Laird's Choice (9 page)

"Everything all right?" Rajan questioned.

Xavier nodded. "Everything's fine."

"I'm going to see if Jamal needs any help," Savaro told the group.

"Sure… help," Laird chuckled.

"We all know the brand of help he gives," Xavier said raising his bottle.

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They burst out laughing. Even Race couldn't help

himself. He hid his mirth behind the bottle. Laird leant in and kissed his forehead and in that moment, everyone in the room disappeared. He turned his head, smiling at Laird while wondering how he'd ended up so happy. His palms suddenly grew sweaty and his knees shook. Whenever he was this happy, laughing, smiling, feeling loved—

something always happened to ruin it. He was finally settled into being with his family when his brother was killed. Then everything went downhill from there.

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Duchene

Throughout dinner, Laird kept his eyes on his man.

His heart soared each time Race got in on the

conversations, the jokes, the laughter. His body trembled whenever the cowboy's eyes locked onto him. A few times he'd reached under the table, caressing Race's thigh and smiling.

He couldn't seem to stop smiling.

As the evening passed, their conversations kept

changing. But Laird didn't mind. He had all but one of the men he cared most about in his life with him. Their father was in the Bahamas with his new wife so he couldn't attend their weekly dinner.

"We do this once a week," Savaro was explaining to Race by the time Laird pulled his head from his thoughts.

"This week it's at Laird's. Next Friday I think it's at my place."

"Really? You never miss a week?"

"Sometimes one of us has to miss it," Rajan added.

"Either I'm in India or somewhere shooting or Xavier is on a bust or Jamal is at an away game or Savaro is catching a cold from his son. But we always try to make time for each other."

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"It's important to us," Laird said, "that we have time with each other. We don't ever want to forget where we started. We never want to go back there."

Laird smiled and reached in to press a kiss to the side of Race's head, and dinner continued.

"Oh man, you remember Cruella?" Rajan

questioned, waving his fork in the air.

"Cruella?" Race questioned.

"Her real name was Pricilla," Jamal, who'd heard the story many times, explained. "She ran the orphanage the boys were in as children."

"She tortured us!" Laird frowned. "The woman seemed as if she lived to make our lives miserable."

"It always seems to be like that." Xavier placed his fork against his plate and picked up his glass. "I don't understand how people like that get to work with children. I really don't get it."

"But you know what's messed up?" Savaro wanted to know. "When dad told us she died we were so sad about it. She never did have any kids of her own and I always wondered why."

The table that had been so lively slipped into

silence. It was as though they were all giving an unspoken moment of silence for a woman who'd been their den mother for so long. Though she was horrid, she was still a

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person. Laird lifted his glass to his lips.

"I called Winston earlier," Race broke the silence. "I think he was ripping his hair out."

The table erupted in laughter again. "Sounds about right," Savaro said.

"What is this?" Race poked the thing on his plate.

Laird laughed softly and reached over with his fork.

He cut the dumpling in two halves and then the halves into two. He cut a piece of jerked chicken off, slipped it onto his fork with a piece of the dumpling, and lifted it to Race's mouth.

"Open."

Race smirked at him, making his blood boil. He

leant closer to Race, almost tilting in his chair. Their eyes met as Race's lips opened as if in slow motion. He accepted the food and Laird pulled the fork back. Laird couldn't help himself then, he had to reach over and kiss him.

A throat was cleared from somewhere, and Laird

took a breath and eased back. His brothers, Jamal, and Xavier only laughed harder.

"You two want a room?" Xavier asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Oh, bite me!" Race told him.

Rajan laughed. "Oh, Laird! He'll fit in perfectly!"

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* * * *

Dinner was delicious as usual, and after the brothers had gone home with their men, Laird stood on the balcony outside his bedroom and stared off into the night. He remembered the way Race sat down at dinner and spoke with everyone else. There was a fear in his eyes but it hadn't remained there long. Whatever Xavier had said to Race in their conversation at the beginning of the night had worked. Soft footsteps behind him caused Laird to turn around. His eyes widened and his cock instantly stood at attention. He opened his mouth to say something—

anything—but still, he couldn't. The piercings, the tattoos, the muscles—Race was so damn sexy all he could do was shake his head. He tried moving but his knees wouldn't let him.

"You don't have to say anything. Just turn around, bend over, and take a deep breath." Race moved out of the bedroom, naked, and stood before Laird on the balcony.

"You're dirty." Laird laughed. But even as he said those words his fingers were busy undoing his belt. Soon he could feel the cool night air against his cheeks.

Smirking, he did as Race suggested. He turned around, gripped the railing, spread his legs, and glanced over his shoulder.

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"I've wanted this all evening," Race said.

Laird felt the cold wetness of lube being applied between his cheeks. He shifted his feet, spreading himself wider.

"There's no time for foreplay." Race's voice was rough as hot breath danced over Laird's ear then against his back. "But trust me, baby. You will enjoy this."

Laird laughed softly, pushing his eager ass

backward into Race's hands. Feeling Race's finger trail over his tender hole before impaling him caused Laird to let his head fall forward and groan. "Yes…" he whispered.

"Deeper."

"Why don't I do one better?" Race wanted to know, withdrawing his finger to caress Laird's ass.

Laird looked ahead, smiled, and closed his eyes.

The familiar feeling of Race's body moving closer, pressing against him caused him to grip the railing tighter. Slowly, he arched his butt out, and inhaled while Race slipped into him. He held his breath, waiting for the cock to reach its deepest point before breathing again. The fire in him exploded when Race dragged his fingers up Laird's body and buried them in his hair. The fingers tightened and pulled against Laird's hair until the top of his head was against Race's chest.

Race fused his lips to Laird's.

Grunting, Laird rutted back, grinding his hips into Race, taking the large cock deep. He growled, sucking on Race's tongue, relishing the wanton vulgarity of what they were doing. Laird wanted to feel the cold steel in Race's nipples on his tongue but each time he tried moving, Race held on tighter, fucking him harder. Their breathing was loud, fast, and exhilarating for Laird. Adrenaline, passion—

urgency surged through his body, making him wild.

"Don't move," Race whispered hoarsely, dipping his mouth to Laird's ear. "Give it to me."

"Beg…"

"Make me come." Race punched him on the shoulder. Laird moaned.

"That's not the magic word." Laird clenched his muscles around Race's cock.

"Shit…"

Faster, his hips moved. Laird rolled back into his lover, taking and loving the violence of the thrusts. When Race's teeth sunk into his shoulder, though he wasn't touching his cock, the muscle twitched anyway. Looking down, Laird watched as his dick exploded, sending spurts of white cum down two levels and disappearing into the dark to the ground.

"Race!"

Race licked at him. "I'm going to come for you, Laird… turn around."

Race backed up, and in his haze, Laird turned,

braced his back against the railing and locked eyes with his lover. Instantly, his fingers found Race's nipples, hooking the nails of his index fingers under the bars and pulling.

Race hissed.

"Still want to come for me, baby?" Laird teased. He pulled the nipple bars.

* * * *

He couldn't understand what it really sounded like, he was so far gone. His fist was tight around his slippery cock, stroking it, letting Laird hurt him in the best possible way.

He braced his free fist against Laird's nipple and pushed.

"Race…"

Backing up, he watched as Laird followed him, in

through the glass doors until he crashed into the bed. "On your knees," he demanded.

When Laird did as he asked Race inched closer to

him, penis sticking out. Without having to ask, he watched it slip between Laird's lips. The first flicker of Laird's tongue made him catch his breath. The second flicker made his knees shake. He tangled his fingers in Laird's hair, forcing his lover's mouth where he wanted it. The heavy sucking on his dick left him speechless, his mind in a beautiful daze. He'd craved that ever since he first kissed Laird. After their first session making love all he could think of was doing it again. His body surrendered fully to Laird, leaving him reckless and loving every sensation of it.

Looking down, his gaze locked with Laird's. The

sexiness in that one action took Race's breath away. He couldn't look away. His tongue pushed from his mouth as though with a mind of his own to curl and uncurl. To his wonderful surprise, Laird followed the motion with his own tongue. Race pushed to the tips of his toes then fell back on his heels. His eyes rolled into his head as he fought to stay on his feet. Before he knew it, he could no longer control his breath. His chest heaved, lungs burned and as his eyes widened, Laird released him and pulled his cock down.

Before he could stop himself, he erupted against Laird's nipple.

His body jerked over and over. With each passing

caress of the night air flowing through the window it felt as though he fell into smaller versions of the powerful orgasm that stormed through him mere seconds before. Weak, he reached for Laird, wrapped his arms around his baby and fell to the bed with his chest heaving.

"Damn," Laird managed. "That was…"

"Unplanned."

"Amazing…"

Silence.

"I love you, Laird."

* * * *

brace on his elbow. He looked down into Race's face but his eyes were closed.

"What did you just say?" Laird questioned.

"I said I love you."

"Don't play with me, Race. I can't stand the joke. Or at least wait until I'm not still groggy."

"Groggy? Is that what me fucking you causes?

Grogginess?"

"You know what I mean." Laird climbed off the bed and walked from the room.

"No, Laird. I don't know what you…" Race trailed off. "Wow, I feel like I just told you I wanted to elope and have two point five children."

Laird turned on the water, cupped his hands under it before shaking them. He pressed his cold palms to his face a couple of time before raking his wet fingers through his hair. Turning the water off, he reached for a clean towel and walked back into the bedroom. He stood by the bed, looking down at Race who was now lying on the pillows with his arms folded behind his head.

"I'm moving too fast, aren't I? I tend to do that—

especially around you… shit."

Laird shook his head and smiled. "No. I just don't want you saying things to me you don't mean then have to take them back. I just—I am used to the men in my life keeping their word except the ones I sleep with."

"What does that mean?"

"It means my father and my brothers and their men keep their word." Laird stopped and pressed his lips into a thin line, thinking of the words to say next. "I just want to make it easy on you."

"Come here." Race sat up in the bed and extended a hand.

Laird took the hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I love you, Laird Anatolis. I will say it now and tomorrow morning when we wake up and for as long as you'll have me. I know, even with all the money I have, I have nothing to give you. I'm not educated like you or your brothers, or their men, for that matter, or your father…"

"My father will understand and he will grow to love you."

"You don't know that."

"Yes. I do know that. Don't worry about all that, Race. You're in this relationship with me, not my brothers or my father. You love me… But you know what's crazy?"

"What's that?"

Laird leaned in with a smile. "I fought for you, Race McKade. It may not seem like it but I fought like hell for you. I've never had to fight for anything ever since I was a kid. But I knew what I wanted. I knew we were meant to be and I fought my stubbornness and my anger to be with you."

"Laird?"

"I love you too…"

The End

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About the Author

Remmy Duchene is a Jamaican living and working in Canada. He loves hockey, CFL, and sitting on the banks of lake Ontario.

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