Foster (A Daddy for Christmas 2)

1. Prologue

Prologue

Foster

I first saw the man of my dreams at Quinton’s infamous Halloween party. The man I set eyes on was tall, lithe, with tanned skin, and a shy smile that made my heart flutter…and my cock sit up and take notice.

That smile he offered to a young lady in a Superwoman costume. Wait, no, Wonder Woman. And man, did she ever pull off the look. I might not be into ladies, but I could appreciate a gorgeous one when I spotted her.

Sexy man looked up and caught my gaze.

I fought my instinct to immediately look away. I didn’t know he was gay. If gaydar existed, I certainly hadn’t been gifted with it. God found me easy to play with. Showing me someone who might be interesting—might be worth taking a second look at—and then they turned out to be straight.

Or worse, queer, but not interested in a washed-up, forty-something, gay man who could barely articulate he was a homosexual. Most men just didn’t have time for my shit.

Hell, I didn’t have time for my shit.

Handsome man leaned in to whisper something into Wonder Woman’s ear.

She grinned, cut a glance my way, then turned her attention back to him. She pressed a hand to his arm, offered a beatific smile, and gestured to me with her chin.

He smiled broadly and then headed my way.

Only when he was within a few feet did I take in his colorful costume. I cocked my head as he stopped before me—right in my personal space. “Octopus?” Somehow, I got the word out.

The eight purple ropes painted like tentacles likely should’ve been a clue, but sometimes I could be a little slow on the uptake. I didn’t have a lot of experience with costumes. Or parties. Especially costume parties.

He bestowed that devastating grin on me. “Yes. Kind of pathetic.”

Boldly, I fingered a tentacle. “I think it’s…creative.”

He laughed. “Well, it’s something. I shouldn’t offer excuses, but work’s kicking my ass these days.”

I offered a smile. “What do you do?”

“You’ll laugh.”

I appeared to consider tapping my chin. “Octopus wrangler? You’d need a lot of experience with tentacles.”

He burst out laughing. “Lawyer, but I’m going to have to remember that one. Octopus wrangler. Not much need for them in Mission City, I wouldn’t think.”

“No clue. I work in construction.” Better to get that on the table quickly. I’d met with at least two guys who’d been so snobby that they’d politely made excuses and abandoned me in the middle of dates like I was covered in mud. I was a foreman, for Christ’s sake. I helped out on the job site, but mostly I supervised. And I sure as fuck showered after each workday.

Gorgeous guy’s dark-brown eyes lit. “Okay, not something I know much about. But you can enlighten me, right? I love learning about other people. Unless you don’t want to talk shop, which I totally respect. It’s a party. I need to stop obsessing about my case and just let loose.” He held up a wineglass. “My one and only attempt.”

“I can think of ways to make you forget about work that have nothing to do with alcohol.” Holy fucking shit, you did not just go there. What the fuck are you doing? You never proposition people.

And yet I just had. If the guy wasn’t gay or interested, he’d walk away. And I wouldn’t have invested much time in the relationship. Or potential relationship.

His eyes widened comically. “Okay, I wouldn’t have expected you to be so bold, but I’m totally down for whatever you’re offering.” He tilted his head. “I haven’t seen you around before. Or not that I remember. And I have to say that I’d remember you.”

“I’m not really memorable.”

His eyes narrowed. “You did not just put yourself down, did you? I must’ve not heard you correctly.”

At his sharp tone, my insides melted a little. “Well…”

“Well, nothing. We’re going to pretend I misunderstood, and that you were not putting yourself down.”

I bit my lip. “It’s not that big a deal. Really, I’m just an ordinary guy. Not like you.” I slanted a look at him in all his put-together gorgeousness.

He stared at me. “And you did it again. Listen up, can I give you some advice?” When I nodded fast— yes, give me whatever, in that strong, confident voice — he eyed me more closely.

I dropped my gaze to the floor. I felt my cheeks flush, for no good reason except I wanted him to think well of me, and didn’t know how to do that.

He hummed, then bent his knees to lower himself enough to meet my eyes. “You know what? Not advice. Something stronger, from me to you. Don’t put yourself down again. Not just in my presence, but anytime you’re thinking of making a joke at your own expense, I want you to reconsider. To remember how disappointed I would be with you.”

Part of me wanted to argue that I didn’t know him. Whether or not he was disappointed in me wasn’t really relevant. That we’d likely never see each other again, so why were we even having this discussion?

Yet the severity in those narrowed eyes had me holding my tongue. He’d made his point. Very effectively. In a way that set up an unfamiliar warmth in my chest.

He straightened. “Are we clear?”

Obviously, he’d let the silence linger so I could process his words and figure out my next move.

“Yes, you were very clear.” Boldly, I fingered a tentacle. Slowly, I worked my way closer to him.

He had every opportunity to pull away. Instead, he leaned closer.

I moved my left hand, touching his costume and sliding over to his chest. Slowly, I trailed my finger along his pecs, outlined in the spandex fabric. I loved how the purple fabric hugged his every muscle. Every sinew. I loved how he wasn’t built like a brick shithouse. I was around muscle-bound men every day. They had their place. But a man I could grasp and hold on to? Yum.

“What’s your name?” He pitched his voice low.

His words washed over me. I somehow expected a slender guy to have a higher pitch, and each time, his bass tones made me shiver.

“Foster.” I waited for the question or comment about my name, but none came.

He merely grinned. “I’m Arnav. In Sanskrit it means ocean . In Arabic, it means rabbit .”

“As in, you like to fuck like them?” I offered a coy smile. Holy fuck…who are you, and where have you been hiding for the last forty-five years? If you’d been nearly this brave before, think of all the guys you could’ve fucked.

Maybe.

But they hadn’t been Arnav. Something about him made me want to be honest about who I was and what I wanted.

Arnav’s eyebrow arched as he barked out a laugh. “Foster, I think I like you.”

“Enough to, uh…?”

“Fuck?”

I nodded eagerly.

“I think that can be arranged. I happen to know where Quinton’s spare room is, and I haven’t seen anyone else sneaking upstairs. I’ll go first, and pretend I’m using the upstairs bathroom. You wait one minute and follow me up. First door on the left.”

The monumentality of what I was about to do hit me hard. I was about to go to a virtual stranger’s bedroom with a different virtual stranger. Quinton had invited me to the party after I visited one of my guys who’d been in the hospital for a couple of weeks—not related to work, thank God. But Bert was a nice guy who was estranged from his kids and who didn’t have friends. I visited to try to keep his spirits up.

Quinton was a nurse who had spent extra time hanging around Bert’s room. That boisterous personality was just what Bert—and I—needed. When the man extended an invitation to me for his Halloween party, I boldly said I’d come.

The nurse had shared that he was queer—unabashedly bisexual.

Stepping out of my comfort zone was a big deal for me. Something I was ready to make myself do.

This once.

And now there might be actual fucking? How sweet was that?

After Arnav put his wineglass on the fireplace mantel, he headed upstairs.

Surreptitiously, I glanced around the room.

No one appeared to have noticed. I spotted a lumberjack—with a beard I assumed was real—a maharajah, a harlequin, and a vampire. Count Dracula was a handsome Black man whose skin tone nearly matched my own. Attractive, but not really my…type? Did I even have a type? I’d dated so few men, and could find nothing they all had in common—except kindness. Usually displaying that kindness in letting me down easily.

I pressed my hand to my belly. Like that would somehow indicate I had to piss.

To my relief, no one paid any attention.

I slipped up the stairs and headed down the hallway to the correct door, which stood ajar. I pushed it open and saw Arnav.

He leaned against the bed with his hip cocked, his zipper undone, and his burgeoning erection pushing against his cotton underwear. He’d turned on a lamp beside the massive bed, and the glow put his face in shadow.

Then he flashed a grin, and his white teeth were on full display.

I pushed the door shut as quietly as I could. Damn, there was no lock. I only hesitated a moment. I wished Quinton’s music was louder, but he kept it at a nice low hum—background noise folks could talk over. Not very helpful to mask whatever we were about to do.

Slowly, I advanced toward Arnav.

He grinned. “Kissing first and then more, eh? I found some tissues that we can use to lessen the mess, but I intend to make you come. In my hand or in my mouth…I don’t give a shit.”

I swallowed. “Do I get to give you a blow job?” I hadn’t figured we’d be doing anal, despite the fact we’d discussed fucking, phew. I hadn’t even bothered to bring a condom.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that.” His grin revealed those perfect white teeth again.

Boldly, I advanced. When he took me in his arms, pulled me flush against him, and pressed his mouth to mine, my heart sang.

His tongue invaded my mouth immediately.

I reveled in the taste of him even as my half-hard cock brushed his.

He rumbled his obvious approval. He slid his hands around to my back, down to my ass, then pulled me close. Quickly, he ground against me.

I ground right back. My cock was now fully erect, and any kind of friction helped tremendously. That pressure wasn’t enough, though. Never enough. I pulled back. “Can I blow you?”

A small sparkle lit his eyes in the dim light. “You bet.

As graciously as I could, I eased to my knees. Years of heavy labor meant they cracked on the way down. And twinged when I knelt on the laminate floor. Fuck it. I wanted a taste so bad that my saliva glands worked overtime. I slid his pants over his slender hips and lower still. Then I gently eased his underwear down.

His cock sprang free.

I angled my mouth so I could lick a drop of precum.

He moaned.

I licked around his crown, and then slowly sucked him into my mouth. To my relief, he didn’t thrust. Instead, he rested his gentle hands against my scalp, slowly stroking me as I sucked him nearly down my throat. I knew when to back off and breathe and when to suck deep again.

And so I did.

He stroked my short hair as I pushed him higher and higher. Helped him chase that orgasm as best he could.

All while my cock ached.

Murmurs from the hall had me rocking back on my heels.

Arnav yelped.

I might’ve used some teeth.

Oops…?

The voices moved away.

Arnav groaned. So softly that I barely heard.

I snagged his cock, eased it into my mouth, and resumed my sucking. The longer I was with him, the more pleasing him mattered. I didn’t fucking care if someone came in—he was fucking going to climax if it was the last thing I did. If I died from embarrassment, it would be a small—and very worthwhile—price to pay.

“Jesus, Foster, you’re so fucking good at this.”

A low rumble I could barely hear. I kept sucking as I caressed his balls.

“I’m…” That was all he managed before he came into my mouth and down my throat.

I sucked greedily to take in every last drop. Partly because he tasted so good and partly because I worried about clean-up. He’d said something about tissues, but if I could bring him back to rights as clean as I could, then he’d be even more pleased.

He stroked my hair to the rhythm I lapped his cock. A synchronicity I rarely found.

He stilled. “Did you hear something?”

This time, with Arnav sated and only my own dick waiting, the fear of discovery was too great. My brain shouted, get the fuck out of here. I let his cock slide from my mouth. Gently, I tucked him into his underwear, then I got to my feet.

And I fled.