Chapter 74 Elliot #2
He takes me deeply, eyes closed sweetly, mouth open wide, until I feel the softness of the back of his throat against the head of my dick.
He pulls back and then takes me again, sucking softly when I’m deep, holding me there, suspended in time, until the pleasure feels angular and sharp.
Like something that could cut me. Slice me open and break me.
My eyes roll and my knees knock as I gurgle and hiss in the face of pleasure that’s bigger than me.
Bigger than him. Bigger than this whole goddam grown-up ass room.
I come harder and faster than I’ve ever come in my life. I spray hot and thick into Stuart’s mouth, grunting and moaning as my ass frantically clamps down on the plug. Again. Again. Again, until I’m empty and gasping, clinging to Stuart’s shoulders so I don’t lose my footing.
We’re on the front porch. Stuart has one hand in his pocket and the other raised in greeting as Jessie, Luke, and Wyn pile out of the car and start making their way up the drive.
I don’t take my eyes off them, but I feel Stuart’s gaze shift from them onto me.
“You’re the perfect amount, Elliot,” he whispers.
A trap door opens beneath me, in me, around me, as the words and the meaning sink in. I flounder, unsure where to look or what to say. Luke bounds to the house before I have time to formulate a response. He grabs me into a bear hug and lifts me off my feet, bringing me back to the present.
“Lukey,” I bellow as I wrap my arms around him.
Jessie rolls his eyes and reaches for Luke’s hand in a gentle attempt to extricate him from me. I look up expectantly. Jessie shakes his head, flicking his eyes to Stuart. Wyn concedes, giving me a barely acceptable sarcastic and droll “Pookie,” but I decide to allow it.
“How’ve you been, Gouldie?” asks Luke. “I’ve missed you, man. Don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without seeing you.”
“I know. Sorry, I’ve been, like, busy and whatever. Busy but good…really good.”
“Come in, come in,” says Stuart when I’ve introduced him to everyone. “Make yourselves at home.”
Will, Mat, and Trouble arrive as Stuart and I start fixing drinks for the others.
Trouble’s wearing a skintight low-cut white V-neck top pushed up to his elbows and a pair of black skinny jeans.
His eyes are smudged with black liner and his hair is a little disheveled.
It’s a very, very paired-back look for him, but dammit, he still looks eye-wateringly beautiful.
I cast an eye over to Stuart, belly clenching uncomfortably, fully expecting to see a dreamy blue glaze in his eyes.
The same dumb look that takes everyone over, regardless of gender or orientation, the first time they meet Trouble.
To my surprise, he doesn’t flinch. He greets Trouble as if he’s a mere mortal and makes Will and Mat feel welcome too.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asks.
“Sorry we’re late, Gould,” says Trouble, batting his lashes. “It was Mattie’s fault. Will and I were…well, innocent victims isn’t quite the right phrase, but it’s close.”
“Yeah, Mat finished his job at Bowman’s last Friday, and he’s had the whole week off work,” explains Will, looking tired but disgustingly happy. “He’s been…high energy.”
Will and Trouble cackle like hyenas, under the idiotic impression that this conversation, which is literally dripping with sexual innuendo, is going over anyone’s head.
Mat accepts his drink from Stuart, feet planted together, rocking back on his heels, with an enormous shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.
The goddamn Cheshire cat has nothing on him.
“So,” I say, eager to nip this kind of talk in the bud, “when do you start your new job, Mat?”
“Monday,” he replies. “Still have the whole weekend to expend my, er, energy.”
I clear my throat. “You must be looking forward to it. I know you never really loved your old job.”
“Yeah, it’s going to be great. It took a while to find the right thing, but I’m psyched.
JCC is much smaller than Bowman’s, so I’ll be involved in management and working with people, not just sitting in an office crunching numbers.
Thought I’d have to take a hit financially to make the change, but it’s actually turned out to be a nice little sideways move. ”
“JCC will be lucky to have you,” says Will as if it’s a fact, not an opinion.
He and Trouble both look at Mat, subconsciously moving a little closer to him. Their mouths twisting and eyes misting over.
Seriously, looking at them, you’d think Mat hung the fucking moon.
Ew.
I glance over at Stuart to see how he’s coping with the full onslaught of my friends.
Looks like it’s going okay. His eyebrows are in their normal position, not raised sky-high, so that’s something.
He’s been backed into a corner by Luke and Jessie.
Stuart’s talking and Luke’s and Jessie’s heads bob periodically.
I suspect Stuart might be undergoing an intense interrogation on dog obedience training.
Stuart catches my eye and holds it, unsmiling, for a second.
Sparkling blue eyes wind their way around me.
He’s a picture of rules and boundaries wrapped in an olive-green button-down shirt and jeans.
His mouth slashes open. Not a lot. Just a sliver of white.
My ass cheeks quiver at the sight. My hole flutters around the plug, reminding me of everything.
Who I am.
Who he is.
Who we are together, and what he’s going to do to me later.
“Anyone hungry?” I ask, voice cracking slightly.
I show everyone to their seats and help Stuart serve, dashing back and forth to the kitchen to get the plated food out as fast as possible.
Conversation flows well. The placemats look good.
Everyone seems fine. Looks like they’re all having a good time.
Stuart looks happy, and so do the guys. Wine is flowing, and food is going down well.
My jaw unclenches and my shoulders drop down a couple of inches.
I take a big swig of beer, take a seat, and start to relax.
Well, I relax as much as one can while entertaining a room full of people they care deeply about, sitting on oversensitive, ruddy cheeks with a metal plug shoved up their ass.
“Everything’s delicious, Stuart,” says Luke.
“So good” and “Thanks,” the others mumble through mouths full of food.
“Elliot made the chicken.” Stuart’s voice is laced with whatever that thing is that lives in his larynx and becomes dangerously intoxicating to me when it’s airborne.
“Who’s Elliot?” teases Trouble, eyes lighting up in mischief but perfect face arranged into a look of confusion.
Jessie falls for it. “Elliot is Gould, you dork. How can you not know that? You’ve known the guy for years.”
Trouble loves it. His eyes dance in a way that scares me. “Really? Your first name is Elliot? I had no idea, Gould.”
Luke and Wyn laugh, and Mat and Will drape their arms over the back of Trouble’s chair. Mat smooths Trouble’s hair down and then finds Will’s hand, weaving their fingers together. Trouble leans back into their touch, eyes softening.
I wait for the usual jealousy to hit. The green squeeze. The unpleasant rush I feel when I think about the fact that despite trying my ass off, I’ve never managed to find a single person who wants to keep me around, and here the three of them are with not one person, but two.
I wait and wait, watching as Will dips his head to whisper something to Trouble.
Green doesn’t squeeze.
I see Luke and Wyn still cracking it. Jessie is still talking to Stuart.
Engrossed. Leaning in and focusing so hard, I can tell he’s trying to memorize what Stuart’s saying.
He’ll probably call me tomorrow to get Stuart’s number.
Bet he’s milliseconds away from asking Stuart if Adrian can have a playdate with Sadie.
Bet Luke will think it’s a lovely idea. Bet Stuart will agree.
As I look at all the familiar faces around the table, it hits me that at one time or another, I’ve had a crush on just about every person at the table. I see Luke’s cheery goodness and Jessie’s sultry looks. Wyn’s eager smile and the ravishing beauty and brawn that make up Triple Trouble.
I find Stuart’s face in a sea of friend-faces. It stands out like a beacon. Sun-kissed and serious. I find his eyes, and like that, I’m treading water, frozen, frightened, unsure how I got here.
He’s serious for so long that I feel like I can’t swallow. My windpipe is suddenly rigid and thick. I start thinking I should look away. I try to. I do, but I can’t tear my eyes off him.
He dabs his lips with his napkin and leans back in his chair without breaking eye contact with me. Then he smiles lazily, eyes lighting up, teeth gleaming from the light of the candles on the table. It’s there for a second, and then it’s gone. It’s quick. Just a flicker. Just a hint.
It’s enough though.
More than enough.
Sitting there in a room crammed full of people I’ve had epic crushes on over the years, I look into Stuart’s dreamy blue eyes and realize I’ve never had a crush on anyone before.
Not like this.
Not even close.
Welp, shit.
Guess I’m not completely fine. Guess being obsessed with your dad’s best friend isn’t a good idea after all.
Guess I’m fucked.
Before the cold twist of dread accompanied by that revelation can fully envelop me, drinks are topped up.
Wine splashes into glasses, hitting the bowl and forming tiny barrels before it settles.
Red wine, white wine, rosé. The conversation ramps up.
Voices get louder. So does the laughter.
It starts tipping the scale from civilized giggles to the kind of thing that would sound like wild, abrupt roars if you weren’t personally involved in the conversation.
It gets to the point where I’m sure Stuart’s thinking, It’s a damn good thing they all took an Uber and Shit. I hope we do have enough booze.