbon and St. Ann Street.
During our second night in New Orleans, we’d done what all the other nocturnal partygoers did and swarmed to Bourbon Street, experiencing the party town for ourselves. Music had pounded from the establishments and echoed into the street. Neon lights lit the sidewalk, and people had hung over the balconies and called out to each other. There’d been more bead throwing.
We’d also hit up Café Lafitte in Exile, one of the oldest gay bars in the United States. The energy had been great and welcoming. We’d gone back the next night too, after checking out Fritzel’s European Jazz Club where we’d experienced traditional jazz performances and met an older gentleman named Hank, who had talked to Remi about the history of the two-hundred-year-old building.
“You wanna go back already?” I asked, nodding to the gay bar. “The sign outside says they’re having a happy hour on mimosas right now. I know you don’t drink, but I can get one for you and drink it.”
Remi chuckled. “No, I’m good. I was just remembering when we first went there a few nights ago. It was fun.”
“You sure I didn’t embarrass you when we were on the upstairs balcony and I made you dance with me to Lady Gaga?”
He snorted. “Are you kidding? After that dance, nearly every man in a fifteen-foot radius wanted a turn with you.”
Yet, I’d only had eyes for him. How far I’d come in almost three months. I felt like a different person. A better one.
“Did you bring a suit?” I casually asked, swinging our hands between us as we stopped on the sidewalk.
“Why?’ he asked with a suspicious gleam in his eyes.
“I thought we could dress up tonight and go down to the lounge for cigars and jazz.” I spun him toward my chest, making him release a surprised laugh. “Make our last night in New Orleans one we’ll never forget.”
“Every night with you is one I’ll never forget.”
I kissed him then, not caring that crowds of people were around. Remi and I hadn’t put a label on what we were since reconnecting. I’d never been anyone’s boyfriend before… but as I kissed him, smiling against his lips as the men standing on the balcony of the gay bar whistled and catcalled, I thought boyfriend sounded good to me.
Around five, we
were back in the hotel room. I pushed Remi against the wall in the bathroom and nibbled his neck as I undid his belt. I stripped him out of his clothes, and he did the same to me before dropping to his knees on the marble floor and sucking my cock. His gaze lifted and I smiled, cupping his cheek.
“If you don’t stop, I’ll come,” I said a few minutes later as the heat of his mouth and flicking of his tongue brought me closer to orgasm.
“Then come,” Remi murmured against my cock. “I wanna swallow every last drop. Don’t hold back.”
The vibrations of his voice combined with that lustful look in his eyes sent me over the edge. He jerked my shaft and wrapped his lips around me as I came so hard my knees buckled. I leaned against the wall and grunted as my cock pulsed.
Little by little, I was giving more control to Remi.
It wasn’t as terrifying as I’d thought it’d be.
He wiped his mouth, and a satisfied smile curved his lips. I chuckled, still trying to catch my breath, and watched as he went over and sat on the edge of the tub before starting the water. I approached from behind and slid my arms around his bare chest.
“I thought we could take a bath together,” he said, putting the stopper in the tub once the water was hot. “Since you denied me last time.”
“How long are you goin’ to hold that against me?”
“I’ll only bring it up every day until the end of days.” He looked at me over his shoulder and smiled.
I playfully growled and nipped at his ear. He squirmed and let loose a laugh. God, I enjoyed this. Was this how a relationship was supposed to be? If so, I wanted more. The light-hearted feeling was addictive.
Once the tub was full, I got in first and Remi settled between my spread legs, resting his back to my chest. Another first for me. I’d never bathed with anyone. Fucking in the shower? Yeah, I’d done that loads of times. Taking a bath together was more intimate.
“This is nice,” he said, resting his head against my shoulder.
“It is.” I skated my fingers down his arm, causing ripples in the water as my hand went below the surface and cupped his waist. My cock pressed to the curve of his ass, though it was mostly soft after having just blown my load. “If this is too personal, you don’t have to answer. But. You said you were a recovering alcoholic. What made you drink?”
I knew most people didn’t just drink for the hell of it—though, some did. Mostly, people were trying to forget. To feel numb. That’s when they turned to alcohol and drugs. Ivan had struggled with alcohol after his last tour in Iraq when he’d been injured and medically discharged. Each person had their own demons to battle.
“I guess it started with my mom’s suicide,” Remi said, after thinking on my question a while. “Johnny took me under his wing, and I found an escape with music. But when I got older and graduated, the tense relationship with my dad plus the shit I’d buried deep about my mom finally rose up and I felt suffocated. Vodka was my poison of choice at first, but then I drank whatever I could get my hands on.”
He heaved a sigh and rested his head on mine. My arms wrapped around him.
“I did a lot of stupid shit during that period of my life. Hung out with the wrong people and drank myself stupid every night. I lost so many jobs and even started stealing to pay for my habit. But I just hurt, you know? I didn’t understand why my mom killed herself. I even blamed myself, thinking I wasn’t good enough for her to stay. I always felt like such a disappointment to my dad, especially after coming out to him. So I drank to numb the pain and feelings of worthlessness until one day Johnny came over, picked my ass up, and threw me into the shower. Then he took me to get help. I’d probably be on the streets or dead if it wasn’t for him.”
I winced at the thought and held him closer.
“After getting clean, Johnny helped me get into college,” Remi continued. “While in rehab, I realized I wanted to help people. Who better to help than teenagers? It’s so important for them to have positive role models, to have someone to help steer them in the right direction so they won’t end up like I did. Music became my escape again when I was in recovery, and that’s when I knew I wanted to teach band. Sorry. You asked a simple question, and I ended up telling you my whole life story.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I pressed my face into the side of his hair. “Thank you for telling me.”
I wished I could open up and lay myself bare just like he did for me. Hearing his story encouraged me, though. If he could talk about his demons, maybe I could eventually talk about mine.
“To answer your earlier question—” Remi grabbed the bar of soap and lathered up a wet rag. “—I didn’t bring a suit, but I have a nice shirt if that counts. Think that’s fancy enough?”
“Only if you wear the bow tie.”
A raspy chuckle left him. “Only if you tie it for me. How did you learn anyway?”
“My babulya,” I answered, taking the rag from his hand and washing him. At his confused eyebrow raise, I added, “My grandmother on my mom’s side. I called her babulya, which is an endearment for grandmother. Anyway. She loved when men dressed spiffy, and she taught me how to wear bow ties at a young age. I dressed up a lot as a kid.”
Remi laughed. “I can just imagine you as a little kid. Wild blond hair, big green eyes, and wearing a bow tie as you sat in a laundry basket going toot toot.”
“You can mock me all you want, but I was adorable.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Remi’s body shook with another soft laugh.
I smiled against his hair. Making him laugh was one of my favorite things.
***
The Davenport Lounge was an upscale establishment in the Ritz-Carlton. The attire was listed as business casual. A jazz band played every night, cocktails and food were served, and you could either sit inside or go outside to the patio. We hadn’t gone to the lounge yet, as we had explored other bars and clubs during our stay, and I thought it was the perfect way to end our vacation—swaying in each other’s arms to live jazz with both of us in our Sunday best.
“Fuck,” Remi said as I walked out of the bedroom that evening. He was sitting on the couch and stood upon seeing me. “You look handsome.”
“So do you,” I responded, checking him out from head to toe. He wore black on black, and the only pop of color was a red bow tie and a red matching belt.
“You kind of remind me of Gatsby,” he said. “Leonardo’s version. Classy and damn sexy.”
“Thanks, darlin’.” I grabbed his hand and kissed the top of it, holding his gaze as I did. His lips parted as he sucked in a breath.
Over the years, there’d been people—men and women alike—who had fallen all over themselves around me. There’d been countless men who’d fallen victim to my charms. But the only one I wanted—the only one I cared about—was the man in front of me right then who stared at me like I was the brightest star in his sky.
“Ready to dance the night away?”
He flashed a bashful smile. “I’m not the best dancer. I know you were buzzed when we danced at the gay bar and might not remember, but I have two left feet.”
“So do I. We can look goofy together.” I grabbed the room key and slipped it into my pocket before holding out a hand to him. As his palm slid against mine and we exited the room, warmth settled over my heart.
Maybe I had a little romance in me after all.
We took the elevator down to the lounge and walked inside. Right away, I saw women in cocktail dresses and men in nice button-ups and others in suits. A man played a trumpet on the stage, and another sat at a baby grand piano.
“Hey, he stole your hat,” I said, nodding to the fedora-wearing pianist.
Remi shrugged. “I wear it better.”
“Now who’s being cocky?” I said with a laugh.
“Learned it from you.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” a woman with bright red lips and dark wavy hair greeted us. “Will you be needing a table?”
I looked at Remi, who nod
ded. We hadn’t eaten dinner yet. “Yes. That’d be great.”
The woman led us to the formal seating area in the back of the lounge, passing the couches and chairs where other patrons sat enjoying glasses of wine and swaying to the music of Jeremy Davenport.
“Our signature cocktail tonight is the Ramos Gin Fizz,” she said once we were seated. “Or you can check out our vast selection of wine from the menu. Take a look, and your server will be right with you.”
“Thank you.”
The server was an African American man who looked to be in his twenties. He wore a warm smile and told Remi he liked his style. He took our drink orders—a Coke for Remi, and I tried the signature cocktail—then we ordered the artisanal cheese plate for an appetizer.
“I never thought I’d be here,” Remi said, waving his hand at the room. His pale blue eyes settled on me. “Especially not with you. You never seemed like the romantic date night type.”
“Romantic date night?” I furrowed my brow. “That’s it. I’m outta here. Too serious for me.”
Remi chuckled. “You’re a goddamn asshole, Jay Foley.” But unlike when he’d said that to me over the phone, I heard nothing but happiness in his voice.
I reached over and grabbed his hand, smoothing my thumb over his knuckle. “For what it’s worth… I never thought I’d be here either. But now that I am, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Why me?” Remi asked. “You could have anyone. Why go through all this trouble for me? You told me once that you don’t think you have anything to offer me, but that’s how I feel. I’m not rich and don’t even have incredible looks to make up for it. I can be funny sometimes, but I’m otherwise pretty average. I don’t have anything to offer you, Jay.”
“You’re wrong.” I squeezed his hand before releasing it. “You’ve given me something no one else ever could… a sense of belonging. You make me want to be a better man. I have plenty of money, so I don’t need yours. As for your degree of attractiveness…” I trailed a gaze down his body before lifting it again. “Well, the fact I’m pitching a tent beneath the table should tell you how I feel in that regard.”
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