by Morgan Lee
The Best Man
By
Morgan Lee
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Best Man
COPYRIGHT 2010 by Morgan Lee
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Demanding Romance except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Demanding Romance
Publishing History
First DR Edition, August 2010
Cover art AJ Hardcourt
Published in the United States of America
The Best Man
The wedding was over, the bride and groom were gone and the reception was winding down as the sun dipped behind the top of the trees. Sitting under a large canopy outside the country club, Justin Carlson tried to focus on the dance floor and the couples trying not to run into each other. But his gaze strayed once more to Best Man, Rhys Mathers.
Tawny hair, blue eyes and a smile that could charm the panties off any woman, Rhys had been Justin’s idol on the football field since he transferred their junior year of college. The guy had good moves and good hands. He handled a football with ease and could have had a career in the NFL if not for a torn ACL the last game their senior year.
Rhys had also been Justin’s fantasy since mid-term that same year when he’d walked into the physical therapy room and found Rhys fucking one of the male trainers.
Justin tugged at the bowtie around his neck, opened the collar button of his shirt and glanced around the room. Most of their former teammates were here to see John Shehorn bite the big one. As one of John’s friends, Justin had been in the wedding party, too—a groomsman—and forced to stand behind Rhys. Not that it was a hardship. The only thing hard about it had been his dick.
Four years had passed since he’d seen Rhys, and when he walked into the church for the rehearsal, Justin had struggled not to stare. Rhys had to be working out. His chest was broader than Justin remembered, and damn if those designer jeans weren’t made for that ass.
Justin’s mouth watered and his cock creamed. He wanted Rhys. Yet he’d never been sure if Rhys was gay, bi or just curious. He still wasn’t.
“This is fucking boring.” Rhys turned his piercing gaze on Justin. “Want to go somewhere and get a drink?”
The weather was hot and humid for this time of year, even with the light breeze coming off the river. He could use a cold beer. And he’d use any excuse to prolong his time with Rhys. “Sure.”
Weaving through the tables, Justin knew they didn’t stand out as anything other than two single guys in a crowd of married couples, bored with the party and headed out on the town in search of some action. If anyone knew what kind of action Justin hoped drinks with Rhys would lead to...
“Where you guys going?” Randall Tomkins blocked their path and stuck out his hand to shake Rhys’s.
Rhys made a crude gesture with his hands at his chest. “Titty bar, man. Wanna come?”
So much for wishful thinking. Justin’s stomach twisted. Fuck, he didn’t want to spend the next few hours pretending to get off on bouncing tits and grinding pussy. Or worse, watching Rhys get off on it.
“You’re going to Red’s?” Randall’s eyes brightened then dimmed as they lit on the approaching woman with bleached blonde hair and too much makeup. “Nah, but you guys enjoy a lap dance for me.”
“Will do.” Rhys sauntered toward the door, keys jangling in one hand.
“Good to see you, Randall.” Justin shook his hand and followed Rhys outside.
He had stopped at the edge of the parking lot and was stuffing his tie in his jacket pocket. “Where’s your car?”
“I took the shuttle from my hotel.”
“Perfect.” Rhys smiled. “We’ll take my car.” He pressed the button on the key pad. Lights blinked on a sleek black sports car. Rhys worked for one of the most prestigious law firms in the city and it looked as if he was doing all right for himself. He started down a row of vehicles. “Planning to get shitfaced, huh?”
“Not exactly.” With a will of their own, Justin’s feet carried him to the car and his hand opened the passenger door. What the fuck was wrong with him? He looked over the hood at Rhys. “Did you really want to go to Red’s?”
“Hell, no. Just keeping up appearances.”
Appearances? Was Rhys still hiding his sexuality? Was he gay or not? Without asking straight out, how would Justin know for sure? And until he did know, he wouldn’t make a move of his own.
Justin folded into the passenger seat and swiveled to face Rhys. “He might have wanted to tag along.”
Rhys shook his head and jammed the key in the ignition. “That wife of his has a tight leash on his dick.”
“So, where are we going?”
The engine roared to life and Rhys looked pointedly at Justin. “My place.”
Justin’s balls tingled but it had nothing to do with the vibration of the car. “I thought you wanted to get a drink.”
Resting an elbow on the console between the seats, Rhys leaned toward Justin. His hand landed on Justin’s chest as his mouth closed the distance between them. “Only drink I want is you.”
Rhys’s lips slanted over his, lightly at first then with more aggression. Rhys lapped at his lower lip, and Justin clasped the back of Rhys’s neck, drawing him closer. Rhys groaned as he angled his head and slipped his tongue into Justin’s mouth. The hand on his chest slid down his ribs, over his abs, and cupped his straining cock.
Air hissed from Justin’s lungs as Rhys curled his fingers around his throbbing shaft and squeezed. He pulled back. “I’ve wanted to do that since last night.” A sultry smile tugged at his lips. “Not the kind of thoughts one should be having in church.”
Justin chuckled. “You don’t even want to know what went through my mind while we were on our knees.”
Lust flickered in those baby blues. He pressed a quick kiss to Justin’s lips then let go of his cock, leaned back and threw the car into gear. “You can show me when we get home.”
Traffic was light for a Friday evening, and Rhys wove through the downtown streets until they hit the interstate. “You out?”
The question took Justin by surprise. “No.”
“How come?”
“My folks wouldn’t understand. You?”
A snort escaped Rhys. “Not in this town.”
No, a small university town seated in the Bible Belt was no place to come out of the closet, especially for the hometown’s golden boy. Which was why Justin hadn’t been able to make it his home. “Ever thought about leaving town, moving somewhere you don’t have to hide?”
“Sometimes. Just haven’t had a good enough reason.” His gaze left the road to slide over Justin. “You got out though.”
“Yeah.”
“And yet you’re still hiding.”
“Not hiding. I just don’t advertise.” Justin shrugged. “My friends know. But coming back here...”
“I hear you.” Rhys signaled and took the exit into one of the older residential districts. Most homes here were built in the early 1900’s and had retained the charm of the era. “Do you like flying?”
“Yeah, I do. I tried commercial, but I like corporate flying better. The hours and the pay.” The car zipped into a driveway, and Justin absently scanned the two-story Craftsman Rhys called home. “My partner and I like the flexibility.”
Rhys killed the engine and sat back in his seat. �
��Your partner?”
Something in Rhys’s voice grabbed Justin’s attention. He turned to look at Rhys, but his face was a mask of unreadable calm. Jealous? Or just careful? “My business partner. Straight, married, three kids and...” He grinned. “Female.”
That killer smile flashed and blue eyes sparkled as Rhys reached for the door handle. “Well, all right then.”
Pulse rate rising, Justin exited the car and trailed Rhys up the path to the front door and inside the house. The décor fit the man—sleek lines, masculine, modern. “Nice place.”
“Thanks.” Rhys tossed his keys in a tray on the coffee table. “It’s quiet and the neighbors aren’t nosey.”
“I never figured a party guy like you wanting quiet.” Back in college, during off season, Justin used to get up early for his morning run, something he still enjoyed, and more often than not, he’d run into Rhys on his way in after a long night.
“I don’t party much anymore.” Rhys closed the distance between them and lifted a hand to brush the hair from Justin’s eyes. “And speaking of wanting...” He cupped the back of Justin’s head and urged him forward.
Justin’s lips parted and Rhys’s tongue eased over them in a slow invasion that made his stomach flutter, his dick twitch and a moan erupt from his throat. Rhys’s arm snaked around Justin’s waist and the flat of his hand pressed the small of Justin’s back, drawing him flush against Rhys’s body as he deepened the kiss.
The hard length of Rhys’s arousal teased Justin’s aching erection. His hips jerked, and pre-cum oozed from his slit. Wanting more, Justin smoothed his hands from Rhys’s trim waist to the curve of his ass. Justin held him still and ground their cocks together.
Rhys leaned back to look at Justin, his eyes glazed with lust. The hand at the back of his head slid to palm his cheek. Rhys’s thumb caressed his lower lip. “I want you.”
Justin closed his eyes and shuddered. “God, yes.”
Easing away, Rhys clasped Justin’s hand and tugged him up the stairs. Rhys’s steps were sure, confident and too fucking slow. Justin wanted to propel him up the stairs, but Rhys’s unhurried pace was one of the things Justin found so damn sexy about him. He knew what he wanted and went after it in a way that ensured he’d enjoy every moment.
Rhys’s long tapered fingers slipped from Justin’s as they entered the door at the end of the hall. Rhys shrugged off his jacket and removed the cufflinks at his wrists. He placed them on the dresser along with his watch and reached for the top button of his shirt. The curtains were open and the shades were down, but the evening sun snuck around the edges to cast a golden glow on Rhys’s sculpted chest as his shirt parted and fell away.
Justin shucked his tux coat and cummerbund and turned to drape them over the chair in the corner. He slipped out of his shoes then thumbed off his socks. As he straightened, Rhys’s arms banded around him from behind.
“Let me.” Rhys drew Justin’s shirt from the waistband of his pants and worked the first button free. One by one, he took his time until the last button gave. His mouth opened over the crook of Justin’s neck as he peeled the crisp linen down Justin’s shoulder. “You taste good.”
“You feel good.” His head rolled back to rest on Rhys’s shoulder.
Fingertips grazed his ribs and trekked south, skimming his abs. His stomach muscles quivered. The button on his pants released. Rhys’s knuckles scraped his rod as metal teeth clicked slowly apart. His dick shoved at the cotton boxer briefs holding it prisoner. Rhys ran his thumbs under the elastic waistband and peeled his underwear and trousers over his hips until they fell to his knees.
The broad head of Rhys’s cock nudged the small of Justin’s back as one hand fisted around his shaft and the other cupped his balls. Justin reached behind him, gripped Rhys’s thighs, and arched into him.
“I’ve always wanted to ask...” Rhys teased a thumb over the slit, gathering the juices, then rubbed circles around the throbbing head. “Why didn’t you out me back then?”
Sinking in the bliss of Rhys’s touch, Justin barely registered his question. He opened his eyes to focus and shrugged. “It was none of my business.”
“Was that the only reason?”
“No.” He stared at the painting on the wall as he remembered the significance of that moment in his life. “That was the day I realized I was gay.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know till that day either. That you were gay.”
Justin laughed then moaned as Rhys’s grip tightened and began a downward glide to the base of Justin’s cock. “Why didn’t you ever say anything or make a move?”
“I fantasized about it often enough.”
Justin grabbed Rhys’s wrists, stopping him at mid-stroke. “Did you really?”
“Yeah. Really.” Rhys rocked his hips and nipped at Justin’s ear. “But you weren’t ready.”
“Well, just so you know,” Justin arched into Rhys’s next gyration, “there wasn’t a night that last semester I didn’t jack off to the thought of being under you, having your cock in my ass.”
A growl resonated from Rhys’s throat. He released Justin, strode to the bed and whipped the bedspread back, then the sheet. He opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a condom and a tube of lubricant. “Get on the bed.”
Justin hesitated. That day in the physical therapy room, he’d only gotten a glimpse of Rhys’s cock. Yeah, he’d seen him in the locker room, even showered with him after games and practice, but Rhys hadn’t sported a full erection then. Not like now. Justin was torn between wanting Rhys’s cock filling his mouth or his ass. Rhys took the decision out of his hands as he rolled the condom over the crown and down the vein-ridden shaft.
Crawling to the middle of the king-sized bed, Justin knelt and Rhys maneuvered behind him. Justin started to drop to all fours, but Rhys wound an arm around his middle. He tipped Justin’s head back and covered his mouth in hot, wet kiss that ended way too soon but was just long enough to steal his breath.
Rhys eased Justin forward until he rested on his forearms. The squishing sound of lube warned him a second before the cold liquid oozed between his ass cheeks. Two fingers spread the lube, massaging his puckered hole. Justin’s blood pumped faster through his veins.
Then the head of Rhys’s cock replaced his fingers, and Justin held his breath. Rhys smoothed his hands over Justin’s ass to his hips and latched on. Justin relaxed his muscles and readied himself for Rhys’s thrust.
Instead, Rhys rotated his hips, leisurely screwing his way through the tight ring of muscle. The tingling sensation spread from his sphincter to his balls, and he battled the urge to lunge backward and impale himself on Rhys’s cock. The corona finally breeched his hole and lodged. Justin shivered.
Rhys groaned and his fingers tightened. “You feel so good.” He screwed another fraction of an inch and began a slow drilling penetration. “So hot, so tight.”
Justin gripped the sheet. Sweat dampened his back. “Fuck me. Harder. Faster. I need—“
“I’ve waited a long time for this. I’m not rushing it.”
The gradual winding stretch continued, pressure built and pre-cum dripped from Justin’s swollen dick. He needed to come, ached for it. And yet he could understand Rhys’s determination to prolong the pleasure. At least Justin knew why he wanted the moment to last forever. Justin swallowed the words that bubbled in his throat.
Not now. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
Rhys rolled his hips, slid the last inch and stilled as a rush of air burst from his lungs. Justin lowered his forehead to the cool linen and released his own held breath. The smell of sex filled his senses. His head spun then cleared to a slight wavering.
Again the sweet torture began, in reverse this time, with the unhurried drag of Rhys’s cock. “Fuck...fuck...fuck.”
Please. Please. Please. The words reverberated through Justin’s head with every shallow pant, with each measured glide in and out, edging him closer to orgasm. His balls drew tight. His spine sizzled.
; As if he reading Justin’s body, Rhys increased his pace and rasped, “Yes, come for me.”
White-hot jolts of pleasure ripped through him, and ribbons of cum pulsed from his cock. His inner muscles spasmed, contracting around Rhys’s erection as he fucked Justin harder and faster.
“Justin.” Rhys slammed deep and stiffened, fingers digging into Justin’s hips. Through his own convulsions, Justin felt Rhys’s hot cum shoot into the condom, pulse after pulse. “Ah, fuck, Justin.”
As the last wave of ecstasy faded, Justin collapsed. Rhys slipped from Justin’s body and fell to one side. Their rapid breathing echoed off the walls. Not that Justin could have heard anything else over the pounding of his heart as his mind drifted to the twilight of semi-consciousness.