“I understand that you have a great deal of money,” Miss Priss said. “Ordinarily I would not mention it, as it is in very poor taste to talk about one’s personal finances, but I have been told that you have enough money to make it unnecessary to worry about offending you.”
John laughed. “It is true that I am rich enough that people don’t have to worry about offending me.”
“And you earned your fortune on the Internet?” Miss Priss asked curiously. “Do you make computers?”
“No, ma’am,” John said. It was kind of funny, how he’d picked up that Southernism right away with Miss Priss. She just brought it out in a man. “I created a game for the Internet that a lot of people like to play.”
Miss Priss seemed disappointed. “I see. I was rather hoping that you might be considering opening some sort of computer manufacturing facility here in Mercury. But I suppose that was not your purpose for moving here.”
John looked surprised. “No, ma’am. I’m retired, more or less.”
That made Miss Priss raised both eyebrows in disbelief. “At your young age? What on earth are you planning to do with the rest of your life?” She got a worried look on her face. “You’re not dying, are you?”
Conn’s chest constricted so hard he fought the urge to grab it. His gaze shot to John, who was watching him. John shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he answered, still watching Conn. “Perfectly healthy. But I’ve made my money already.”
“You’ve made your money at one thing, Mr. Ford,” she told him disapprovingly. “A man of your abilities and means has a responsibility to turn his interest elsewhere, either industry or philanthropy. To do nothing is a waste of your God-given talents and a disservice to your fellow man.”
John looked amused. “I had planned to spend the rest of my life working on this house. There is a lot to do.”
“Do not be flippant, young man,” Miss Priss replied, and John had the grace to blush. “Mr. Michaels has informed me that you have been a generous benefactor of Epson House since your arrival in Mercury. Is it philanthropy that holds your interest now? There are other organizations that would also benefit from your involvement and not just your charitable contributions.”
John stood up and went to lean against the porch railing. He looked off down the street. “I don’t know, Miss Priscilla. I’m still trying to discover what I want.”
“You are a lucky man to have the ability to choose what you want,” Miss Priss told him, “and not have the choice made for him.” She turned to Conn suddenly, and he gulped down the Coke he’d been drinking, making him cough.
“And you, Connor?” she asked. “Now that you are out of prison, what do you plan to do?”
That little bombshell didn’t help his coughing. John came over and pounded him on the back. “I don’t think he knows either, Miss Priscilla.”
She nodded. “He is also lucky that you have provided the time for him to make his own choice.” She took a deep breath. “I have not had a drink of alcohol in over fifty years, Connor.” Her stare was forthright. “There were times that I desired it more than my next breath. You too will face those times. I found my strength here, among the people in Mercury.” She gazed out unseeing at the street. “But my town is dying, Connor.” She picked up her cane and went to rise from the bench, and both John and Conn stood up and offered her a hand. “I am too tired to walk home. May I have a ride in your fancy little car, Mr. Ford?” She smiled at John.
He laughed. “Yes, you may, Miss Priscilla.” He looked at Conn. “Can you drive her?” He gestured at his clothes. “I’m covered in paint. And you can stop at the store and buy some plants.” He looked at the mess that Conn had dug up. “We can’t leave it like that.”
Conn was still reeling from Miss Priscilla’s revelations. And now John was offering to let him drive his expensive car. “Are you sure?” he asked, his shock evident in his voice.
John nodded with a smile for Miss Priss. “I’m sure.”
Chapter Ten
“Who does the car belong to?”
The question came quietly from the doorway of John’s bedroom. He’d been lying there awake, refusing to watch the clock, afraid to go out on the porch again. He’d heard Connor get up and come downstairs. With his hands clasped behind his head as he lay there, he pretended a relaxed attitude he was far from feeling. “Me.”
“Why did you buy it?”
“I didn’t.”
There was an expectant silence. John refused to fill it. Finally Connor asked, “Is this what it’s like to talk to me?”
John laughed at the unexpected comment. “Yep.”
Connor huffed out a little laugh. “Why is it such a secret?”
John sighed. “It’s not. A man named Steve left me the car in his will.” It was so easy to say it. John was dismayed he’d made such a big deal out of it.
“What happened to him?”
Not “Who was he?” or “What was he to you?” Connor went right to the hard stuff. “He died. In Afghanistan.”
“A soldier, huh? That must have been hard, being with him.”
“An officer. And no, not really. He had his life, and I had mine. And sometimes the two managed to take place in the same place at the same time.”
“Like I said, that must have been hard.”
John rolled over onto his side, his cheek cupped in one hand. “What do you want, Connor?”
There was no answer for such a long time that John rolled back over and leaned up on his elbows to see if Connor was still there. He was leaning against the door frame, his hands crossed behind his back, his head tipped forward. John could see him clearly in the combination of moonlight and the light from his digital clock. He was wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else. John fell back in the bed with an inner groan of sexual frustration.
The next thing John knew, Connor was standing at the foot of his bed, watching him. Neither said anything. When Connor climbed on the bed and straddled him on all fours, John lay there frozen.
“I don’t know if I mean it, Johnny,” Connor whispered. “I guess I don’t really understand what that means. I only know that I need you.”
John was torn. He wasn’t sure he could do casual sex at all, and casual sex with Connor seemed an impossible thing. But he wanted Connor with a desire he hadn’t felt since the first few years he’d been with Steve, before he recognized the future he talked about was nothing more than a dream. Before he accepted that a secondhand reality was better than nothing at all. He didn’t want to go there again. He didn’t want to need someone again only to be disappointed and abandoned. But what he wanted and was what happening were two entirely different things.
If he had sex with Connor, he was pretty much dooming himself to that fate. So he could either say no and maintain his lonely dignity, or say yes and at least get the chance to fuck a man he wanted almost more than anyone he’d ever met. Wow, tough choice.
Connor leaned down. “Please, John,” he whispered brokenly in his ear.
John uncurled his hands from where he’d fisted them in the sheet to keep from touching Connor. He laid them softly against Connor’s upper arms, barely making contact. Connor’s skin was smooth and hot to the touch, and it was enough to make John’s pulse hammer and his balls ache for more. Fate was a goddamn hard-hearted bitch. But he’d known that already.
Connor turned his head, sliding his nose along John’s temple and cheek until his mouth hung over John’s. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.
John almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. They were going to fuck, for God’s sake. “Of course,” he said and then cursed himself for not being more romantic about it.
Connor took a deep, unsteady breath. “With men, it’s not always ‘of course,’ John.”
He’d left John at a loss for words again. For John and his partners, it had always been “of course.” He’d forgotten what Connor had been through. Suddenly he remembered Connor turning away when he’d tried to kiss him the ot
her night. “Connor—” he began, but Connor’s soft lips cut off whatever he might have said.
The kiss was so tentative that John just lay there holding his breath, anticipation making him light-headed. He let Connor gently explore his lips, rubbing against them, tilting his head a little more to the side until he found the right angle. When the tip of Connor’s tongue lightly grazed the seam of his lips, John finally opened his mouth and took over. He slid one hand from Connor’s arm over his shoulder to the back of his head, burying it in Connor’s thick hair, still slightly damp from a shower. Then he held Connor firmly against his lips and tasted every corner of Connor’s mouth. He was delicious. Hot and slick and minty fresh. He’d brushed his teeth, probably right before he came to John. Something about that and his damp hair made John want to cry, which was stupid. He ought to be glad he’d gone to the trouble. But he got the impression Connor hadn’t wanted to give John any reason to reject him. He really didn’t get it. He didn’t know that John would have taken him dirty with teeth unbrushed.
Connor made a sound that might have turned into a moan if he’d let it. But he cut it off. It made John desperate to hear it, to make Connor lose control so he couldn’t stop himself. He wrapped an arm around Connor’s waist and with his hand in the small of Connor’s back pressed him down. Connor resisted for a moment, and then he slowly collapsed against John until he was lying full against him.
“Mmm.” John tried to talk but realized he had to stop kissing Connor first. He pulled his mouth away and was gratified to hear Connor gulp in a breath as if he’d been so into it he’d forgotten to breathe. “No sheet between us,” John murmured, gently pushing Connor back up. Connor rose up onto his hands and toes so John could shove the sheet down. He clumsily kicked it off his feet, hardly able to function, he wanted Connor back against him so bad. Connor must have felt the same, because as soon as John was free, he fell back on top of him, and his mouth was on John’s less than a second later. This kiss was much more aggressive than his first one, and it was John who moaned. He put both hands on the back of Connor’s head, his soft, thick hair heaven between his fingers. Then he wrapped one leg around Connor’s waist and rolled the two of them over so that he was on top.
“John,” Connor protested weakly. God, his voice was so deep it hummed along John’s nerves as the hair on his arms rose.
“What do you want, Connor?” John asked him. His voice was a little unsteady, and he cleared his throat. “I want to give you what you want, but I don’t know what that is.”
“You.”
Connor’s answer made John’s heart pound. But he knew that what Connor meant was sex. He wanted sex, and John was here. He understood that. He let his hands rub against Connor’s skin, so hot and smooth and alive. He’d missed the feel of another human being in his arms. And he had the feeling that was really what Connor wanted. To be with someone, to feel someone. To not be alone.
“Then you get me.” John rolled away just long enough to push off his underwear. He nodded at Connor’s boxers. “Get those off.”
Connor hesitated again. For someone who’d come asking for it, he seemed unsure whether or not he wanted it. John let the thought trail off as Connor reached down and shucked his underwear. John nearly swallowed his tongue at a naked Connor outlined in the moonlight.
He rolled over Connor again, surprising him, and reached into the top drawer of the nightstand, pulling out some lube and condoms. He set them on the bed beside them and then framed Connor’s face with his hands. “Unless you tell me no, I’m going to fuck you.”
He was serious as a heart attack. There was nothing—barring Connor’s refusal—that was going to keep him out of Connor tonight. He could go slowly. He could do all but that with Connor. He could dance around it and give them both the lie that they hadn’t really had sex. Or he could throw caution to the wind and live for today. He’d been living that way when he packed up his life and moved from California to North Carolina. And then it seemed his life had fallen into some kind of suspended animation until Connor arrived. He’d already decided to do this. He wasn’t going to settle for halfway anymore.
Connor’s expression was as serious as John’s. “I’m not saying no.”
That earned Connor another kiss. A mind-blowing, toe-curling, I-can-die-a-happy-man kiss. At least for John. The tenor of their encounter changed with the kiss. Perhaps it had changed with the words they’d exchanged. But whatever the cause, there was no hesitation now. They both knew what was going to happen, and it was clear they both wanted it. Badly.
John wanted to savor Connor’s body, to taste it and enjoy it. It was impossible simply because he was overwhelmed by Connor: by his scent, his touch, his desire, the smoothness and heat of his skin, the thud of his heartbeat against John’s chest. But he was overwhelmed most by the knowledge that it was Connor underneath him in his bed, skin to skin and cock to cock. And before the moment melted away, he wanted—no, needed—to be inside Connor.
“Now,” he whispered against Connor’s lips, and Connor nodded. As John pulled away, Connor followed his mouth, nipping at his lips, rising to rest his weight on his hands behind him until John was too far away, and Connor had to reluctantly let him go.
John climbed off the side of the bed and grabbed Connor’s ankle, dragging him over. “Come here,” he growled.
Connor laughed lightly. “Or else?”
“Or else we can’t fuck,” John said. “And that would be a real shame.”
“Yes, sir,” Connor agreed in his deep, quiet voice. “It would.”
He slid over, and John tugged until his legs dangled over the side of the bed. “Flip over,” John ordered, and Connor complied, rolling over onto his stomach.
“Like this?” he asked breathlessly.
“Just like that.” John was as aroused as Connor sounded. He’d rarely gotten to play this role with Steve. He hadn’t minded, not really, not then. But he was different now. He wanted different things from Connor. He wanted what he wanted, and he didn’t want to compromise for someone else’s pleasure. Maybe it was selfish, but he just didn’t care right now.
He had to lean across the bed to get the lube and condoms. He pressed himself flush against Connor’s back, and when Connor shuddered beneath him, John smiled. “Soon,” he told Connor as he pressed a kiss to his nape. A shiver raced down Connor’s back, and John felt it. “Soon,” he said again.
Chapter Eleven
When he pressed his finger against Connor’s entrance, John was relieved to find Connor ready for him. He was glad for Connor’s experience right then. Perhaps not the way he’d gained it, but John was glad that he didn’t have to worry about hurting or shocking him when he fucked him. He liberally applied lube, both for Connor and for him. He had a feeling that once he got inside, he was going to pound Connor hard. He was wild with the need to fuck him, desperate to take him and come.
“Now, Johnny,” Connor whispered tightly. “I can’t stand much more waiting.”
His southern accent was thicker than usual. The idea that John had made him lose control in some way already was enough to have John tossing the lube aside and grabbing Connor’s hips to haul him into position, his ass hanging off the edge of the bed. “That makes two of us,” John told him fervently, earning one of Connor’s brief, deep chuckles, this one a little breathless.
John raised his left knee onto the bed next to Connor’s hip for leverage and snuggled his right leg in between Connor’s, spreading him wide. Then he nestled his cock in the crease of Connor’s tight, shapely rear and reached up to rest his hand on Connor’s back. Connor’s whole body jerked at the contact, and he made a desperate little noise in the back of his throat. To John that noise said “go” louder than any spoken word.
As he eased inside Connor’s tight heat, John wished he didn’t have to wear the condom. It was a crazy wish. He’d never had sex without one, and with Connor’s past, it was dangerous to do so. But if Connor stayed in Mercury long enough… John didn’t
even finish the thought. He wasn’t looking for that. He wasn’t looking for long-term, for commitment, for heartache. This, what he and Connor had and what they were doing, that was enough. It was more than he’d bargained for when he’d let Connor in, that was for sure. He wasn’t going to suffocate it with impossible dreams and expectations.
Connor tucked his arms in under his chest, and John watched in a fog of desire as Connor let his whole body go lax. John could see it happen as Connor’s back went from rigid to slack, starting with his shoulders. When his ass relaxed around John’s cock, he pushed in all the way—a long, smooth glide into the heaven that was Connor, that had John gritting his teeth and clutching Connor’s hip tight.
He began to fuck Connor hard and fast immediately, and Connor took it. He lay there under John and bit his lip and angled his hips and took it like a pro. John was lost in the haze, and it took a couple of minutes before he realized that while Connor wasn’t protesting, he also wasn’t participating quite as actively as John would like. He slowed his strokes and ran his hand down Connor’s spine to the little indent at the top of his crease. “Connor?” he asked, his voice rough. He was panting. Two minutes in Connor, and he sounded as if he’d just run a fucking marathon.
“I’m fine,” Connor said quietly. “Go ahead.”
That was not the response John was looking for. “I don’t want ‘fine,’” he snapped. “I want out of this world, fucking over the moon at me inside you.” He quickly pulled out. “What’s wrong? What am I doing wrong?”
Connor started to cover his head in that god-awful defensive posture that made John’s gut clench. Before he could do it, John pressed his chest against Connor’s back, covering him. He grabbed Connor’s wrists and pressed his hands into the mattress. “Tell me, Connor,” he demanded quietly, his forehead pressed to the side of Connor’s head. “Tell me how to make you go crazy. Tell me what you need.”
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