by Sean Michael
Brock slipped out of bed and stretched, scratching his belly. He headed for his bathroom and got under the hot water, groaning happily. His cock filled, swelling as he soaped himself up. Humming, he ran his hands over his balls, reached back to clean his ass. He rubbed his cock, enjoying the feeling.
God, it felt like he hadn’t just enjoyed touching himself in so goddamn long, enjoyed making himself hard and wanton. He leaned back against the tiles and licked his lips. Eyes closed, he worked himself nice and slowly. He could imagine Eric on his knees, that beautiful mouth open and swollen, begging for his prick. He’d never found anyone who loved sucking his cock the way Eric did.
Groaning, he tightened his grip on himself. Sucking him, tongue sliding on his shaft, teeth just threatening the tip. Fuck. Fuck, yeah. He worked himself faster, thumb on the tip like it was Eric’s teeth. Fuck, he loved that mouth. Loved to hear Eric moan as he pushed inside, spread his lover with his cock.
He began jerking his hips, pushing through his hand as if it was Eric’s mouth. Oh fuck. He wanted it. He wanted Eric, swallowing around him, needing him, hungry for him. He didn’t care that it had been nine years. He wanted Eric.
“Eric.” He whispered the name, coming over his hand.
“You okay, Bee?” Right there. Eric was right fucking there. “I heard you….”
Shit. “Fine.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He heard Eric’s deep inhalation.
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
“’Kay.” He heard the bathroom door open, then, “You still smell so good.”
Then the door closed.
Oh fuck.
His cock twitched.
He still wanted that man. Wanted him badly.
THE FOOD was good, and Josie was happily playing with the syrup on her plate. Brock wasn’t really paying much attention, though. He kept finding himself watching Eric. Eric was watching him right back, eyes warm and a little haunted and a lot hungry.
Shit, they couldn’t do this.
Eric was hurt.
Josie was right there, babbling away and making toast soldiers dance in the yolk.
It had been nine years.
And in those nine years he hadn’t seen anyone as good as Eric. He hadn’t fucked anyone as good as Eric, and he sure as hell hadn’t loved anyone like Eric. He was hard now, his food going cold on his plate in front of him.
“Are your waffles okay?”
Like Eric had touched his plate.
“Uh-huh.”
“Cool.”
Eric stared at him. He stared back, trying to remember why they’d split up. Eric had beautiful eyes—big and warm, clear. Brock swallowed, caught and not caring.
“It’s okay, Bee. We’ll figure it.” The words were soft, fond.
“You think we can?”
“One way or the other, yeah.” Eric smiled at him, and he thought the look was a little bittersweet. “No matter what, you’re still my hero.”
He snorted. He had money to throw around—he wasn’t sure that made him a hero. Not like Eric, who’d adopted a little girl and given her the world. All by himself.
“My daddy Bee,” Josie proclaimed, patting his hand.
“Yeah, honey, I guess I am.” He and Eric just had to figure out what, exactly, that meant.
Eric watched them, and Brock had to wonder if it hurt, having Josie love a stranger so much, so quickly. He reached out and touched Eric’s hand, stroked the back of it without even thinking.
Then a camera flash popped, a photographer appearing out of nowhere. “Mr. Vencenza, is it true your companion was Tim McCarthy’s first victim?”
Eric immediately grabbed Josie, keeping her close. Their security guard was there before Brock could open his mouth, pushing the photographer away with a growl.
Brock tossed some money down on the table and nodded to Jeff. They were getting the hell out of here.
“Come on, Jo. Let’s go home and see what Bee brought you from his business trip.” Eric reached for her, picking her up with a whimper. “Home. Straight home.”
He growled at Eric and muttered quietly, “Hand her over before you hurt yourself, you stubborn ass.” He took Josie from Eric and let Jeff run interference and led them out of the dinner.
The media were outside the restaurant in force, flashes going off, people shouting out Josie’s name.
She shivered, hid her face in his throat. “Daddy Bee?”
“It’s okay, Josie, you hold on tight to me, okay?” He shook his head as a microphone was pushed into his face. He had no comment for these vultures. Someone must have sold the tabloids the story or something for this to have ballooned this far.
Brock reached back for Eric’s arm, making sure he didn’t get left behind as they followed Jeff to the car.
“Jesus. They’re everywhere.” Eric grabbed his hand, moved with him.
“Don’t say anything.” They could take anything and twist it, throw up two or three words into a scandalous headline.
Eric nodded and then they were in the car, the Lexus silent once the door swung shut.
“Shit, I should have anticipated that.”
“Daddy Bee, look at all the peoples!” Josie stayed curled in his lap.
Eric was pale, lips tight.
“Yeah, there’s lots, isn’t there?” He patted Jeff on the shoulder. “Get us out of here, man.”
“Yes, sir. Home?”
“Yes, but not directly. If they don’t already know where that is, I don’t want to lead them right there.”
“It’s a pretty day, huh?” Eric smiled, the expression tight, tense. “We could have a drive. What do you say, Jo?”
She laughed, clapped. “Yes! A drive in the sun.”
He chuckled. Damn, she was resilient. He smiled at Eric over her head.
Eric winked, took a deep breath, and leaned back. “It’s been three weeks since I’ve been to my house.”
“You miss it?”
“Not really. There are things in it, I suppose. Clothes, my books, my guitar—my pillow. But home is where my family is.”
“I’m sorry. I never asked if there was anything we could get from there for you.”
Eric snorted, popped his arm with a fist. “Because you hadn’t done enough for me.”
“If you’re needing anything I can provide, then no. I wouldn’t be much of a hero otherwise, hmm?”
Eric’s hand rested on his arm, fingers moving in lazy circles.
It felt good. It did.
He was driving around in circles to escape the paparazzi with his ex-lover and a three-year-old and it felt good.
Who would have guessed?
Chapter Ten
BROCK PICKED up the phone after the second ring. “Hello?” There was silence for a long moment, and Brock repeated his greeting.
“I know where you live.”
“Who is this?” The dial tone was his only answer.
Growling, he dialed Gordon’s number. It rang three or four times, and then he heard Gordon’s growly, “Yeah, Boss?”
“That son of a bitch has my phone number. I want this kid caught, Gordon. Caught and locked the fuck up.”
“You and me both, Boss. Max just got his walking papers. Excessive force.”
“What? No way! No damn way. People were being shot—dying! Max is a damn hero.” Brock started pacing, shoes clicking on the marble floor.
“Tell that to the chief.” Gordon sounded furious. “The kid who died? His folks are suing for sixty-five million dollars.”
“Then we’re going to countersue. Those kids took Eric’s baby girl and one of them had a gun. They’re the bad guys here, not Max. Not any of us.”
“No shit.” Gordon’s voice trailed off. “You say he has your phone number, Boss? How?”
“I don’t know. It was the apartment number, not my cell or work. You have any ideas on how he could get that? I’m not listed.”
“Well, did Mr. W
ilson have it at his house?”
Oh, fuck.
“Yeah, he would have. Didn’t the cops lock that place down tight?” Ellora’d given him his key back.
“How the fuck would I know? I’ve been in the hospital and home. I’d think so, but… they’re looking for McCarthy.”
“Well, they can find him at the other end of my fucking phone.”
“Okay. Give me a few hours, I’ll be there to trace. I’m bringing Max. We’ll check your security, beef it up.”
“Thanks, Gordon. I couldn’t think of any two people I’d rather have on this.”
“Anytime, Boss. You know that.” The line went dead.
He hung up and paced in front of the long living room windows. Did he tell Eric, or not? It already felt like they were under siege, between the full-time security and the paparazzi who seemed to find them anytime they left the apartment. Hell, Eric hadn’t been able to meet his new goddaughter, or do more than assure his father that things were being taken care of and that he didn’t need help.
Eric came in from the kitchen, three plates in hand. “Sandwich? It’s lunchtime.”
“Um. Yeah, okay. Sure.” He tried to shake it off; Josie would be looking for a smile and a hug.
“You okay?” Eric put the plates on the fancy dining room table, then moved back toward the kitchen.
He nodded. “Yeah. Gordon and Max are coming over later.”
“Are they? Is Gordon feeling better?” This time a little sippy cup and two glasses were put on the table.
“Gordon’s fine.” He figured Eric was going to hear it in a few hours anyway, better to let him know now while Josie was still in her room. “Max got fired.”
Eric looked up at him, winced. “Oh God. Oh, Brock. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too. He saved our lives and it’s a shitty payback.”
“I…. How can I make this right?”
“This isn’t your fault, Eric. I just thought you should know. Ergo, he’s coming with Gordon later this afternoon.”
“Cool. I’d like to say thank you. Jo, come eat your lunch.”
The phone rang again. Brock growled softly and picked it up, looking at the incoming call number. Unknown. Again.
He clicked answer and growled out, “What?”
“I’m going to blow his fucking head off.” Then the line went dead again.
Josie came in, face and hands soaking wet.
Brock had to work to keep from swearing out loud. He gave Josie a tight smile. “I just need to check on something.”
He headed for the front door, checking the peephole before going out. “Jeff. Have there been any problems?”
“Not a thing, sir.” Jeff frowned, one eyebrow arching. “Is everything all right inside?”
“Yes, everything is fine. But I’ve been getting calls on the apartment phone. Threats. Keep your eyes open. I’ve called Gordon—he’s on his way.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll call in reinforcements as well.” He thought for a second that Jeff would salute him, the military service still so recent it squeaked.
“Good. We should have someone downstairs at the front door. I’ll be keeping the dead bolt on the door locked, too.” Brock clapped Jeff on the shoulder.
“Yes, sir. I’ll get on it.”
Eric was standing at the table, wiping Josie’s face. “Is everything okay?”
“Let’s have lunch.” He gave Eric a look and then glanced at Josie before smiling at Eric again. “What kind of sandwiches are these?”
“You and I have turkey. Jo has peanut butter and banana.”
“How come Josie gets the good stuff?” he demanded, giving her a wink.
“’Cause I’s the girl.”
Brock’s mouth dropped open for a moment, and then he started to laugh. Josie and Eric laughed with him, all of them settling in to eat like a normal family. He tried to ignore what had been going on, the phone calls and the press and all the crap.
Josie finished eating quickly and headed back to her room to occupy herself, probably with coloring. Eric had told Lacy to go on part-time status as soon as he was barely functional.
“She seems pretty happy.” That was important. He didn’t want it to change, and certainly not because of some punk asshole who wanted a higher grade and then had turned that into some vendetta against anyone he thought had wronged him.
“She does. It worries me a little bit, that she never asks about going home, never asks about her day care. Never talks about being taken.”
“You think it’s festering?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had this happen before.”
“You think we should have someone come talk to her?” He had the money to hire the best; Stephanie had already found out for him who that was. All it would take was a phone call.
Eric shrugged, then braced himself against the table. “Maybe? God, I don’t know. I don’t know about any of this. Hell, what about you, Brock? Don’t you want your life back? Your home?”
“Do I?” It was a question he’d deliberately not examined.
“What?” Eric looked completely confused.
Of course, that was when his phone rang again. He growled at it. Number unknown. He debated whether or not to answer it or just wait until Gordon was there to deal with it.
“Is everything okay, Brock?”
“Not exactly.”
He turned the phone on and back off again without saying anything. He didn’t need to hear any more of Tim McCarthy’s crap.
“Is it Tim?” Jesus, Eric was still able to read him.
He didn’t bother trying to lie, he just nodded. “Gordon and Max are coming. Jeff’s called in to double up on security.” He looked Eric in the eye. “That punk is not going to hurt you or Josie again. You have my word on that.”
“I never did anything to that kid, Bee. I swear to you. I never did anything awful to him.”
He snorted. “I never for one second believed you did.” Eric didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
“Yeah, but… I didn’t do anything but expect him to be his best.”
He grabbed Eric’s hand. “Baby, this isn’t your fault. You are not responsible for what he’s doing.”
“I just.” Eric started shaking, vibrating violently. Maybe Josie wasn’t the one who needed to talk.
“Hey. Hey.” He pulled Eric into his lap and held on, burying his face in those blond, sweet-smelling curls. Eric wrapped around him and held on, chest hitching. He petted Eric’s back. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. She’s okay.”
“I…. He took my baby.”
“I know. I know. But she’s okay. And you’re okay.”
Eric sniffled a little. “I know. I just. Damn.”
Just damn.
He tilted Eric’s face and pressed their mouths together, moving on instinct. Eric’s lips tasted just like he remembered.
A little voice in his head said this was a bad idea. He locked it in a closet. A tiny closet. With a huge fucking locked door.
Eric reached up, fingers cupping his face. He looked into the prettiest blue eyes he’d ever seen and slid his tongue between Eric’s lips, tasting the bright tartness of the apple juice from lunch. He felt Eric’s moan as well as heard it. He slid a hand down along his lover’s back to cup that great ass.
“Daddy?” Josie’s voice rang out and Eric pulled back, groaning.
“Yeah, Jo?”
“Why you kissing Daddy Bee?”
“Because he kissed me first.”
“Traitor,” Brock mouthed.
“All’s fair,” Eric whispered back.
He patted Eric’s ass. “Maybe, but you should probably go back to your chair.”
He could feel Josie’s eyes on them, Josie watching them like a hawk. Eric moved back into his chair, reached for his sandwich like nothing had happened. Brock tried to do the same. He tried to just eat his sandwich and pretend there wasn’t some maniac kid out there trying to hurt Eric. That the cutest little girl in th
e world hadn’t just caught him kissing her daddy.
He wasn’t sure he was that good of an actor.
When he looked over, though, Josie was back in her room, and he could hear her playing with her dolls. He turned his attention back to Eric, still eating his sandwich.
Still looking good.
“I’m not sorry,” Eric said.
“Are you sure? I mean, you already left me once.” It hadn’t been easy for either of them, and now there was a little girl involved. One who loved Eric with all her heart and who somehow loved him, too.
“I know. And I know you don’t want my life, but I’m still not sorry.”
“I don’t want to live in a little house in the suburbs, no. Especially not a puke green one. But maybe there’s a middle ground. Maybe we might want to consider that.” Was he saying that he wanted to get back together with Eric? He certainly wasn’t saying no to that.
“You think so?”
Like Eric could ever really go back to that school, knowing that one of his students had died and one of them had tried to kill him.
“I know the word compromise is in my vocabulary, and I’d be shocked if it wasn’t in yours.” He shrugged, trying to make like this—what they were talking about, them getting back together—wasn’t a huge deal. “Hell, we haven’t done more than kiss. Maybe we’re not good together anymore.” Like he believed that.
“Right. And maybe we weren’t ever good together in the first place. Don’t be a dipshit, Brock.”
“You calling me a dipshit isn’t exactly conducive to getting me back.” Except that it fucking was. It was cute and funny and damn it, and he was falling in love all over again.
That was a lie, though. He’d never really fallen out of love.
“Dipshit.” Eric winked.
“Butthead,” he shot back.
“Turkey.” Eric was beginning to chuckle.
“Gobble, gobble, gobble.” Brock didn’t laugh, but it was a close thing.
Eric’s laugh filled the air, full and happy and perfect. Yeah, Brock was still stuck on this man; there was no doubt about that. The intercom buzzed, and they both stopped laughing, like someone had turned off a switch.
He got up and pushed his chair back in. “Why don’t you go see how Josie’s doing?”