by Hayes, Lane
“What are you waiting for?” I asked breathlessly.
“You. Are you sure you want this?”
“Hell, yes.” I rubbed my palm over his hard-on and reached for his hand, setting it over my crotch. “I want everything.”
“Whips and boots and—”
“No. Just you. I want you to fuck me.”
His nostrils flared in appreciation. He kissed me once more, smacked my ass, and stepped toward the bed. “Take your clothes off and lie down. I want to look at you.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right here. Go on.”
I kept my eyes locked on his as I hurried to obey. I should have felt a smidge awkward considering I’d been his accountant until yesterday. The second that thought materialized, my brain conjured an office sex scene with me bent over the conference table while Lars drove into me from behind. I kicked off my shoes, shed my shirt, khakis, and finally slipped my thumbs under the elastic of my briefs, pushed the fabric down, and freed my rigid cock. I grabbed myself at the base and gave him a searching look.
“I need to see you too. Please.”
“You will. Lie down.”
I pulled back the sheets and lay on the mattress, propping my arms under my head. Lars crooked his lips in a devilish grin as he threaded his belt from the buckle and slowly unzipped his trousers. I wasn’t sure if he was purposely staging a striptease, but every bit of skin he revealed made me tremble with need. I loved his body. I loved the thatch of gray hair covering his barrel chest, the curve of his belly, and his muscular thighs. And my God, that cock was a thing of beauty. He was thick and long and very fucking sexy.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered reverently.
Lars widened his eyes comically. “Me? I don’t think so. You’re the pretty one.”
I huffed at the idea. “I’m old and I’m too skinny and you’re—”
“You’re perfect. Now hush and let me look at you.”
He crawled over me, smoothing his palms over my stomach before tweaking my tits. I writhed under his touch and lifted my hips, hoping he’d get the hint without making me beg. He pushed my knees to my chest and caressed the sensitive skin of my upper thigh. Then he finally reached for my cock and gripped me in a tight fist.
“Oh, fuck. That feels good,” I said in a strangled-sounding voice.
“I can do better than that.”
He stroked me from base to tip a couple of times, bending to lick my balls. I arched my back and swayed my hips, wordlessly requesting more. His beard brushed against the sensitive area under my balls in the best possible way. And when he flattened his tongue and flicked it over my hole, I went a little crazy. I tugged his hair and rolled my hips to give him better access, chanting a litany of “Don’t stop” until the pleasure threatened to push me over the edge too soon.
“No. No more. I don’t want to come yet,” I gasped, pushing at his forehead.
Lars licked a path along my dick, stopping to suck the head for a moment. He released me with a pop, then bent over my torso to retrieve a bottle of lube and a condom from the nightstand drawer. I hooked my legs around his waist and sucked his left nipple, loving his low groan of approval. I did the same to the other and pushed at his chest until he got the hint and rolled over.
I didn’t waste any time. I crouched between his thighs, gripped his thick cock, and swallowed him whole. Lars roared somewhere above me. The raw carnal noise did something to me. I was so fucking needy. I bobbed my head wantonly, sucking and licking my lover in a frenzy. I wanted everything at once. I reached for my throbbing member and jacked myself as I worked him over. I backed off when I felt a telltale tingle trip along my spine.
“You have to fuck me now. I’m not gonna last and I just—I need you.”
Lars captured my face between his hands and kissed me hard. I shifted off him and stared at the ceiling while he rolled a condom on and lubed up. He massaged my entrance gently and slipped a single digit inside. I squeezed my eyes closed, willing myself to relax as he slowly slid it in and out. He added a second finger, then the tip of a third before pulling away, replacing his fingers with his sheathed cock. I bit my lip and inclined my head.
“I’m ready. Please,” I said.
Lars lowered his forehead to mine and pushed. Inch by inch, he made his way inside me until he was balls deep. He stopped to kiss me and brush the hair from my eyes. The sweetness of the tender touches juxtaposed with the steady rocking of hips was sublime. The momentum built slowly in a subtle give and take. I’d never felt quite so in sync with a lover. We moved as one until he rose above me, gripping the edge of the headboard for purchase. He upped the tempo, thrusting into me over and over until I had no choice but to fall apart. I clutched his ass and held him close. “I’m gonna—”
“That’s it. Come for me, baby,” he commanded.
I did. And he was right there with me.
The silence in the aftermath intimidated me. I never knew the right things to say or who was supposed to be the one holding whom. Even though the sex wasn’t great, it had been easy with Kate. With men, I was lost. But not tonight. Lars gathered me to his side. It felt perfectly natural. Like coming home. I shifted my weight to look at him, mortified when tears welled in my eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing his thumb over my cheek.
“Yes, I’m—I know this is going to sound crazy but…I think this is a good place to start again. Here. With you.”
Lars laced his fingers through mine and kissed our joined hands. “Yes. It’s never too late, Jeff. Never.”
He lifted the duvet to cover us. I closed my eyes and let myself drift into a funny state of mind where pieces of my past collided with my present. So many years of pent-up desires, wants, and needs. So much time spent denying who I was. I’d had my share of feeling hollow and separate from the people I loved the most. I’d felt shame, sorrow, and helplessness. I’d put on a brave face for years. Acted in a play of my own making, powerless to change and unwilling to take the risk either way. But now, I was free. And I was more than ready to lean into a new start.
Leaning Into a Wish
Ryan Haskell loves everything about the wine business. He's fortunate to work at one of the most prestigious wineries in Napa Valley doing something he enjoys with the people who are like family to him. But he could do without the good-natured intern slash former jock with the wicked grin who always seems to be in the way. Ryan isn’t sure why the new guy is under his skin when everyone else loves him. Thankfully he'll be gone after the holidays.
Danny Meyers can’t believe his luck when he lands an internship at Conrad Winery. It’s the perfect temporary gig to wrap up his graduate studies. He's left his dreams of tennis stardom on the court to focus on a new career and a new life. However, he didn't count on the spark of attraction he feels for his prickly co-worker. When their tentative friendship blossoms into something more than either man counted on, they may have to change direction and lean into a holiday wish.
Chapter 1
“A lovely thing about Christmas is that it’s compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together.”—Garrison Keillor, Leaving Home
Burgundy liquid kissed the rim before cascading elegantly into the wineglass. The gaggle of young women on the other side of the bar gasped with pleasure as though they’d never witnessed anyone quite so talented at the art of pouring. No doubt they were a few wineries into their Napa Valley girls’ weekend getaway, but their wide-eyed wonderment still made me smile. I filled four glasses with the standard “tasting” amount then slid one in front of each of them.
“This is our Pinot Reserve,” I paused until they’d all taken a sip before adding, “You might note a hint of fruit like raspberries or—”
The boisterous guffaw a few feet away threw me off stride. I cleared my throat, hoping to send a signal to my coworker without interrupting him but as usual, Danny was in his own world. He had no clue that his voice carried across
the cavernous tasting room and ricocheted off the walls. Apparently he thought he was back in college, flirting with a posse of sorority girls after a football game. He’d brought his A-game this afternoon for sure, charming the hell out of the other half of the girls’ party with an ease I would have admired…if he’d just tone it down a notch.
I continued my spiel about the broad range of the Pinot’s bouquet, flavor, and texture, but I couldn’t help stealing surreptitious side-eyed glances at the action next to me. Three pretty women in their late twenties leaned over the bar, twittering merrily at the intern’s snappy repartee. I had to hand it to the guy. Danny’s affable, good ol’ boy demeanor paired with a winning smile, twinkling blue eyes, and killer body were only a few of his natural assets. He also had a brain. Every time I started to reprimand him about his overly friendly style of wine pouring, I overheard him giving in-depth information regarding grape varietals and their sensitivities to weather fluctuations. He knew his stuff and he could sell. In fact, he currently had the lead in our monthly in-house sales contest.
Asshole. I hated Danny Meyers.
Okay, fine. That was a lie. I tried, but it was hard to dislike him. Danny was just too damn good-natured and upbeat. He reminded me of a six-foot-two Energizer bunny—always grinning and looking at the bright side. How annoying was that?
“Hey, Ry, we need your help on this one. What did the grape say before it was crushed?”
I turned to give him an exasperated look before replying in a clipped tone. “I don’t know.”
Danny rolled his eyes then held his hand out in invitation for my customers to weigh in. “Would any of you care to give it a try? So far we have, ‘Don’t make me into jelly,’ ‘Harder please,’ ‘Raisins suck,’ and ‘I don’t know.’ Usually I’d say there’s no wrong answer but in this case, I think I’ve got four lemons.”
“Where’s the lemonade?” one of his customers exclaimed with a drunken snort that sent both our parties into a new round of hysterics.
I pasted a tight smile on my face, stepped sideways, then bumped Danny’s shoulder and lowered my voice for his ears only. “You’re overpouring. Time to cut them off.”
He caught my elbow before I could move away and leaned in so close his breath tickled my earlobe. “Relax, Ry. They have an air-conditioned, chauffeur-driven bus waiting to whisk them to the next wine stop. Don’t poop on their party.”
I tugged on his snug-fitting black T-shirt and pointed at the Conrad Winery logo emblazoned on the front. “This isn’t a bar. It’s a respected winery. You don’t get extra credit for selling wine and getting phone numbers on the sly. Remember where you are. If you want to meet up with hot chicks after work, go for it. But right now, you’re on company time.”
Danny’s perpetual smile morphed from inviting to something closer to downright dangerous in seconds flat. And fuck, that cocky grin went straight to my dick.
“Chicks? Show some respect, Haskell. That is your last name, right? ’Cause if it isn’t Conrad, I’m pretty fucking sure I don’t work for you.”
Then he winked at me before turning back to his customers. Yes, winked. I stood there, seething for a few moments, unsure I was capable of opening up my mouth without going ape-shit crazy. And it wasn’t because he’d just put me in my place midpour. It was what I had a feeling he’d do next that drove me nuts.
“All right, folks, in a twist it seems my coworker here actually does know what the grape said before it was crushed…but Ryan’s a little shy. He’s gonna need some encouragement.” Danny held up his hands like an orchestra conductor and led his small audience in an obnoxious chant of, “Tell us, tell us,” until I finally gave in.
“Nothing, but it may have whined a little,” I said through my teeth.
The room erupted with an immediate whoop of laughter followed by a round of applause. I tried to play it off and refocus my customers’ attention on whatever special properties about the wine I could remember, but my concentration was shot. I would have loved to clear the room and start over again with a new group of wine enthusiasts and ideally, a different intern. This one was too fucking irritating. But my fairy godmother was absent yet again or simply done taking my requests. I was on my own. With Danny Meyers and his fan club.
I leaned against the sleek wood bar and perused the tasting room as my customers chatted amongst themselves. A group of middle-aged friends from the city lounged on the leather chairs facing the gigantic stone fireplace on the other side of the room, and a few couples were scattered around the bar area, sampling Conrad’s finest. Geordie, my immediate boss and co-owner of the winery, was engaged in an animated conversation with a heavyset older man sitting at one of the high-top tables next to the picture window overlooking the vineyard. I didn’t see Lauren, but she was probably at the register.
We were short-staffed for a Saturday crowd. Even in late October on a postharvest beautiful Northern California day, it was unusual to have this many walk-ins before closing time. The Conrad Winery staff was competent and more than capable of handling unexpected clients, but the steady barrage was exhausting. One of the interns hadn’t shown up, which left the rest of us to pick up the slack. Normally, I enjoyed the frenetic pace and I could happily talk about all aspects of the wine business to anyone interested. But today, I was over it. My feet hurt, I was tired, and I wanted to get away from Danny before I gave in to the urge to smack him upside his handsome head.
I mulled over my evening plans, which basically came down to “Netflix and chill.” The new Planet of the Apes looked good. Maybe I’d order a large pizza, open a bottle of vino, put my feet up and—
“What time is that thing at Wes and Nick’s place tonight?” Danny asked, breaking me from my reverie.
Oh. Yeah.
“It’s right after closing,” I replied matter-of-factly as though his reminder hadn’t just crushed my hopes for a quiet night at home.
Whatever. Wes’s impromptu postharvest gatherings were usually fun. Everyone at the winery worked their asses off between August and October. Harvest was an intense season that required maximum energy on a minimal amount of sleep. It took an enormous amount of manpower to pick the grapes, process, and crush them. And time was of the essence.
Conrad Winery was inundated with a bevy of interns willing to work their fingers to the bone for minimum wage and course credits. They came in eager and ready to prove themselves in their chosen field and left in a state of utter exhaustion. Most retreated home in mid-October to catch up on their sleep, lick their wounds, and sometimes start physical therapy for chronic carpal tunnel. No joke. Harvest kicked ass and took names later. Only a few of the scrappier souls were granted the honor of continued employment at the winery afterward. Six years ago, I was one of them. And now…Danny.
I doubted he’d stay though. He might last through the holidays but come January, there’d be nothing to keep him here. Off-season was for vintners and hardcore wine lovers. Not for pretty boys who thrived on female attention.
“Gotcha. Wait for me after work. We can walk up there together,” Danny said conversationally.
I eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
“I’m scared of the dark, Haskell. Why else?” He flashed a Cheshire cat grin at me before turning back to his adoring customers.
See what I mean? Annoying.
* * *
The tasting room doors closed at six, but it usually took twenty minutes or more before the last few patrons left for the night and another twenty to straighten up for the cleaning crew. I tidied my section of the bar then pulled out my phone and scrolled through email messages while I waited for Geordie, Lauren, and Danny to finish.
“Do you want a ride home, Ry? I want to change first. I feel too grubby for a swanky dinner at Chez Conrad,” Lauren groused as she hooked her purse over her arm.
“No, thanks. If I go home, I won’t want to come back. I’m exhausted.”
“Me too, but I heard Wes hired a chef from that new Spanish fusion restauran
t in town. I wouldn’t miss this for a box of mac n’ cheese, that’s for sure. And now that the bulk of the newbies are gone, it will be more intimate,” she commented, casting a quick glance toward Danny who was chatting with Geordie under the giant spherical chandelier delineating the main tasting room and the adjoining lounge area.
I narrowed my gaze and gave her a sharp look. “You have a crush on the intern.”
“Shh! I do not. I think he has a girlfriend back in Denver anyway. But I sure hope he lasts through the holidays. Gotta love Christmas eye candy,” she said, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. “See ya there, Ry.”
Geordie waved when Lauren called out a quick good-bye, then he clapped and motioned for me to join him and Danny. “Are you ready, darling? You and Danny can escort me as far as my place. I call middle!”
I snickered at Geordie’s over-the-top fabulousness and then glanced at Danny, half expecting him to be taken aback. Then again, he had to be somewhat used to Geordie by now. Geordie owned shares in the winery and though he deferred most decisions to Wes, the tasting room was his domain. He ran it with a precision that should have been a model for any major corporation. Minus the part about breaking into show tunes randomly throughout the workday.
In the truest sense, Geordie was a character. He was a painfully lean six-foot-four, fortysomething-year-old ultra-fabulous Mexican-American gay man with flawless olive skin and high cheekbones who loved musicals and good laughs. Geordie peppered his black wardrobe with colorful accessories like embroidered gold slippers and bracelets jangling from both wrists. He wore black to honor his deceased partner. It had been over two years since Mike passed suddenly. It was a horrible blow to everyone. We’d all lost a comrade and a friend, but Geordie lost the love of his life. In some ways, he was himself again. He smiled more often now, and he sang all the damn time. But every once in a while, I caught him staring into space with a look of such profound sadness, it shook me to the core. I couldn’t imagine what that kind of love was like. Or if the loss was worth it.