15. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Milo
L aughter greeted me as I walked down the stairs the next morning and I paused as I reached the entrance to the kitchen and leaned against the wall just out of sight. I listened to Mia’s gentle voice as she spoke to someone and I poked my head around the door to find Mia and Noel sitting at the kitchen bar, their backs to me and an open laptop in front of Noel. They both had cups of coffee and plates of bacon and eggs in front of them and the smell reached my nose and made my mouth water but I didn’t go in, instead I stood silently while they spoke.
“I don’t mind flying commercial, if that’s easier?” Mia asked and Noel chuckled as his fingers clicked away on the keyboard.
“Nope, we’re doing this trip in style. I’ve sent my PA, Madeline, an email and she will let the flight crew know the details and blank out my calendar over Thanksgiving weekend. Madeline will also sort out our rooms, so all that’s left is for you to decide on what you want to see and do for those few days.”
Mia clapped her hands in excitement then threw her arms around Noel’s neck, enveloping him in a huge hug. “This is really happening? We’re really going to London?”
“We are, like I told your brother, I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep. You want to see London and I want to show it to you. Now here, take my laptop and jot down some ideas. If there’s anything you want to do, like a theatre show or tour, let’s get those booked in.” As Noel pushed the laptop in front of Mia, I backed away from the kitchen and paused in the hallway, resting my head against the firm surface of the wall.
It was so easy to presume Noel wouldn’t follow through with his promises - that was my gut reaction - but he’d proven in just a short span of time that that wasn’t in his nature. What had taken my father years to never achieve, Noel had done in a morning. My gut churned as I thought about the way I’d perceived him, how I’d judged him so harshly and so easily without giving him an ounce of my trust when in reality he had never done anything to warrant it.
I felt like one big ball of confusion - with what had happened between Noel, Branson and I, the clearly incorrect assumptions I’d made about Noel, and now these feelings that I didn’t understand towards both of these men - yeah, a ball of confusion summed me up perfectly.
A few hours later, I lined my bag up at the front door as I watched my sister begrudgingly thump down the stairs. “I can’t believe the weekend is over already,” Mia huffed as she pulled her duffle bag as though it was a reluctant toddler. She tossed it at the front door next to mine, then came to wrap her arms around my waist. “Are you okay, Milo? You seem a little tense.” She dropped her voice, looking to the stairs, before saying, “He’s really not that bad. I know you’ve moaned about the way he throws his money around like dad, but I think he’s different. It wouldn’t hurt to try being friendly to him.” She gave me a squeeze before dropping her arms and throwing a final comment my way, “He’s also really easy on the eyes.”
I groaned, rolling my eyes before turning towards the stairs to see Branson bounding down, a shit-eating grin on his face, aimed directly at me. Heat flushed in my cheeks and I averted my gaze, busying myself by grabbing mine and Mia’s bags and pulling them outside to where Raymond was waiting with Noel’s gas-guzzling monstrosity.
The last thing I wanted to do was be trapped in a car with Branson and Noel. Not after I’d flaked on them last night or before I’d had a chance to get my own thoughts and feelings in order. Branson had gotten just a little too close to my secrets. I’d been caught up in the moment - euphoric and buzzing from the pleasure and the intimacy - and I hadn’t predicted that he’d notice my scars, but he had, and I’d sensed the words before he had a chance to say them - the question floating in the air around us. Like angry bees with their sights set on me with no escape unless I ran. So I did.
Being so wrapped up in my need to hide myself, I’d barely taken notice of what Noel had said. It was only in the early hours of the morning that his words seeped in and took hold. He’d said they wanted to talk. About us.
You, him and I.
As if there was some possibility that last night wasn’t a one off, them playing out some fantasy they shared. Was that possible? That there could be an us? Climbing into the back of the car, the first to do so, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, thinking over the events of the night. It has been the best, most intense, wholly unexpected experience of my life. When Noel had first kissed me, I was sure it was to shut me up, to let him win the argument we were locked in but I had kissed him back, because it felt right, exactly what my battered soul needed. Then the guilt had set in because, though they hadn’t officially said they were a couple, I thought they were and there I was kissing Branson’s boyfriend.
It was the look in Bran's eyes, the way they darkened a fraction and the husky way he’d told me to kiss Noel again that had me confused but also, incredibly aroused. I shut off any more rational thought and went with it. And thank fuck I did, because every moment with the two of them had been electric, incredible, beyond my fucking dreams.
Watching Noel and Branson was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. They were two dancers, perfectly in sync with each other's bodies, one leading and the other following. Slow and sensual, but at the same time, rough, erotic. My body had thrummed with desire watching, until the moment I couldn’t hold back anymore. And then we were three mouths and bodies connected in a heated and passionate exchange.
Thinking back on it though, it wasn’t the sex that had my heart tripping over itself, it was the words Noel had used and the earnestness in his voice.
You’re magnificent, Milo.
No one had ever said anything like that to me before, and for as much as Noel rubbed me the wrong way, sincerity sparkled in his eyes when he'd looked at me and uttered those words.
But more than the sex, more than Noel’s honesty, what I kept coming back to, what had me tossing and turning all night was how they both made me feel - like I belonged. For those few hours, I wasn’t useless Milo, or Milo who ruined things, I was Milo who was wanted, needed. Even adored.
And fuck me, but that was confusing.
I was confident in my feelings for Branson, I had been sure of that for weeks now. Noel though, he was a conundrum. One I couldn’t solve stuck in a car with him, Branson, my sister and Raymond.
The truth was even if they wanted us to be together, and no matter how much I wanted that too, I wasn’t sure I could get over my hang ups about him. Noel would always be Noel. He was older than me, confident in who he was and his empire, and his wealth was a part of that. Noel Bennett was larger than life, and the last person in my life who had that sort of power had broken me.
You’re magnificent, Milo. I tattooed the words on my heart.
Maybe the risk would be worth it and maybe Mia was right and he was different. If I really thought about it, he hadn't actually done anything wrong - I had just been treating him like he had because I'd judged him from day one. Not all rich men were abusive assholes like my father. My logical mind knew that. Could my heart get on board with it too?
I looked at the two of them, now seated next to me, both smiling and joking with Mia, who had sat up front with Ray. Noel shifted his focus to me, his face a beacon of light, bright and open with a cocky half smile tipping up one side of his lips. My heart beat wildly in response.
Yes, maybe it could.
“After our chat on the beach yesterday, Milo, I think I'd like to get a tattoo,” Branson blurted out as we drove down the I-495 on our way back to the city. The car ride had been quiet until then, with only the sound of Imagine Dragons quietly playing over the radio and the odd grumble from Raymond about traffic and the poor driving skills of other motorists.
My interest was piqued, having thought about tattooing Branson’s beautiful skin so many times before. “Any idea what you’d like or where?”
He scrunched up his nose and pursed his lips before shaking his head. “Not entirely, but I’d love something in memory of my dad. He died when I was seventeen.” He paused for a moment, then shuffled forward and reached into his pocket, producing his wallet. From within the well-worn brown leather wallet, he pulled out some folded paper. It was worn and fraying in the corners and looked like it had been read hundreds of times before. He held it up, still folded, and showed it to me.
“He left me this letter before he died. It was sort of his hopes and wishes for my future mixed with his words of wisdom. One of the last things I said to him was a promise to live the life he’d always dreamed for me. He was my best friend.” Branson’s blue eyes, which usually sparkled like they contained a trove of tiny diamonds, were a dull grey, like the ocean on a stormy day. And his features turned down, the sadness of his loss - though years ago - still very much a part of him.
Branson’s words brought forward thoughts of my own father, who I couldn’t even call a dad, let alone a friend. And though I didn’t wish him dead, it struck me how cruel life could be. How unjust that fate could pick and choose who lived and died without a care for who was left behind.
Noel and I both placed a hand on his lap, offering a modicum of comfort. Branson continued, getting to the reason he was telling us about the letter. “I think I’d like some words from here tattooed on me. Even though I know this letter as well as I do my own name, it would be a great reminder.”
“That’s a really lovely idea,” Noel said and I nodded in agreement. “What are some of the things he loved, maybe you could add a little something along with the text?” he suggested.
Branson thought about it for a moment, slowly opening the letter and scanning through the contents before looking back up and catching Noel’s eye. “Me, my mum, his car and his rose garden.”
He turned so his upper body was facing me, then asked, “Could you sketch some ideas with me? And then maybe, I could book a slot at your studio. With you?” He raised a questioning brow and I stumbled to think what to say.
Of course, I wanted to do it. The thought of anyone else putting ink on him made my stomach curl and a growl form at the base of my throat. But I wasn’t the best out there and Branson deserved the best.
“Are you sure? I’m still relatively new and there are better artists at the studio.”
Branson shook his head vehemently. “Nope, you’re the perfect choice. I trust you.” And that was that, no argument about it. His hand rested over mine and he squeezed it, not pulling away when he turned to talk to Noel, who I noticed was now holding his hand on the seat between them.
We were about fifteen minutes outside of the city when Raymond asked Mia if she wanted to be dropped at home. Her eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror and I tensed, my muscles pulling tightly in my shoulders. If we drove her home, to the gates of my father’s house, they would have questions. I was about to answer when Mia turned to Ray with a smile.
“Actually, could you drop me at my friend, Florence? I need to collect my cat, and we have plans this evening.”
Relaxing against the seat, I caught her eyes again and she nodded almost imperceptibly. I silently thanked her, mouthing the words. Not for the first time, I wished I could get her out of that house too. That I could help her through university - doing something she wanted to do, and not be forced into a life our father wanted for her. A life I knew she didn’t want but was willing to accept for the sake of keeping the peace.
Forty-five minutes later we had dropped Mia off and were heading back to mine and Branson’s apartment when Noel piped up. “Would you two like to come to mine for a bit?” We all looked at each other then, the silent acknowledgement that we needed to talk hanging over us. I nodded as did Branson, and Raymond drove us to the hotel, which also housed one of Noel’s penthouse apartments.
The New Manor hotel was on 5th Avenue, only a few blocks over from Central Park. The building was modern with large windows, clean lines and a grey, white and steel facade. A large overhang protruded from the front, forming a canopy of sorts on which the hotel's name was displayed. A well-dressed valet stood beneath, welcoming a group of guests. It was by far one of the most impressive buildings on the street, and that was saying something given the immense number of prestigious buildings lining both sides of the avenue.
Noel led us through the ornately decorated lobby, bypassing the reception desk and heading towards a private elevator hidden off to one side. I paused briefly, taking in the grandeur. Grey and black tiles with geometric shapes lined the floors, and oversized lights hung from the high ceilings. Gold and black accents were dotted throughout and tall vases with intricate detailing lined one wall, a host of exotic plants of different sizes and shades of green filling each one. I’d stayed in hotels before, some of them unbelievably fancy but never anything like this.
“Woah, this is nice. Like I knew you were rich, but this is like rich, rich. I’m too scared to touch anything,” Branson said, his actions betraying his words as he ran his finger along a gold encrusted vase outside the lift. I couldn’t help the smile that settled on my face. The two of us, in beach shorts and t-shirts, could not have looked more out of place. Noel, dressed impeccably in linen chinos and a pressed shirt however, fit in beautifully. Like he was attending a film festival in the south of France, suave and glamorous. He didn’t seem to care though, placing a hand on each of our backs and guiding us to the opening lift doors.
“Touch whatever you want. I assure you nothing here is irreplaceable nor is any of it precious.”
The doors opened into a small carpeted lobby with cream walls with sketches of New York running along them towards another door. Noel produced a key card and opened it, showing us into his suite.
It was everything I expected it to be. Large and airy, with huge plush cream sofas, glass tables and mustard satin throw pillows. Pot plants stood on decorative tables along various walls and from the room we were standing in, I could see four openings to other rooms through large arches. Noel clicked a control near the door and music started playing from speakers hidden in the walls. I recognised the song that came on as Unsteady by X Ambassadors and mentally gave one gold star to Noel for having good taste in music.
“I won’t lie, Noel, this place is fucking gorgeous but way too neat. I want to ruffle it up a bit. It barely looks like you live here,” Branson said as he walked over to one of the large sofas and promptly got to work moving the stiffly displayed cushions. Then, he threw himself into them and placed his flip flop covered feet on top of the glass table. I baulked at his actions, turning to see Noel’s reaction, but the guy only had hearts in his eyes and a crooked grin on his face.
“Make yourself at home, both of you.” Noel came over to me, taking slow, steady steps, then ran the back of his hand along my cheek. I met his eyes, searching them for something - what though, I wasn’t sure. “Relax, Milo. I don't care about this stuff and only want the two of you to be comfortable. Sit on it, throw it around. Hell, jump on the sofa and have a pillow fight for all I care. Just be comfortable, little artist.”
God, the nicknames, especially that one. I’d pretended to hate it, but it did something to me. It was like he saw me, saw the man I wanted to be, not the man my father said I would never amount to.
Tattooing pictures onto people’s skin is not art, Milo. It’s a waste of your time and yet another mistake you are determined to make.
I shook my head, pushing away my father’s words, refusing to let him ruin this for me too. Kicking off my shoes, I sat next to Branson and popped my feet on the table with his.
“Good, now that you two are settled, I will grab us some drinks, and then, I think it’s time we talked,” Noel said before leaving the room and heading through one of the open archways.
Branson sidled up closer to me, and I turned towards him. He chewed on his bottom lip, turning it a bright shade of red the more he gnawed on it. “Something on your mind?” I asked, lifting my hand and pressing a finger to his lip, freeing it from his teeth. His tongue poked out, licking my finger and tightness coiled down low, my dick twitching at the move.
“Can I kiss you?” Branson asked, my finger still resting against his swollen lip.
“Is that what’s on your mind? You want to kiss me?” Branson nodded and I continued. “What if I said you could kiss me whenever you wanted, that you didn’t have to ask?” He nodded again. “Okay then, Branson, you can kiss me whenever you want.” He threw himself at me, clambering to straddle my waist until he was sitting on my lap, pressing his ass solidly on my arousal.
“And what about Noel?” Branson asked, his head tipped to the side, the strong curve of his neck a very inviting sight. Running my hands along his thighs, I leaned forward to press closed mouthed kisses to the exposed skin.
“What about him?” Kiss, kiss, kiss . I continued along his neck, trailing down to the dip in his collarbone. His body gave an uncontrollable shudder, the skin beneath my lips raising in little pinprick sized bumps.
“Can he kiss you too, whenever he likes?” Branson wiggled his hips and I groaned, loving the weight of his body on top of me.
Reluctantly, I pulled away from his neck, taking in his wide eyes and raised brow. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes, we both do. But only if you’re on the same page.” Branson’s voice was quiet but tinged with hopefulness.
I couldn't help my father’s voice from popping into my mind then. Berating me for thinking I'd have anything to offer them. What could they possibly want with a useless piece of shit like me - I could hear those words as clearly as if he was standing over me.
I saw nothing but honesty in his eyes and sincerity in his words. They wanted to be with me and for the first time in a very long time, someone else's words pushed away my father’s voice and I made the decision there and then to trust these two over the toxicity of my father.
Before meeting Noel and Branson, I had never considered dating two men at the same time, and maybe it wasn’t for everyone, but I couldn’t deny how much I wanted this. Them . Maybe it wouldn’t be easy, hell, it may not even be something that lasted in the long term, but it felt right now and with my mind constantly circling on my father’s words, I needed to trust how I felt. So yes, I was on the same page.
You, him and I.
“I am.”
“Good,” he said before covering my mouth with his. His lips were hot and hungry, roughly rubbing against mine, his tongue forcing my lips apart so it could spear inside. I’d watched him give up control to Noel, but he had all of it now. He was owning this kiss, owning me. And I fucking loved it.
“I see you two started without me,” came a warm, deep voice from behind Branson, and I looked over his shoulder to find Noel, three tall stemmed glasses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. A noticeable bulge tented his linen trousers. How long he’d been standing there, how much of that he’d heard? My gut swirled with a mixture of arousal, anticipation and anxiousness as fear crept into my blood, worried that he would be mad at what he had just walked into.
But the fear was short lived, and the arousal won out when Noel placed the wine and glasses on the table, strode over, confident as ever, kneeled on the couch beside us, and took my mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. I guess that answered how much he had heard. Branson didn’t move to climb off, instead, he wrapped one arm around Noel’s neck and the other he placed on my chest, right over my erratically thundering heart.
Then, he pulled Noel away from me, turning his face and covering Noel’s lips with his own. My cock, now hard as steel, pressed uncomfortably against Branson while I watched the two of them. We switched again, Branson kissing me, then Noel taking over, then Branson kissing Noel until we were a collection of panting breaths, roaming hands and hard cocks.
“So, are we doing this?” Branson asked breathlessly and they both looked at me.
I smiled and nodded. Yes, yes, fuck yes.