by Sierra Hill
He hums with indecision, his body tightening as I slide down his body, my mouth now even with his cock that stands erect at his belly. I make an experimental sweep of my tongue over the crown and his hips punch forward, his groan of pleasure echoing that sentiment.
Fisting him in one hand, I guide him to mouth and suck him inside, his masculine flavor filling my senses and driving me wild with need.
“Baby, I love what you do with that mouth of yours,” he grunts, as I continue to suck and pull at his cock, finding a nice easy rhythm to bring him back to a state of arousal.
He lowers his gaze on me, the heat in his eyes almost blinding. His cock pulses and something wild and turbulent wakes inside me, urging me to never let this thing between us end. His cock weeps with pre-cum and I twirl the tip of my tongue over his head to wick away the moisture as he growls out a rumble from deep inside his chest.
“You keep doing that, baby, and I’m going to come again way too soon.”
My smile stretches over his girth and a visceral heat forms low inside my belly, my own cock throbbing and aching for another release. I deep throat him again, the tip of his cock hitting the back and he rasps out the sexiest groan I’ve ever heard.
The next thing I know, his hands have burrowed under my armpits and he’s yanked me on top of him, straddling his hips, our cocks rubbing against each other. He sits up, lifting my ass in his hands so his fullness is pressed against the crease.
“I want to fuck you like this. Grab the lube and condom and fucking ride me.”
I scurry off his lap to locate the essentials we’d packed and return to the bed to cover his cock and give him the lube. He drizzles it between us and then over his fingers, positioning them at my entrance, penetrating so deep it feels like he penetrates right through to my soul.
“Oh shit, yes,” I cry out, undulating my hips as his fingers piston inside, the initial sparks of orgasm brewing low in my spine. “I want your cock, daddy. Don’t make me wait.”
I crush my lips to his in a searing, rapturous kiss, my fingers digging into his scalp as he stretches me wide to ready me. And then I’m suddenly left empty and feeling bereft until the tip of his cock replaces his fingers.
Lucas’s voice is hoarse and rough, eyes dark and heavy with arousal. “Take what you need from me. Take everything you want.”
My tongue spears through his mouth at the same time I push down on my knees, sinking on top as Lucas’s cock pushes through my tight ring of muscle and I nearly explode with pleasure.
With a croaked curse, raw from lust and emotion, I tip my head forward and do exactly what he’s asked of me.
I ride him and I take everything I need. And everything I want is him.
And somewhere in the process, I give him my heart in exchange.
38
Lucas
“How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you look this delicious in a suit?” I marvel as Kyler spins around to show me the final outcome of the suit we picked out and had tailored for him just a few hours earlier.
Kyler shrugs devilishly. “I don’t know, I’m pretty hard to resist.”
I come to a stand behind him as he admires himself in the full-length mirror, making faces and striking a pose like a model. I swat his ass but give him a wink and a kiss on his cheek before I wrap my arms around his middle.
“You are such a cocky boy, you know that?”
“But that’s what you love about me.”
And then as if realizing he used the L-word, he covers it up with a quip. “Not as much as you love my cock, though, because that’s just a work of art.”
Grabbing him by the shoulders, I swivel him around so he faces me, his full lips soft and still swollen from the kissing we did on the elevator ride up. The hazel-eyed gaze flickers with all the real potential in this love affair.
I never expected to fall for Kyler.
In fact, if someone would have told me earlier this year that I’d fall in love with a younger guy – one of my students, no less – I would have rolled over with laughter at the ridiculousness of the possibility.
Yet, here I am, staring down into the eyes of the man that has shifted everything in my universe with his brilliance, playfulness, and warm heart.
“Kyler,” I blurt, bringing my forehead to touch his in a gesture of togetherness. “I love you. And I’m so proud of you.”
He blinks, a sheen sparkling in his eyes, the emotions swirling the marble texture, turning them a golden hue.
“I love you, too.”
Our lips touch gently together, tenderly melding together like the two of our hearts.
I pull back with a sigh. “We need to get downstairs where your fans await.”
I drop my arms and move toward the dresser to grab my wallet when Kyler reaches for me, encircling my wrist to hold me in place. I lift my gaze in question, noticing the slight blush of warmth still over his freckled-cheeks.
“I rarely admit this, so don’t laugh at me.” He bites down on his lip and chews uncertainly. “But I’m kind of nervous.”
A burst of laughter erupts from my gut and he glares at me. “I told you not to laugh,” he admonishes, giving me a shove in my upper arm with the heel of his palm.
I cup his cheeks in my palms, and the warmth spreads down my backside, filling me with a protective yearning and desire to soothe his worry.
“Kyler, it’s natural to feel nervous. I used to experience that same thing in college when I’d play ball in front of thousands. Knowing that the moment I took the court, I’d be scrutinized and judged by the audience in the stands and on TV. I just learned to tamp down that negativity and worry to focus on the moment. And you, baby, have nothing to be anxious about because your work is incredible. You are incredible.”
His face softens, the worry lines disappearing as his face lights up in a broad, cocky smile.
“Yeah, you’re right. I mean look at me,” he says with a twirl, hand gesturing over his body in a show of over-exaggeration. “I’m the whole package. Hot, young and full of talent.”
I roll my eyes at his foolish vanity. “Mmm-hmm. Now let’s go before your head doesn’t fit inside the ballroom doors.”
“Lucas! My God it’s good to see you again!”
Arlos Greenfield waltzes up to where Kyler and I stand, admiring some of the artwork on display, a champagne flute in one hand. His outrageously wild mustache – a very unique aspect of his look – is curved upward over his crooked smile as he extends his hand to me.
His bowtie is a swirl of bold and bright colors that blend artfully and perfectly with his art-deco royal blue suit. There is nothing tame and timid about my old friend, Arlos.
I take his proffered hand and return the greeting. “Good to see you, too, Arlos. I’m happy to see nothing has changed with the facial hair.”
He gives a flamboyant tip of his head, stroking the walrus-like mustache with his thumb and index finger. And then, as if realizing I’m not alone, he jerks back in surprise and flails his arms wide.
“Oh my word, you must be Kyler Scott, our rising star of the evening!”
Kyler’s eyes bounce between Arlos and me, and with an uncertain shrug, he greets the show curator.
“I don’t know about that, but I am Kyler and I’m so grateful for your generosity in offering me this spot tonight, Mr. Greenfield.”
I stare wide-eyed at Kyler, who sounds more like a seasoned professional instead of the twenty-two-year old college kid who spews sarcastic wit with nearly every breath. Arlos flaps a hand between them.
“Nonsense! It’s rare for Lucas Mathiasson to endorse new artists, so I was not about to pass up the offer of a spot in my show. Now, let’s see about getting you two something to drink and have you start to mingle.”
Arlos snaps his fingers as a waiter comes striding toward us with a drink tray in hand.
“Get these two gorgeous gentlemen a drink of their choice.” He returns his attention to us again, waving an arm in the
air.
“You are my guests tonight. I want you both to enjoy yourself, have a look around, drink up, be merry, and maybe buy a piece or two, Luc.” Arlos winks and then offers an enthusiastic wave toward someone behind us.
I turn to see who it is but don’t recognize the man, his dark hair slicked back, and dark eyes narrowed in on my boyfriend, whose attention is preoccupied by the waiter with the tray of champagne.
“Oh, Maxwell it’s so good to see you again! Come over and meet my good friend, Dr. Lucas Mathiasson and his protégé, Kyler Scott.”
The noise Kyler makes when he turns around to greet the newcomer is one of pained surprise. Like the sound a wounded and trapped bear might make.
With a flourish, Arlos flings his arms around the man, as I take in Kyler’s sudden panicked expression, clearly unaware as to what’s going on.
And then as soon as the man speaks, with an intimacy that bleeds through his words, suggesting he and Kyler are very familiar with each other, I know exactly who it is.
“Hello, Kyler.”
I throw my arm around Kyler’s back, squeezing him tightly to me so there is no question who he is to me. I don’t care who notices this gesture, or whether it looks territorial or not, but. It’s clearly the unspoken signal of ’hands off. This man is mine.’
Arlos’s gaze bounces between Kyler and Max before he speaks directly to Max. “Do you already know each other?” He flutters his hand near his face. “Ah, of course. You’re both from Phoenix. That makes sense.”
Kyler’s tone is curt, the strain in it evident. “What the hell are you doing here, Max? Are you stalking me?”
I glare down at Max, who is a foot shorter than me, ready to jump in and tell him to get lost if need be. Instead, I let Kyler take the lead.
Max has the gall to look affronted, placing his hand over his chest.
“Of course not! Don’t flatter yourself. I receive the alumni news from the university and this event was highlighted, requesting alumni support.”
Kyler gives me a sidelong look and huffs. “Riiiight. Funny how you never wanted to come to Vegas when we were together, but suddenly you’re thrilled to show your support?”
Clearly uncomfortable by the direction the conversation has taken, Arlos clears his throat and turns toward another group of people.
“Well, I should really go mingle. Have some champagne, and Max, be sure to put that money of yours to good use.” He winks and then gives me the same challenge. “You too, Lucas. I’ll catch up with you and Kyler later.”
And then he runs off, greeting everyone with the same enthusiastic exuberance as he did with us.
The waiter takes this moment to interrupt for our drink orders. “Can I get you gentlemen a drink?”
“Definitely a shot of tequila,” Kyler responds with a brisk nod of his head. “Make it a double.”
“Just champagne for me, please.”
We turn to Max, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave and get his drink elsewhere. “I’ll have a bourbon neat, please.”
We watch as the waiter dashes off into the crowd toward the bar and Kyler heaves a big sigh next to me.
“Max, I don’t know why you’re here, and honestly, I couldn’t give a shit. But as I told you last week, we’re over. I have a new boyfriend and we’re very happy together.”
Although the comment is meant only as a means of getting rid of Kyler’s ex, my heart takes flight from the truth behind them. I am a boyfriend. I’m his boyfriend.
But then I realize that I don’t want to just be his boyfriend or his lover.
I want more than that. And there’s no better place to mitigate that problem than Vegas.
Ignoring Max, because this has nothing to do with him, I turn toward Kyler, crowding into him and taking his hands in mine, pinning him with my stare.
“Do you remember that ultimatum my grandmother gave me?”
Kyler crinkles his forehead in thought and nods.
I swallow the lump in my throat and slowly get down on one knee, Kyler’s wide-eyed gaze a symphony of confusion. “Marry me, Kyler. Tonight. Here in Vegas.”
I didn’t think it could ever happen. Kyler Scott is not often, if ever, at a loss of words.
But I think I just left him speechless.
39
Kyler
I wake up groggy, sleep-deprived, and lying naked next to a hot and naked Lucas.
Slowly, as if on a video reel being flipped through my head, images of last night begin to sift back into my consciousness.
The art show.
Tequila, champagne, and more champagne.
Max showing up out of the blue and throwing me off kilter.
Lucas proposing on one knee in front of a room full of art show visitors.
Me laughing hysterically over the lunacy of his proposal.
Then realizing that I really liked the idea of marrying Lucas.
Drinking more in celebration over the sale of my artwork to an unnamed collector.
Kissing with tongues and hands caressing – our PDA almost an embarrassment to the establishment. But hey, it’s Vegas, baby.
Laughing together and acknowledging that this was probably the craziest thing either one of us had ever done.
I mean, I could see getting a tattoo in Vegas to express our love or going to a strip show and male dancer revue, but married? Color me lucky.
Making our way to a chapel, tipsy, and high on each other, hands entwined and broad smiles on our faces, we signed the legal paperwork.
Saying “I Do’s” in front of the wedding officiant and witnesses. (No Elvis to be found.)
Lucas telling me that he loved me and how he felt so lucky to have found me that night in the bar.
Maybe we were both feeling emotional, but Lucas teared up and I nearly cried at the sweet and tender gesture of his hand cupping my jaw when he said I was the most beautiful man he’d ever met and that my soul was more beautiful than any work of art past or present, in all of time.
I called him “corny,” but secretly felt my heart split wide open when he brought me back to our hotel room and made love to me all night. Lucas worshipped my body, and with every gentle kiss he’d placed across my skin, he promised to make me happy and give me everything I ever wanted.
To which I replied, “All I want is you.”
In a sudden rush, all of that comes back and I scramble out of bed, the sheet nearly tripping me as I struggle to find my balance and stick my landing on the floor. Lucas groans and his eyelashes flutter open, looking blurry eyed and sleepy. I stare down at his body, perfect and gorgeous in only a sheet covering him just below his ass, and let out a loud, piercing shriek.
“Lucas! Get up! You need to get up.” My voice is shrill and panicked, as I glance down at my left hand to find the evidence of our drunken stupidity.
Lucas languidly rolls over, propping himself up on an elbow and looking calmer then ever, where I’m feeling wild and completely freaked out. I raise my hand and shove it out toward him, wiggling my fingers.
“This is urgent, Luc. Look what we did! Oh my God.” I pace back and forth next to the bed, muttering to myself now more than him. “I’m sure there’s a place to get an annulment. Yes, this kind of thing happens all the time here.”
I grab the hotel concierge book, flipping through the services and number listings to find a marriage annulment service. But suddenly, Lucas’s long arm reaches out and he swats the book out of my hands, a gasp extracted from my lungs.
“What the—?”
Lucas chuckles, scooting toward the edge of the bed, lifting the sheet from his hip so I can see his fully erect morning wood as he beckons me back in bed.
“Kyler, baby. Get back in here with me and let’s talk through this together so you can calm down. This is far too much panic before morning sex and coffee.”
What am I seeing? How in the world is he so composed about this? All the time I’ve known Lucas, he’s been clear he didn’t want a relationship. It was
no-strings sex. He’d made it clear from the beginning that we couldn’t be together because I was his student. And yet now here he is, chill as fuck like nothing’s miss, even though we’re married?
I stand there my mouth open in disbelief at his cavalier attitude toward this insane thing we did last night, while he lays back down and leisurely strokes his cock to entice me back in bed with him. Who is this man?
“No way. Uh-uh. You can’t sway me that easily.” I cross my arms as a sign of protest, even though my own cock grows stiff between my legs at the sight of Lucas in all his naked glory, his hand fluidly moving over his shaft begging me to join him.
I have to force my eyes away from his seductive ploy. Dirty Bastard.
My cock jumps in anticipation as Lucas moans a husky sound.
“God, this feels so good,” he murmurs, eyes half mast, his hand slapping his flesh in a steady rhythm. “But it would feel so much better if my husband would join me.”
I give a brief sidelong glance as he cocks an eyebrow at me and mentally kick myself over being so weak when it comes to sex with Lucas. My gaze lowers to where his hand, a ring glinting over his finger, and my cock pulses with excruciating need.
There’s a flood of hunger and lust in his eyes, dazzling me to forget my troubles and join him.
“Husband.”
The word tumbles out of my mouth as I plop onto the mattress next to him, noticing the small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he laughs, but the sound gets muffled when I crash my lips to his and white-hot sparks surge through my body.
I roll to my side and stare down between our bodies as Lucas’s large hand wraps around our cocks, the skin of our flesh hot with friction. My eyes drift closed as I rock against his cock, his hand gliding expertly over our flesh, as he claims my mouth with kisses, telling me without words that I am his and he is mine.
We pant, our breaths growing fevered, as tremors rack our bodies as simultaneous climaxes seize us, my head thrashing back and forth as I spill into his hand and over his stomach.