“Thanks. I had an interior designer do it, though Andrew keeps telling me I should let him redo it all.” He shrugged. “But living in the cabin of Goldilocks and the Three Bears isn’t really my thing.”
“I can see that.” I reached for my bag. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be having you carry my things.”
He handed it over. “It’s okay.” He looked nervous, which was an odd look on him. “The bathroom and bedroom are over there.” He gestured with his chin to the darkened rooms. “Make yourself at home. I’m gonna pour a glass of scotch. Would you like one?”
I’d never had scotch but doubted it mattered if I’d like it or not. Obviously the drink was more about nerves than anything else. “Sure. That sounds great. Thank you.”
“Awesome. I’ll make it a double. For both of us.”
Yep, for sure nerves.
As he crossed the room toward the kitchen, I headed off in the opposite direction. The first room was the bedroom. I turned on the light and set my bag inside the doorway. The bedroom matched the rest of the house—modern, clean, not overly comfortable. But it managed to fit a king-sized bed within its narrow walls. While the bed looked comfy enough, it made the room seem crowded; though, if Gilbert lived like I figured he did, a king-sized bed was probably a necessity. The bathroom, like the rest, was a marbled temple to modern luxury, though it made sense there. Gilbert and I had rinsed off in the outdoor shower at the spa. I’d nearly suggested showering in my room but had been afraid we’d end up fucking and he’d just leave after. Maybe that had been a mistake. It seemed like Gilbert was regretting bringing me here. Maybe I was regretting coming.
I could ask him to take me back. Or get a cab. If there were cabs on the mountain, which I doubted.
The thought brought a wave of relief, which was promptly smothered by the next wave of regret.
I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to be here, be with him. I’d originally wanted to have him fuck me again, enjoy his body like I had before, relive the experience of sex with Gilbert—as it was hands down better than any I’d had before—but as I looked at my reflection in his mirror, I had to admit, I also simply wanted to be with Gilbert. To understand the man a little better. Maybe soothe away some of the hurt that seemed so near the surface. Though I wasn’t even sure hurt was the right word. Maybe he wasn’t hurting; maybe he was just angry. I wanted to soothe that too. And holy fuck, obviously my penchant for wanting to fix the broken-little-bird type of man was alive and well. Even though I knew how dangerous that inclination was.
The shower called to me. Ten minutes under the hot spray would take away my doubts, maybe have Gilbert join me and clear away both our doubts. Using his shower without his permission seemed a little much, though. Still, I needed something. I found a washcloth and waited for the water in the sink to warm up. It would be better than nothing.
When I exited the bathroom, I felt refreshed but still hesitant. I’d almost been tempted to stay in there and hide. Gilbert was waiting for me on the couch. He was halfway through his tumbler and held out a full glass toward me. I crossed the room and took it, tilted it to my lips, and downed the entire thing in one gulp. It burned and took a considerable effort not to cough.
Gilbert guffawed. “Well, all right, then. That’s how tonight’s going.” He followed my example and drained his glass. He grinned over at me, some of the flirting back, but not entirely. “One more? Maybe not a double this time? I realize I made things a little heavy back there. Lavender Shores tends to do that to me. But scotch can help.”
After the first drink, I’d decided I wasn’t a fan of scotch, though I was proud of myself for keeping my reaction neutral. I was certain the stuff was expensive, and it wouldn’t do to scrunch up my face in disgust. Doubtlessly it hadn’t been meant to be treated like a shot. “You bet. I’m feeling a little bit nervous myself.”
He lifted the glass out of my hands and nodded, like me being nervous wasn’t exactly news. “Well, then, scotch it is. I’m sure another few minutes and those nerves will fade. If not, I bet they’ll drop away with every bit of clothing you remove.” Gilbert winked and then turned toward the kitchen. He paused halfway and looked back at me. “Now that I think about it, why don’t you go ahead and start that process. I think the third shot of scotch should be a naked one, don’t you?”
I froze, suddenly self-conscious. Of my nerves, of my too-pale skin, of my stupid glasses.
Gilbert plopped the tumblers on a side table close by and yanked off his shirt, then dropped it to the floor. “There. I’ll get us started.” He pulled off his belt and dropped it as well, then retrieved the glasses and turned back toward the kitchen.
I’d seen him shirtless little more than half an hour before, and he’d been stunning, of course, but it was different in the hot springs. Everyone had been halfway naked; it was just what you did. But here, in the middle of his living room, as he prepared to get us completely buzzed and ready to fuck, seeing his hairy chest and abs, then his muscled back as he walked away, was a completely different sort of experience. An erotic one that made my erection surge to life, shoved away all thoughts of how complicated things with Gilbert already felt, and did a decent job of soothing my insecurities. His smooth back glistened in the room’s soft lighting. He had a blue-and-purple heart tattoo on his right shoulder. I hadn’t noticed it before. A heart tattoo. One more thing I never would’ve guessed about him. Somehow it added to the wounded bird image that continued to grow.
Maybe Gilbert needed the scotch to get ready, but this was my drug of choice. Watching him move around his home half dressed. Sex had a way of making the entire world disappear. Suffocating every hurt and fear, at least for a little while. Of making me vanish. All the jumbling past that made up Walden Thompson. Sex I could do. And do well.
I kept my gaze on Gilbert as I stripped. By the time I had my shirt and pants off, the tumblers were refilled and he looked at me again. Though he was behind the counter, he made a show of removing his jeans. He picked up the glasses but stayed where he was. “Take off your underwear, Walden. Let me see that big, uncut cock of yours.”
God yes. Just the way he spoke to me, the rumble in his voice. The desire in his eyes. It washed away what was left of my insecurity. I didn’t question his authenticity or his attraction. I stepped out of my underwear and stood tall, loving his gaze traveling over my body.
“Fuck yeah, man. That’s what I wanted to see.”
I gripped my erection, giving it a couple of strokes, but paused when he stepped out from behind the counter. I’d forgotten just how fucking hot he really was. Strong, hairy thighs, tight calves, and that thick, cut cock that bobbed enticingly as he walked toward me.
He held out the drink. “Here you go, stud. I know you like to bottom, but you’re gonna need this.”
I nearly groaned in desire, but held it back. Instead I took the drink and lifted it between us.
He clinked his glass on mine. “To fucking like nothing else matters.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
We downed our drinks, and then he motioned toward the bedroom. “Come on.”
Nine
Gilbert
I stepped into the bedroom, then halted. I’d had a very specific plan of what I was going to do to Walden Thompson. Something I knew he’d love, probably as much as I would love doing it. Somewhere between the scotch and watching that huge, sexy body emerge from under his geek clothes, I’d gotten distracted. The bedroom wasn’t where I wanted us to be. I turned, ready to take him downstairs.
Walden crashed into me. “Oh. Sorry.” He took a stumbling step back, then grinned, an expression I’d only seen on him at the gym and in his bedroom. So different than he looked any other time. Maybe the scotch was already working on his nerves, or maybe all it took was to get him naked, but either way, sex was obviously the only thing on his mind. He stepped up to me again, this time bumping into me intentionally and keeping his body pressed against mine. His strong hands gripped my hips and held
me to him. Even more demanding than I remembered. I was willing to bet that was the scotch.
Then he kissed me. Not the kiss we’d shared at the hot springs. This was a declaration of ownership. There was no hesitation or asking permission, he just took. And once more, my body nearly went lax at the feel of his lips, the grip of his fingers, his smooth skin against my chest hair, and his steel erection pushing against my stomach.
All my plans fell away. I’d intended to use his ass until I knew he’d feel me for a week. I was going to stretch him out with my fingers, my cock, then use toys. I was going to turn our night together into a scene from a bathhouse porn. But it all vanished under his kiss. I didn’t want any of that right then. I just wanted this. Wanted his lips, wanted him to sweep me away in the emotions he poured into me. Even if the emotions were terrifying; though they weren’t real. I wanted them, all of them. It seemed the scotch was affecting me too. Maybe it was just Walden’s ability to kiss, or maybe the fact that it had been years since I’d allowed anyone to kiss me.
I couldn’t consider that. It had to be the scotch.
I pushed both options away, suddenly aware I was giving in to the spike of panic and missing the feel of him. I wouldn’t be kissed again for years to come, so if I was going to give in to it this night, it would be with everything I had.
Though I hadn’t realized we’d moved, I suddenly became aware of the bed frame pressed against the back of my thighs. I wasn’t a little guy in stature or strength, but Walden was bigger, and I allowed myself to get lost in the sense of being surrounded, being overwhelmed by his strong, thick body. I ran my hands up over his back, feeling the smooth, wing-like expanse of his lats, then moved up his neck and sank my fingers in his long hair, clinging to him as he kissed me.
All too soon he broke the kiss, and I sucked in a breath. Before I could beg him to kiss me again, his lips moved over my jaw, his tongue darting out over my stubble, then down my neck. I tilted my head, giving him better access. Not caring that I was showing just how much I wanted him. I kept my fingers buried in his hair but didn’t try to control where he moved. I just didn’t want to break contact with him.
Walden let out little moans of pleasure as his lips moved down my body. His tongue found my left nipple as his finger curled into the hair over my right pec and pulled just enough to sting. I hissed in pain but instinctively arched toward him, my erection pushing against his chest. He chuckled, but replaced his tongue with teeth and gave a sharp nip on my nipple. I hissed and thrust again.
Another laugh, and he glanced up, the blue of his eyes nearly obliterated by his blown-out pupils. His expression was pure sex, pure heat. I couldn’t get enough of how he was timid and insecure one moment and then a brazen slut the next. “I’m going to get you ready to fuck me.” And then his gaze was gone, and his mouth sank over my cock, taking me in all the way to the root, pressing his nose hard against me and giving a shake of his head.
“Fuck!” I didn’t even try to hold back my scream, though I realized after a moment that my grip on his hair was too firm, so I loosened my fingers. He shook his head again, but I thought the intention was different this time. I tightened my grip and pulled.
He grunted in pleasure and continued to devour my cock, rising up and sinking back down at a frantic pace.
I gripped his hair tighter and held his head still, and began to pump. His groans increased, and I leaned back so I could watch my long cock fuck his full, already swollen lips. One of his hands jerked his erection, and the other pulled lightly on my balls.
This couldn’t be the last time this happened. It just couldn’t. It was too good. And he was too beautiful kneeling in front of me.
And holy shit, Bryant, that’s the last thing you should be thinking.
This was the last time. Well, no, there’d be tomorrow morning before I took him back. This wasn’t going to become a thing. I needed to get a grip. This was fucking. This was damn good fucking, but that was all it was. And if I couldn’t remember that, then I didn’t deserve it.
Despite the turmoil in my head, I suddenly realized I wasn’t going to last much longer fucking his face. I pulled out and released his hair. Time to regain control, turn this back into what it was supposed to be. “Stand up, Walden. I don’t want to come yet.” I’d take him downstairs and return to the original plan.
He stood, causing me to pause again at the view. It had only been a couple of minutes, but somehow I’d forgotten just how large and male he was. He dipped his head to mine, and he gripped my cock, using the slickness from his mouth to stroke me. “Yes, I want you to come while you fuck me.” Walden kissed me again. He wasn’t supposed to do that. His tongue darted into my mouth and caressed mine.
I melted. Though it had been years, I didn’t remember kissing being that big of a weakness. It was something I didn’t want to do anymore. It kept things simpler. But even back then, kissing hadn’t turned me into fucking Jell-O. It did now. As Walden kissed me, all thoughts of my plans evaporated. And it hit me, kissing wasn’t my big weakness. Walden was. Or at least kissing Walden was. Which should’ve been enough to make me stop. But that’s the thing about weaknesses. They make you weak. So I didn’t stop. I gave in and kissed him back. Blood tingled in my veins. My breath stopped. My heart ached for some stupid fucked-up reason, and I couldn’t stop kissing him.
Walden’s lips didn’t leave mine, but he paused enough to whisper, “Fuck me, Gilbert.” A kiss. “Please.”
And I was done. Utterly and completely done. “Get on the bed.”
The second his body moved from mine, I missed the contact. Ridiculous but true. I hurried to the drawer of supplies and pulled out the condoms and lube. When I looked back, Walden was on the bed, positioned on his forearms and knees. Totally presenting himself to me. It was exactly what I loved. A bottom who was willing to do anything his top wanted, not ashamed to show his hole, to beg for it to be used. And the fact that a man of Walden’s size and beauty was in that position on my bed made it all the more appealing.
And it wasn’t what I wanted. “Turn over.”
He hesitated, glanced over his shoulder at me, his wavy hair falling over his eyes. “On my back?”
“Yeah.” I should ignore my insane impulse and fuck him like I had before. I was playing with fire and losing my fucking mind. “And scoot up, make room for me.”
He did, and though it wasn’t an unusual request, he must have noticed something in my tone or my expression. Or maybe my heart was screaming so loud he could hear. “Okay.” He sounded hesitant.
I ripped open the condom and rolled it over my cock as I got onto the bed and took my position, kneeling between his legs. I took another moment to get some lube, swipe it over myself, and then on his hole. Again, this wasn’t the plan. I was going to spend a good hour, playing with him, taking control of his ass, of his body. I wasn’t going to fuck him in the missionary position, the most vanilla and lame position of all fucking time.
Only, I was.
“Raise your legs for me.”
He did, and I dipped down so my shoulders pressed against the back of his knees. I lined my cock up with his opening, waited for his sharp nod, then pushed in.
Walden sucked in a breath. “Hold on. Just one second. I haven’t had sex since…. It’s been a while.”
I balked at his near admission. He hadn’t had sex since me. He hadn’t had sex in three months. It was almost enough to make me feel ashamed of all the sex I’d had. All the ways I’d tried to fuck Walden out of my mind. It should’ve been enough to set off my mental alarms screaming danger, danger, danger. It didn’t. It just made me want him more, want him like this. On his back, so I could see him, touch him, so I could—
“Okay, I’m ready.” He grinned up at me, some of the fire had left his expression, and he looked a touch nervous.
I pulled out nearly all the way, then pushed back in. As I did, I positioned my hands on either side of his face and lowered my head to kiss him.
I’d wanted him on his back just so I could kiss him.
As soon as our lips touched, Walden sighed into my mouth, tasting of scotch and man. His legs wrapped around my hips as his arms encircled my back and pulled me to him. Whatever hesitation he’d experienced vanished, and he kissed me with passion and heat and desire.
Without trying to find a rhythm, I began to fuck him. Never breaking the kiss, our bodies writhed, skin on skin, his hands moving over my back, setting my nerves on fire. I felt him clench around me. Felt his heat surround my cock. Felt the hair of my body scratch against him. Felt all the things I loved about fucking, about sex. They were all there, but they were simply background noises. Pleasant ones to be sure, but off in the distance. My entire world was Walden’s lips. The feel of his breath on my cheek.
I quit supporting my weight on my hands, allowing my body to crush against him, and cupped the back of his head, fingers in his hair.
I didn’t know him. Not at all, really. I couldn’t list ten facts about the man if I had to.
I didn’t love him, and I didn’t fall in love as I was inside him. That wasn’t something I did.
But I was aware of him, of the Walden-ness of him, as I kissed him. As I fucked him. It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just fucking. I couldn’t label what it was. All I knew was that I was glad it was him beneath me. He was the only one I wanted in that moment. There wasn’t one other person in the world that could replace the feel of him. And that was never true. Sex was just sex. Slide one guy onto my cock or another one. It didn’t matter. Same thing, different body.
But that wasn’t true as I fucked him. As I kissed him.
Whatever he was, it was Walden Thompson below me, kissing me, and I was glad. Relieved, even.
My orgasm built so gradually I barely noticed, all concentration captured in our kiss. Walden must have sensed it, though, and he arched his back, managing to take me in deeper, then hissed out a heated “Yes.”
The Garden (Lavender Shores Book 2) Page 8