by Karen Botha
I leave him, pecking his mouth as I hover over him to reach for the packet in the bedside drawer. I drop it on his chest as I concentrate on the tube of lube, unscrewing the cap and winking at him, “You want this then?”
I hover my silky finger over his groin and wait.
He grins, shifting his legs. “I’ve been wanting you to take me since before we went out last night.”
“What this?” I move as though to start work on him, but stop again, flashing him a naughty grin.
He replaces his ankles on my shoulders as he purrs at me, “Yes, I want that.”
“This?” My finger connects with his rosebud and I circle.
“Yes that. I need to feel you inside me, for us to be connected.”
I take my shaft in my left hand as I set his nerves racing with my right. I work around, dipping in, pulling out and then stroking up the sensitive strip toward his cock. “Oh, there,” he says as I run my nail lightly over the tiny section which bulges by his entrance. His legs stiffen against my body as his hips buck up.
Placing my finger inside him, I slide slowly up to my knuckle, linger a little working in some space before pushing all the way up until my hand knocks against his flesh on the outside as I press his tender nerves on his inside.
My finger swirls, causing his breath to catch, my cock throbs with excitement as my palm works its length, catching at my head and twisting in time with my fingers inside El.
Elliott
He’s so fucking hot. He’s kneeling between my legs, his cock poking up above my hips and I struggle to hold my eyes open as his fingers force against my g-spot, sending shooting sensations into my balls.
The reason I’m so determined to keep my eyes wide open is because he’s rubbing his stiff cock in time to his pressure inside me. It’s so fucking awesome watching him jacking off to me. It makes me crave for every inch of him.
My hand dives to my own shaft and I work it to the same rhythm. Every single one of my senses is on fire and I can’t imagine a world without this man sharing it with me.
He removes his finger and I feel empty, but just for a second. He replaces it with two which he forces inside with smooth dexterity, only pushing just enough. I relax, allowing him more space to move without contraction before sucking my breath in as he reaches my spot and knows instinctively what I need.
The wrapper has been lying on my chest. I rip it apart and struggle to manipulate the slippery rubber through the waves crashing around my body. I’d love for us to not need these anymore but one thing at a time. I already almost scared him off last night. I ignore the thought, refocus back on the moment, on the sensations riding up my body at free will and course around every vein, filling each with electricity that lights up my soul.
Folding the rubber over his shaft, our eyes meet. Gone is the tentativeness they held during our conversation, They gleam with acceptance, with a strength he just needed time to find. I’m a risk taker by nature. Kyle needs more time, but he’s on this journey with me. He understands me and he’s accepting our conjoined future.
He slips inside me and still our eyes are linked. His dark pools are hooded, heavy with passion as he moves, slow and deep. As he withstands the pressure of my ankles on his body, I’m pushing him deeper, giving everything of myself to him.
Our speed increases and the movement breaks our gaze. We slip into our own worlds of grunting and gasping, clamoring for the ultimate pleasures without being greedy and halting our fun too soon.
His fingers bite into my hips as he grabs me, pulling against me. My hand slides over my cock. The lube has worked dry, but I rub anyway, the burn making this more raw. I cum all over myself as he releases inside me with one final forward thrust of his groin crushing my balls upwards as I empty them over my stomach.
“That was intense,” he whispers through his heavy breaths.
I bite my bottom lip, words not necessary.
Kyle
Elliott moves quickly, I’ll give him that. Clifford calls me later that day and has already drafted a letter that he wants to check with me before he forwards it on Elliott’s behalf to Madeline.
“I just need to make sure I have the details correct, Kyle, that’s all,” he says in his old school English accent.
“Sure, what is it?”
He reads me the statement which basically states she has no chance of getting any money from Elliott, because even if she were due anything, the fact that we’d already started divorce proceedings before she changed her requirements would weaken her legal position.
“Then, I have this final paragraph which I want to check with you,” he says.
“OK.” I’m walking over to the transport taking us to the airport, but I stop in the middle of the pathway and listen. This is obviously his reason for calling.
“OK, here goes.” He pauses, but I don’t fill the silence. “As legal counsel for Mr. Elliott Judd and Mr. Kyle Beaumont, we strongly advise you to sign the documentation pertaining to the legal dissolution of your marriage to Mr. Kyle Beaumont with immediate effect. Not only will we contest your every action from here on in if you don’t, but we shall do so with the maximum force at our considerable disposal. We would also like to take this opportunity to inform you that the offer you are currently in receipt of will be rescinded within three working days from your receipt of this letter. Any future subsequent offers will be of a lesser financial value.”
He pauses and so do I. The cut throat nature of our divorce just hit me between the ears. There’s no room for niceties here anymore.
“Is that correct and of course acceptable to you?” Clifford breaks my thoughts.
“Yes, I think so.” I stumble over my words, “She started this whole thing, didn’t she? We just want to finish it.”
“Exactly my boy. Of course if you choose to increase your offer to her at a later date, there is nothing in this letter which is binding. But in my opinion, the settlement you have provided her is more than adequate and the need to do so would not be advised.”
“Thank you Clifford. Please go ahead and process this as you see fit.”
We say our good byes and I shuffle onto the coach in a blur. It’s not like I’m naïve. I know this is what was needed to get rid of Madeline and stop her from trying to grasp at any successes my future may hold, but hearing the words in the cold light of day are harsh. Harsher than I’d been prepared for, anyway.
I wrestle with my thoughts, pushing the guilt aside and reminding myself that if she hadn’t started going after Elliott then she wouldn’t have encountered the full force of his considerable legal team. She must be a fool to take him on. But then I realize she probably didn’t expect to be taking him on. She knows the old Kyle and by letting Elliott take a hold of this, it’s clear I’m changing. Whether that is for the better or worse is still open for debate.
Elliott
There’s no time between now and the next race to go home, so we’re making a short hop over to our next location, Singapore. It’s one of the fan’s favorite tracks as it’s a street circuit which although allows less overtaking, is generally considered to be more exciting to watch due to the intricate nature of the bends. The roads are closed a few days in advance to allow the project teams to create the circuit. We arrive and set up, but whereby normally we have a purpose made track to work within, here space is limited and people’s houses and hotels are in the way.
We’ve been doing it for years, so our systems are streamlined now, but every year the humidity and cramped conditions send someone off in a tantrum.
Thankfully, today it’s Brad my team mate and biggest rival which will hopefully set his psychological preparation for the race off to a poor start thus pushing my chances of another win forward. My mood is further buoyed by having gotten rid of that money grubbing whore Kyle was married to before we met. Her signed documents arrived back this morning and so within weeks, he will be a free man.
I say free, when really I mean, free for me. He is anything
but available.
When I spoke with Clifford, he had something else to discuss though it then proceeded to sour my good spirits. “Now, this matter of Noah. I know we’re not mentioning it to Kyle, but I need to speak to you about it when you have a free second.”
“Now is good. I’m alone.”
I hear his starched shirt collar catch the phone as he nods. “I’ve sent the private investigator to his house as we discussed.”
“Yes.”
“You were right. Everything was fine until our guy made it to his loft. Noah had an office set up out of the way of prying eyes. It was quite disturbing; would you like me to send you the pictures?”
“No, that’s fine. I wouldn’t want them to be found. Just describe what was there.”
He takes a breath. “It was full of photos of you and Kyle, or just Kyle. Noah wasn’t lying Elliott. He knows where Kyle lives. It looks like he’s been hanging around for a long while. Certainly from before you met him in the bar. There are pictures of Kyle’s father leaving the premises.”
I clap my hand over my mouth. “You need to make sure he’s kept behind bars, Clifford. Kyle is being pig headed about moving in with me. I have no protection for him at the moment.”
“Well, there’s no panic right now. Your charges will keep him detained until the trial. And of course we will prepare accordingly for a full restriction of his liberty. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem considering that we have proof of him threatening you.”
“I’m so thankful I sent everything to you before he managed to get in and delete my phone history. It chills my spine.”
“I’m sure it does and of course that will also go against his case.”
We hang up and I’m left wondering how I could have underestimated him so badly. And what set him off? Why did Noah suddenly decide to start wanting me again? It doesn’t matter and won’t affect the case, but with so many years of silence, it’s odd how he would all of a sudden just latch back onto me and the warped idea that we had the potential for a loving relationship.
Kyle
“This is the joy of you being on the road with me. We can enjoy these wonderful places together rather than just hanging around with the jocks.” Elliott’s fingers brush over my hand which rests on the table between us.
I don’t reply; there’s no need. Instead, I let out a contented sigh. I'm no longer swimming in concrete. The stresses I didn't realize were affecting me have lifted and I've come up for air. It's like I can see the glow of the world again as the Singapore harbor twinkles below against the backdrop of the ebony night.
Elliott brought me here before whisking me off for dinner at a surprise location. He's incredibly excited about the treat, but even so our energy is calm. We're luxuriating in a rare moment toward the back end of the season, when work doesn't infringe on our personal time. We cleared our calendars in advance, but it's fortuitous timing as tonight is also a celebration as my divorce came through today. I can’t think of a more appropriate way to honor that than spending the night with the most wonderful and giving person I have ever met.
Elliott looks at his wrist. “Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t leave.” He stands, straightening his shorts with flat palms and waits at the edge of the table where we’ve been relaxing.
“I hadn’t noticed the time. This is so perfect, the view, the company... the ambiance.” I wink. “I can't believe we have to move." I haul my ass out of the comfy chair anyway.
“Oh, this is nothing.” He holds his arm out for me to pass in front of him as we make our way out onto the busy streets. The humidity slaps us in the face as soon as we’re out of the air conditioning and within seconds, perspiration starts to form on my back.
“Here we are.” Elliott is glowing like an excited child to show me where we’re eating.
It’s quite underwhelming, an old black and white detached house, circa 1900’s. Or something. I try to look like I’m more enthusiastic than the flatness in the pit of my stomach allows.
“Where is this?” I smile to take the edge off my words. We’ve just come from one of the most iconic buildings on the entire Island to an outpost in the middle of some tropical gardens.
“This is the home to one of the founding fathers of Singapore as we know it. He planted all of this.” Elliott by now is out of the taxi and waving his arms around the lush vegetation. All I can think of is I’m going to be eaten alive by all the tropical bugs buzzing around our heads. I swell up like a blimp when the pests suck my blood and I can do without itching myself like a swollen madman while trying to change tires at maximum speed in a few days. I resist the urge to swat them away and smile, showing my genuine appreciation to him for bringing me to a place away from the rat race which obviously required some special thought.
I do however, dash inside. I do so as casually as possible so as not to seem like I'm rushing him and therefore spoiling his treat. But, I make sure my pace is on the brisk side. Elliott is left following in my wake.
“Hello, we are pleased to welcome you this evening. May I take the name of your reservation please?”
I give Elliott’s name and our host runs a perfectly manicured nail across a computer screen which seems out of place. The building inside is impeccably designed, the end result being a beautiful dark wood blend of old and new.
“No, I don’t seem to have that...” She looks over her glasses which are perched on the edge of her nose.
Elliott walks in, grinning. “It’s in your name,” he explains.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s dangerous booking anything in my name with so many fans descending on an area.”
Our host pretends she hasn’t heard and finds Kyle Beaumont on her list.
“Lovely. You’re in the Whispering Corner. Please, do follow me.”
Elliott
I’ve been here on private functions with sponsors once before and the memory of the tastes that exploded in my mouth have been begging me to return. I can't tell you how pleased I am to be coming back properly with Kyle. Last time was different as we had the exclusive run of the entire restaurant so I didn't enjoy the full benefit of what I know this place has to offer.
Today I've booked us into the 'Whispering Corner' which is a private dining space on the second floor of this unique restaurant that cooks with ingredients inspired by and taken from the botanical gardens outside.
Our table overlooks the mass of amazing vegetation and it's like we’re looking out from the window of an air conditioned tropical treehouse rather than an old colonial house come restaurant.
Plus, being totally separate from the rest of the diners, we don't have to worry about anyone listening in as we celebrate Kyle's shackles to Madeline being relinquished.
“How lovely,” Kyle says, as our waiter for the evening pulls out his chair and introduces himself.
We sit for a few seconds staring at the view before Kyle opens his menu. “What to have? I’m starving.”
“That’s the only downside with this place; there’s no a la carte option,” I explain. “It’s a set meal only, but the food is amazing.”
“Oh?” He peruses his menu and studies the details anyway. “I don’t know what any of this is Elliott.”
“Me neither.” I grin, I love not truly knowing what the meal is going to be and being surprised by a detonation of unexpected flavors popping against my palette.
Even though we’re in such a beautiful place, I can’t enjoy the optional wine pairing as we’re so close to the race. It’s only because this food is so light that I’m risking eating something other than my strict diet. It’s not every day the man you’d like to someday marry ends up free from his ex, and I want us to remember this as a landmark in our shared life together. The waiter arrives with my large bottle of water.
I only detect trouble when the first small plate of food is delivered with aplomb. I pretend I’ve not noticed, but Kyle’s face is not impressed.
The waiter explains, “We have oysters
with a Japanese chili seasoning.” He then continues with some other bits that are difficult to ascertain due to his soft voice and strong accent, but I do catch caviar.
Kyle nods, but that enthusiasm that comes with being genuinely excited but something is missing. He’s flat. Rather than ask what’s going on, I try to overcompensate. “Wow, doesn’t this look amazing?” I go on to tell him about the food that I had the last time I came. “It was only nibbles on serving platters then though. And I couldn’t savor it as I was taking bites between making polite conversation with rich sponsors who needed their egos massaged. I’ve been desperate to come back since, but it’s never been the right occasion.”
Kyle has his fork in hand, and he’s pushing the delicacy around his small white plate without picking anything up and tasting. I watch him but don't make a comment. When he does venture to place the food into his mouth, he over chews. The oyster must double in size as it tends to when you're eating a plateful of food you hate merely to be polite. I watch as he tries to swallow several times but fails and his toilsome chewing continues.
I don’t know why, maybe because I realize I’ve screwed up and I so want this to be a perfect evening, but I still don’t acknowledge that this type of over contrived menu is not his thing.
When he graciously receives his next platter his fork takes up the same motion of shoving his food around his plate rather than delivering it to his mouth. And when the next arrives. And the next.
We finally finish and the night has been torture. I’m sure it has been for him, but for me too. He’s left half of the food on the side, spreading it out to look as though he’s eaten more than he did. I'm willing to bet my poor love is still starving. I love him all the more for trying so hard to do what he thinks will make me happy.