Aroused (29 page)

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Authors: Sean Wolfe

BOOK: Aroused
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Why had he agreed to take the trip to Rio? Of course, it was the money. Who in their right mind would turn down ten thousand dollars, plus all of their expenses for a weekend in Rio? But if he'd just not taken the proposition, then everything would be fine right now. He wouldn't be second guessing himself. He wouldn't be tearing himself up inside.
Seeing Rafael and Paolo together, and interacting with them the way he had, was really fucking with him and his sense of self. And he didn't like it one bit. He'd worked very hard over the past several weeks to convince himself that he needed no one ... and indeed, wanted no one ... in his life. He was good alone. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone.
And then he spent one weekend with a couple of clients that he'd spent multiple times with ... and everything suddenly changed. What went wrong? What was different? And then he realized, as if the stereotypical lightbulb blinked on inside his head: He'd slept with them. Not just fucked them and then left, as he'd done on numerous occasions, but actually slept in their bed, wrapped in their arms. As funny, or more accurately, stupid, as it sounded, he'd felt the love between them as he lay in the middle of the two lovers.
And as much as he hated to believe it, let alone admit it ... he wanted that. Undeniably, he wanted that love. With Victor.
“Fuck!” he said a little too loudly, as he ran his fingers through his hair. The elderly lady across the aisle from him gave him a stern look, and he smiled charmingly and whispered, “Sorry.”
He'd known for quite a while that he wanted Victor. Wanted to make a life with him and to love him. He wanted to stop working and settle down and live a normal, happy life. But he'd always felt like that was not an option for him. Everyone that he'd ever loved, ever trusted, had let him down. They'd hurt him.
His parents had hated one another and fought incessantly. They never spoke of it, of course, but he was certain they'd never loved each other. They'd married because it was expected of them. They were the children of two of the wealthiest families in the state, and they'd attended the same school and they'd both become very successful lawyers. Both sets of Mykel's grandparents had pushed them into the marriage, to create some super powerful dynasty, and he couldn't help but think of the prearranged marriages in some of the more traditional societies of the East. His parents had fought vigorously over the smallest thing, and never tried to hide any of it from Mykel.
When his mother was killed in a car accident, there was some talk of his father having arranged the accident. There was a short investigation, but his father was never implicated, of course. He inherited all of his wife's millions, and added to his own, became one of the elite super wealthy.
Mykel and his father seldom spoke, and when they did the conversation was strained and usually one-sided: his father's. Mykel left home when he was sixteen, and hit the streets of San Francisco. It didn't take long to move from common hustler to call boy to extremely high-priced call boy. His father, eager to be relieved of his son's presence, made sure his rent and all of his bills were paid on time, and a hefty “allowance” was deposited into Mykel's bank account every month. His father never asked about his life, and Mykel never offered up any details.
A couple of months after his twenty-fourth birthday, Mykel's father died, and left every cent of his fortune to Mykel. By then Mykel had already made and saved a couple of million of his own, and was just getting comfortable with the term “rich.” But when he was instantly in possession of high triple-digit millions, he became numb to it all. He found that he wanted a family ... a mother and father who loved one another ... more than he wanted the fortune. And for a while he resented and hated the money. It couldn't buy him what he wanted the most, and so what good was it?
His parents had disappointed and hurt him.
It was about six months into his inheritance that he met Alex. They met by accident at a movie theater. The mysterious bad boy with the boyish looks and the sex-god body and the attitude of a gang of testosterone-ridden body builders. He was standing just outside the door of the theater, smoking, and glaring so hard at Mykel as he stood in line for popcorn that it made Mykel a little uncomfortable. And Mykel was not one to feel uncomfortable very easily or very often. But the look in Alex's eyes said, “I can have you in a heartbeat without even trying. I could turn you around and fuck you right there on the popcorn counter, and have you begging for more.”
Mykel had never met anyone who'd made him feel like that before, and so he was intrigued. He walked outside, and began chatting with Alex. Less than half an hour later they were back at Mykel's place, and in his bed. Turned out that it was Alex who was all about getting fucked. Underneath all the tough exterior, he was an insatiable bottom, which was perfectly fine with Mykel.
The guy turned out to be a sweetheart. He bought Mykel flowers and sent him cards and cooked him dinner. He was attentive and affectionate in bed, and it didn't take very long at all before Mykel was besotted with Alex. He bought him a new sports car and expensive jewelry and high-end electronics.
Mykel didn't see it at the time, but the more he bought Alex, the more Alex clung to him and the sweeter and more intimate he became. Mykel fell hard for him, and after three months was ready to ask Alex to move in officially and to share his life. It was then that he overheard a phone conversation he was obviously not meant to overhear.
“He's such a fucking sap,” Alex said to an unknown person on the other end of the phone. “You should see the way he looks at me with those puppy dog eyes of his when he's fucking me. Sometimes I honest to god think he's gonna start crying. Yeah, he is richer than the fuckin' Sultan of wherever the fuck he's from. Which is the only reason I'm still around. I mean, he's got this fucking cock from hell, don't get me wrong. He fucks my brains out, and I love it. But shit, I can get that from any two-bit hustler on Market Street anytime I want it. And without all the fucking baggage, you know what I mean?”
Mykel braced himself against the wall, and grit his teeth as he listened.
“I just need to hold out a couple more weeks. I've already got him wrapped around my little finger. He'll give me the money, I know he will. I just have to make sure he really believes I love him first. He does, I know. But just gimme some time to cement it in his head. It won't be long 'til I'm added onto his bank account, and we'll be cool. And then I'll be in his will and we'll be set for good. Just be patient. These things take time.”
Mykel walked into the room quietly, and stood behind the sofa on which Alex sat. When Alex finished with his call, and turned around, Mykel landed a right hook directly to his nose. He heard and felt at the same time, the bones breaking as Alex fell backward and hit the ground.
Alex started to get to his feet, and Mykel kicked him back to the ground. “I dare you to try and get up again,” he said angrily, and looking directly into Alex's eyes.
Alex glared back, but didn't move.
“Get out of my house right now. I'll pack up your shit and have it out on the front lawn in an hour.”
“The car's mine,” Alex said aggressively. “You put the title in my name.”
Mykel laughed. “Take the fucking car. Like I'd ever want to sit in that thing again? It's yours. But you have about three minutes to get your ass out of my house before I begin ripping your limbs from your body. Come back in an hour and pick your shit up off my lawn.”
Alex literally ran out the door, and it was the last Mykel ever saw or heard from him.
 
Mykel leaned his head against the airplane window. His heart felt like someone had reached inside his chest and grabbed it and squeezed it until it might explode. He became short of breath, and felt a pressure building behind his eyes.
This must be what it's like to cry
, he thought to himself. He wasn't quite sure, because he'd never actually cried in his life. Well, he supposed he must have cried, when he was a baby, but certainly not even once that he could remember. He took a couple of deep breaths, and forced his emotions back. He'd come this far in his life without shedding a tear. He wasn't about to start now.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we're about to begin our descent into San Francisco International Airport. In preparation for landing, please make sure your trays are locked in front of you, that your carry-ons are stowed safely under the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins, and that your seat is in its full upright position.”
Mykel was successful in holding back the tears, but not in curbing his feelings and emotions for Victor. He'd known for several months that he wanted to make a life with Victor. But he'd been burnt before, and hurt beyond belief, and he hadn't wanted to go through that again. And so he'd pushed Victor away.
Laura was right, though. He had to put himself out there for the possibility of love. For the real thing. Seeing Rafael and Paolo had made him see that perfectly clear. He wanted what they had, and he wanted it with Victor.
 
The landing and deboarding seemed to take an eternity. And the taxi ride home seemed even longer. He couldn't wait to get home and call Victor and ask him to come over. They needed to talk.
It was just before six in the afternoon when the cab pulled up to Mykel's house. He saw Victor sitting on the front steps from a block away, and felt his heart pound uncontrollably in his chest.
“What are you doing here?” he asked as he stepped out of the cab. It came out of his mouth sounding much more accusatory than happy, and he mentally punched himself in the stomach.
“I'm sorry,” Victor said. “I know I shouldn't have come. But Laura told me when you were gonna be back. And ... well ... I just couldn't stay away another day. Not without telling you one last time that I love you, and asking you to look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't love me. I know you did it before, and I walked away. But I don't believe you, Mykel. I need to hear you say it again to believe it.”
“I can't,” Mykel said. “I can't say that to you. Because I love you with every fiber of my being.”
“What ...” Victor started to ask, having been taken by surprise.
But Mykel rushed over to him, held his face in his hands and kissed him passionately on the lips as he pushed him backward through the front door and into the house.
 
Mykel took his time undressing Victor. This was not one of his jobs, and Victor was not one of his clients. He kissed every inch of his lover's naked body as he undressed himself, and then lay next to Victor on the bed.
“I do love you, Vic,” he said as he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him.
“I can't take another false alarm,” Victor said, “so please make sure you mean it before you say that to me.”
Mykel looked Victor in the eyes, and then leaned in to kiss his eyelids. “I love you, Victor.”
Victor leaned up and kissed Mykel passionately on the lips. He felt Mykel's cock harden against his leg, and smiled. “I love you, too.”
Mykel reached down between Victor's legs and squeezed his cock into full hardness. Then he slid down and licked on the cock head and sucked it gently into his mouth. He loved sucking cock, but didn't do it all that often. He never did it with his clients ... they paid him to be the hot stud, always in control and always the butch top who wouldn't think of sucking a dick, let alone enjoy it. But there had been a few guys he'd actually cared for over the years, and he'd sucked their cocks and he'd enjoyed it very much.
But this was so much different, he thought as he felt Victor's cock head slide past his tonsils and deep into his throat. This was so much better. He tightened his lips around the shaft, and closed his throat around Victor's big dick. When Victor moaned and grabbed the sheets as he arched his back, Mykel felt himself try to smile with his mouth filled with cock.
“Oh my God,” Victor gasped as Mykel deepthroated him. “I didn't know you ... you never ... oh fuck!”
Mykel sucked on his lover's dick, slow and easy at first, letting almost the entire length slip from his lips before slowly going back down on it until the whole thing was buried deep in his throat. Then he sucked harder and faster, tightening his lips around the veiny cock as he slid up and down the thick pole.
“Jesus, Mykel,” Victor moaned as he wriggled underneath him. “I'm so close.”
Mykel sucked even harder, and squeezed Victor's balls lightly with one hand as he entwined his fingers of the other hand with Victor's.
“I'm cumming,” Victor warned, as he tried to pull his cock from Mykel's mouth.
But Mykel squeezed both Victor's hand and his balls harder and swallowed the entirety of his cock. He meant for Victor to know that he loved him. He knew in his heart that sex was not the way to show it, but he wished it could be a start, and that Victor would recognize the difference in him. As Victor emptied himself into his throat, Mykel swallowed every drop, and hoped that he'd be successful in swallowing his pride along with the sweet taste of his lover's load.

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