Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SIMON
I’m warm, comfortable, and in bed after the shower that Andrés so gently carried me to.
I felt a bit useless that my legs didn’t want to work, but that was all his fault.
He made good on his promise and wrecked me in all the best ways.
Then he took care of me, holding me until I could support myself again, washing me and then towelling me dry.
He was genuinely an expert at it, and a fleeting thought of him washing down his horses comes to mind.
It would hardly surprise me if he called me a good boy.
Andrés climbs into the bed beside me and leans back against the pillows.
He lifts his arm as an invite, and I tuck myself into his side, resting my head against his chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve snuggled in bed with someone.
It’s intimate, far more than sex, which can be very transactional, especially with hookups.
But sharing space, warmth, and just being together feels far more.
I know I spent last night here, but then I slept like the dead until my alarm woke me and then .
. . there was more sex. We hadn’t kissed then either, but now we have and everything’s changed.
Except nothing really has. This is still a hookup and Andrés leaves in a couple of days.
It hits me that I know nothing about him really, so this supposed intimacy isn’t real.
It’s just a veneer of something that doesn’t exist. I swallow down the knowledge that this will all end soon and decide that I can at least get to know the guy whose chest I’m using as a pillow.
“What happens when you go back to Argentina? Do you live with your family?”
“Argentina?” His voice sounds confused, but also sleepy so it might be that.
“You said you had twelve horses back in Argentina, and you’re leaving soon, aren’t you?”
“I am, on Sunday, but I’m not going back to Argentina. There is nothing for me there now,” he says gruffly, and I twist my head to look up at him. Something tells me that mentioning the horses right now isn’t a good idea, but that doesn’t stop me from sticking my foot in it anyway.
“What about family?”
“None that want me,” he says, and I hear the pain behind his words. He drops his eyes, playing his fingers along the edge of the duvet. Instinctively, I put my hand on his chest and smooth it up and down. After a few seconds he releases a deep sigh.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” I know he probably doesn’t, he has friends he can probably talk to, but, sometimes it’s easier to confide in someone else, a person on the outside.
It won’t matter if I know the painful details because our shared orbits will soon part ways forever.
I ignore the vague emptiness that forms inside me when I remember that fact and wait, my hand still moving on his chest. He doesn’t speak for so long that I begin to think he won’t, or he’ll answer with a short no.
But eventually he lets out an even longer sigh, as if he’s been deliberating with himself and come to a decision.
“Six months ago my father passed away,” he begins.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. I know what it’s like to lose a parent—or both in my case. It’s been six years but it still hurts. His arm tightens around me and he continues.
“He was everything to me, my mentor, my supporter, and my friend. He was a successful businessman but he also loved horses and played polo when he could. He was very good and played a lot of tournaments, with his teams winning many of them. He first put me on a horse when I was just a few months old, which kindled my dreams of becoming a polo player like him. And I achieved it too. He paid for everything—my horses, my car, my apartment—and I didn’t think about the future, what would happen if he was no longer there.
In my mind he’d live forever. And then he had a heart attack and was gone, and so was my life. ”
He stops and takes a deep breath.
“You said he was a successful businessman. Did he leave you anything?” I ask, and he barks a laugh.
“No, I’m illegitimate, his bastard son. Almost everything went to my half-brother Francisco.
I was allowed to keep my horses, and he gifted me a breeding barn two hours out of Buenos Aires.
He also left me a small amount of money, but barely enough to keep the horses in hay for a winter.
I had to sell two of them just to make sure I had enough money to pay Diego, the barn manager, for the next year. ”
“I take it you don’t get on with your brother, then?” I ask and he makes a grimace.
“I was always Dad’s favourite, even though Francisco is four years older. It was the horses that we bonded over.”
“Doesn’t your half-brother like them?”
“No. He’s allergic to them.” He pauses, and when he picks up the story again his voice is lower, sadder somehow.
“He hated that we had something in common, me and Dad. Like him not being able to be near the horses was a failure somehow. My mum was a maid. When Dad found out she was pregnant, his wife Elvera wanted to fire her, but he wouldn’t allow it.
He ruled the household. Elvera resented that I was constantly around, a reminder of her husband’s infidelity.
I can’t blame her for that, but it wasn’t my fault.
So he made sure I was accepted and brought up alongside Francisco, though always a little on the outside.
My mum passed away when I was twelve, so the only person I had left was my dad.
When he died Elvera and my brother made it clear I was no longer part of the family.
The payments for everything stopped. I perhaps should have made provision for something like this, but I lived on my allowance from my father.
I didn’t need to think about the future. ”
I wrap my arm over his chest and hold him close, and he puts his other arm around me, accepting the hug and giving it back. On a scale of poverty it’s nowhere near my own, but it doesn’t sound like he’s had a happy time of it.
“So what now?” I ask against his chest.
“I needed a job, but polo is all I know. So I decided to turn pro. I had a few offers from teams in the States, but Gabriel got in touch. I’d known him for a few years on the circuit, but not really well.
He always seemed like a decent guy, though.
He’s setting up an equestrian centre and polo team in the UK.
He offered me a place on the team as well as running the polo side of the centre and coaching.
It sounds interesting and I feel like I want to be part of something now.
This year has been a wake-up call for me.
I don’t want to just exist from one game to another anymore. ”
“I knew you were a playboy!” I say and he laughs.
“Now you sound like my brother. He never approved of my lifestyle. I didn’t think about it much, but now I can see how it must’ve seemed to him.”
“Do you wish you could be friends?” I ask and feel him shrug.
“I don’t know, not really. That part of my life is over.
I will go back when I need to, but it’ll be to oversee the barn and the breeding program my father left me.
All I want to do now is move on and start a new life.
” He releases his arms and climbs out of bed.
I watch him as walks over to the bathroom, getting a perfect view of his arse.
I idly wonder if he ever bottoms. I like bottoming, but occasionally I also like to top, and the thought of sinking between his tight cheeks has my cock flexing.
When he returns a few minutes later, his long cock swinging between his legs, I remember how good it felt to be filled by him and decide it’s a close call.
He really is the perfect package. He walks to the minibar and takes out two bottles of water, then he comes back to the bed and passes me one, before he slips back under the duvet.
I open my water and take a swig, grateful for the hydration I didn’t know I needed.
I put the bottle on the bedside table and lie back down on my side, propping myself on my elbow.
“So where in the UK will you be?” I don’t know why the knowledge that he’ll be in the same country as me sparks a feeling.
The UK might be small in comparison to most other countries, but it still has nearly seventy million people, so the chances of us meeting again after this are near impossible. But still, I need to find out.
“I don’t know exactly. It doesn’t really matter to me, so I didn’t take much notice.
It’s in something shire?” Well, that narrows it down by almost nothing.
He gives me that apologetic smile he’s perfected, the one that had me trotting after him the first night, and I chuckle.
“All I know is that Gabriel lives in a massive house in the country, with like a thousand acres of land and enough money to set up a new equestrian centre.”
“Do you know what it’s called, his house?” It’s a long shot, and if it’s privately owned, I’ll probably never have heard of it, though we do have some grand houses in the UK.
“Something Hall?” He wrinkles his nose up, clearly none the wiser. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I was just curious,” I reply.
It’s not like it means anything to me. I don’t even know where I’ll end up when I return to England.
I have a couple of old friends back home in Reading that might let me stay until I find a job and can rent somewhere.
My only other option is Aunt Lizzie. She did say I could call her anytime I needed her, but the last time I saw her was at my parents’ funeral.
Six years is a long time, and she might not be pleased if I turned up on her doorstep, homeless and begging to stay.
I put it out of my mind. I’m not going to be adding to anyone’s worries this side of Christmas.
My contract doesn’t finish until the end of January, so I still have time.
“You said Gabriel paid for this,” I say waving my hand around the room.
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” I look round at the opulence of the room.
“Why should it? I work for him now, and part of the contract is that he pays expenses for tournaments or anything else we have to be away for.”
“Yeah, but these suites are really expensive,” I say and he shrugs again.
“I didn’t demand it; it’s his choice. If he’d told me I’d be sleeping in the barn, it would have been cold but I’d have accepted it.
I’ve never worried about that. I’ve slept in horse trailers more times than I can remember.
” He laughs, and I get a sense of the down-to-earth guy behind his playboy exterior.
“Do you think he’ll mind me being here, drinking his champagne?”
“No, I don’t think he’ll care, even if he knew.
As long as I play well he won’t mind what I do in my spare time,” he says, smiling and lying down properly.
He pulls me towards him and I wrap an arm and a leg round him.
He catches my knee and starts stroking my thigh.
It’s strangely both arousing and soothing and my eyelids feel heavy.
“It’s a pity we drank it all,” I murmur even though I don’t have the energy for anything else tonight.
“They restock the minibar when they refresh the room,” he says as his fingers keep up their journey over my thigh. I only just register the implication that he could be inviting me for another night in his bed before sleep overtakes me.