One (Love by Numbers Book 5)

by E. S. Carter

  “Fucking hell, Holy shit…” My head tips back and I have to close my eyes and will my hips to remain still as he fucks me with his mouth, lavishing my cock with long licks and demanding control of my pleasure by hollowing his cheeks and sucking me with relentless enthusiasm. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in eagerness. I’m seconds away from blowing my load right down the back of his throat and wouldn’t that be embarrassing.

  I look down into the lusty brown eyes that stare up at me through long, dark lashes. His lips reach the end of my cock, and he removes his mouth just enough to say, “I want all of you, Iz. Let go. I can take it.”

  His words, his mouth on my cock and his eyes filled with want for me and me alone, snap the cord on the last of my control.

  I cup his jaw tightly with my left hand before slowly raising it and placing both hands on the back of his fuzzy head. With a movement born of the need for release, I plunge my shaft back into his open mouth, and he closes around the invasion, sucking, licking and humming his desire as my hips thrust and glide my length at an aggressive pace in a bid to chase my release.

  He adds his hand into the mix, stroking his tight fist down to the base of my shaft in alternating movements to his naughty and talented mouth. The dual sensations plunge me over the edge.

  “I’m going to come,” I manage to warn him; giving him the chance to avoid a mouthful of everything I have to offer. Instead of pulling back, he increases his pace and slides his hands over my hips before digging his fingers into the cheeks of my arse. The move tears my orgasm from me and I come hard, rasping his name. My blunt fingernails dig into the soft scruff of his stubbled head, and he swallows everything I give him. Every. Last. Drop.

  Ruined.

  I’m totally fucking ruined.

  Isaac Fox just came down my throat, and I fucking loved it.

  His massive cock still pulses with aftershocks as I swallow down the last of his essence wishing I could do that again.

  Watching him come undone because of my mouth has to be the single most erotic experience of my life.

  And I want more.

  More of him.

  I want it all.

  Every thought I had about being with him and what that made me has been obliterated with the throaty sound of my name on his lips and the salty flavour of his lust exploding across my taste buds.

  As I kneel on the cold floor of his kitchen, his tall, leanly built frame towering over me, I don’t feel cheap, submissive or used. I don’t feel like any of the derogatory words I once used like pussy boy, homo or fag. I feel content, powerful and downright fucking horny for more.

  My cock weeps with the need to come and play. It’s practically crying in my pants, begging to be freed and to experience more of what Isaac Fox has to offer. Despite my burning need, I have no intention of allowing my cock anywhere near Isaac Fox.

  Not tonight.

  Tonight was about showing him I want him.

  Him. No one else. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m not a coward about to spout hurtful words because I’m too chicken to face what’s right in front of me.

  I want a man. Not any man, this man.

  Single, straight, Flynn Phillips aches with desire for another man.

  After everything I went through when my brother took his life, after seeing the man who broke the last fragile thread Clark had that tethered him to this world, still living his life with his wife and kids, I had finally moved past the hate. Watching that man play happy families while my brother was nothing but ash on the wind, scattered on a beach and swallowed by the waves, had broken something inside me. It had festered and putrefied into something grotesque and ugly, but Isaac had changed all that.

  No, I hadn’t fully accepted why Clark left us or why he hid who he was from me, his brother and best friend, but I had finally accepted it was nothing to do with the talented and painfully attractive man standing above me.

  “That was… wow. If I was marking you on your first attempt, that was a most definite eleven out of ten.” Isaac’s smile is teasing, his face one of a man still coming down after an intense orgasm. He looks a little giddy and a teeny bit shell-shocked. I like it a lot because I put that look on his too-handsome face.

  Me, the straight boy with so much baggage I could fill a fucking airport carousel.

  I rise to my feet, my ridged and over sensitised cock rubbing up against the back of my zip and causing me to wince and be forced to rearrange myself.

  Isaac’s gaze immediately focuses on the movement, and he takes a step forward. His semi-hard cock coming back to life with an impressive recovery time.

  Warily, I take a step back, shoving my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching out to touch him, which is a bad idea because all it does is restrict the amount of space my raging boner has to breathe.

  He stretches out his hands, hooking a finger from each into my belt hoops and playfully tugging me closer. His lips find mine in a whisper of a kiss, merely the fleeting touch of soft skin and he breathes, “Let me take care of you now.”

  God, I want that.

  Pulling my hands from my pockets, I place both on the firm wall of his chest and push him away just at the moment he begins to dip down to his knees. I catch him off balance, and he stumbles, his eyes widening with shock and confusion before shuttering and becoming guarded.

  This is the part he expected. He’s been waiting for the penny to drop and for me to show my true colours. But, this time, he couldn’t be more wrong.

  He abruptly bends to grab the waist of his jeans and begins to drag them up the firm contours of his legs. His actions scream of a man ready to bolt, prepared for the worst.

  I reach out and place my hands over his, stilling his movements, and he snaps his head up to stare at me.

  “Say it. Do your worst. It’s okay, Flynn. I’m a big boy. I can take it” His hands shake mine off, and he takes another step back before adding, “But once you’re done, turn around and walk out of that door and never, ever take me for a fucking fool again.” Anger pours off him in waves, and if I was about to say what he’s preparing himself to hear, I think I’d be landed with a punch to the jaw at the very least.

  That isn’t my intention, though. Stopping him for reciprocating wasn’t because I don’t want him or because I’m ashamed of what just happened between us, it’s because I want more than a quick blowjob on his kitchen floor.

  With steady hands, I reach out once more and close the distance between our bodies. He remains stock still, waiting for me to prove him right.

  “I know what you’re thinking…” I begin, and he opens his mouth to interrupt but I’m not done, and so I silence him with a soft shake of my head. “You’re waiting for the bile to flow from my lips, for the acid to pour from my lungs and for my disgust to burn everything in its path, including you.”

  When he doesn’t deny it, I continue by making the same move he pulled on me moments ago. I hook my fingers into his jeans and tug him forward until we are practically chest to chest.

  I can’t help looking from his eyes down to his luscious mouth, wondering if refusing to have those juicy lips around my cock is the single most stupid thing I’ve ever done in my adult life.

  “I don’t want you to reciprocate and not because I feel I owe you one…” I lift my eyes to stare into his hazel ones. “But because I wanted, no I needed our first encounter this time around to be about you and not me.” I shake my head and laugh lightly, “Not that I didn’t enjoy what I just did, because I fucking did, so I’m not a complete saint.” I release the grip of my right hand from his jeans and bring it up to cup his face, my skin tingling at the rough yet smooth sensation of his stubbled jaw across my palm.

  “I’ve never had a relationship, Iz. I’ve fucked a lot of women, I’ve enjoyed their company, but it was never anything more than sex. My head is spinning and not just because you’re a man but because I want more than that with you.” I try and maintain eye contact, but my cowardice wins out
. I drop my gaze back to his lips before finishing, “It’s more than just sex with you, and I’m kinda putting myself out there and hoping you feel this thing between us just as deep, just as hard as I do. Because I’m going to look like a right tit if all you wanted was to get your rocks off with me.”

  When I’ve finished admitting what I want, I lift my eyes to his hoping for acceptance and praying that he doesn’t decide my fucked-upness isn’t worth it. What I see in his hazel depths is indecision.

  That’s okay. I can work with that. I just tore off a layer of my soul and laid it at his feet, but he’s more than justified to stomp all over it and use it as a rug or even a doormat. I deserve to have his mud-encrusted size tens trample all over me.

  When he does speak, it hits me right in the solar plexus, knocking the air from my lungs and leaving me emotionally choked.

  “I’m not a one-person kind of guy, Flynn. It’s not me. I give, and I receive, and then I leave.”

  Fuck. That hurts like a bitch.

  I don’t realise I’ve closed my eyes until he whispers across my lips, “Open your eyes and look at me, Flynn fucking Phillips.”

  My lids snap open and I’m struck by the sheer emotion on his face when he says, “But this time I want to stay.” He smiles sweetly before continuing, “Someone recently told me a change is as good as a rest. I want to see where this goes. I want to rest awhile with you.”

  Now, as I lay alone in my empty bed, I replay every second of the night. From the initial buzz that washed over me when he first entered the pub, to the way he bantered with everyone when I kicked his arse at pool.

  I linger on the way my name poured from his lips as I drank him down, the silky smooth skin wrapped around his solid length and the taste of him exploding over my senses. But what I repeat more than anything is his parting words when he walked me to my door. Yes, he walked me across the street right up to my front door, his hand tightly holding mine the entire time.

  “I meant what I said, Flynn. This is as new to me as it is for you, and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t fucking petrified of the fallout, but as long as you’re in this with me, I’m willing to take that chance. If you want me in your life, put me there. It’s that simple.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply. He placed a single, soft kiss on my lips that had my still steel hard cock begging for just one touch and then turned and walked back over the road to his place. He stopped when he got to his front door, turned and gave me a small salute.

  If you want me in your life, put me there.

  Can it be that simple?

  Because I really fucking wanted him there.

  I’d only seen Flynn in passing for the last couple of days. The next few weeks’ filming were all going to be night shoots and between learning the ropes of my role as I go and watching playback of Flynn in his scenes- because if I couldn’t see him in person I’d take his psychotic killer persona- neither of us had chance to say more than a brief hello to each other.

  As I watched last night’s recording and tried and failed to concentrate on the cinematics instead of obsessing over a sexy, bald and scarred Flynn, Jake walks into my small trailer as if someone has set his arse on fire.

  “Rumour is you’re fucking one of my actors.”

  “Straight to the point as always. Shouldn’t you of all people be wary of listening to rumours? Wasn’t there a media storm about a love-child you were supposed to have fathered in the not so distant past?”

  I turn back around to the screen in front of me that I have unwittingly paused on a close-up image of Flynn.

  “You’re fucking Phillips? What the fuck, Iz!”

  Great. Just what I need.

  I spin back around in my chair and face my older brother. He glares at me, steam practically pouring out of his ears with the ferocity of his anger.

  “No. I am not fucking Phillips.” Yet. “And what fucking business is it of yours if I was? I’ve never got pissy with you about who you’ve stuck your dick into.”

  If possible, his fury intensifies, and I want to laugh at the comically ridiculous look on his face.

  “It’s my business because you are both working on my film. If things go tits up it’s me that will deal with the repercussions. Besides the fact, he’s a fucking straight man, Iz. For once can’t you just stick to pussy and while you’re at it, stick to pussy that has nothing whatsoever to do with my movie.”

  If there wasn’t a shred of truth to his words, this would be the time that Jake and I would come to blows. It’s never happened before, but then he’s never got all up in my business before.

  “I said,” I grit through my teeth, my anger slowly rising to match his, “I’m not fucking Flynn Phillips. You can choose to believe me or not. We’re friends. That’s it.”

  The door to my trailer slams shut with a heavy bang but not before I see the back of Flynn’s shaved head as he leaves.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me sideways.

  “Huh,” Jake mocks. “From the way he just stormed out of here I’d say you’re lying through your fucking teeth, brother.”

  “Fuck you, Jake,” I say as I shoulder check him on the way out of the door, hot on Flynn’s heels. Having him overhear the last tiny bit of our conversation isn’t going to do me any favours and lying to my brother is a shit thing to do, but until I know what Flynn and I are to each other there is no way I’m spilling my guts and setting myself up to fall.

  “Flynn! Wait up, slow down,” I yell over the bustling noise of the cast and crew who are meandering through the various backstage areas.

  “I know you can hear me, Phillips. Just wait a fucking minute would you.”

  I don’t give a fuck about the amount of attention I’m drawing towards us. I’m not letting him walk away from this, from what we started the other night until he hears me out.

  Flynn notices the stares and eyes that follow us as he power walks away from me and I chase after him like a lovesick girlfriend. So he picks up his pace, almost breaking into a full jog. He dodges past equipment and random set production and ducks down a tight passageway between two massive storage containers.

  I make a lunge for him, my body colliding with his built frame, momentum carrying us both into the metal siding with a loud thump.

  “I said to fucking wait a minute,” I pant out between harsh breaths while struggling to pin his front up against the container by using my entire body weight.

  “Get the fuck off me!” He thrashes and jerks until I take a step back and he wheels on me, fists raised.

  “You want to punch me? Take your shot. But I’m warning you. You’ll only get one chance.” I stare him down, waiting for the inevitable fist to my face. Instead, he stands there never lowering his arms, his body braced for violence, his chest heaving with the need to inflict pain.

  “We’re friends? That’s it?” He finally drops his hands to spread them before him. “Are we friends with benefits? Bros with blowjobs?” He steps forward to pin me against the opposite container, and my back hits the metal with a dull thud.

  “Or are we fuck all? Was this all a convenient way to pay me back for being a prick to you. Because I gotta say, Isaac, well fucking played. You win.”

  By now we are chest to chest but not in the good, ‘I’m about to fuck you’ kind of way, more like ‘I’m about to rip your arms off and use them to beat you into a pulp’ kind of way.

  “You didn’t hear the whole conversation. If you’ll let me explain you’ll realise what a complete idiot you’re being right now.”

  Wrong thing to say.

  “I’m being a fucking idiot? Me?” He growls out pushing into my chest like a silverback Gorilla before it tears it’s opponent apart.

  There is very little height difference between us, maybe an inch, but where I’m leanly muscled, Flynn is built like a brick wall and the difference in our bodies has never been more evident than it is right now.

  I shouldn’t be so completely turned on by his aggression but fuck me I am. I
f he was to bring our lower halves closer with one small step forward he’d feel just how much.

  Time to turn this testosterone show down a little.

  “Yeah, you are.” I temper my voice, removing any trace of anger and hoping to defuse his. “Jake accused me of fucking you and warned me away. The last thing I need is my brother on my case, and the last thing you need is your director on yours, so I told him what he needed to hear, nothing more nothing less.” He’s not buying this at all. So I continue, “Besides, it’s the truth. We haven’t fucked yet.” I punctuate the f-word with a languid lick of my dry lips. A trick he doesn’t miss and I’m close enough to see his pupils dilate and a flash of lust overtake the red mist in his stare.

  I wait for his fist to make contact because taunting an angry bear is sure to get me mauled and it does, violently, But not by his hands, by his mouth.

  With one brutal move, my arms are pinned to my sides, and his mouth is on mine. There is nothing sweet about this kiss, it’s angry, it’s violent, and it’s sure to draw blood with our clash of teeth and duelling tongues. I refuse to submit, despite his strength immobilising me. He takes and I take back, he demands, and I force the kiss further until his hips thrust against mine, and our heavy cocks are angrily rubbed against each other. Much more of this and I’ll be unable to walk or talk, but I don’t care because this base need between us, this unmistakable raw hunger we have for each other is potent and all consuming. Two dominant males are fighting for control, neither willing to give in. But something is going to have to give.

  I’m shocked when it’s Flynn who capitulates. His thrusts turn from angry to sensual, his mouth breaking from mine enough for us both to take a long breath before he returns to lick over my bruised lips, lovingly soothing away the sting.

  We slowly come down together until his forehead rests against mine and his hips lay flush against me.