by Jane Davitt
Was he preying on them? He didn’t think so. They’d reached out to him through Patrick because they needed him or someone like him. Everything between them was consensual, and if outsiders would view it with horror, well, that couldn’t be helped. Their ignorance wasn’t his problem.
He walked around his room, restless and upset, picking up items and putting them back where’d they’d been, futile actions that did nothing to calm him.
Ironically April hadn’t targeted his most vulnerable spot. She’d mentioned that he was in denial about being gay, but to someone her age, being gay wasn’t really the issue it had been in the past. She would have expected him to be gay.
“And I’m not,” he said aloud.
He’d told Austin the blowjob from Jay hadn’t bothered him, but he knew he hadn’t been entirely honest.
He also knew that if he stayed in the room right then, he’d be up until all hours, frustrated and miserable. The hotel bar was open; he’d go down and have a drink or two, have a casual conversation with whoever seemed amenable, and get his mind off all the things April’s phone call had stirred up.
There were wooden stools at the bar, and a collection of small tables to complement the booths tucked against the right-hand wall. A television was playing a baseball game in one corner, and a group of young women had pushed a few tables together. One of them was wearing a tiara, and they all seemed to have matching T-shirts. They were also fairly drunk if their screams of laughter were any indication.
Liam ordered a gin and tonic and had barely taken a first sip when he heard someone saying his name. He turned. “Rachel!”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say hi to you this morning at the ceremony,” Rachel said, clasping his offered hand between both of hers. “It was so crazy. Too many people.”
“You won’t get any arguments from me.” Back when Liam and Barbara had still been married, they’d been close friends with Rachel and her husband, but both marriages had ended around the same time and Liam had been horrible at keeping in touch with anyone since. “How are you?”
“Tired.” Rachel didn’t look it. She’d always been very attractive, with wavy, dark hair she was wearing shorter now and bright green eyes. “I hate jet lag. But you aren’t far from here?”
“Less than five hours by car,” Liam agreed as the bartender came over to ask Rachel what she’d like to drink. She ordered a glass of white wine.
“And you’re not remarried?” She took his left hand and tilted it so she could see his ring finger.
“No, that’s not in the cards right now.”
“So you’re not seeing anyone? You?” The emphasis was flattering. Rachel chuckled when Liam shook his head. “I find that really hard to believe, but then I always did have a crush on you. I felt guilty about it, of course, but not enough to stop.”
“You hid it well. I didn’t have a clue.”
Rachel lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “You weren’t supposed to. I wasn’t interested in making any of my fantasies—nothing kinky, don’t worry—real. They were just comforting when Bill was having another affair or drinking too much.”
It was surprisingly easy to smile at her and make it warmer than a smile between friends should have been. “I had a few of those fantasies myself over the years.” None of them qualified as vanilla, but there was no need to share that with Rachel and scare her off.
Which implied that he wanted to do more than exchange a few words with her.
Before he could give that some thought, Rachel put her hand over his, her eyes sparkling. “You fantasized about me? Really?”
He opened his mouth to correct her, but he couldn’t do it. She looked so damned happy at the idea that he’d fancied her, and really, it wasn’t totally off the mark. She was an attractive woman, and he’d always enjoyed her company. He gave her a teasing smile. “What do you Americans say? I plead the Fifth?”
“Apart from the accent—which is charming and you know it—you fit in too well to pretend that you don’t belong here.”
“Sometimes I do; then someone will refer to something everyone but me knows, and I feel like a stranger in a strange land all over again.”
Rachel’s wine arrived. She took a sip of it, leaving the rim of the glass smudged with lipstick, a deep crimson that Liam liked seeing on her lips. “You didn’t go back after the divorce, so this must feel like home.”
“Well—the children—”
She covered her mouth with her hand, faking chagrin. “Of course you wouldn’t want to be far away from them. They’ve gotten so tall! I hardly recognized them.”
Liam wasn’t interested in talking about his kids, though he’d been pleased by how well he’d related to them. His children—not that they’d thank him for calling them that—had been glad to see him, something he hadn’t expected. His relationship with them had always been amicable, and he’d done his best to be a good father to them. He’d held their bikes as they’d wobbled along the sidewalk, watched their Christmas concerts at school, helped with their homework, and read to them at bedtime.
All his good memories were of them as young children. When they’d grown up enough to sense the growing distance between him and their mother, they’d chosen sides and it hadn’t been his.
No surprise there. He’d taken to spending longer hours at work, avoiding the sterile environment at home. He gave them money, the latest electronic toys, the clothes they wanted, paid for their activities and camps and hobbies. He’d given them everything but his interest in what they did, and he’d paid for it when they left with their mother after the divorce.
Being told on the phone by Alison that her day would be ruined if he wasn’t there, her voice tremulous with emotion, had left him with a warm, pleased glow that he’d tempered with caution. Alison and Ben were as conventional as their mother; it wasn’t too surprising that she wanted to appear with a full complement of parents to fit in.
She’d hugged him, though, a glitter of tears in her eyes, hugged him, smiled, then dabbed a tissue under her eyes carefully to avoid disturbing her mascara. Alison’s makeup was muted, discreet, her clothes a younger echo of her mother’s.
Two years younger, Ben had been a friendly, vague figure, never taking the headphones for his MP3 player out of his ears unless he was made to. Liam had become used to saying something, then waiting for Ben to frown and pause his music before repeating it.
Still, they were nice kids. His. And they’d promised to visit him later in the summer.
He cleared his throat. “Rachel—”
“You want to ask me up to your room so we can have sex.”
He wasn’t often left wordless, but her directness and the wicked glint in her eyes had him fumbling for a response. “I… That isn’t—” He took a deep breath. “You? Are trouble. I always knew it.”
She laughed, throwing back her head, the long line of her throat drawing his gaze. She was wearing a heavy silver and onyx necklace, a thick, twisted rope circling her neck. It wasn’t a collar, but it was close enough to make him want to slide his fingers under it and tug her closer.
“I’m naughty, I know it. Why not? I don’t have any reason to be good these days.” She sent him a flirtatious look, and he could tell what was coming next, he just knew it. “Want to spank me?”
The flicker of interest he’d felt was snuffed out before she’d finished speaking. She’d let him spank her, go across his knee with a giggle and a heated glance, wriggle and squeak when his hand came down on her bottom. He’d get maybe five or six spanks in, and she’d roll off his knee, rubbing her reddened skin and complaining that he’d hurt her and she hadn’t been that bad… It would be a mildly kinky bit of foreplay for her, no more than that, and if he tried to make it more, she’d get uneasy, nervous.
He didn’t want that. The sex would be welcomed by his body, maybe. God, it’d been months, blowjobs aside—but it wouldn’t satisfy him.
He wanted Jay’s mouth on him again, taking him deep. Needed
to drive his cock into Austin, not a dildo, and feel Austin’s body welcome him.
He took a gulp of his drink, hating himself for being unable to take what was being offered and baffled at his reluctance. Jay and Austin had told him he could date. Hell, they were probably fucking each other right this minute. He didn’t owe them any sexual fidelity, and they wouldn’t expect it from him. He couldn’t keep on arousing himself in the sessions only to turn to his hand for relief. He wasn’t sure how the situation had developed the way it had. He hadn’t gone into the arrangement intending to deny himself sex in favor of being able to satisfy his need to dominate. He’d wanted both. He still did, but somehow the thought of sleeping with a woman had lost its tang. And the thought of sleeping with Austin and Jay—it would have to be both of them—terrified him because of the implications.
What he’d thought was a solid structure had become a house of cards, falling to pieces with a single prod.
“Liam?”
No, he decided. It wouldn’t work, and there was no point pretending it would. They’d both be disappointed. “You’re wonderful,” he told Rachel. “It’s just…not the right time for me.”
Her face fell, but then she smiled. “It’s not you. It’s me?”
“In this case, completely true,” Liam assured her. “A few months ago, I would have jumped at the chance.”
“But now…” Rachel studied him, head tilted to one side. “Liam, do you have a crush on someone? Well, it stands to reason. You say you aren’t seeing anyone, but you refuse a no-strings-attached night with me. There must be someone you’d like to be with, and I find it hard to believe anyone wouldn’t be thrilled to have your attention. So you must be the one hesitating. Why?”
He was sure he didn’t want to attempt a conversation about Jay and Austin with her, and yet he found himself saying, “It’s complicated.”
“It always is.” She sounded sympathetic. “Is she seeing someone else?”
“Yes. And…there’s an age difference.”
Rachel made a face. “That’s the worst. I think, if there’s more than five or six years, it’s hopeless. Sorry.”
Like a kid picking off a scab even though it hurt, Liam raised his eyebrows. “Hopeless? Why?”
She picked up her glass and tilted it so the wine reached the brim, her hand perfectly steady. “I don’t know. There’s just no common frame of reference. Maybe a hundred years ago, it wouldn’t have mattered, but the world changes so fast now. To a teenager, we seem impossibly out of touch, and to us they seem so damned ignorant. God knows what they’re teaching them in school, but it isn’t leaving them with any appreciation of the past. Everything’s about what’s coming next, what’s new.” She set the glass down with a decisive click. “And us? We’re old.”
Hearing the same word April had used made Liam frown. He shared more with Austin and Jay than Rachel realized, but it was true that when they were staying with him, he’d been conscious of a gulf at times.
Even so, they’d watched movies, talked, enjoyed meals together. Spent some quiet hours reading in the same room, Jay sprawled out on the couch, Austin curled up on the floor like a cat, his book resting on a cushion. There had been awkward moments as they adjusted to living under the same roof, but that was only to be expected. He’d had a hard time juggling the responsibilities of being their host and their dom, unsure when to switch from one role to the other. A purist might have argued that he never stopped being their dom, but Liam really couldn’t have sustained that dynamic around the clock. For a weekend maybe…the boys had mentioned that they’d enjoy that, but their stay had been for an indefinite period and it just wouldn’t have worked.
Bleakly he wondered how Austin and Jay really thought of him. He was used to being thought of as good-looking, sexy, by his partners. Even Barbara had given him an appreciative once-over when they’d met again, and he’d seen that, to her, he was still attractive. It wounded his vanity to think that to his subs, he was valued only as the means of delivering what they wanted, not for himself.
He might be ambivalent about a sexual relationship with them for several valid reasons—damaging their relationship with each other topping the list—but he wanted them to desire him, he realized.
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said again. “I didn’t mean to be such a pessimist. You’ve got everything going for you. If it’s meant to be, I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
“Right.” Liam couldn’t imagine a world in which Austin and Jay would want more from him than he was already giving, and he couldn’t blame them. They were young and beautiful. They could have anyone they wanted, truly, and who was he? Even in the kindest terms, he was a middle-aged man who’d left a broken family in his wake. He’d been unable to maintain a long-term relationship.
Austin and Jay deserved better.
He did his best after that to be friendly and make small talk with Rachel, but it was clear to both of them that his mind was elsewhere. After another ten minutes or so, she finished her wine, patted his hand, and went upstairs to her own room. The walk from the elevator seemed long to Liam, and he fell into bed and sleep with a sense of relief and escape, without remembering to call Jay and Austin as he’d promised.
* * *
In the morning, he found two messages waiting for him in his voice mail. The first was from Austin, who sounded worried and guilty, apologizing for calling but wanting to be reassured he was all right. The second, nearly two hours later, was from Jay.
“Liam, it’s me. I know Austin already called you, and I guess you fell asleep, or maybe you’re out with old friends or whatever. Um. I’m sure you’re going to call us. You said you would.” Jay’s voice lowered as if he was trying to keep from being overheard. “Just, call, okay? Austin’s stressing out about it. Thanks. Um, hope you’re okay. Bye.”
Liam sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to them. They could be astonishingly perceptive at times, and there was no chance that they’d fail to pick up on his mood. If anything, his doubts about their relationship had multiplied overnight, not lessened.
April’s spite, Rachel’s pragmatic honesty, his own lurking doubts—they made him hesitate and second-guess himself. That feeling was unfamiliar enough to leave him disturbed and on edge.
His phone could send texts, of course, though he loathed fiddling around with the tiny buttons and rarely used that function. Another reminder of the generation gap. With his head pounding from a stress headache, he tapped out a terse message telling them that he was fine but busy and setting up a meeting at his house on Monday night.
He’d be tired from the drive back, but he needed to deal with this as soon as possible and face-to-face.
He owed them that much, at least.
Chapter Twenty-one
Going to Liam’s on a Monday night felt weird, like going to bed in the middle of the afternoon. Not that Jay minded doing that if he had Austin in bed with him. It was nice to think that Liam had missed them enough that he couldn’t wait for their usual Friday meeting. Even if his silence during the time he’d been away had left them both worried.
Jay pulled up outside Liam’s house, parking on the road, mindful of oil leaks on driveways. Liam had really gotten tight-lipped over that and not in a good way. He turned to Austin. “Is it eight? I left my watch behind, and I don’t trust the one in here.”
“That’s because it’s a pile of rust held together with dirt and oil.”
Jay patted the steering wheel affectionately. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He just doesn’t appreciate a classic when he sees it.”
“Yeah, it’s eight. Three minutes past, actually.”
“Shit, let’s go then.” Jay put his hand on the door, then hesitated. “Austin? You okay?”
“Yeah, but I won’t be if we’re late, and neither will you.” Austin had been tense for days.
Liam opened the door while they were still climbing the stairs, obviously waiting for them. He smiled, though, instead of looking stern
because they were late. “I take it you’re aware of the time?”
Jay nodded as he followed Austin inside. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to be late.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
That was new. Of course it mattered. Liam actually cared about them being on time.
“No, leave your shoes on. Come in and sit down. We need to talk.”
“That sounds ominous,” Jay said. It sounded worse than that. He was primed and ready for a session. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to strip naked and give himself over to Liam.
“Austin, your sister called me when I was in Baltimore.” Liam waited for them to sit on the couch but didn’t sit down himself.
Austin looked unhappy but not surprised. “Shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. She came into my work and had a couple of minutes alone at my desk. I wondered what she was up to. I knew it was something but couldn’t figure out what it was.”
“She must have borrowed your phone long enough to find my number.” Liam sighed and reached to his throat to loosen his tie. “I don’t expect you to do anything about her behavior, for what it’s worth. I don’t blame you, and you don’t owe me any apologies. I just thought you should know.”
“Sometimes I feel like I should be apologizing to the whole world for her existence,” Austin said. He was watching Liam like he was waiting for more. No, worse than that: like he was waiting for more bad news. “What did she say?”
Liam waved a hand. “It’s not important. I’m sure you could guess with a fair degree of accuracy, but it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” Austin said. He rubbed his forehead. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Talk to her?” Jay said in disbelief. Forget talking. He wanted to go call every one of the boyfriends April had cheated on and tell them in excruciating detail what had gone on. “No way that’s all we’re going to do. Talking stopped being enough a long time ago.”
“Not here, okay?” Austin glanced at Liam, who shook his head and came over to sit on the couch beside him.
“It’s all right. You can talk about this with me here.” Liam was being understanding. That helped.
