“Oh God…yes, yes, Santo, my sexy man, my furry, sweet, wonderful lover…”
He felt his cock erupt again, and this time he allowed himself to spill himself deep within Santo. His hips bucked as every burst hit him, felt Santo’s fingers dig into his back, heightening the pleasure which rocked his body. Santo then cried out, and Freddie watched as his thick cock blew, a fresh load of come shooting onto his sexy chest. He leaned down, licked it, tasted him, his come and his sweaty musk hidden deep within the whorls of his chest hair.
Freddie then slid in beside his lover, kissing him.
“You know the life you want is the life I want,” Freddie said.
“And soon, very soon, we will have it,” Santo said. “Tomorrow, love is celebrated, and not just for your friend.”
It was an enigmatic comment, and Freddie wanted to explore it further, but after the indulgent meal, the endless wine, and now a healthy round or two of tipsy sex, Santo was suddenly fast asleep. Freddie was left alone with his own thoughts and the glow of the moon, except when the urgent sounds from the patio intruded upon them.
He’d been right. This house oozed sex tonight.
Tomorrow, though, when the sun came up and its rays shimmered across the glassy surface of the Mediterranean, it was love’s turn. Freddie stared at the sleeping form of Santo, thinking how wonderful it would be wake to him every morning, forever. He gently ran his fingers through his chest hair, lovingly watching the steady rise and fall of his lungs as he breathed, and wondered if Santo had any idea what he was planning.
***
The room was quiet when Freddie stirred, Santo still asleep beside him. He stole a look at the clock on the bedtable, saw that it was eight in the morning. Early, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep again, not this day. He tossed back the covers, padded his naked self over to the dresser, where he pulled out a pair of shorts, tossed them on and padded his way along the carpet in the hallway, ensuring he didn’t disturb the rest of the guests inside the villa. Freddie made his way down the sweeping staircase, found his way to the kitchen, drawn suddenly by the smell of fresh-brewed coffee.
Someone else was awake.
“Good morning,” said Patsy Abbott, sitting by herself on a stool in the center island. She was wrapped up in a comforting bathrobe.
“Oh, Patsy, morning. You’re up early.”
“I don’t sleep well,” she said. “When you travel like I do, your body never has a chance to catch up to the time zone. So, big day today.”
“For Matt,” he said.
“Aren’t you one of the best men?”
Pouring a cup of coffee and taking a grateful sip first, he said, “Looks like I’ll be the only one. Our other friend, Jake, seems to have disappeared. Neither Matt nor I have heard from him despite our attempts to contact him. If he’s going to make it, he’s cutting it awfully close.”
“I know what you mean. My other brother was supposed to be here as well.”
“Hunter, right?”
“Of course, you’re aware of him, thanks to…wait, a minute, Freddie, you don’t suppose he and Jake have hooked up again. I mean, both are expected to be here yet neither are here. It would be a hell of a coincidence, but then again, the three of you crossing paths with the Abbott siblings during your European flings tour already took that idea to extremes. Matt met Colton, Jake met Hunter, and of course, there was you and I knocking back shots together at JFK before our flight to Rome. It’s almost like those three flights were in the hands of the gods, determined to push us all toward this moment. A wedding, who’d have thought? So let’s leave the rest of the day in those same hands. Jake will be here. I trust Hunter will be, too, though he’s not exactly known for his reliability. It’s one of the reasons we asked him to the wedding. It was time for a family meeting.”
Freddie said nothing in response, merely staring down into his coffee cup.
“Hello, Freddie? Did you hear a word I said?”
“You said a lot of words, but yeah, sorry, I got distracted.”
“What’s got you in a twist? Santo? Something wrong in Italian paradise?”
“No, everything is great. Better than great. We spent an amazing week in Tuscany.”
“How could you not? The Mancusi villa is gorgeous, with an amazing view of the hills. It’s also Santo’s home, and…oh, crap, he’s not thinking of backing out of my film, is he? Or worse, did you convince him to pass on it?”
“Patsy, he signed a contract. You know Santo. He honors his commitments. But before he agreed, he needed this escape. He needed to see Italy, his family, to embrace Mama Mancusi. The trip has recharged him. He’ll be ready for filming; he’s been studying the script, running lines.”
“Well, that’s wonderful to hear,” she said.
“But know this, after this film, it’s over.”
“What’s over?”
“His obligation to you. Santo’s debt will be paid.”
“Oh, Freddie, it’s never been about…owing me. Paying me back.”
“You played upon his good nature, his sense of honor.”
“Freddie, we don’t have to do this now. It’s a lovely day, the sun is shining, and later, at sundown, a wedding will take place. So, let’s table all talk of business. But let me close with this: you speak of honor, and I agree, Santo is one of the most honorable men you’ll ever meet. I will honor his request to retire from acting after this film is made. So the next six months are mine, and afterwards…”
“I get him for forever,” Freddie said.
“Why, Freddie Markson, the way you speak, it’s almost sounds like you’re the one getting married today.”
Freddie again stared down at his coffee cup, feeling a rush of heat in his cheeks.
“Freddie?”
He gazed up, slowly. “Don’t say a word.”
“You’re not planning on a double wedding, are you?”
“No, of course not. But maybe I might propose…I don’t know. I haven’t picked the right moment.”
Patsy got up from her seat, came over and placed an arm around Freddie. Despite the fact they were of similar age, her touch was strangely maternal, a feeling Freddie had been missing in his life since his mother had passed. He put a hand on hers, her skin warm. “Who knew I was such a matchmaker,” she finally said. “When I introduced you to Santo, I thought, well, they ought to have a fun time together, a summer fling. I had no idea that such a spark would sustain itself this long.”
“It’s more than a spark, it’s an eternal flame.”
“Propose with words like that, you may just find Santo wanting to get married today.” She kissed the top of his head. “It’s nice to know that if this Hollywood thing doesn’t work out, I’ve got a future as a matchmaker. And you, dear man, if you don’t screw it up, you could have a future of fresh pasta and hot sex. Period.”
She ruffled his hair and departed, leaving Freddie alone in the kitchen. He poured himself another cup, the coffee having done its job of opening his eyes. Or had Patsy done that with her own brand of caffeine?
As he made his way outside, heading toward the chaise lounges set out before the pool, his mind remained focused on Patsy. Freddie was glad they had been able to put aside their differences they’d revealed over lunch back in L.A.; Patsy’s longtime friendship with Santo was important, so Freddie would do as needed to ensure it stayed strong. But within reason. Patsy’s days of taking advantage of Santo’s guilt over what happened when they were teens had come to an end. Back when Patsy was 12, she was positioned as the breakout lead in a family sitcom, but exotic, youthful, handsome Santo Mancusi who played the exchange student intent on stirring up trouble for the all-American family, overtook the show. After one season Patsy Abbott was shipped off to boarding school. For five more seasons, Santo had been the Tiger Beat poster boy, until puberty forced the producers to rethink the direction of the show again. Santo’s character was eventually shipped off, too, and Santo had retreated back to Italy, shunning fame and f
ortune for the security of his family.
Now it was Freddie’s turn to protect Santo.
Freddie stretched out on a chaise, feeling the sun’s rays beaming down on his body.
“You look comfortable,” he heard from behind, looking up to see Gavin Simone.
Freddie nodded, his eyes taking in the scantily clad man standing before him. He wore only a tiny pair of swim trunks, to the point where he could see the outline of his cock. Freddie was guessing he was uncircumcised. It was also hard not to notice Gavin’s hairiness, with a generous coat of black hair on his chest, tufts of it growing up over his shoulders. It was a bit too much, but he looked proud of his pelt.
“Indeed, the sun feels great. Did you sleep well?” Freddie asked, knowing that the last he’d seen of Gavin he’d been pumping Stone’s ass full of his cock. Who knew how long into the night they’d gone at it.
Gavin grinned, scratching at his chest. “Like an angel. Thought I’d come down and swim some laps, stretch my muscles.”
He moved over to the diving board, and next thing Freddie knew he heard a splash as the man sliced beneath the surface of the water. He hoped Gavin didn’t clog the drain.
Freddie closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his own thoughts, going over in his mind the dilemma he faced regarding Santo. He so desperately wanted to propose before they went back to Hollywood, and he was mad at himself for not having done so when they were holed up in Tuscany. It would have been ideal. But he’d chickened out. What if Santo had said no? What if he wasn’t ready for such a commitment? But he was no closer to settling on an answer when more activity around the pool began to intrude upon his solitude.
Others had woken, including Colton, who was setting out a buffet of pastries, croissants, and juices, along with champagne in which to mix late-morning cocktails. Freddie saw the hunky artist, Stone, arrive, also in the tightest Speedo imaginable. The bulge was considerable, and again he recalled the scenes he’d seen playing outside his window. He saw Colton hand Stone a pastry, which he immediately bit into. It was nothing compared to what Colton had taken in his mouth last night. Freddie felt a stirring inside his own swim trunks, and thought perhaps he should throw himself into the pool as well, cool himself down.
Just then he noticed Santo appear. Yeah, he thought, now I need a cold shower.
Santo was also dressed for swimming, and while his trunks were more modest, the rest of his olive-toned body was on display, his beautifully sculpted chest of thick black hair as sexy as anything Freddie had seen. Combine that with his hairy forearms and legs, he was the picture of perfect sexiness, European exoticism being played out in front of him. He still could hardly believe this man was with him; but he loved him, and he knew the sensitive, unassuming Santo loved him. He could have dropped to one knee now and professed his eternal desire. Santo smiled at Freddie, even as he poured a glass of orange juice. Then he wandered over and kissed Freddie on the lips, the kiss carrying more sweetness than the fruit could produce.
“You were up early,” Santo said.
“You know me, an early riser.”
“I was hoping to be with you, again,” Santo said.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you. You were sound asleep.”
Santo kissed him again. “That is why I love you. You are considerate.”
“Ah, good morning boys,” Colton said, coming up beside them. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Is it possible to buy the perfect wedding weather?” Freddie asked.
“If it was, I would have wasted a lot of cash,” Colton said. “Always best to leave things to Mother Nature. She knows when to shine her light down on something special. Ah, speaking of, look who has stirred…the men of the hour.”
The sliding glass door opened and out stepped Matt and Anton, both of them in shorts and T-shirts, lazily making their way to the patio. Henri followed after them, making a beeline for the sweets treats that had been set out. The day’s grooms approached the gathering, exchanging hellos.
“You ready for this, Matt?” Freddie asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” he said, smiling at Anton.
“As am I,” Anton replied. “Knowing you love someone is one thing. Sharing that love with others, it’s a blessing.”
“Well said, Anton,” Colton said. “So, everyone enjoy the morning. Go for a swim, a walk down to the beach, or just lazily take in the sun. Cocktails are at six. I trust everyone is prepared with their outfits for the ceremony? We will begin at seven, just as the sun begins its slip into the sea.”
“That sounds nice,” Henri said.
“Ah, young man. And you need to be the first one ready. You are the best man.”
“I’m my Papa’s,” he said proudly.
The morning continued, small talk ensuing between the guests, all of them partaking in the food, the fun, the atmosphere of celebration which swirled around them like a trapped wind. For Freddie, the sight before him made him wonder if his own wedding would be as lovely. And why wouldn’t it? He assumed it would be at the Mancusi villa, but then again, he was assuming a lot, which started with assuming he had the guts to ask, and assuming Santo said yes. He remembered that old adage.
“Something on your mind?” Matt said, settling down in the chaise next to his.
“No. I’m good. Just…thinking.”
“About Santo?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because even though we’re talking, you haven’t taken your eyes off of him. He’s so hot. Look at that body…though, if you think about it, between Gavin and Colton and Santo and even Anton, in their swim trunks, showing off those furry bodies, this place looks more like Bear Week at Provincetown than a civilized wedding. You know who would be eating this up?”
“Probably eating them out, too,” Freddie said.
Matt laughed despite how anxious he was feeling. “I’m so mad at him. I mean, he said he’d be here. He wouldn’t miss my wedding for the world. I wonder what happened. Where’s he been?”
Suddenly Freddie was weary of worrying about Jake. He had his own issues on his mind, none of them resolved. Okay, not issues. One issue. The biggest one ever. One that would forever change his life. So enough about the wayward other best man Jake. He wasn’t here, Freddie was. He wanted to seek his friend’s advice, and he needed to quiet his nervous heart. He needed to make a decision.
“Matt, can I ask you a question?”
Matt turned to him, curious. “Sure, anything. You know that.”
“It’s about Santo. I want to ask him…”
But his statement was cut off by the blinking light of Matt’s phone. He held up a hand to quiet Freddie as he checked the incoming text message. Freddie noticed his friend’s eyes widening, saw the smile broaden his face.
He could well imagine what the text said. But best to have it confirmed. “What’s up?”
“How about that? I just heard from Jake. His flight landed in Nice a few minutes ago.”
That’s when Patsy wandered over to their area, a phone in her hand as well. “That’s funny you say that. I too just heard from my brother, Hunter. He says his flight just landed. In Nice. Same exact wording.”
Both Freddie and Patsy exchanged knowing looks, their unfounded suspicions from earlier this morning seemingly confirmed.
This ought to be interesting, Freddie thought. Jake wasn’t usually so mysterious.
Hunter Abbott and Jake Westbury, together again?
A double reunion awaited them, for both friends and the Abbotts siblings.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jake
“Text sent?”
“Text sent. Yours?”
“Of course.”
“I can just imagine them all sitting around the pool. Wondering what the hell is going on.”
“Jake, you could have told your friends prior to this morning.”
“I was too busy.”
“Too busy being fucked.”
“Among other things.�
��
Jake grinned, from the idea of it, from the memory of it, from the promise of it beyond today. “You’re so bad, Hunter, you know that, right?”
“Isn’t that why you came back to London, looking for me? Even after a year, you couldn’t stop wanting me. You realized we hadn’t yet screwed each other in every room at the estate. You came to complete the job.”
“Yes, I certainly came. A lot.”
“Now who’s being bad?”
“You make a compelling argument. Either that, or I’m under some spell you conjured to make men want you.”
Jake Westbury noticed that Hunter Abbott didn’t dispute what he said. In fact, he embraced his bad-boy reputation with a healthy dose of cocksure entitlement, but he supposed spoiled rich boys with too much time on their hands and little ambition and who lived financially off their more accomplished siblings, had little option. Otherwise, Hunter’s act would fall flat, just another sexy guy with nothing to offer but a bed and a big cock. Instead, Jake had fallen for his act a year-plus ago, and again, during this past week. He’d fallen on his cock, gone down on it more times than the sun had risen, taken it, been screwed so many times he’d lost count. More times than there were rooms in that gloomy home. Last night in a London hotel had been particularly hot, so much so they nearly missed their flight out of Gatwick.
Now, on this sun-dappled morning, with the sky a color befitting the Cote d’Azur, he gazed back at Hunter’s devilish smile, and he knew the man wanted more. A rising bulge was evident in his pants, Jake’s touch confirming a second opinion of the initial diagnosis. Hunter allowed him to rub his crotch, all while his eyes danced with anticipation.
“Uh, we’re in the back of a limo,” Jake said.
“It’s a stretch, it’ll fit me. Besides, you remember the last time we were in a limo, you were leaving for New York. It didn’t go so well. I’d say we’re in a much better place.”
Indeed, they were. Jake recalled it vividly. Their so-called final meeting last year was been as unexpected as it was destined, a strained, regretful good-bye between two men who had shared their bodies but not much else. Hunter was the sexy schemer, Jake the reluctant foil. Hunter had tried in that limo to seduce him into staying, and it had taken all of Jake’s will to resist his charming advances. Hunter nearly stripped down to nothing too, his body so hot Jake might have scorched his fingers if he’d touched him. He resisted, hoping that instead of his cock he might have offered his heart, but he hadn’t. Hunter had been as cocksure as ever. So instead Jake caught his morning flight, thinking he would never encounter the infuriating Hunter again. Fate had a way of taking its time to force you to realize what you really wanted, and that’s just how Jake saw his reunion with Hunter. As inevitable as the stars that had shined down upon them as they fucked mightily that first night he’d showed up at Voignier House, so too was their arrival together in Nice.
American Hunks Page 16
