Lex ran a flannel under warm water and tenderly washed Rob's back end, then dried him.
'Wear these,' he said, throwing him a pair of red hipsters.
Rob put them on and slipped his shirt on top. Now the immediate lust had abated and he had sobered up a bit, he felt slightly self-conscious walking back outside. Everyone would know what they had been doing. He had been noisy enough.
'Lex sure knows how to make them squeal,' Justin said as they walked back out onto the sundeck.
'That was him, not me,' Rob shot back at him. He was riled at the way the men assumed he was the subordinate, just because Lex was richer, more powerful, the top. He knew then and there that it was the one thing bothering him about his relationship with Lex. He wanted to be his equal, not the weaker one.
'Ooh, feisty,' Justin pouted as the other men laughed. Only Lex looked troubled, as if he knew what Rob had been thinking.
As the evening darkened, dinner was served. Scallops, fillet steak, New York cheesecake, all presented with the accomplishment of a Michelin Star chef. There was more wine, aperitifs, petit fours, until Rob's head was fuzzy and he was so full he could hardly move. Peter disappeared and presently made an appearance as Caressa, to much applause. She began to sing in a husky, tuneful voice, redolent of Sara Vaughan, prowling around the gathered men, teasing them with her ostrich feather boa, singing "Whatever Lola Wants," and ending with a flourish, eliciting wolf-whistles and more clapping.
'She's very good.' Rob was captivated by Caressa's seductive voice as she purred through two more torch songs. At the end of them she draped herself elegantly on a sun-lounger, accepting a glass of champagne and a gallant hand kiss from Lex. She looked like an old-fashioned movie star.
'Who's next?' Someone asked the question, but no-one seemed inclined to follow Caressa's masterful performance. In the end it was Philip who was persuaded to sing a few haunting songs in his native Spanish, accompanied by incredibly intricate playing on his guitar. As he played, a fire pit was lit. They sat in the dark, listening to Philip's soulful voice and for a while, they could almost imagine they were on a secluded beach, not on the top of a fifty storey building in the middle of Manhattan
'That was amazing,' Rob said when the performance ended to rapturous applause.
'It's what I do,' he replied modestly, 'but escort work pays more money.' There was sadness in the way he said it.
'Never stop playing,' Rob said. 'You could fill the Albert Hall with that kind of talent.'
Philip smiled at him, grateful and disbelieving. Rob saw Lex glowering at them. He could sense jealous waves emanating from him and felt strangely comforted.
After that, the party wound down. People left, wishing Rob luck with his novel. The pretty boys had gone and there were only Peter and Justin left.
In the dark, the pool was lit up with lights that made the water look emerald green. Rob listened to the men talking quietly, and the sounds of the city mingled with Dire Straights playing inside the apartment. His stomach was full of excellent food and his head was somewhat befuddled with too many cocktails. His eyes grew heavy. He tried to fight it, but it was no use. He closed his eyes and in a moment was fast asleep.
CHAPTER 14 - An Angel Without Wings
'He's gone,' Justin whispered.
'He looks like an angel.' Peter stealthily walked his fingers up Rob's leg.
'Stop it! You'll disturb him.'
'No. He's totally gone.' Peter stroked the inside of Rob's thigh. In his sleep, Rob shifted, lifting his leg slightly so that his inner thigh was further exposed. 'He's such a lightweight when it comes to late nights, but I'm not complaining.' He pattered his finger tips lightly against the smooth skin and ever-so-lightly brushed against his balls, snugly encased in the red briefs.
'Leave him alone.' I swatted Peter's hand away. 'It's time you both left anyway. Don't you have some fucking to catch up on?'
'What about Rob?' Peter asked craftily.
'There's no way I'm waking him right now. I'll watch over him.'
Peter and Justin exchanged knowing looks. I wanted them out of my apartment so I could be alone with my sleeping angel. Peter took the hint and steered Justin out, after endless air kisses and yet more fucking chatter.
When they had gone, I went back to where Rob was sleeping. I took a chenille throw from one of the couches and covered him with it before sliding in next to him. The heat of his body was almost too much to bear. I watched him, sprawled on the bed like a living wet dream. His head rolled towards me and his eyes flickered open. He smiled at me as I lowered my lips to his. It was a sleepy, slow kiss with delicately roving tongues. His hand came up to caress my neck. I shivered as I pressed closer to him. His back arched and I followed the movement with my hand, stroking down to his hip. I could feel his erection brushing against my pelvis. I clasped it in my hand and squeezed, forcing more blood into that long, hard organ. He whimpered against my lips.
'I'm very drunk,' he said softly as we made out in slow motion.
'And I'm very horny,' I whispered back.
'Good.' His kisses were hungry, dirty and sexy, his tongue deep and thrusting in my mouth. That evening I had awakened something inside him that was straining to be let loose, and I knew that from then on, he was capable of anything.
He pushed me back on the mattress and moved slowly down my body. He had the energy of a sloth but he put his mouth muscles to good work around my cock. I fondled the back of his neck as he lashed my cock with his hot tongue, doing to me what he clearly enjoyed receiving himself. My breath hitched as I my arousal soared. He moved around, letting me reach the heavy bulge in his briefs. I took out his cock and we lazily sixty-nined each other until the need was too urgent to ignore. His thrusts matched mine as we fucked each other's mouths. I came first, triggering his own climax as my moans vibrated through his cock. Our bodies pressed close to feel every pulse, we swallowed down the fruits of our loving. I could feel him mumbling with pleasure as he tongue-bathed my cock and I held him tight, enjoying his closeness.
He moved to rest his head against the pillow again and I pulled the throw over us, spooning my body around his.
******
When morning came, I resisted opening my eyes, lest he was no longer there. Already I yearned for his touch, the slow, easy smile that made his eyes crinkle and light up, and the cultured honey of his voice. I lay there with my eyes closed, not daring to reach out and feel cold, empty sheets. My morning wood was rigid with anticipation.
A few moments passed. I opened my eyes and looked over at an empty space. He had gone. I sat up, naked apart from the throw I had covered us with. There was something melancholy about a wealthy man in a luxurious apartment, the city of Manhattan spread before him, surrounded by nine million other people yet totally, absolutely alone. I drew in a breath, ready to let the negativity flow out with the exhale.
And then I smelt it. Bacon.
Bacon? Way up here? The tantalising waft made my nose twitch. It cannot have been from the apartment as Consuela did not work at weekends. I had to fend for myself on Saturdays and Sundays.
Curious, I followed the seductive aroma, which was indeed coming from the apartment. A surge of happiness shot through me as I saw Rob in the kitchen, flipping rashers of streaky bacon in a frying pan. He still wore the narrow red briefs and his white shirt, nothing else. Unaware of my presence, he wiggled his cute butt and sang to himself, moving as competently around the kitchen as Consuela did. The table by the window was already laid for breakfast, with orange juice, utensils and maple syrup. Coffee bubbled gently in the percolator.
Silently I crept up behind him and slid my hands around his waist, kissing the back of his neck. He exclaimed softly and dropped his spatula on the floor. As he bent to pick it up, he would never know how close he came to being bent over the kitchen worktop and fucked senseless.
'Good morning,' he said cheerfully, ignoring the fact that my naked dick was pressed up hard against his buttocks. 'How do you l
ike your eggs?'
'With a kiss.' I nibbled on his neck again.
'Later, stud. Food first. Sit.' He waved me towards the table. I thought it would be a good idea to put some underwear on at least, so I raced off like an over-excited puppy, pulled on some boxer briefs and a tee-shirt, then ran back to take my place at the table.
'Eggs?' He prompted as I sat down.
'Scrambled.' Rather like my brain, I thought, as I watched him beat the eggs into submission. Within three minutes, two fragrant platefuls of food were presented at the table and we began to eat.
Not much conversation passed between us. He was obviously an early bird, the opposite of my night owl tendencies, but he wasn't insufferable with it. He seemed to realise I didn't do much talking until I had food and two cups of coffee inside me. I also sensed a certain nervousness about him, but the sight of his package pouching the red briefs proved a welcome distraction. Thanks to the clear glass of the table, I could keep it in sight as I ate.
'That was damned fine,' I said when my plate was completely empty again.
'Glad you liked it. Toast? Muffin?' He danced away like a skittish foal before I could grab him. The nervousness remained, despite the bright demeanour. Surely it wasn't me? I was a man like any other. It was time to take action. I followed him and spun him around, pulling him into my arms. My fingers stroked the soft skin beneath his buttocks, underneath the short underwear.
'What's wrong?'
He coiled his arms around my neck, his beautiful face turned up to mine. 'Nothing.'
'You're quiet. Do you wish you hadn't come?'
'No! It's just ... I'm not very good at instigating, if you know what I mean.' A pink stain spread over his cheeks.
I bit back a disbelieving laugh. 'Oh my fucking god, are you shy?'
He rolled his eyes. 'Uh, I guess.'
'Honey, you took part in a threesome yesterday, and you skull-fucked me on our first date. How can you be shy now?'
'You're never going to let me forget that, are you?' He smiled slyly. 'So are we going to talk about this, or are you going to shut up and get down to business?'
I moved ever closer to him, letting him feel the strength of my hard-on. 'I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll taste my jizz in your mouth,' I said calmly, and was disconcerted when he grinned widely at me.
'That's what I like about you, Lex. Always so classy.'
I decided right then it was time to cut his superior English ass down to size.
'You're going to pay for that.' I lifted him up onto the kitchen work surface. He opened his legs, allowing me to stand between them. A tentative kiss, then another, and I felt him relax against me as we kissed again, our tongues probing deep in our mouths. We kissed for a long time, our lips seasoned with salt and maple syrup, before he leaned back on the cool granite surface so I could admire his body. He rested on his elbows, watching me as I breathed on his tightly restrained, prominent erection. It lifted, held cruelly back by the tight briefs. I licked tiny whorls into the dark hair on his inner thighs and nuzzled his bulky ball sac, easing the underwear downwards, pausing to accentuate that delightful bulge I had been ogling earlier before revealing him in all his aroused glory.
His cock was everything I wanted it to be, pink and perfect, silky smooth and a respectable nine inches or so. I didn't want him to be bigger than that. I was the top, after all. It was my role to have the bigger dick so I could satisfy my angel in the way he needed.
Gently I eased the briefs down to mid-thigh. In this position he could not move his legs wider, building his frustration as I trailed my tongue around his balls. I still couldn't get over how warm and silky they were now they were hair-free. Above them, his cock slapped against his stomach as if reminding me of its presence. As if I needed reminding. He quivered as I traced the length of his dick with the tip of my tongue. I wanted to remind him I could suck cock way better than Philip had, exorcising for good that lusty Spanish stud out of his head. My own erection hadn't abated since I first woke up and it pressed uncomfortably against the kitchen cupboard.
I pulled Rob to a sitting position and turned him so he was face-down against the cold black granite surface. The extra wide counter accommodated the length of his torso with ease and his backside was mine to explore. He grumbled at the discomfort to his cock, being squashed against the unforgiving stone, but I told him sternly to keep still. He turned his head to one side and stretched out his arms along the edge of the counter, holding on as I spread his cheeks. His unique scent made my nostrils quiver and my lust rise. He let out a cry as I slavishly licked up his crack to his pretty, de-furred hole. It was tight and puckered, but not for long under my talented tongue. I spread his cheeks wide and dove in, slavishly lapping up his intoxicating taste until he was moaning constantly, his beautiful eager hole reddened and open.
'Oh god,' he moaned as his backside lifted, yearning for more of my tongue. He squirmed and grunted as I tongue-fucked him relentlessly. My face was wet with saliva as his hole widened and became more inflamed. My cock was fucking inflamed as well. I reached over for the bottle of olive oil and drizzled some on his crack. My fingers slithered as I rubbed it in, slipping inside his hole with ease. Then I pulled him back onto my cock, hard and deep, all the way in. His cries took on an animal quality as he felt the invasion. I was fucking him so hard that sweat prickled on my back as I worked him. Rob was grunting constantly, his cock mashed against the kitchen cupboard, every ounce of energy from my body mercilessly hammering into him. No feather bed protection, no supportive warm water, just wood and granite, forcing him to absorb every thrust as it reverberated through his body. I was waiting for his pleas for me to stop but they didn't come. He gripped the edge of the counter and pushed back at me, goading me to fuck him harder. I couldn't. He was getting everything I had. Knowing he had beaten me, I threw back my head and howled as the climax shot from my balls, electrifying my cock, reaching deep into his convulsing body. By now he was sobbing, sweat pooling between his shoulder blades. As the orgasm shook him, his cries became hoarse and faded with exertion. He was slipping around in a mess of olive oil and his own semen. I collapsed on his back, breathing heavily.
When I looked up, he was holding on to the edge of the counter with white knuckles, like Harold Lloyd hanging on to a window ledge for dear life in a black and white movie. He gave me a weary look and rested his forehead on the cool granite. I grinned at him.
'Suitable payback?'
'Fuck you,' he retorted, and I laughed delightedly. It was the first time he had ever sworn at me.
CHAPTER 15 - An Inconvenient Truth
'When are you going to tell him?' Peter asked on the following Tuesday morning. I had gone to the gallery in the East Village to have a look at a forthcoming exhibition before it was opened to the public. Pretty, skinny boys in black rushed around like ninjas, shifting paintings and arranging gaudy flower displays. The gallery was completely white so as not to detract from the paintings it contained. The latest were anatomical pieces in thick, lurid oils. Most of them made my eyes water.
'Jesus, it looks like Charles' Manson's living room in here,' I said, looking around.
'Very funny,' Peter said stiffly. 'You've no idea about art, Lexington. Trust me, this stuff will sell like hot cakes. Most of it is destined for the Upper West Side. Now answer my question.'
'The answer is, he doesn't need to know,' I said, looking askance at a hideous oil painting of some poor woman's vagina. I didn't have a problem with pussy as a rule but damn, it looked as if she was having a miscarriage.
Peter stood in front of me, blocking my view. 'You need to tell him,' he said forcefully. 'If you have any respect for him, you need to be honest.'
'I do respect him! But he doesn't need to know I was at Melville. And he doesn't need to know I fucked his father! What the hell will that achieve?'
'At least he can make the decision of whether he wants you or not, based on an honest assessment of what is in front of him!'
&
nbsp; 'Speak fucking English, for Christ's sake.' I turned impatiently away. This was an argument long in the brewing but I still wasn't prepared for it.
He flapped around me like an irate black swan. 'Now listen. I was with Gavin for all that time because we were honest with each other. What you're hiding from him is massive. He's writing about his father, for God's sake! How's he going to feel when he finds out you've been playing him for a fool?'
'He isn't going to find out.' I could feel my temper rising.
'He will at some point. He isn't stupid, Lex. There's a massive amount you haven't told him about your past life and he's curious about it. Believe me, I know.'
Fear clutched at me. 'What's he been asking?'
'Why you won't talk about your school days, for one. He's assuming something terrible happened to you. And he wants to know why you're keeping him away from your father. You don't want anything to come out, do you?'
'No, I don't,' I said, keeping my voice low so his assistants would not be able to hear. 'And if I find out you've said anything to him...'
'You'll do what?' Peter glared at me.
I looked around the gallery. 'You can forget my investment in this place for a start. I could pull the plug tomorrow if you say one word to Rob about my being at Melville. One word, Peter, and it's all over.'
'You're .... threatening me?' Peter looked horrified.
'You're goddamned right, I am.' I moved closer to him. 'Consider my financial involvement in this company finished the moment you say anything to Rob about my past.'
'But you're my friend,' Peter stuttered.
'Just remember that when you need more money for exhibitions. And for what it's worth, your taste in art totally stinks.' I strode out of the gallery before he could reply, slamming the door behind me. Because of him, I was in the foulest of moods. I couldn't risk him saying anything to Rob. For once in my life I had found someone who didn't give a stuff about all the trappings of wealth, the money-making bullshit I wallowed in every day. He was happy with walking in the city, movies, meals in simple restaurants. We talked endlessly, laughed and made love. He was the man who made me feel complete. I couldn't lose him. I wouldn't lose him, and no-one was going to stand in my way.
Lexington Black Page 15