But like it always had the power to do, Patrice’s deep voice brought me to a dead stop. “That wasn’t a date, Easton. That was Ari. He and Yin stayed over last night.” He sighed wearily and I stood there, with my back to him waiting to hear more. “Ari got stopped by the police yesterday afternoon driving back from Yin’s place.”
I spun around to look at him. Worry for Ari stamping out my pity party. “Is he okay? Did they do anything to him?” My mouth felt wooden when I talked, dreading all the possible terrible answers to that question.
Patrice’s face was thunderous, but he shook his head before he spoke. “They were rude and stopped him for going eight miles over the speed limit, but they let him go.” The “fucking ridiculous” in his tone did not go unnoticed, and I couldn’t disagree.
“He was a little freaked out and I invited him and Yin over to hang out and watch a movie. His home situation is not the best right now and I wanted him to have a place to calm down and talk about it before going back there.”
His perfectly reasonable answer made me feel even worse, instead of relieved. He was helping out a friend and I made the whole thing about me. I nodded and was about to apologize for my incredibly inappropriate behavior when his voice pulled me out of my brooding.
“No. Don’t do that,” he said as he gently tugged on my arm and pulled me inside.
“Do what?” I sounded surly and unhappy, but still let him guide me into his place. He was probably trying to not give our neighbors a front-row seat to whatever it was that we were doing.
“I didn’t cancel with you because you weren’t important.” He closed the door and leaned against it, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. He was wearing his Cornell sweatshirt and loose jeans that looked soft and worn. His locs were hanging halfway down his torso.
His hair always smelled like peppermint and coconut, and more than anything I wanted to get closer, press my nose against his neck.
Instead I stood there, my own arms a mirror image of his.
I’d made a career and a reputation out of being a guy who could own a courtroom, no matter how stressful the situation. Not today. I was sweating, nervous that Patrice would see right through me.
“You could’ve told me you had an emergency. I’m not that fucking self-centered, Patrice.”
He pursed his lips at my words, like he’d bitten into something sour.
“Stop saying shit like that about yourself, Easton,” he said, softer than the words warranted.
His face relaxed and he pushed off the door. My entire body thrummed with the need to take the three steps to where he was. Still I didn’t move. I didn’t want to do anything that would get me on the other side of the door.
Patrice was the only person in my life who constantly made me feel like I was looking in from the outside.
I’d always been an insider; very few doors had ever been closed for me. If there was an insiders club, a VIP section, I always had full access. Not with him. What I got, he allowed; there was not trampling in and assuming I would be welcome.
“I cancelled because I wanted to see you too much.” He shook his head and laughed, but there wasn’t very much humor in it. “I felt guilty that I’d been hurrying home to see you and—”
Waiting for him to cross those few feet between us felt like I was watching him cross an ocean. Once he was there, so close I could lift my hand and tug on his locs, bring him down for a kiss, I still didn’t move.
I wanted him to tell me why.
Why he’d left me hanging after what we’d shared last night.
“Why, Patrice?” I could see the muscle in his jaw twitch, a gesture of frustration, but I knew there was also uncertainty there. I’d seen him do that before, when he was figuring out how to proceed.
Without another word he closed those last few inches between us and grabbed my face.
His hands felt hot, and I almost flinched from the shock of it. It seemed like I hadn’t felt them on my skin for ages. As his fingers grazed my cheek, I recalled how rough his hands were. Calloused. So unexpected for a man who worked with his mind.
I knew it was from many summers working on construction sites for a family friend, but it still made something tight unfurl in my chest to feel those hands on me again.
My professor, a man who earned his livelihood from his intellect, had hardened hands. I shivered as his lips touched mine, that mouth which had ruined me for any other, so close to giving me what I’d been dreaming of for months.
I don’t know how I managed it, but I stepped back, because I wasn’t playing this game anymore. He was going to have to tell me.
“Why?”
He sighed and closed his eyes like it was really costing him to have to say it. “Because I fucking want you. Because when I’m with you, you’re the only thing that matters and I never lose my focus, Easton.” He exhaled again, and it was a helpless, astonished sound. “You make me reckless.”
Those words, that confirmation that I wasn’t the only one who was far gone and in too deep. It was like a dam broke and I wanted, no, I needed to kiss him. Our lips touched and it was...absolutely everything. Patrice blindly walked us back until we hit the couch, as I scrambled to get my hands on more of him. Without even coming up for air, I started pulling at his jeans, tugging them down. We were both barefoot and pretty soon, we were down to our briefs and panting. Breaths short as if I’d run for miles. Our tongues tangled as our hands grabbed and scratched with barely refrained desperation.
I let go of him for a moment and leaned back, needing some distance. I wanted to tell him that I was pissed that he’d deprived us both of this. Of all the time we’d lost in this stupid game.
But when I looked at him, he was shaking. His face was tight with the need to get closer, and it finally dawned on me.
Staying away had cost Patrice too.
“You know what I thought the first time I saw you like this?” I asked, my hands under his sweatshirt right above the raised skin on the tattoo on his chest. He was always so hot, like he had a fire roaring inside him.
He shook his head, jaw tight.
“I thought, ‘I’ve never really wanted before.’ Because the way I want you, it’s more powerful than pretty much anything else.” I leaned closer, and this time he didn’t try to move, just let me run hands over him. All that dark brown skin, sinew and muscle.
Patrice’s body was like carved ebony. Every inch of him was perfect. I took care of myself, worked out. But Patrice was pure beauty.
I ran my palm lazily down his chest, the sparse wiry hair tickling my hands. I stopped just above his cock and looked up at him.
I turned my hand and possessively ran it over his erection. I gripped him hard like I knew he liked, still looking at him. My mouth watered as I felt him pulse against my palm.
“I dream about touching you like this.”
He shuddered out a breath, still not saying a word, and pulled me in for another kiss, his tongue licked at the seam of my lips, and I opened for him again. I lifted my hands and put them on either side of his face. Wanting to stay like this, locked with him. He sucked on my tongue hard and I whimpered, his hands making their way down my back until he was at my hips. My awareness of him suddenly overwhelming. I froze for a second and he pulled back, looking at me with that barely restrained intensity.
“Easton. I don’t know if we can do more than this.” He didn’t say anything else, but I understood what he meant. He wasn’t sure he could give me more than this one time, and it hurt to hear it, but there was no stopping this.
“I know.” I nodded and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the coiled metal staircase that led to his bed. I hadn’t seen it after he’d moved in, and as I led him up I didn’t look behind me, scared that he might change his mind.
I would have to think about this more closely some time. Patrice was right, we coul
dn’t keep doing this. I would end up resenting him for how little he could give, and he would grow tired of keeping me at a distance. But did that knowledge stop me? No.
When we got to his bedroom he pulled me toward him, looked at me for what felt like minutes, and then very gently pressed our mouths together. It felt so intimate, as if he wanted to mark this moment.
As he kissed me, I skinned out of my briefs, my hands trembling from anticipation. This had been a long time coming. So long I’d almost given up hope that it would happen again. After I was naked I pulled back, breaking the contact just to get my bearings. I closed my eyes and swayed, standing there for just a breath, until I felt strong hands pull me in.
“Come here.” I didn’t think I was imagining the shakiness in his voice.
We tumbled onto the bed and I let myself sink into the mattress with his body covering mine. This feeling. The way he covered me completely, how his hard body felt on mine. I’d missed it so much.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but all I could do was breathe out his name. He shook his head as he lowered himself over me. He went in for kisses and nips of my neck, my lips. His tongue lashing at my skin, making me shiver.
“Patrice. Please.”
“Now that we’re here, I’m not sure how I held out this long,” he said almost grudgingly as he made his way down my body. Within a moment he was busy worrying my nipple between his teeth, making my entire body feel like it was on fire. I was torn between asking for more and not wanting to break the spell with words. Even lost in the moment, in the way Patrice made me feel, I knew it could be taken away.
I grabbed his head as he brushed his lips against my cock and made him look at me.
He looked hungry, like he could devour me. He hiked an eyebrow as if to ask why I was interrupting, his loose locs tickling my skin as he moved.
“What?” His voice was rough, guttural almost.
I placed my hand at the nape of his neck, thinking of what to say. “Just wanted to look at you I guess.”
Our eyes locked and held for a couple of breaths, like we were both letting the moment sink in before really going for this. After a second he brought a hand up again then took my cock in his mouth without hesitation. That was another thing about Patrice, no matter how much he wavered, once we were together, he was all mine. Every ounce of his focus solely concentrated on me. It was addictive.
As he bottomed out on my dick, I fisted the sheets, breathing through my mouth, flooded with the things that Patrice’s tight hot mouth on my cock was doing to me.
“Ahhh, Patrice.” I wanted him inside, now, now, now. “Please, I’m gonna come, and I want...”
He lifted his head and started moving before I could even finish. He sat up on the bed and pushed my legs apart and then ran his big hand over the inside of my thigh, spreading me open. I held my breath, trying to hold myself together, to not fly apart, from everything happening in my body and in my head.
He bent down, flicking his tongue along my neck, and moving up until our mouths met for more messy, fevered kisses. Like nothing could be held back anymore.
He breathed against my ear, his hands still playing with my ass.
“You didn’t finish what you were saying, counselor. You want?”
I leaned my head back, trying to get some air. “I want your cock.”
He pulled back to a kneeling position and grabbed his dick. It was uncut and that pink head glistened. I lifted on an elbow, my mouth watering to taste him, but he shook his head.
“Stay right there, because I’m about to come just from the faces you keep making at my dick.”
He tipped his head toward the bedside table as I laughed at how annoyed he looked at my “making faces.”
“Grab the condoms and lube in there.”
I reached over and pulled them out as he alternated between stroking his cock and playing with my balls and hole. By the time I handed them to him I was panting again.
He rolled that Magnum on in record time and it was all I could do to not whimper, remembering what it was like to have him inside me. The way he’d grind his hips, relentlessly, until he was all the way in.
“You already rolling your eyes?” he asked, not even trying to mask the smugness in his voice as he bent over me to grab a pillow and kiss me in the process. He stuffed it under my hips and pushed our groins together.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“No, that’ll be you in like a minute.” I balked at that and the bastard just laughed. “Hold your leg up, baby.” He grunted and I instantly obliged, his sure hands already busy opening me up. His locs brushed my thighs as he bent his head, focused on getting me ready, while my heart raced, waiting for what was coming next.
Patrice was the very embodiment of control and restraint, but whenever we were together like this there was always a moment when something snapped and he turned into the dirtiest fucker in the entire world. And it revved me up like nothing else.
“What’s got you so serious?” I could hear the mischief in his voice, and I braced for it. His tone placid, as if he wasn’t two lubed fingers inside. “You thinking about the dicking you’re about to get? Hmmm?”
I gasped, my back arching off the mattress when he brushed right against my prostate. “As far as I can tell the dick in question is still MIA.”
I knew I was playing with fire, but I was here to get burned to the ground.
He lifted an eyebrow and grabbed his cock, getting it right up against my entrance. “Oh. You want me to give you a better view.” He pushed in just a bit and I started shaking, desperate for it.
“No.” The word was one long moan. “I want to feel it. I want you to fuck me, Patrice.”
I brought my legs back, opening myself up to him.
He sucked in a breath and glided a shaky hand over my thighs. “Fuck. I’ve dreamed of this. This. How tight you are, how fucking good you feel.”
“Do it,” I said, thrusting to meet him as he worked himself inside.
He did.
Worked that cock in until I was so full I could only take short, sharp breaths. Once he was all the way in, he leaned over me and started moving.
“Easton.” He was panting in my ear as he moved, his hips circling in and out in a way that made me feel every inch of him.
“God, why is your dick so fucking amazing?”
He laughed and panted out, “You feel pretty damn good too, come on, make it tighter, baby.” I clenched around him and he rolled his eyes. “Awww, that’s so good. I swear, I could spend days fucking you.”
I knew this was just the moment, the pleasure, but I wanted to say things. Instead I clenched my teeth and let myself sink into how good he felt.
After a moment his thrusts redoubled and I felt that flooding in my groin when I was about to come.
I unhooked one of my arms from around his neck and starting stroking my cock. After just a few I felt myself going over. “I’m coming,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
Patrice nodded, slamming into me. “Good. Come on, cheri mwen, let me feel you.” His breaths were getting shorter and shorter, sweat dripping off his skin.
I gasped as my vision whited out, and in the distance I could hear Patrice moan as shudders coursed through him.
After a moment he let himself fall on top of me, slick with sweat.
His voice was muffled, but I heard him clearly when he said—with just enough remorse to make me cringe—shit.
If I’d had any sense of self-preservation at all when it came to Patrice Denis I would’ve gotten up then and walked out, but instead I lay there with my eyes closed, letting the exhaustion of the sleepless night and the afterglows of the mind-blowing sex take over.
Chapter Nine
Easton
I woke up, unsure of how long I’d been asleep, and found Patr
ice sitting in bed reading from what looked like a pile of papers. I shifted onto my side, and he turned to look at me. He was wearing those reading glasses I’d seen on him a couple of times, bare chested and so handsome it took enormous restraint to keep from sighing. The rain must’ve stopped while I was asleep, since a couple of slivers of sunshine were peeking in through his window curtains. He put down the papers and placed them at the top of the pile sitting on his bedside table and ran a hand down my naked flank.
For a moment I lay there, blissfully imagining that he was mine and I was his. That he hadn’t told me we were over before we really started. We stayed like that for a few minutes, me pretending to be asleep and him quietly stroking my back.
I was almost drifting back to sleep when my phone, which he apparently got out of my short pockets and placed on the little table next to the bed, started buzzing. When I opened my eyes, I found his trained on me, and then he smiled. That smile I rarely saw which was pure and unguarded. I was about to say something, but reached for my phone instead.
It was a message from my dad.
If you have time to spare from the temper tantrum you call a career, your grandfather would like to see you at his birthday brunch today. You’re already an hour late.
It was like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on me. My father never failed to let me know that to him I was nothing but a selfish self-satisfied brat. Most days I blew him off and ignored him. But something about being back here again a year later, still feeling unsure and somewhat pathetic for throwing myself at Patrice, made the whole thing sting. Without responding, I sighed and put the phone down, trying to figure out what to do about Patrice. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do now.
Did he want me to get dressed and leave?
Since I’d barged into his house in a fit of rage, fucked him and then took a nap in his bed without asking, I’d probably worn out my welcome.
I turned around, trying to get myself out of the bed, and spoke while I still had my back turned to him, not wanting to see the relief in his face when I told him I was leaving.
American Love Story (Dreamers) Page 12
