The Story of Us

by Logan Meredith

  She downed her glass in two gulps and slouched deeper into her chair. Unlike me, Kayla had no desire to find a husband. When she did date, she kept it intentionally casual with men just as consumed by their careers. I’d stopped analyzing her motives. She didn’t fear being a wife and mother. She just didn’t want that life. The few times she had tried something more, she ended it before it had become a ‘distraction’. Her job, freedom and independence were more important to her, and I’d long ago accepted the explanation wasn’t any more complicated than that.

  Near the end of the meal, Patrick exchanged a look with his parents and I knew the moment had arrived. He picked up his glass and clanked it gently with the dull edge of his knife. The table grew quiet, and Tracey froze in mid-sentence. Patrick pushed back from the table, gushed about how his life had changed at the very table where we sat, espoused Tracey’s beauty and dropped to his knee.

  We held our collective breaths while Tracey, apparently stunned speechless, tearfully nodded her head and watched Patrick slip an impressive princess-cut diamond ring on her finger. The entire restaurant erupted in applause as the happy couple embraced—and I cried like a baby. For the first time since Matt and I had ended, I ached for my own such moment—or at least the possibility of one.

  Kayla handed me a clean napkin and patted my thigh. Leaning over, she whispered, “It’ll happen.”

  I glowered at her and shook my head. I knew that in choosing Lucas, I’d started from a place where that future didn’t seem possible. Doubt clouded my brain. What kind of idiot am I? No matter how scenic the ride, our relationship would inevitably hit a dead end. I wanted it all—marriage, maybe some kids, a dog and my house on a lake. At my pace, I’d need a cane to get down the aisle. There were seventeen years between us. What had I known about life at his age? Nothing. Certainly not enough to plan a future.

  Kayla wrapped her arm around my waist and gathered me into her side, I dropped my head to her shoulder. She kissed my scalp and patted me. “None of that. It’ll happen. Trust me,” she repeated.

  After leaving the restaurant, Kayla wasted no time in pumping me for information. “But you said the date went fine?”

  “I don’t know. It did. Dinner was good. The conversation was perfect. He’s funny and adorable. He asked me thoughtful questions, and he’s just ridiculously attractive. But there is just no way it is going to work.”

  “Okay. Why is that exactly?”

  “Because he gets paid to be naked and I’m…me.”

  “Oh, Kyle. Can you just once not get in your own way? Why does it have to be all or nothing? Either he is the man of your dreams or completely untouchable?”

  “Because he’s… I like him…a lot. And there’s no way I will just magically be okay with the fact that he fucks for a living.”

  Kayla did not seem surprised. “I know. But it’s not like you usually expect guys you just started dating to be exclusive.”

  “True.”

  “I mean, typically, you would just avoid asking until it mattered, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “So, you know with Lucas that isn’t where things are heading. You skip over the whole ‘define the relationship’ awkwardness, enjoy each other and have some fun, maybe learn some sex tips from an expert for the next guy.”

  Deciding I lacked the mental strength to go another round with Kayla on the merits of casual relationships, I shut my mouth and, as she often did, Kayla took my silence for agreement and changed her entire position.

  I dropped Kayla off and drove toward home, still reeling from the entire morning. A phone call arrived just as I pulled into my driveway but I ignored it, still deep into my own neurotic analysis as I headed toward my garage to find something to clear my head. It came in the form of an old wine cabinet I’d bought at a garage sale months ago that I had plans to refinish.

  Sweat dripped down my back while I rubbed sandpaper over the cabinet door. The rhythmic scrape focused my mind, and I permitted myself to acknowledge that buried in all her double talk, Kayla might have had a small point. Every time I met someone, I instantly ran them against an unwritten soulmate checklist of sorts. Except for Matt, no one else had ever checked all the boxes. And even then… “How long did you try to force it to work because you were convinced it was supposed to?” Sometimes it wasn’t good to let Kayla’s words marinate too long, because now I doubted my doubts. I stopped working to grab a beer from the kitchen.

  I’d purchased my house ten years earlier and methodically remodeled it room by room. Initially built in the 1960s, the place was small—barely twelve hundred square feet—but the inside had been gutted and the once-walled-in rooms were now open and airy, giving the impression of much more space. I’d since added a utility room, closet and sunroom to the back and a covered porch to the front. The walls of the main area were a light neutral gray, and the floors were a rich maple hardwood that I’d saved for a year to afford. Every appliance, cabinet, countertop and fixture had been placed with my own two hands. I loved it and my mood always improved when I walked in the door.

  I showered, changed my clothes and checked my phone. Lucas had called three times. I paused a minute before texting.

  Hey.

  I know, I know. So lame. But Lucas responded immediately, which filled me with a weird, happy, excited energy that just… Ugh. Despite all my internal angst, I couldn’t deny I wanted to see him again.

  Hey, yourself. What are you up to today?

  I would probably spend the day wallowing in self-doubt and sanding that cabinet until my arm fell off, but that didn’t seem like a good answer. I needed a less pathetic alternative.

  Studying.

  What? We’re in the same class. No assignments due this week.

  I have reading to catch up on.

  Can I take you to dinner tonight?

  I didn’t reply.

  You know you want to say yes.

  Yeah. Dinner’s good. My turn to pay, though. What are you up to?

  I think I’m gonna see about that paint job. The wall being messed up is pissing me off. The office gave me the color.

  The next text made me smile.

  What’s the difference between eggshell and satin?

  I sighed. Lucas needed a paint finish that would withstand a good scrub, and a satin or eggshell would fit that bill. However, his apartment certainly had jacked-up walls that would show defects if he used too much sheen.

  Get a semi-gloss.

  What’s that?

  Do you want me to go with you?

  Oh, God. Yes, please. I’m seriously intimidated by home improvement stores.

  Fine. Be ready. I’ll pick you up in about thirty minutes.

  Let me come get you. You’re doing me a favor. I can drive.

  I texted him my address, and by the time I’d showered and changed, Lucas was knocking at my door.

  I opened it and drew in a breath. Damn. Lucas was gorgeous, and the sparks that flew between us were every bit as bright as the ones I’d seen between Patrick and Tracey. Maybe, just maybe, the issue was my checklist and my stubborn vision of a future that I could no longer remember dreaming up.

  “Hi.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. Looking around, he added, “Your place is beautiful.”

  Pride swelled in me. “Thanks. Want the tour before we go?”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “This is the family room,” I said, stating the obvious. “The kitchen and dining”—I pointed to the custom cabinet-lined half-wall, which, in addition to extending the countertops with a peninsula, also separated the kitchen from the dining room—“I built that last year.”

  Lucas moved to the wall and took it in from every angle like he was appraising a work of art. He entered the kitchen, and my heart skipped a beat when his focus zeroed in on the single custom piece in the room. Running his hand over the classy glass-etched pantry doors, he gaped at me with admiration. When I’d bought the house, it had been missing a pantry. I’d converted it from a t
iny laundry closet. I opened the door and showed him the shelving system I’d designed, which pulled out and rotated, so you could see items in the back. The slick feature more than doubled my storage space.

  “That’s so cool.” He laughed while playing with it. “My mom hates her pantry. She’d love this. Where did you get it?”

  “I built it,” I said.

  “Get out.” He shoved me gently.

  “I’m happy with the way it turned out.”

  “You should be. It’s genius.” His enthusiasm activated my brag button, and I walked him through ten years’ worth of projects around my house, enjoying his rapt attention. He asked questions. He stroked my ego. When he asked about the stone wall that featured a fireplace, I happily recounted the story of the eccentric millionaire who’d ordered a shitload of rocks from some European importer without consulting anyone.

  “An actual rock-climbing wall? Get out.”

  “Yeah. She ordered all this beautiful stone and thought I could build her a rock-climbing wall in her backyard. I tried to give her alternative uses for the stone, but when the neighborhood association refused her wall, she ordered me to get rid of it.” I ran my hand down the stone. “Even after having masons break it up for me, I got it for a deal.”

  “It’s stunning.” He marveled at it, touching it the way I always did.

  “Oh, yeah.” “Thanks.”

  Our eyes met, and he pushed his hair out of his face and grew serious. “Kyle.” He swallowed.

  “Yes?”

  “Show me your bedroom.”

  I gulped. “You sure?”

  I’d considered saying no for as long as it took the blood to rush into my dick, causing it to throb. Clearly, I had no self-control when it came to Lucas. Not only had he erased a lousy morning by his mere appearance on my doorstep, but he’d also spent the last thirty minutes making me feel so damn good about myself. I took him by the hand and guided him down the hall to my bedroom.

  I expected a frenzy of heat to take over, but instead, Lucas gave me slow, purposeful caresses. We kissed, stopping only long enough for him to tug my shirt off me. He stared at me, his eyelids heavy with lust. I didn’t fully understand what he saw in me, but I found myself believing him anyway.

  I closed my eyes, picturing my own body, imagining his perspective. Silver stands dusted my chest, mixed in with the same mousy brown hair that covered my head. My job was physical, so my pecs, arm and leg muscles were taut, even if they paled in comparison to Lucas’. Although my belly was flat, it was soft. I flexed anyway, as though pure willpower could summon muscles to the surface.

  I reached for his shirt but he stopped me. He shook his head. “Sit. Let me see you.”

  I obeyed, and with a hand on my chest, he nudged me back. I shifted up the bed and he removed my shoes, then bent to take off his own while I scooted toward the middle of my mattress.

  Straddling my waist and resting back on my thighs, he dragged his hands over my chest, lightly at first.

  I squirmed. “Tickles,” I explained.

  He resumed his massage, pressing more firmly, kneading me.

  When he lowered to kiss me, his cock pressed against my belly. I snaked a hand under his shirt and lifted it so I could touch his abs. Lucas shifted his pelvis and aligned our cocks. I grabbed his ass, moaned with the contact and rolled my hips to get more.

  He slipped his lips off mine and hissed with pleasure. “Fuck,” he moaned. He lifted his upper body and gazed at me. With his arms locked beside me, he shifted again, sliding his dick over mine. He closed his eyes while he grinded against me.

  As good as that felt, I missed his lips. I tugged at him until his arms collapsed. Chest-to-chest, I held him tightly and kissed him hard, wanting to be more for him—sexier somehow, younger, more adventurous…anything. Recalling how he’d reacted to that playful spank in the parking lot, I forced myself to stop exploring his perfect, firm body long enough to lift my hand into the air and slam it down on his ass.

  He cried out and lust-filled eyes met mine. Oh, yeah. He likes that. I did it again, then a third time, eliciting a low growl from Lucas’ throat. The need to flip our dynamic surged through me. I rolled him off me and roughly yanked at his shorts.

  A foreign, brazen voice escaped my lips. “I need to see this thing for myself.” Usually, I was the man who tipped his ass in the air like a cat in heat and waited for pleasure, but at that moment, I became obsessed with making Lucas moan again. An exhilarating, unexpected desire spurred me into action.

  With my help, Lucas shimmied his shorts down, and I stripped them off, catching his foot awkwardly in the fabric. He yelped, and for a moment, my confidence faltered. “Sorry,” I murmured and turned his head so I could suck on his neck.

  “‘Isokay,” he breathed. “Fuck me.” He writhed under me. My hand found his cock and stroked. “Oh, God,” he cried.

  Without stopping to look, I knew his cock would be the biggest I’d ever seen up close. Wrapped around his girth, my fingers barely overlapped, and the weight of him was noticeably more substantial than my own. The second I slid down the shaft and realized his length could have easily accommodated a second hand beside mine, I lost my mind with desire. I ripped my mouth away from his neck, turned my head and watched myself stroke him. He moaned and arched into my touch. I licked my lips. His cock was long and thick, with prominent veins along the shaft and a helmet-shaped head. My own cock drooled at the sight of him pulsing into my hand.

  “Jesus,” I cried. I gawked at him and the same overconfident smirk he’d worn outside the library. “The pictures don’t do it justice.”

  He quirked his lip knowingly and rolled his eyes. Okay, apparently not the first time he’d heard those words. Anxiety crept into my thoughts, but I tamped it down. I had no intention of letting anything as silly as reality spoil the moment.

  “Take this off.” I tugged at his shirt. His upper body curled, and he yanked at the neck of his T-shirt, exposing his flexed abdominals. Hot damn. Eight perfectly sculpted ripples laid out in four symmetrical pairs covered the full length of his torso. A longer, equally solid muscle ran the narrow width of his pelvis below his navel, framed on both ends by flawlessly cut obliques. I reached for him, splayed my hand over his stomach and, before he even had his shirt pulled clear, scouted a path for my tongue to explore.

  I positioned myself at my starting line—his nipples. My previous experience with nipples had been mixed. Some of my lovers had enjoyed theirs tugged and played with, while others had bluntly told me to move along. I didn’t consider mine to be a particularly sensitive erogenous zone, but Lucas’—

  I licked my lips and rolled the soft bud in my mouth. I nibbled, scraping my teeth along the now-firm peak and assessed his sensitivity. He gasped, and I smiled against him, running my hands ahead of me while I weaved and licked my way over his torso. When he struggled to reach his cock, I removed his hand and pinned it to the mattress.

  I tightened my hold on his wrist, and he moaned so beautifully that I nearly gave up my resolve to go slow before I ravaged him.

  I tasted every inch of his torso, lavished every divot between every muscle and kissed my way from his belly button down toward his groin. All the while, he watched me.

  I clasped the back of his thighs and guided his knees to his chest, exposing him fully. I buried my face between his legs and kissed along the fleshy part of his inner thighs toward the jewel in the center. His smell drove me wild. I breathed him in before taking a slow, experimental lick down his shaft and over his balls.

  Lucas cried out, encouraging me with his breathy pants and a hand clutched to the top of my head. I licked from crown to base and sucked on the head, then moved lower to taste his entrance. Enjoying the tremble in his thighs against my hands, I held him in position and teased his opening.

  “Fuck,” Lucas exhaled in a rhythmic chant. His thighs quaked against my palms as I slowly lowered his legs.

  He curled up and grasped the back of my head when I
took his cock into my mouth, I kept his eye contact while he stretched my mouth and pulsed his hips up. The firm press of his palm turned to gentle caresses through my hair until Lucas’ body fell back to the bed and he whimpered noises of blissed-out pleasure. I stroked over his belly and massaged his muscles. He clasped his hand over mine and squeezed.

  “Fuck me, Kyle.”

  I loved the sound of his gravelly, ragged plea more than I should have. I doubled down on his cock and pressed a palm against my own. A moan escaped from deep in my throat, and he yanked on my hair and gasped, “Fuck, Daddy.”

  I glanced up between his legs, my mouth thoroughly stretched, and melted under an intense, eager stare. He needed me to play along. I could sense how badly he wanted to be manhandled and devoured. His desire to surrender rolled off him.

  With a tight grip on his hip, I rocked back and drew up to my knees. Yanking his left leg over his right, I turned him until he lay flat on his stomach. He wedged his hand underneath his body and adjusted himself. Soon, his swollen cock appeared between his thighs, so wantonly beautiful and laid out for me. I couldn’t help but take another lick.

  “Move your hands,” I demanded and tugged his arm so that his hands were again visible. “Grab my headboard and don’t move them until I tell you.” He peered back at me, a sliver of doubt in his expression, but I didn’t blink. Might as well go full balls-to-the-wall committed to his fantasy. I doubled down. “Do it.” I smacked his ass.

  He murmured something that sounded like a curse as I landed another hard spank on his exposed backside. A pink outline of my handprint remained visible when I pulled away. One glimpse of his ass bouncing after each thwack had me biting my lip to keep my arousal under control.