by J. M. Colail
Then the hot muscle first brushed across Jack’s hole, and his whole body bucked so uncontrollably that Julian had to shift his legs in order to hold him down. Fuck, it had been a long time since anyone had touched him like this, and it was good—too good. Breathing hard, Jack squirmed, and let Julian draw him up onto his hands and knees. The cool air on his prick didn’t ground him any; if anything he hardened further, a drop of moisture leaking from the head. Julian curled his right hand tightly around the base of Jack’s shaft, hard enough to take the edge off.
Jack curled his fingers into the comforter, bracing his body for the onslaught of pleasure. Just a touch of Julian’s tongue made his head spin so fast he needed something to hold on to, the world bucking and shaking with every flicker, swipe, stab, scrape of teeth. Then, abruptly, the touches stopped, leaving Jack panting, aching hard and ready to beg for more.
Before he could formulate the words, Julian spoke, breath hot against the small of his back. “Turn over.”
Jack complied, and got a nice eyeful as he did so. Julian had managed to work his jeans and boxers off completely, and was sporting a healthy erection, dick firm and curved slightly toward his own stomach. His first instinct was to reach out and touch, but Julian caught his right hand with his left, pinning it to the mattress, and forestalled any further attempts by leaning down and swallowing Jack’s cock.
“Fuck!” Jack’s hips thrust upward instinctively, and Julian allowed it, letting Jack pump in and out of his mouth easily, eyes fixed on Jack’s. Jack’s balls tightened. “God, Julian, please—”
Please fuck me, he was going to say, but he couldn’t quite get out the words. There was a snick as Julian opened the lubricant one-handed, and a second later he jerked as cool, wet fingers circled his entrance. Julian hummed as Jack pushed back against the gentle pressure, and Jack discovered exactly how good it was to date a doctor. Julian slid his finger past the tight ring of muscle with almost no resistance and stroked unerringly across Jack’s prostate.
Sound and color faded into white as Jack arched back on the bed, body convulsing as Julian milked his orgasm from him with lips and hands. The pleasure seemed to go on forever, and then the shuddering took over, easing him down from the high.
“Oh my God,” Jack said, when Julian didn’t wait to slip another finger inside of him. The stretch burned just right, one knuckle, then two.
“Trust me,” Julian said, as if Jack had any choice in the matter. He ran his free hand up the inside of Jack’s thighs, playing with the hair there, then continued on to toy with his nipples, pinching them until they were hard nubs. By the time he had worked the third finger into Jack’s ass, Jack’s cock was swelling again, hardening insistently. Julian winked. “I’m a doctor.”
“Love doctor, witch doctor,” Jack agreed, his body moving with Julian’s hands of its own accord. “Dr. Zhivago….”
“Dr. Zhivago?” Julian echoed lightly, giving a vicious twist that stroked Jack’s prostate just right. “What are you, like, sixty?”
Jack groaned. He certainly didn’t feel sixty. He didn’t even feel thirty-six. The way his body was behaving, he was channeling sixteen. “It’s a classic.” He finally realized his hands were free—had been for ages, but he hadn’t thought to move them after Julian had told him not to—and reached up to take Julian’s face in both of his hands. He drew him down for a long, slow, hot kiss, reveling in the scrape of teeth on lips, his taste on Julian’s tongue. His right hand wandered from Julian’s face and skimmed down his well-defined stomach instead, fingers carding through the sparse hair low on his belly before wrapping firmly around his erection. “Ready when you are, Doc.”
“Patience,” Julian admonished. He pulled Jack’s hand away, bringing his palm to his mouth and pressing a light kiss there.
Strange, that such an innocent action could make Jack blush when Julian had just had three fingers buried to the knuckle in his ass.
He heard the flip cap on the lube being opened again, and leaned up a bit to watch as Julian slicked his hard shaft thoroughly. Jack’s eyes flipped up to Julian’s and locked there. Time fell away as Julian pressed inside him, stretching him from the inside out, pushing just the head inside, giving Jack’s body time to adjust. “Oh, God.”
Julian ran a hand up his leg, the touch soothing. “You okay?”
“Are you kidding?” Jack groaned. “I’m fantastic. Gimme the rest of it.”
Snickering, Julian wrapped his hand around Jack’s prick, fingers sliding through the pre-come at the head. “Not to question your judgment, or anything, Jack, but ah….” He inched forward almost imperceptibly. “How long has it been since you bottomed for anyone?”
Oh, right. Jack thought about it a second. He’d been, what, twenty-seven? “Oh, you know.” Julian twisted his hand around the head, and Jack’s breath hitched. “Ten years, give or take?”
Julian’s cock gave a noticeable twitch. “Jesus Christ. No wonder you’re so tight.”
“I was saving myself for you, schnookums.”
“Oh, God. Never call me that again.” Julian punctuated his request with a roll of his hips and Jack bucked, feeling Julian slide all the way in. The hurt was more of a sting than anything—it had been a long time, Jack’s body reminded him—but he still couldn’t quite repress a low hiss. “Told you. Aren’t you glad you trusted your doctor?” Julian shifted his hips, just a little, but it was enough. Pure, liquid pleasure washed up Jack’s spine and down again to settle in his balls, and the rest of the discomfort faded with it.
“Well, when you put it that way….” Julian twisted inside of him again. Jack promptly forgot what he was saying. “Can we have this conversation later?” he panted, meeting the next thrust square on.
Julian planted one hand beside him on the bed and leaned over, bringing their faces close together, noses just barely touching. Jack fisted one hand in his hair and kissed him thoroughly, all teeth and tongue and gasping breaths as Julian moved steadily inside of him, feathering light touches across his body, eyes, neck, nipples, navel, before dropping to fist his cock in a still-slippery hand.
“Julian. Oh, fuck.”
Julian latched his mouth onto Jack’s neck, and suddenly the blood was roaring in Jack’s ears. It wouldn’t be long now. He couldn’t possibly last….
“I’ve got you,” Julian said very softly, right into his ear. His thumb circled the head of Jack’s shaft almost leisurely.
Jack threw his head back against the bed and let instinct take over. Julian thrust two more times, rubbing deliciously deep inside of him, and then his body seemed to splinter apart, clenching and convulsing as he shot harder than he could remember, coating the both of them in his release. In his ear, Julian’s breathing grew labored and then stopped for a moment as he stilled, mouth open just a little, eyes closed. Jack felt the sudden warmth inside of him and shuddered again, fisting both hands in Julian’s hair and kissing him furiously, tasting the helpless pleasure in his mouth as he came down from the high.
Looking as dazed as Jack felt, Julian groaned and pulled his body away from Jack’s, sliding onto the bed beside him, their limbs still entangled. “Not to pressure you or anything, but I hope you let me do that again.”
Jack was too sated to laugh; he just closed his eyes and turned his head to nuzzle into Julian’s shoulder. “Let you? ‘Beg’ might be a better verb.”
“Oooh. Promising.” Julian slung his arm around Jack’s waist and pulled them improbably closer. “So, did I assuage your unfounded fears?”
Jack opened his eyes again and looked up, meeting Julian’s gaze squarely. There was nothing hesitant about the grin he could feel spreading across his face. “Oh, I don’t know.” He laced their fingers together. “Tell me again.”
“I love you.”
God, Jack was getting mushy in his old age. He figured he could forgive himself for it just this once. It wasn’t every day you found someone to give your life direction. Julian, he was true north, a star to sail by. “Yep
,” he said cheerily. “That’ll about do it.”
Julian gave him an unmistakably fond look. “You’re so easy to please.”
“Only for you.” Jack stretched a little, feeling his muscles burn. Damn, he was getting old. Maybe next time he’d stretch first. “I love you.”
“Yeah, I know,” Julian said mock-seriously. He poked Jack in the belly with one long finger. “So, what are you doing tomorrow, say around four o’clock?”
Jack answered without thinking. “I’ll be sitting beside you on a plane cruising at thirty-six thousand feet.”
“Too bad.”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Too bad?”
“Yeah.” Julian’s tone was casual. “See, there was this club I was thinking we could join. No membership dues or anything.”
Oh, yeah. The idea had definite appeal. “A club, huh?” he asked, walking his fingers up Julian’s sternum. “Tell me more.”
BETHANY BROWN is a twenty-seven-year-old with a BA in English, Language and Literature, and a bit too much time on her hands. Hopefully, her new barista job will keep her occupied enough that her mind doesn’t wander too far. Unfortunately, that most likely won’t be possible. Her mind is too full of stories.
Having been interested in writing since her first trip to the Young Authors Conference in the fourth grade, Bethany finally gave in to the voices in her head and wrote them a story. Since all that accomplished was to make the voices louder, she’s looking forward to continuing the Lost Boys and Love Letters Series with Ashlyn.
Bethany spends her free time reading, and watching TV and movies while pairing up her favorite male characters. She is always looking for something new to get Ashlyn hooked on. She also spends a great deal of time trying to convince Patrick, who lives in her head, that just because he won’t leave doesn’t mean he gets to be in all of the stories. Unfortunately, it’s not working very well.
Bethany would like to take this opportunity to address the administrators who wouldn’t let her into the Creative Writing Program at the University of Windsor. I have a writing career! Choke on that, suckers!
ASHLYN KANE is a twenty-three-year-old supergeek who graduated cum laude from the University of Windsor with an honors degree in English Language and Literature. When she’s not writing, she moonlights as an education student, and is somewhat baffled by the idea that someday someone will put her in charge of a group of children. She is addicted to classic rock, science fiction, and TV on DVD.
In the event that her professors go on strike, Ash can usually be found lounging around in Bethany’s basement, making inappropriate sexual comments about any given male character on TV, especially if he’s in the Air Force and has stupid hair.
She has a fiancé, a little brother and a bitchy cat.
By ASHLYN KANE
American Love Songs
A Good Vintage
Hang a Shining Star
With Morgan James
Hair of the Dog
Hard Feelings
Return to Sender
Winging It
With Bethany Brown
Lost Boys and Love Letters Series
True North
Picture Perfect
Wild Angels
Broken Wings
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
To people who take the time to listen and find out someone else’s story.
Chapter 1
THE WINDOW of the tiny café had fogged up, making it difficult for John to see the bookstore across the street, but he kept staring anyway. His gaze was unfocused, not really taking in the old-fashioned wooden frames around the windows or the colorful display of recommended Australian authors. The waitress quietly refreshed his tea and smiled briefly when he looked up with the almost apologetic expression of those caught in a daydream.
He took a sip of the tea, sighed, and looked back toward the store. This time his eyes lighted on the small sign next to the door. He couldn’t read it from this distance, but he knew the neat handwritten script read “Under New Management”.
“Under new management,” John mumbled with a disbelieving shake of his head. “My own fucking ‘sea change’.”
Rubbing a weary hand across his eyes, John remembered the words of his doctor: “The migraines are going to continue to get worse unless you make some major changes in your lifestyle. What you need is a ‘sea change’… in other words, give up the ongoing stress of your current job and get out of Melbourne. Perhaps buy a nice little business in the country or along the coast, settle down, something easier to occupy your time….”
“Patronizing prick,” John cursed quietly, but despite his opinions of the “smug” physician John had known he was right. He also knew he couldn’t resign from his hard-fought-for job, but was willing to take a year’s leave of absence, have his “sea change” without leaving the city, and then get straight back to business.
So here he was looking at the “nice little business” he’d just acquired. It wasn’t in the country, but it might as well be, situated as it was in a quiet back street full of specialty stores and quaint cafés, the sort that could be classed as bohemian without quite making it to trendy.
John drained his cup, paid the bill, and made his way across the small street. A bell jingled when he pushed the door open announcing his arrival to the woman sorting through some bookmarks at the front counter. She looked up. Her first impression was of a designer suit, handcrafted leather shoes, and equally immaculate short blond hair. The overall presentation was of someone expecting to impress. As he got closer Maggie couldn’t help but wonder what this man needed from her little store. When he approached the counter she smiled at him and asked, “Mister McCann?”
John returned the smile. “John, please.”
“Ah. Welcome, John. I’m Maggie. We spoke on the phone,” she said as she made her way around the counter and ushered him to the small kitchen where she gestured for him to take a seat at the table. “Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” she offered while waving a tin of homemade cookies in his direction. John politely declined both, pulled a folder of papers out of his briefcase, and spread them in an orderly line on the table. Maggie looked at them and her expression saddened. With a small sigh she sat in front of the papers and looked at John. “You know, giving this place up is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
John tried to give her his best “I understand” smile. He was aware that Margins had been a family business and it was only with the death of her husband that Maggie had decided to sell up and return to England to live with her sister.
“Still, at least Jamie will be here to keep an eye on the place for me.” She gave a small laugh knowing full well that her son would rather be keeping an eye on the handsome new owner. John had met Jamie during an earlier meeting as Maggie preferred to stay out of the business side of things and knew he had an excellent understanding of the store. “I’m sure he’ll be a great help in showing me the ropes and making sure I don’t mess things up too badly.”
Maggie smiled and patted John’s hand. “I’m not so sure about that, but he likes it here and I couldn’t convince him to go back to England with his old mum. Jamie was born here; my husband and I were some of the original ‘ten quid tourists’ in the early sixties. Have you been here long?” she asked, recognizing John’s northern English accent.
“Quite a few years now,” John replied noncommittally, making it very clear that his private life was not a topic of conversation. This was business.
Maggie looked at the pen John pushed across the table and sighed; she knew this had to be done and the small talk was simply putting off the inevitable. Picking up the pen, Maggie told herself for the umpteenth time that this was the right thing to do and signed the final paperwork.
“I’ll finish moving my belongings out of the apartment over the next few days so it should be ready for you in about a week.” Maggie smiled gently at the sudden change of expressio
n in John’s green eyes, “Don’t look so worried, John. It really is all for the best. You’ll see.” She gathered the documents together in two stacks; one for her and one for John. “Right, then,” she announced as she pushed back her chair and stood up. “I’m off now; please let Jamie know I’ll be back by tea time.”
She picked up her copies of the signed lease, patted John on the shoulder and, with one last look, made her way out the door. John heard the little bell tinkle and began feeling very sick.
He slumped in the chair and stared at his signature on the neatly stacked documents.
“Hey, man, don’t look so worried,” Jamie teased when he walked into the kitchen. John smiled at the good-looking young man and, though he decided he shouldn’t go there, John wasn’t totally impervious to the cheeky brown eyes and mess of dark curly hair.
“Your mother said that too,” he groaned, then looked up at the figure in the doorway. “Come on. Show me how things work.”
“Time to impress the new boss, is it?” Jamie grinned.
“Or at least put my mind at rest that this isn’t the daftest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” John shook his head and followed Jamie back into the store.
Although the initial impression was of a small cluttered store, it was actually quite large—allowing for even more clutter. Margins tended to be something of a rabbit warren with little alcoves devoted to different formats or genres giving the impression of stepping into separate rooms. Righting a fallen picture book, John knew his attraction to the store was due to its similarity to one he used to visit as a kid, though he could never afford to buy anything there.
“A fucking shoplifter’s paradise,” John grumbled to himself, shaking off the distraction of nostalgia. Jamie pretended not to hear the comment and guided him to the next section.