CHAPTER FOUR
Nate
I like beautiful things, and I enjoy looking good, but during the Vogue photo shoot what I’d loved most of all was seeing Jack playing up for the camera.
His thirst-trap ass filling out tailored trousers to perfection was a sight to behold.
Throughout the shoot Jack checked-in, making sure I was comfortable with our more intimate poses.
He had a knack of making me laugh just as Max Erdmann was ready to shoot, giving the photographs energy, humour, and intimacy.
Suffice to say, the photographer was overjoyed with the shoot.
I returned to my suite afterward, as there was time for a power nap before I had to get ready for the red carpet.
Finally relaxed enough to sleep, I closed the curtains, removed my sweats and the hoodie and melted into the enormous bed.
I reached for my phone to set an alarm for three hours later when it suddenly rang in my hand.
I stared at the screen to see an unknown number.
I should have ignored it, but I pressed the button to accept the call.
“Hello?”
“Nate…that you, boy?” a raspy, shaky American voice asked.
“Who is this?”
“Newt…God, I’m so sorry…for everything, for the mischief,” the man said, sounding distressed, even tearful.
The comment was baffling. “Erik is that you?”
“I left it too long. I might not make it this time. I’m so sorry…it’s—” then the line was cut.
I lay there confused and unsettled by the call.
The man had called me boy. Erik never called me his boy.
The man was in distress and the voice sounded familiar, but I don’t think it was my husband.
I’d heard him drunk, stoned, unwell, and through a range of emotional states.
Who was that? How had a stranger gotten hold of my phone number, and what the hell was he apologizing for?
A coil of unease writhed in my gut. I clicked the screen to call back but the number was dead.
Weird. I absently set my alarm, then placed my phone on the nightstand and rolled over.
The feeling of unease remained, but I needed to sleep and couldn’t allow myself to dwell on it any longer.
The scent of oils from the massage was still on my skin, the smell eliciting memories of the duo massage and the noises Jack made as the therapist worked on the back of his thighs and his glutes.
I was glad we’d lain on our front at the time because I’d popped wood at hearing his groans of satisfaction.
Getting hard was a minor miracle for me these days.
My libido was depleted and sex with Erik hadn’t been on the agenda for so long that we just didn’t bother trying.
Jack’s groans had sent a bolt of need through me.
And now, in bed with thoughts of Jack, I was like a steel rod for him.
Interesting! I gripped my thick length and with a few tugs thinking about Jack’s perfect ass and his jockstrap, I brought myself off at lightning speed, and then I fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.
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