Always Desire

by James, J. P.

  Behind us, the lights of the restaurant shine dimly, casting us in a glow. Ours is one of the few cars still left in the guest lot since nearly everyone has already gone home, but that’s normal. I’m the captain of the ship, so I’m almost always the last to leave. The valet brings up my car, and I help Milo inside.

  After slipping the valet a fifty dollar bill, I climb behind the wheel of the black Mercedes and, after making sure Milo is buckled in, pull out into the late Friday night traffic.

  I squeeze my lover’s hand. Oddly, it’s cold under mine, but then again, the restaurant itself was little chilly tonight. I should’ve gotten him an overcoat in addition to this tux. Or at least a scarf of some sort. I add that to my mental list for next time.

  Meanwhile, Milo’s hands twitch a bit beneath mine, and I squeeze his fingers. Next time he has a performance, I’ll get him something special and extravagant that’ll blow him away. I can’t wait.

  Plus, I know just what that will be. I grin at the thought of his reaction when he sees. He’s going to be amazed and, hopefully, grateful enough to let me keep him in bed all day and night.

  My cock twitches in my slacks, but I tamp down on the sudden desire. Now isn’t the time.

  I look over at Milo and can’t help but smile. Every time we kiss and touch, he matches me, touch for touch. Because of this and so many other things, I’m the luckiest SOB alive.

  Because of my Milo, tonight was a success in more ways than one. At the restaurant tonight, I managed to snag quite a few new clients who were more than willing to invest. With the amount of money that they’ll help bring in, I can really play the market and make a killer profit, not to mention buy my handsome songbird something truly spectacular.

  I look over at him again to see him squeezed tight against the passenger door, arms crossed over his broad chest and knees angled away from me. His eyes are staring through the closed window, and he hasn’t said a word since he got in the car.

  “You okay, baby?”

  His soft grunt is all I get back. His diamond cufflinks wink in the passing city lights.

  Odd. Maybe he’s thinking about his performance tonight and analyzing it from every angle like I sometimes do after a really important business deal. I’m tempted to ask, but instead I leave him to his thoughts. There are a couple of things I need to deal with myself anyway.

  Instead of pulling right into the underground parking, I bring the car up to the front door of our building. Milo sags against the interior of the vehicle; he hasn’t said anything to me the whole ride, and is really in his head right now. But then again, he must be exhausted from tonight’s performance.

  “Go on upstairs, baby. You look too tired to be on your feet. I’ll park the car and come right up.”

  He nods silently and swings those long legs out. His handsome face looks both tense and tired, but then he turns away resolutely, closing the car door behind him with a soft thud. That’s really odd. Usually Milo is at least polite, but tonight it seems that weariness is pushing him to the brink of being rude.

  I shake away these thoughts because there’s too much money to be made. It doesn’t take me long to park the car, but between the parking garage and the front door, more ideas come to mind. My profits are pretty high, but I want to do the numbers to make sure this round of clients will take me where I want to be financially.

  Tugging off my tie, I head straight to my office while several possibilities race through my head. Stephanie Van Deene is already with me, but I know her sister is looking for a way to maximize her own personal fortune. I’ll give her a call tomorrow, and then follow up with a couple other people.

  At my desk, my fingers work at the keyboard, and before I know it, it’s four in the morning. Damn. I didn’t mean to stay up this late. Quickly, I wrap it up and close my laptop. But it’s a little too late. In our bedroom, Milo is already fast asleep.

  He looks so handsome and delectable, sprawled in the bed. Utter exhaustion paints his face, and yet when I slide in beside him, he unconsciously cuddles against me, instantly becoming my little spoon. His delicious ass brushes against my sleepy cock, waking it up just a little.

  I’m tempted, but restrain myself. We’ll have time to fool around tomorrow. A soft moan leaves his throat when I smooth my hand down his shoulder and down that broad back. I lean down, overcome with my feelings for this wonderful man, and kiss his forehead.

  “I love you, my songbird.”

  Then I pull the covers up over his shoulder and lie down to join Milo in peaceful sleep.

  21

  Milo

  A month later.

  Sweat runs down my face and throat, hot and salty, as I run the last mile back to the penthouse. Stinging breath burns my lungs, but at least my body feels absolutely amazing.

  Usually, I run a total of six miles in the park before slow jogging home. But these past few weeks, I’ve been feeling so anxious that I’ve doubled the distance. Now I go for an entire twelve miles because the physical exertion wears me out and helps me calm down a bit. At least when I can barely breathe, the troubles in my life seem to fade a bit.

  Thud, thud. Breathe. Thud, thud. Breathe.

  My shoes slap against the New York City pavement. Inhaling evenly and deeply, I weave through the pedestrians and other joggers, racing by tall trees waving in the breeze, and past women with their strollers and bright-eyed toddlers.

  This is my anti-depression medication. I could go see a therapist, but this is free and something that Neil will never notice. No matter how early I have class, I make time to run to the park and back, keeping myself in shape and my brain distracted. Yet, the words are always on the tip of my tongue:

  Neil, are you cheating on me?

  Who was that voluptuous blonde?

  I know you like men and women, but really – her?

  But there never seems to be a good time to confront him. A month of opening my mouth and almost blurting these words has worn down my nerves.

  That ends today. I have to tell him the truth, no matter the consequences.

  Thud, thud. Breathe. Thud, thud. Breathe.

  “Hey Marshall,” I greet the doorman when I get into the building, still huffing from my cool-down.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Barnett.” He nods as I pass him to take our private elevator up to the top floor.

  It’s a Saturday, but Neil stepped out to do some work thing this morning. In the last month or so, he’s been slaving away harder than ever, but also seems energized by it. Three nights out of five, he works late at the office. He also goes in for a couple of hours on the weekends now, and of course, my suspicions have been triggered. Is he seeing that woman? Is he seeing another man? Why does he have so many appointments all of a sudden?

  If he wasn’t still passionate in bed, I’d have confronted him already. But the fireworks always start as soon as we hit the mattress, and my bottom has been constantly sore from his relentless pounding. Still, it makes me sad that I don’t feel like I belong. I live in his penthouse, I eat his food and breathe his air, and yet I’m afraid to ask a simple question.

  “Why am I such a coward?”

  The question follows me into the shower and out to the bedroom while I’m putting on a nice sweater and designer jeans. My lover has bought me a new wardrobe, so gone are the days of used hand-me-downs and dollar purchases from the thrift store.

  “Milo, baby.”

  My stomach turns over with happiness at the sound of Neil’s voice. Even with everything going on, he still turns my heart to mush.

  “I’m in here,” I call out from the walk-in closet just as I finish tucking in my shirt.

  Moments later, he steps into the bedroom, smiling big. He looks so happy. Should I ask him my burning question now? Maybe that way, his good mood will help me get the answer I want.

  But before I can say anything, he sweeps me into a giant hug and kisses me deeply, overwhelming me with his spicy, masculine scent and the energy of his high spirits. He pulls b
ack, blue eyes shining with happiness. “Put on something fancy, babe. We’re going to a party, and you’ll be performing.”

  “What?”

  I’m stunned because I haven’t performed in weeks. Not because I don’t want to, but because the opportunity hasn’t come up.

  He nods happily. “One of your admirers from the last event wants you at the Long Island restaurant tonight.” His mouth is hot on my neck as his hands roam down my back. His words are serious, but it’s hard to concentrate with him stroking and caressing me. “I should have told you before, but he didn’t seem serious when he asked the other day. It’s okay, right? You’re okay with this?”

  “Yes, of course.” Sighing, I give him more room to kiss down my neck. I’m already hard from his touches; my boxers are already tenting. “You know I love performing. Especially when you’re there.” And it’s true. Him being in the room while I play makes the moments at the piano seem magical. The music always sweeps me away, but having the billionaire there adds a zest that’s incomparable.

  Neil squeezes my butt in a slow, sinuous motion. “Perfect. Because I love it when you play. You’re so incredible, and so sexy.” He turns a kiss into a raspberry, burping air against my skin, and pulls back. Then he smacks my butt with a quick grin. “Now, go get dressed. We have to be there in a couple of hours.”

  This man, this man. Because it’s Neil, I can’t deny him anything, and quickly change into a tux. I’m ready just in time for the limo to pick us up and take us to Dionysus, his restaurant on Long Island.

  The place is spectacular. It’s in a converted mansion on the water’s edge with soaring Greek columns, marble stairs, and high ceilings. The acoustics are incredible, and as a performance space, it’s one of my favorites. Of course, Dionysus is another of Neil’s pet projects that’s doing amazingly well money-wise. The restaurant’s tables are full, even during the week, and it’s usually booked months in advance, which is incredible considering that it’s on Long Island and not in Manhattan.

  Neil is thinking of selling it to some young restaurateurs who want to buy a place with an already established name and critically acclaimed chef. Because the profits would be off the charts, Neil is seriously pondering the sale. For now, though, it’s raking in hundreds of thousands of dollars every day, which makes him smile all the way to the bank.

  With a big breath, I take a seat on the dais, and everything goes smoothly. The audience is receptive while I play, and their applause after each number is intoxicating. I sing like my heart is invested completely in every note, even as Neil moves around the room greeting guests. He’s so strong and gorgeous; everything about him makes me high and deliriously happy.

  Then I notice he’s talking with a tall redhead. The woman is almost as tall as he is, and she’s a complete knock-out with huge breasts and a juicy, pert ass. Neil fetches two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and gives one to the woman, while keeping the other for himself. He sips champagne and laughs and flirts with this woman like I’m not even in the room.

  What the hell? How can this be happening again? Right under my nose, no less?

  My fingers slip, and the song falters. I clear my throat awkwardly, after notes I sing come out garbled and wrong.

  Crap! I’ve never done that before. But I’ve never felt so angry or so sad either. Neil, the man I love, is flirting with another woman while I sing for my supper in his restaurant. It’s more than I can take. Hell, it’s more than anyone should have to deal with.

  The song finishes, and instead of easing into another like I’d planned, I jump up from the piano. Hurriedly getting up, I leave the stage and head for the balcony doors.

  My pulse pounds. My heart breaks. What am I going to do?

  I find myself breathing hard and standing on the balcony overlooking a wild garden. The garden is just too much like the one at Alexandra’s, the place where Neil and I connected so well with each other the first time. It’s like Groundhog Day all over again.

  Tears spring to the backs of my eyes, but I blink quickly to stop them from falling. Suddenly, a voice sounds from out of the darkness.

  “What did I tell you, handsome? A guy like that doesn’t deserve you. He’s going to hurt you even worse than he’s doing tonight, just wait and see.”

  A sleazy-looking man appears behind me from inside the restaurant. Him again? It’s the guy from before, the one who wouldn’t shut up about Neil. At the time, I'd dismissed him because it was hard to believe he could be right. But now, I’m not so sure.

  “He’s nothing but a user,” the greasy guy says, sidling closer to me. He’s wearing a suit just like last time, but this one looks to be made of sharkskin. A big platinum watch shines from his wrist, and a diamond ring nearly blinds me from his pinky finger. “Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you the same thing. Neil Woods is not to be trusted. Not with money, and certainly not with a handsome young thing like you.”

  I shake my head. My heart feels like it’s cracking into a thousand pieces. “Please, just go away. I don’t want to hear any of this right now,” are my stiff words.

  Does the guy actually look happy upon hearing my pain-filled dismissal?

  “This is the best time to hear truths like this, young man,” he says. “Right when the evidence is in front of your face. He’s an asshole. He’ll break you in two. The facts are right there, you just have to open your eyes and accept them.”

  His words smack into me like a hammer, one after another. I can’t think. I don’t want to deal with any of this. I just want Neil to be mine and for all of this to be a bad dream.

  The guy holds up his hands and tries to look innocent. Fat chance. “Okay, okay. So don’t face what’s happening right now. At least let me take you away from all of this. I’ll pay you whatever amount Woods is giving you to play at this hole in the wall.” He gestures around at the restaurant like it’s some kind of a crack den. “Hell, I’ll pay you twice that to tickle the ivories at my bar in Brooklyn.”

  Confusion tears my thoughts to pieces. The man keeps talking and talking, making promises, saying that Neil is an animal for leaving me out in the cold like this. But am I left out in the cold? Would Neil do that to me?

  Then I remember the woman he was flirting with inside the restaurant. How beautiful she was, and how this is the second time it’s happened. What the hell?

  “Stop,” I say through gritted teeth. “Even if I did play piano for someone else, I’d want to start fresh outside of New York.” Brooklyn was way too close.

  But then again, I don’t want to leave Neil either. Not without talking to him about tonight. Maybe it’s not what I think it is? What else could it be, though?

  “Come on, sweetheart, you’re a smart man.” The guy keeps coming closer and closer, and soon, he has me backed against the railing. The cloying smell of cologne assaults my senses, and dizziness overwhelms me. Strong arms surround me and pull me closer. I stumble just as unfamiliar lips claim mine.

  No!

  The word rings in my head, but I can’t say a word because he’s kissing me. Am I kissing him back? I don’t know because I’m not sure what’s going on anymore. I struggle, but it’s futile, and then suddenly everything explodes.

  22

  Neil

  I can’t believe my eyes.

  Milo, the man I love, is making out with Victor Lancaster.

  Growling low in my throat, I lose every ounce of cool and rush across the balcony. With rage bubbling up in my chest, I grab Victor off of Milo and toss him back, throwing him into a giant flowerpot. The pot drops backward and breaks with the sound of a gunshot, but Victor somehow manages to stay on his feet.

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I don’t know who to look at, the weasel Victor or Milo.

  “Not that you deserve any answers, but I’m exposing you for the manwhore you are. This sweet boy needs to know who he’s really dealing with.” Victor’s eyes glitter with malice. “You’re just an asshole who goes around and sleeps with ever
y man and woman in town. You’re an equal opportunity slut.” With each word, Victor gets more and more enraged With his hands in his pockets, he strives for mean nonchalance while steadily watching me as if to make sure that his verbal poison is working.

  This guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Why the hell is he saying all of this when it’s obviously a bunch of bullshit? I’m very selective about my partners, and Milo’s the best I’ve ever had.

  But Victor goes on. Leaning against the railing nonchalantly, he shoots me an evil smile.

  “Yeah, bisexual guys have it best right? Twice the number of targets, or so they say. So tell me pretty boy: do you crave ass or pussy tonight?”

  That’s it. My hands bunch into fists, and I want nothing more than to punch his goddamn lights out, but Milo is my first priority. I look at my handsome lover, and the look of terror on his face turns my blood to ice. Trembling, he leans against the railing appearing faint.

  But before I can act, Victor comes back into my field of vision and tosses his arms around Milo’s shoulders, pulling my lover close.

  This piece of shit dares to touch my man?

  My fist cocks back to lay the asshole flat. But Milo gasps and looks even more terrified than before. His eyes go wide, and he backs away from both me and Victor. A tremor begins in his bottom lip as he gazes around like a panicked animal.

  I’m the one who just put that look on his face.

  My fist drops. Months ago, I promised my songbird that I’d keep him safe. Starting fist fights with this asshole isn’t helping the cause. In fact, it’s doing the exact opposite. Safety means the world to Milo, especially after everything that happened at Playing Desires. Anger raises another growl in my throat. This time, it’s anger at myself as well as Victor.

  With a stone cold hand, I reach for my cell phone.