CHAPTER 27 #2
I sigh and shoot Casey another glare. “Yes sorry, just … busy with a client.” Casey grins at me, grins as he pokes my side.
I swat his hand away. I don’t like him a whole lot right now.
He’s literally just lying there, dick poking out of his shorts while he grins at me like the cat that got the cream. He’s a pain. That’s what he is.
“Oh, I thought you’d be home by now. Sorry, darling.”
“That’s okay, mother. I can talk.”
“Oh good,” she continues, not missing a beat. “Have you heard from Henrietta lately? Because Charles has been calling us nonstop since you left. He was here again last night and really, darling, I think you should—”
I don’t get a chance to hear what mother dearest thinks I should do before I snatch the phone out of Casey’s grip, ignoring his peaked brow.
I silence the speaker and retreat quickly to my bedroom.
I close the door before I put the phone back on speaker to where my mother is still going on about me apparently needing to call Charles.
“Why would I call Charles, mother?” I sigh, massaging my temples as my dick shrivels. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Yes, but darling you left without even telling him. Surely you can see why he’s so upset.”
“Not really. That’s what happens when you break up with someone. They are not owed details about your life,” I point out, reasonably so. I sink onto my armchair, in for the long haul and try to forget about the half-naked treat spread out on my sofa. This is his fault anyway.
Mum sighs, the sound sad and despairing of her only son. “Yes, dear but, well, we all really thought this was just a temporary break. Charles especially.”
“I have no idea why any of you thought it was a temporary break. I don’t play games with people’s hearts, Mum.” I’m pretty sure this is the third time I’ve had this exact conversation.
“I know, but really, the Whitelaws were so excited about the thought of becoming family. Seeing as Charles and Henrietta didn’t work out as we’d planned because, you know, of the gay thing.”
She trills a laugh at her own humour. Yes, it had been a great disappointment to the Whitelaws and Thornfields that they’d not been able to merge the family titles as they’d hoped and planned when Charles and Henrietta were born within a month of each other.
Imagine the excitement when, five years later, I came out and reignited the hopes and dreams of a century of ancestors.
“Well, I am sorry to disappoint so many family lineages but that doesn’t change the fact that I won’t be getting back together with Charles.”
“I know, but really, it wasn’t that bad, was it? Charles seems to think you were soulmates.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Apart from the fact that Charles is really quite an insufferable snob who looks down on anyone who can’t trace their ancestry in Debrett’s.”
“Oh I know but you know the Whitelaws. They’re all like that.”
“Yes, and in the past our ancestors happily imprisoned anyone suspected of homosexuality. But we’ve moved on from those days. The same can surely happen with the Whitelaw’s ancient snobbery.”
“Mmm, yes I suppose you’re right,” Mum concedes reluctantly. “But we have always been a little more openminded in the Thornfield line. You may not remember great uncle George. He was a raging homosexual, and we never minded.”
I press my thumbs to my temples again. “Yes, I have heard of great uncle George and his raging homosexuality. Quite a few times in fact.”
“Yes, well, there you go.” Her sigh of disappointment can be heard across the equator. “I suppose I’ll have to let the Whitelaws know not to keep their hopes up. We were all quite thrilled with the prospect of mixing the Whitelaw and Thornfield bloodlines with future babies but never mind.”
“You do know that would not actually happen even if Charles and I were to have children, don’t you?”
“Oh la, of course you can. They can do quite wondrous things with the IVF these days,” Mum trills.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you can miraculously combine two male genetic lines.”
“Oh no, darling, you can with the IVF. You remember Anton and Ralf from bridge club? Well they had a baby last year through the IVF. Spitting image of the both of them, really. It’s quite extraordinary.”
I just manage to hold in my sigh. “I don’t quite see how someone can be a spitting image of two people …. But you know what? Never mind. That sounds lovely for Anton and Ralf. Just not for Charles and I.”
“Yes, I can see I’m not getting anywhere with that. How are you anyway, darling? How is the work going?” And just like that, we’re off the topic of Charles. Fortunately my mother has astonishing capacity to flit between subjects on a whim.
“Really good, Mum. I’m really enjoying everything. The Fever have been so welcoming.” There’s an obvious pause on the line and I wonder if we’ve dropped out.
I should have known better. “Hmm. Have you met an Australian? Is that why you’re so reluctant about Charles?”
I pause. “What? No.”
“You have a tone.”
“I don’t have a tone. There is no tone.”
“I think there is a tone. Archibald, darling,” she calls in the background to my father, “I think Harrison might have met an Australian.”
I hear shuffling in the background and can only sigh. “There is no tone.” My protests are weak to my own ears.
“Oh you’re right, Camilla,” Dad jumps in. “There is a tone. Who is this Australian then, son?”
“There is no tone and there is no Australian.” Lies. Blatant lies. But I’m not admitting this to my parents. They can suffer in ignorance with the rest of the world.
“Hmm, well, agree to disagree but I’m sure you’ll tell us when you’re ready,” Mum replies.
Dad jumps back in. “How is the physio work going? Everything good with your client, Casey?”
It’s only then I realise the door has snicked open and I eye Casey leaning up against the door. He’s smug and I still haven’t forgiven him. Especially as he saunters closer at the sound of his name and says, “Everything’s great with Casey.”
“Oh is that him?” Mum trills and I smell trouble on the horizon.
“It is,” Casey grins, scrunching his nose at me. “Hello Mr and Mrs Thornfield.”
“Oh hullo, Casey. Wonderful to meet you,” Mum exudes.
“Yes, hello there. We’ve heard rather a lot,” Dad adds.
“How do you find working with our Harrison?” Mum asks.
Casey sends me a grin, and I think I should hang up right now and just blame it on the phone company. “Oh he’s fantastic. Really exceptional with his hands.”
I pinch his hip and glare at him while he just grins back. Lucky he’s so fantastically gorgeous.
“Oh yes, that’s what all the boys said back at his old club.” That’s my mum, oblivious as a solar panel at midnight.
The grin Casey shoots me is pure joy. “I’m sure they did,” he enthuses while I choke on air.
“Anyway,” I cut in, desperate to salvage something of my sanity. “Casey and I still have a bit of work to do so we’ll have to move along.”
“Oh of course, darling,” Mum replies. “Well, tata then. Speak soon. Kisses. Hugs.”
“Bye, son,” Dad adds before I hang up the phone.
I glare up at Casey while he just grins down at me before sliding onto my lap, straddling my waist. I wish I had the willpower to say no.
“You never told me how adorable your parents are,” he says, hands landing on my shoulders.
“They really aren’t.”
“Oh they so are. So refined. I’m going to start incorporating their language into my vocab from now on. Tata, darling . I think that sounds great for me.”
“Please don’t.”
“Why? I think it makes me sound ever so posh.” He’s ridiculous. Really, he is.
“If it’s all the same, I’d really rather you didn’t sound like my mother. It might make me confused and affect my sexual attraction to you,” I point out.
“Really? You’d be so shallow?”
“I’m afraid so,” I reply, running my hands up his hips. “So, are we still having sex?”
“I don’t know. Who’s Charles?” Casey asks, eyebrow artfully peaked.
I sigh. “My ex.”
“And is Charles Whitelaw as pompous as he sounds?” I wonder exactly how much of that conversation Casey overheard. I chuff out a laugh as I bring us to our feet and shift him in the direction of the bed.
“Oh no, he’s much worse,” I tell him. He cooperates as I shift him onto the pillow, following him down.
“So I don’t have any reason to be jealous?” he asks. Sweet, ignorant boy. I can only laugh at his astonishing lack of self-awareness.
“ You have no reason to be jealous, sweet, sexy boy.”
I am really hopeful this conversation is done as I pick up where we left off out on the sofa and start my journey down his body again.
I should have known better. “I’m not sure I want to have sex anymore. Not after you insulted my attempts at refining my vocabulary.” He’s grinning at me. I ignore him as I push his top back up so I can lick between his abs.
“You literally just told me I had free use of your body. Just pick a hole and slide on in I believe were your words,” I remind him.
“Yes, well, that was before I discovered how mean you are.”
I sigh. Again. “Okay, fine. You can say tata .”
“Thank you,” Casey replies magnanimously, and I try not to laugh. “And will you still find me sexually attractive?”
“Truthfully, I don’t think there’s anything on the planet that could dampen my attraction to you,” I confess.
Casey’s smile is vibrant and huge. He really is the most beautiful boy I’ve ever had in my bed. Ever had anywhere really.
“Well, thank you. And in return I promise to never say the word tata .”
I laugh as I reach for his waistband and pull his shorts down his legs. “Thank the Lord’s mercy for that,” I say. “Now, any preferences for which hole I select?”
Casey’s gaze darkens but he answers by taking my hand and leading me all the way down, down, down his perfect body to his soft, pink hole. “This one.”
I can only smile now that I’ve gotten my way. But really, I think it’s clear we’ve both gotten our way. He reaches up, gently prodding at my dimple as I smile down at him.
“There it is,” he smiles softly. And I’m so obsessed with him I let him touch it as much as he wants as I lean down and kiss the smile right off his face.