Christ, why did she have to do that to him? Why in one message could she reduce him to a simpering boy? He felt the blood drain from his cock, his orgasm go into hiding, which was just what he wanted to do. But he knew it would do no good. He reached over, his hand sticky from his spit, and reached for the receiver.
“Hello, Rose.”
“You sound out of breath.”
“I was in the yard, had to come running when I heard the phone ring. I knew it was you.”
“Hmm,” was Rose's reply. “So, in the yard. Digging?”
“And I found nothing.”
“Keep digging.”
“Rose, I think we're tilting at windmills here.”
“Parker, do I have to come out there myself. . .”
“No,” he quickly said, too quickly.
“See you soon,” was her reply, and before he could answer she had hung up.
Parker St. John—so vibrant, vital, voracious, so hot, hairy, and hunky, so sexy, steamy, and strong—had just been reduced to simply so wimpy, wanting, and wanton. Rose had a commanding, imperious way about her, and he pitied the unsuspecting residents of Eldon Court. They had no idea what—or who—Parker had just unleashed on them. But maybe it wasn't so bad, the arrival of Rose Emerson St. John would no doubt shake things up, and maybe that was a good thing.
Parker, still naked, his cock shriveled, more frustrated, leaned back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Marc was gone from his thoughts.
There was no way he'd be able to climax now.
Besides, when it came to Rose, anything less was anti-climatic.
“Shit,” he said to the empty room.
* * * *
“I've been waiting all morning for you to visit.”
“Sorry I'm late. I was cleaning up the house, I guess anticipating your homecoming.”
Marc was gazing out the fifth-floor window of Rich's hospital room at a great view of the ocean. He could see the Bayside Hotel from here and for a moment Marc was reminded of their first nights back in Wonderland when they had lived in the penthouse suite while they'd sought a suitable home to buy. How innocent those days had seemed, drinks by the pool, strolls along the beach, wild sex all night. Then it had just been the two of them, their relationship renewed after the scandal back east which had tested their bond and sent them fleeing to Rich's hometown. Compared to the drama that was playing out now on Eldon Court, New York seemed like Walton's mountain.
“Marc, you okay?”
Marc turned back to face Rich. “Lot on my mind.”
“I know this week has been hard on you.”
“On you, too. I'm not the one who got shot and endured surgery to repair his lung.”
“Anything for you.”
“Really?”
Marc's tone was harsh, accusatory, and he saw Rich blanch, like he'd been slapped.
“Okay, you want to tell me what's bothering you?”
“Why don't we wait until you get home and, you know, are fully recovered.”
“You think I cheated on you again,” Rich said quietly. “I know the look.”
“And am I wrong?”
“No.”
Marc's mouth fused shut, a safety feature to keep him from regretting any further words.
“It was just a simple blow job. . . from the male nurse. A sponge bath and. . . I don't know, it turned me on. Next thing I know he's going down on me and I'm doing nothing to stop him. Maybe I just wanted to make sure everything was. . . working, before you and I tried. . . God, that sounds lame even to me.”
“Your excuses have always been lame,” Marc said hotly, “I just chose to turn a blind eye, every time. But no more. Not when you realize how short and precious life is. It took Aaron dying for me to realize that maybe I don't want to settle for not being enough for you.”
“Marc, I told you, after a week in this hospital bed, I was just frustrated. . .”
“I'm not talking about the fucking nurse. . . pardon, the blowing nurse,” Marc said. “Rich, the night of the gallery opening, you showed up with Parker, the two of you out of breath. What, were you fucking him in the back parking lot when you realized how late you were, you rushed in even before you'd recovered from your orgasm? And stupid me, waiting around on the most important night of my life, waiting for the man who just that morning had professed his singular love to me.” Marc let out a sharp laugh. “You know, you talk of excuses, with all that happened that night I didn't get to hear yours. ‘Oh, sorry, Marc, got my foot caught in the bathtub, Parker came along and helped me get it out and we fell, and before I realized it my cock had slipped up his ass. And hell, it was already there, so why not keep going, fuck him hard, it's just sex, it's not love.’ Is that it?”
“You think I had sex with Parker?”
“Oh, I know it. You've been fighting it since he showed up in Wonderland.”
“It wasn't even sex,” Rich said, “It was a power play.”
“Oh, right. You mean, whoever got to be on top, possessed all the power? So what was the agreement, you fuck him and he goes away, leaves Eldon Court and Wonderland, never to return to our shores. . . well guess what, Rich, you must not have been your usual self in bed or wherever the hell you fucked him, because Parker is still here, and he's got some new agenda, of that I'm sure. So. . .” Marc's face suddenly went ghost white as a sudden realization hit him. “Holy shit, Parker's still here in Wonderland because he has all the power—over us, over you. Well, as I live and breathe, the unthinkable has actually happened. Richard North, aggressive top, dominant lover, has finally bottomed. And bottomed out, too.”
“Marc, you're over-reacting. . .” Rich said, trying to reach out to take hold of his lover.
Marc twisted away, leaving Rich's arms to fall impotently to the blankets. Making his way for the door, he stopped only when Rich pleadingly called out his name.
“Don't leave, not like this.”
Marc, choking back angry tears, said, “Dammit, this was supposed to be a new start for both of us. You convinced me to come with you to Wonderland, how great it would be. Such a fucking joke, us, all of this, even the damn name of the town.” He paused, trying to keep his breathing even. “Let me know when the doctors are ready to release you, I don't want to be home when you get there. In the meantime, enjoy your sponge baths.”
“Marc, stop. You can't leave. Eldon Court is our home.”
“Not anymore,” said Marc, and with that he swung open the door and slipped out. He didn't look back once as he made his way out of the hospital, fearing his resolve would weaken. For once, Marc Anderson wanted to be in control. Power play indeed.
Good-bye innocence.
Hello revenge.
* * * *
Where the day had gone, Marc couldn't be sure. Night had fallen and it was unseasonably cool as September approached. Summer was waning like the day, twilight a theme in his relationship with Rich as well. He'd gone to the beach and walked for hours, wondering if he really was brave enough to leave Rich. And then do what, return back east and resume his previous life? His art career was off to a meaningless start, what good was reputation when only one man—and a crazy, vengeance-driven man—was the sole owner of your work?
He'd have to start all over again. With everything.
Now, turning the car onto Eldon Court, headlights guiding him past darkened houses, he wondered if the empty feeling on the street was symbolic of something bigger. No one appeared to be home. Had they all abandoned their homes, bailed on their crumbling facades? Marc considered stopping at Paolo's house to check in on how his friend was doing, but he wasn't in the mood to be rejected by someone else; so far Paolo had refused any overture. So Marc just parked the car, and bounded his way up the steps. He wanted wine, yes, he liked that idea, him and a bottle and his porch and the hidden night, contemplating future successes while drowning his present-day sorrows.
Five minutes later, the cork opened and the first glass poured, he retired to the porch and he wa
tched the progression of the night's white moon. Still dressed in his shorts and T-shirt from earlier, the chill of the evening sunk deep beneath his skin, down to his soul. Or maybe that was just a reaction to the drama of the day. My God, had he really walked out on Rich? He pondered whether he really had the guts to follow through on his threat. If he didn't do it now, he'd never do it—his words would never again carry such weight. Much like Rich's, promising he'd never fuck around on Marc again, only to do it just hours later. With Parker.
After the third glass of wine, Marc was feeling better, a bit woozy.
That's when a sports car turned onto Eldon Court and made its way to Number Two. It was the aforementioned Parker, his frame easily made out in the strong glow of the moon. He carried a couple of bulky packages in his bulging arms as he made his way up the porch steps. A motion detector operated an overhead light and suddenly Parker was bathed in low, yellow rays. Marc took a sip of his wine as he watched the man fumble for his keys. He dropped them and had to bend down for them. An image of Rich thrusting into that ass flooded Marc's mind, and then he realized, no, that's not right, Rich was the one who had bent over and Parker had shoved his hard cock inside him, pounding him while sweat dripped down that magnificent chest. . .
Marc's cock jerked inside his tight shorts, excited by the explicit images being projected in his mind. He knew what he had to do; no, what he needed to do. He wondered if he would have the courage. But then he remembered his earlier pledge to himself, stand up for yourself, no more letting Rich's double standards rule his life. So Marc drained the last of his glass, throwing it against the cement path as he made his way to the sidewalk. The shattering sound of broken crystal erupted in the silence of the night, causing Parker to swirl around.
“Who's there. . . what's going on?”
“Your neighbor, come to borrow some sugar.”
“Marc, is that you? What the hell. . . are you drunk?”
“Not nearly enough.”
Marc stumbled on the last step and Parker reached out to keep him from falling flat on his face. Meeting his eyes, those sparkling blue eyes that twinkled even in the sickly yellow of the porch light, Marc again felt his cock dance inside his shorts. He was horny, he was angry, he was tipsy, all ingredients that made for a tasty concoction known as crazy sex. And Parker St. John was just the right cook. . .cock. Hell, he'd been flirting with Marc for weeks, and once they'd almost done it, that night he'd gone to Number Two and found Parker tied up, having been threatened but not robbed, and seeing that sexy, furry body spread out on the bed, Marc had nearly given in to desire. But his commitment to Rich had stopped him, an inner voice of reason keeping him loyal all his life. But now, what did he have to lose when he'd already lost it all?
But to ask for sex, beg for it, even under the influence—he couldn't see himself doing that. He couldn't just walk up to Parker and say, “Fuck me now.” So, instead he went for a variation on a theme, and said, “You fucking bastard.”
“Got that right. I am a bastard, and hell, I'm human, I like to fuck. So, shoot me.”
With the power pulsing between them, neither saw the inappropriateness of the comment.
“You fucked Rich.”
“Hey, don't take it out on me. Takes two to tango.”
Marc felt deflated by the man's obvious admittance. “So you know why I'm here?”
“I'm not sure you even know why you're here, Marc. But I figured after what Rich has been through the past week, yeah, he had to confess what happened between us the night of your show. What if he'd gone to his grave without being able to tell you of his latest indiscretion? But he's fine, and no, don't worry; it's not going to happen again. I'm not sure either of us really wanted it, it erupted from something beyond attraction. It was all about power, to see just who could dominate whom.” Parker stopped, smiled. “I won, handily.”
“You actually sound proud of yourself.”
“Marc, do we have to do this in the doorway for all our neighbors to see? Come in, let me get you a beer—not that I think you need any more booze.” Then he touched Marc, his hand lingering on his shoulder. He squeezed once, gently, but with a noticeable undercurrent.
Marc knew this guy's seductive game, and he was playing it. He followed Parker inside, thinking about the secrets that lived in the walls of Eldon Court as well as the secrets that seemed hidden deep within Parker St. John's heart. Marc watched as Parker closed the door, the muscles of his arms flexing as he turned the lock. Dressed in blue jeans and a fresh white V-neck shirt, his body fit, his skin tan, a dark triangle of chest hair exposed, Marc felt attraction build within him; the guy was sex on a stick. His cock began to thicken inside his shorts.
“Have a seat; I'll get you that beer.”
Marc wandered into the living room, flicked on a lamp that emitted soft illumination on the freshly painted walls. The dark stains he'd noticed during his earlier visit had been covered up, but not forgotten, not by anyone who really knew what had transpired inside this house all those years ago. An event that had caused an endless ripple effect that continued to alter the currents of today, this very moment. A moment that seemed pre-destined, a heated exchange of fate.
“Here you go,” Parker said, holding out a bottle of beer.
“You know I didn't come for beer,” Marc said.
“What did you come for?”
“You.”
“Me? You mean a revenge fuck? You want to get back at Rich.”
It was said as a statement, not a question.
“Is there something wrong with that?”
Parker grinned as he set the beer down on the table, moving so close to Marc they could taste each other's breath. Another step closer still, Marc didn't back away as he normally would when faced with such temptation. He held his ground until Parker's body made contact with his, a quick sizzle between them sparking the night's electricity. Parker reached out, his hand cupping Marc's chin, turning it up toward him. He bent down to kiss him.
Marc quickly withdrew. “No kissing.”
“You still love him.”
“I'm not talking about him. I don't want to hear his name.”
“So, what, I'm just supposed to take my clothes off and fuck you right here?”
“Where did you fuck him?”
Parker didn't answer right away, yet the darting of his eyes gave him away. The couch, just nearby. Marc looked over there, imagined the two of them going at it and knew that wasn't the right place. “Upstairs, where we almost did it, when I found you. Lead me upstairs, Parker, take me there now and all night.”
Parker grabbed Marc's hand and led him up one step, then another and another until they had finally reached the top landing. Once in the master bedroom, Parker closed the door behind him. Marc allowed himself to be pushed up hard against that closed door, Parker's strong body thrust against him. His cock was already hard, big, and Marc salivated at the thought of that massive tool in his mouth, in his ass, pounding him and fucking him and pleasing him while he cried out so loud his voice would carry across the currents of the ocean and into the ether.
“That what you want?” Parker asked, pressing his groin against Marc.
“Yes, yes. I want it now.”
Marc reached up and tore at Parker's white shirt, ripping it open to expose his thickly covered chest, dark brown whorls coating his skin except for where hungry nipples jutted, waiting to be teased, licked, gorged upon. Marc ran his hands over that chest, losing his fingers in the coarse hair. Rich had been shaved bald from the surgery, it would be awhile before Marc could relish fur like this, and besides, wasn't he ending things with Rich? This chest was his now, all his, and he lapped at the sweaty fur.
“Yeah, you like that, don't you,” Parker said.
“Fuck yeah, you've got such a great chest, so hairy. . .”
“I've been trying for weeks to get you to run your hands over my chest.”
“And now I'll never stop.”
Parker ripped the tatte
red remains of his shirt off, finally revealing his entire hairy torso. Marc felt his cock twitch, pre-come leaking into the folds of his underwear. Shit, what am I doing, why am I doing this. . .? Am I merely getting back at Rich or finally indulging in what I've wanted since the moment I saw Parker with his shirt off? Marc ran his tongue around hard nipples, following the trail down Parker's flat hairy stomach, stopping only when he came to the waistline of his jeans. His eyes could see the huge bulge from there, and all of a sudden all he could think about was taking that thick cock into his mouth. Like he'd seen Paolo doing on the beach a few weeks ago, savoring every inch until he came and came, shooting buckets down his dry throat, Marc dropped to his knees and unzipped the jeans from Parker's hairy legs. What popped out amazed Marc; the cock was bigger than he'd imagined, far bigger than Rich's, which was impressive to begin with. Doubt crowded Marc's mind, but then he shoved it aside, desire had consumed him and he would not be denied. He opened his mouth wide and took the head in, licking, drawing his tongue over the eye, tasting Parker's pre-come, knowing it was a prelude to a thicker, gooey flavor that he would savor.
“Yeah, suck me, Marc, suck it.”
“God, it's huge.”
Huge, yes, but Marc happily took it into his mouth, down his throat, sliding it in and out between moist lips. He took it all, way down to the mass of hair that encircled the end of the long shaft. With exploring fingers, Marc guided the cock in, in, in, further, all while his other hand snaked around to Parker's ass, running fingers over fur-covered cheeks. Christ, Marc thought, Parker was one fucking hairy beast, a big cocked ape. He pulled out, saliva keeping the connection between cock and mouth.
“I can't wait, fuck me, Parker.”
Parker grabbed him, tossed him down on the bed, lifted his legs. From the bedside he withdrew a condom and Marc watched with envy and excitement as he unrolled the latex down the long, thick shaft. He lubed Marc's ass once, then twice for good measure. He would need a lot to take this piece of meat. Marc gazed up at the man who was about to fuck him, the first man in years, other than Rich, to take him, and he couldn't believe how much he wanted it, craved it. He reached down and grabbed the encased cock, guiding it toward his waiting ass. Parker pushed, pushed again, and Marc felt the tip pierce him.
Desperate Enemies 3 Page 3
