Faking Alec

by Anders Grey

  “Want you,” he gasped out in between breaths.

  The lustful quality of his hoarse, cracked voice sank straight down into my balls. I pressed my body desperately against his, too lazy to get the clothes out of the way as I chased closeness.

  He pushed me up with a growl. He was already squirming out of his shirt, so I did the same. It was awkward and messy, like we were a couple of teenagers trying not to get caught fooling around. When we were naked enough, our bodies met again, as if we couldn’t stop the pair of magnets lodged inside us.

  “God,” I mumbled as I left a trail of soft bites along Rowan’s jaw, down his neck. He arched into it, demanding more with the sensuous curve of his spine. “Our last night. I don’t want to sleep. I want to spend the whole night awake with you.”

  Rowan suddenly tensed. I only saw the shadow flicker across his expression for a second before he flipped me over, reversing our positions. He stared down at me with intense, stormy eyes that reminded me of a crashing wave that would easily sweep you off your feet.

  “Shut up,” Rowan mumbled before crushing our mouths together. His kiss was passionate but brutal, teeth and tongues clashing hard.

  It was only when he pulled away to gasp for air that I noticed the darkness in his expression and realized that he might be angry.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  His lip went tight and thin. “I’m fine.”

  I caught his hands as they reached for my belt. “Rowan. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Rowan let out a shuddering sigh, like he was holding back both a curse and a sob. “Nothing. I just… I don’t want to think of this as our last night.”

  My heart ached. I reached out to stroke his cheek. “Oh, Rowan. I didn’t mean—I just meant for now. I’m coming back, you know? I won’t be in Bali forever.”

  But Rowan didn’t seem convinced.

  “What if you decide you don’t like me anymore?” he asked, mumbling.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed because the idea was so ridiculous. “What?”

  Tension clung to Rowan. He gazed off to the side distantly, not making eye contact anymore. I grabbed his wrists.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t get all lost in what ifs,” I said.

  I gently tugged his wrists to get him to look at me. He did, but he was still pouting.

  Rowan started. “But what if—”

  I smiled and cut him off. “Nope. Not listening. Whatever you’re thinking, nothing like that is gonna happen.”

  “Kyle decided one day he didn’t like me,” Rowan said. “What if something happens in Bali and you decide that, too?”

  I frowned. “I’m not Kyle.”

  “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry,” Rowan said with a huff, ducking his head like a guilty dog. His next words were painfully quiet. “I’m just scared of losing you.”

  I pushed myself up until we were chest to chest. I took his face softly in my hands and kissed him. That made him relax a bit.

  “Now,” I said with a smirk, trailing my hand down to his tenting briefs. I was glad to see his boner hadn’t gone away even though he had a moment of panic. “Can we get back to business?”

  Rowan snorted. He shoved me into the pillow, and I let out a startled yelp. He wedged his knee between my legs and forced them apart before he ripped down my pants. I loved it when short, shy, snarky Rowan took the lead.

  There are a lot of things I love about him.

  After a few minutes of making out and lazy fondling, Rowan growled, “Spread yourself for me.”

  I shuddered. “Ooh. Yes, sir.”

  We spent a hot second getting prepared—Rowan with the condom and me lubing up my hole.

  “Lay down,” Rowan said.

  My voice seemed caught in my throat, but I obeyed. The last time we fucked, I was on all fours with Rowan behind me. Now we were face to face. Our eyes locked as he carefully began to enter me, slow and steady. Both of us blushed hard. Nothing had changed except my position, but somehow it felt even more intimate.

  A grunt left Rowan as he bucked his hips. His cock stretched me wider. I shivered and moaned as my body accommodated his girth. Fuck, he was big. My fingers dug into the sheets and I bit my lip as the familiar almost-pain eased its way into pleasure.

  I shut my eyes, letting the build of ecstasy take over my body. Then I felt something on my hand—Rowan’s hand. He was holding my hand as he fucked me. I smiled and let out a breathy laugh. Was he trying to make me fall for him even harder? Because if so, he was doing a damn good job.

  Almost like he was trying to make me stay.

  The thought was an unpleasant reminder of reality. I left tomorrow morning, leaving behind Rowan and all our unfinished business.

  I don’t want to go.

  But I had to. If I didn’t, I’d be fired, and I didn’t want to lose my job.

  “Alec,” Rowan murmured, concerned. “You got tight. Relax a little.”

  Shit. I hadn’t meant for the mental tension to seep into my body. I forced my muscles to ease up. “Sorry.”

  “Let me know if it’s too much.”

  I grinned. “Oh, your cock’s definitely too much. You’re practically splitting me open here. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  He rolled his eyes and thrust deep. I went rigid then melted with a loud moan.

  Any remaining worries turned fuzzy with sex static. No more think. Just fuck.

  I threw one arm over the back of Rowan’s neck and lazily jerked myself off with my other hand. Rowan’s thrusts hit a steady pace. Every buck of his hips sent shocks of pleasure ricocheting through my body like a pinball machine.

  Then he paused, angled his hips and—

  “Fuck!” I cried.

  My eyes snapped open, my jaw dropping as a firework of pleasure exploded inside me from Rowan hitting my prostate.

  “Okay,” I said shakily. “Okay. You just—”

  “Oh,” Rowan said, a snarky smug grin on his face. “You liked that?”

  I felt my face heat up hotter than the sun. “Asshole. Yes.”

  He licked his lips. “Want me to do it again?”

  My heart jackrabbited in my throat. I swallowed it down. “Yes.”

  Rowan grasped my hips, and I braced myself. He withdrew and slammed into me. I might have cried something out. I had no idea. I felt mind-wiped from the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

  I beat my fist around my cock faster, sloppier. I was catching up to my orgasm quickly, and I’d be there soon if Rowan kept fucking my prostate like that.

  He kissed me. It was wet and frantic as the pleasure bottling up in our bodies threatened to explode. We breathed each other’s breath. Our whimpers and moans mingled together, and I didn’t know which sounds came from who anymore. Our bodies were as close as physically possible.

  I’d never felt more connected to anyone in my life.

  My heart was full, overflowing with adoration for this man. I tightened my grip on his back, never wanting to let go—never wanting him to stop. I wanted this forever.

  “Rowan,” I cried, my voice cracking with need.

  He grunted as he kept thrusting into me. “I know, baby. I know.”

  He tensed, biting his lip. Each deep slam of his cock sent me into another round of ecstasy. The pressure kept building. I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “I’m—”

  Rowan’s fingers curled around mine, and I remembered he’d been holding my hand this entire time. “I know. Cum for me, Alec.”

  The sound that came out me was a half-moan, half-scream. My balls tightened, then a thick stream of cum erupted from my cock, spraying my hand and both our chests. It never seemed to end. My head spun. I saw stars.

  Rowan groaned loudly. The cock plowing my ass and the hand on my hip both sunk deeper into me. Rowan came hard, gritting his teeth.

  “Fuck,” he cried.

  I lay there watching him. We were both breathless and panting, drenched in sweat. He was still inside me. I almo
st didn’t want him to pull out. I felt a vague flash of disappointment when he did. He quickly cleaned up then returned to bed.

  “Lay on me,” I suggested.

  Rowan nodded, not fighting it. Our bare chests pressed together. He was warm, his weight a pleasant pressure on me. I inhaled a deep drag of his scent, committing it to memory. I didn’t want to forget, ever.

  Especially since I was leaving so soon.

  31

  Rowan

  The alarm blared. I groaned as my sticky eyes opened. I felt like shit. I blinked wearily at the time in angry red letters on the bedside table. 8:00 AM. I grumbled and ducked my head back under the covers.

  Something was wrong. I sat up.

  Alec was gone.

  I stared at the spot where he should’ve been next to me in bed. I thrust out my hand to feel the slight groove in the mattress where he’d been laying. It wasn’t warm.

  I scrambled out of bed, throwing the bathroom door open. My heart sank. It was empty.

  “What the fuck?” I muttered. “What the fuck?”

  There was nothing. Alec’s belongings were all gone, and so was he—without a trace. No note, no message written in the mirror, no message on my phone or voicemail. He was just fucking gone.

  I stood in the middle of the room feeling utterly lost. The room was empty, cold. As reality dawned on me, I sank to my knees in disbelief.

  He left without saying goodbye.

  My heart was heavy with emotion. I was both angry and horrified. Sad and furious. Betrayed.

  How could he have done this to me?

  I wanted to scream in frustration, but my voice barely reached my throat. It shriveled up and disappeared, leaving me with only a pathetic whimper.

  Was I more heartbroken or pissed off? I felt both intensely, feverishly. My blood boiled and tears welled in my eyes.

  I should have never given my heart to Alec in the first place. He’d broken it, just like he promised he wouldn’t.

  My phone vibrated, making my stomach lurch. Was it Alec calling to apologize for taking off without a single word?

  I frowned. It was my friend Cain. The last thing I wanted to do was talk to anybody, but I picked up anyway.

  “Hello?” I said, sounding dead.

  “Hey, Rowan, sorry for randomly calling, but I was out walking Roxy when I’m pretty sure she found one of Noodles’ old toys. You know that rubber chicken thing that sounds like its dying when you squeeze it?”

  “Oh.”

  A beat, then Cain’s concerned voice asking, “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Rowan, you sound like shit. No offense,” he added gently. “What happened?”

  I screwed my eyes shut. How could I even begin to explain this total clusterfuck of a situation?

  Cain must have sensed my hesitation, because he said, “You sound like you need to let it out. Just give me the short version.”

  “Okay,” I said. “My fake boyfriend turned sort of real boyfriend just abandoned me here to deal with my cousin and her cheating fiancé—who are getting married today, by the way—to get on a plane to Indonesia without even waking me up to say goodbye.”

  Cain was silent for a moment. “Um. Oh my god. What? Hang on, there’s like a million things to address here. Who’s your fake boyfriend turned real boyfriend?”

  “His name is Alec,” I said bitterly, not even wanting to speak his name right now. “But whatever we had, it’s over now.”

  “He left without saying goodbye?” Cain asked in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “What the actual fuck?”

  “That’s what I said,” I muttered.

  Cain let out a sputtering noise. I heard footsteps in the background that sounded like he was pacing. “And wait, your cousin is marrying a cheater?”

  “Yeah. Today.”

  “How?”

  I shrugged, though Cain wouldn’t see it. “Don’t know. Me and Alec tried to stop it. She didn’t believe us.” I let out a mirthless laugh. “Oh, I forgot to mention. The cheater is Alec’s ex. And guess who he’s cheating on her with?”

  Cain made a low groan of pre-emptive disapproval. “Who?”

  “Kyle.”

  Memories of the night I spent crying on Cain’s shoulder rushed back to me. Up until I told Alec, Cain had been the only one who knew the truth.

  And now that Alec had betrayed me, I wished I’d never told him at all.

  “Oh my god, Rowan,” Cain said softly. “I—what the hell? I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I said reflexively, even though it wasn’t fucking okay at all. “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do. I don’t have any solid proof.”

  I thought about the video I’d shown Tiffany where Kyle punched Alec in the face. Apparently, it hadn’t even been enough to sway her mind on Mark’s character. She was still going through with this wedding. I felt as useless as Noodles’ stupid rubber chicken.

  “This is so fucked,” Cain said. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “It’s fine.” What could anyone say to make this right? “Thanks for listening anyway.”

  “Of course. Is there anything I can do?”

  Not unless you can go back in time and prevent me and Alec from meeting in the first place.

  “No, but thanks,” I said. “I have to go, Cain. Wedding starts in a few hours.”

  Even though I was an emotional zombie, I got dressed and arrived at the venue. It was still too early for the ceremony, but I had nothing else to do, so I at least saved myself the struggle of dragging myself there later.

  A sense of deja vu struck me. The Botanical Gardens were exactly the same as yesterday—the sun was shining, the sky was blue—but for some reason, everything seemed muggy and grey, like the colors were sloughing away.

  Maybe everything just seemed worse without Alec.

  I wrinkled my nose at the thought of him.

  Asshole.

  I hoped he was miserable on his flight. I hoped luggage fell on his stupid, tall head. I hoped a flight attendant spilled something on his pants and every other passenger thought he pissed himself. I hoped—

  My phone buzzed. I retrieved it mechanically, barely caring who it was, but my eyes widened when I saw the name of the sender. I frantically opened the message.

  Got a lead. Hang tight >:P

  My heart raced. I looked around. A few of my older relatives were already gathered and milling around. Others were rushing to get everything finished in time for the ceremony. Even the gazebo was all prettied up with lights and strings of lace.

  Nobody was paying attention to me. Good—that meant I could act as suspiciously as I wanted.

  I texted back.

  Where are you???

  But I didn’t get a response. I didn’t even get a read notification. I scowled, shoving my phone in my pocket before aimlessly weaving through the food trays and people and aisles of flowers. Even the smell of the hors d'oeuvres didn’t tempt me. My stomach was in tight, tense knots. This morning I’d been stressed enough that I hadn’t even eaten breakfast, so at least nothing would come out of me if I had to vomit from anxiety.

  A flash of bright blue made me stop. I recognized that shade of blue, and it wasn’t from any flower.

  I quickly shuffled over, trying not to draw attention to myself. But with all the buzz of the wedding, nobody cared that Rowan was skulking around.

  I rounded the corner of a neatly trimmed rose bush and found Damian sitting cross-legged in between rows of roses, his eyes scrutinizing his phone screen. Beside him stood a frowning man I assumed was his bodyguard, though it wasn’t the same one he’d had the night at the restaurant. The new guy looked uncomfortable and exasperated at the same time. He frowned at me like everything going wrong in his life was somehow my fault.

  Sorry, dude.

  “Oh, hey, Rowan,” Damian said cheerfully.

  “Why didn’t you text me back?”

  He cocked a brow. “Hey, I was bus
y doing you a favor.”

  The new bodyguard spoke up. “Sir, you don’t owe this young man anything—"

  “Ugh, whatever, I know, Meathead. You don’t have to act like my dad,” Damian said with a groan, waving off the man. “Anyway, Rowan, check this out.”

  He waved me down to his level. I leaned over curiously. There was a blurry photo on the screen. There were a couple of figures—maybe. It was hard to tell.

  “What am I looking at?” I asked impatiently.

  The bodyguard growled, and for a second I was afraid he might attack me.

  “Just ignore him. He’ll be gone within a week, if I’m lucky,” Damian mumbled just quietly enough for the bodyguard not to hear. He pinched the screen with his fingers, zooming in. “There. Look again.”

  I frowned, still unable to decipher the blurry image. There might’ve been two figures—but that was a huge maybe.

  My heart sank. All the excitement jittering in my blood settled, like a soda going flat.

  “This won’t work,” I said, defeated.

  “Why not?” Damian demanded. He furrowed his brow and zoomed in on the photo more, but all it did was make it grainier. “Look. It’s Mark and Kyle! You see it, don’t you, Meathead?”

  The bodyguard dutifully glanced at the photo. I could tell he wanted to agree with Damian on principle, but he made a face.

  “No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t see anything except shadows,” he said.

  Damian scowled.

  “Tiffany won’t believe this,” I added, shaking my head. “She’ll get mad if I show her this and say it’s proof.”

  Damian slowly deflated. His lower lip stuck out as he glanced down at the photo he’d gone out of his way to take. I suddenly felt guilty. Not only had I asked Damian for help, but now I couldn’t even accept what he’d obtained.

  “It was a long shot,” I said, trying not to let on how disappointed I was.

  Damian sighed. “No, I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job. Hell, I know I saw them. I mean… I was pretty sure it was them. It was hard to tell in the dark.”