Jonah
Belladonna Mansion
Conservatory
Virginia Beach Oceanfront
The conservatory was so quiet and peaceful, no chaos of a ball or loud music, only the distant hum of the ocean outside the glass walls.
Jonah was curled into Ross’s chest on the chaise lounge, with his head pillowed against the steady rise and fall of the man he thought he’d lost forever.
Their tuxedo jackets had been tossed to the floor, shirts loosened and opened at the collar, skin against skin.
Jonah’s eyes stung, not from fresh tears, but from disbelief.
He’d been starved of touch, starved of someone looking at him with desire instead of pity, with love instead of disgust.
Now, here was Ross, the boy he’d loved, returning as a man, stroking his hair with those familiar, strong fingers.
“I like your hair like this,” Ross murmured, his voice warm and low, twisting the longer strands on the top between his fingers. “Fits your face.”
“You…look good with a beard.” Jonah tilted his head enough to bury his lips in it.
They lay there in silence again, the kind that said so much without words. Jonah clung tighter, terrified Ross would disappear if he let go.
Finally, he couldn’t wait anymore. His voice was pained and quiet, but he had to know. “Where did you go?”
Ross sighed, tightening around him before he answered.
“The night my mom left, after she’d been beaten so bad she could barely walk, she packed us up in the middle of the night.
I wanted to come to you first, Bear, I swear I did—but she wouldn’t let me.
Said if we got held up, and found out, we might not get away. ”
“I’m sorry, Ross. I know it wasn’t fair to want you to stay.”
“We went to a shelter, new names, whole new lives. She was terrified of being found, and at seventeen, I was the man of the house. I was mad at her, yeah, but I had her and my little sister’s safety to put first.” Ross squeezed his eyes closed. “Even though it meant losing you.”
Ross’s voice was rougher. “Once we were settled, I wrote you. God, I wrote so many fuckin’ letters.
I wanted to go back for you, but Mom still needed me.
I had to work and help pay the bills. And when every letter came back return to sender over and over, I thought…
” His voice broke. “I thought you hated me.”
Jonah shook his head fiercely against his chest. “No, Ross. We moved too. My dad couldn’t keep a job, couldn’t stop drinking. Every time teachers got suspicious or I started showing too many bruises, we’d move again. So your letters never…”
Ross let out a guttural sound and pulled him close until he was almost crushing him. “Bear…did he still—” His voice faltered. “Did he still…hurt you after I left?”
Jonah was quiet for so long that Ross had his answer.
“It got worse,” Jonah whispered. His body trembled at the memory, at the bruises that had never quite faded from his mind.
Ross pressed desperate kisses to the crown of his head, to his forehead, to his cheek. “I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t there.”
Jonah turned his face, meeting his eyes, whispering, “If I had a mom, I would’ve done the same thing.”
Ross exhaled shakily, then brushed his thumb over Jonah’s jaw. “You wanna know how I found you?”
Jonah nodded.
“I saw a post you made on Facebook about your new job in Norfolk. Instead of being nineteen hundred miles away, you were now a four-hour drive from me. I had to try. I thought for sure you hated me… But I had to try.”
“How’d you know I was here? How the hell did you become a gentleman?”
“I followed you from your job to the gym and then here.” A crooked grin flashed across Ross’s face. “You know I’ve always had the gift of gab. I talked to your trainer. Cracked and pushed until he told me why you were here and what Belladonna does.”
Jonah blinked up at him, overwhelmed. “All this time, and you still…?”
“I never found anyone else like you, Bear. Not one. No one has your laugh, your heart. No one ever touched me the way you did.”
Jonah laughed bitterly. “No one’s wanted to touch me with a ten-foot pole.”
Ross tilted Jonah’s chin up and hovered over him, breath mingling, until finally—finally—he closed the gap.
The kiss was soft at first, a slow, sweet reunion until Jonah moaned into it. Their tongues met, and his body lit up like it hadn’t in years. He felt clumsy and inexperienced, like a virgin again.
Ross shifted and moved him as if he weighed nothing and eased him onto his back.
Jonah shivered as Ross’s weight pressed into him.
Ross began to unbutton Jonah’s shirt, his calloused palms exploring his bare skin.
Jonah blushed, instinctively wanting to cover himself, but Ross’s gaze stopped him. His pupils were blown wide, lips parted, his cock already fully hard and leaking against his thigh.
There was no mistaking it—Ross wanted him.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Ross whispered in his ear, trailing kisses down his throat until he got to his chest. “All this soft, sweet skin.”
Jonah was panting for breath as Ross stood and pulled his pants off, staring down at him and licking his lips while he pressed against his straining cock.
“My sexy fucking teddy bear.”
Ross hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pushed his slacks and briefs down in one smooth motion, his cock springing free, thick and wet.
Jonah gaped at the thickness—it was much bigger than he remembered.
Ross climbed back over him, bracing one hand on the chaise and wrapping the other around both their cocks. Jonah bit his lip to keep from yelling as Ross pressed them tight together and began stroking with long, lazy pulls.
“Ross, oh my g—” he groaned, his hands trembling against Ross’s chest.
Ross kissed everywhere he could reach: his forehead, jaw, throat, as he murmured words of worship in his ear.
He emphasized each word with a lick or a kiss. “Sexy. Never letting you go again. Damn, your body drives me crazy. Got me wanting to come already.”
The friction was unbelievable, every stroke dragging him closer to the edge.
His cries mixed with Ross’s groans as they filled the conservatory. The scent of flowers blended with their sweat, with their sounds of pleasure.
Jonah pushed his hips higher, needing, as Ross bared down harder, grinding them together.
It didn’t take long because it’d been too long.
Jonah came undone first, sobbing his release against Ross’s neck, holding on as if he’d fall apart if he let go.
Ross followed right behind him, releasing a shuddering growl as he spilled onto Jonah’s belly and chest.
Jonah collapsed back against the cushions, breathing as if he’d tried to run a mile, every limb heavy but his heart impossibly light.
Bliss washed through him, a feeling he’d thought left when Ross did.
Ross slid off and folded him into his side, caressing his shoulder, while still kissing him.
“I missed these lips,” Ross whispered, easing his tongue back inside.
Jonah could lie there all morning and into the next night.
Then…his stomach rumbled loudly.
Of course.
His face flamed, but Ross just chuckled—not in a bullying way—but in that fun, good-natured teasing way he used to.
“Good. I’m starving too.” He rose just enough to clasp Jonah’s hand, lacing their fingers tight. “C’mon, Bear. Get dressed, we’re gonna raid Thorn’s fridge.”
Jonah let out a shaky laugh, tears mixing with his smile. For the first time in years, he believed it. With Ross at his side, he could do anything.
Jonah couldn’t stop grinning like a fool as he padded into the massive kitchen with Ross at his side. They’d both tugged their tuxedo shirts back on without bothering to button them fully, jackets forgotten somewhere in the conservatory, hair mussed from kissing.
Ross tugged him by the hand straight to the oversized stainless-steel fridge.
“Moment of truth,” he smiled, his voice still that velvety midwestern drawl that made Jonah weak.
Ross yanked the double doors open, and both of them laughed at what was inside: trays stacked with leftovers from the ball, carved prime rib, crab cakes, shrimp cocktail, towers of miniature pastries, cheeses in Ziplock bags, and a leafy green salad, and beside it, a huge bowl of fruit salad covered with cling wrap.
Jonah’s stomach rumbled loud enough to echo. He lowered his eyes and slowly backed away.
“Don’t you dare.” Ross held his hand out to him. “Get yourself back over here.”
When he was in reach, Ross turned him to face the refrigerator and wrapped his arms around his middle from behind.
Ross could just fit his long arms around his waist, but the way he was nipping and running the flat of his tongue down his neck, he couldn’t be bothered.
“What you wanna start with…? You pick,” Ross said, pressing his hardening cock against his ass.
Damn sure not that fuckin’ salad.
But just because Ross liked him the way he was, he would continue eating better and attending his regular training sessions.
But right now, he’d indulge. Otherwise, it wasn’t a proper midnight raid.
He plucked the platter of roasted chicken and set it on the marble counter while Ross grabbed a tray of what looked like baklava.
Jonah hesitated, still hardwired with old shame.
Growing up, food after dark had meant trouble. He’d hear the creak of a floorboard first before his father busted him and slammed his fist into his gut. He’d never quite shaken the fear of being caught eating.
Ross was already tearing a piece of the chicken from the bone, grinning like they were being naughty. Ross bit into the flaky pastry, then held it out. “C’mere, Bear. Taste this?”
Jonah’s pulse skipped as he leaned forward and took the other half of the puff, his tongue grazing the tip of Ross’s finger.
Ross’s gaze darkened as he watched him chew.
Soon, they were devouring everything in reach: thick slices of Brie, cold slices of roast beef dipped in horseradish, tiny fruit tarts that crumbled between their fingers.
Ross fed him a big chocolate-covered strawberry, and when juice spilled down his chin, Ross caught it with his tongue.
Jonah wanted to cry with appreciation. Ross had always been the one person who never cared what or how much he ate. And here he was again, chewing through the ball’s leftovers in Thorn’s fancy kitchen with as much gusto as Jonah, eyes never once cutting toward him in judgment.
When they were good and full, Ross leaned against the counter and tugged Jonah between his legs.
“See? Nothin’s changed. It’s still us against the world.”
“Will you come to my room…spend the night?”
Because he wouldn’t mind a little more of what they’d just done, and in the morning as well.
Ross kissed his knuckles again like he’d done on the dancefloor. “Lead the way, lover.”