by Crowe, Liz
The delicious taste of bourbon on his lover’s tongue made Ryan growl deep in his throat as he reached down and yanked Henri’s zipper down. Running a hand down his shaft, Ryan sighed with satisfaction. This was what he needed right now. Henri broke their kiss and leaned back, hands on his hips, his cock pressed up against his lower belly, slick with early desire.
"If you’re gonna apologize like that, I'll take you angry every day of the week." His eyes were hooded as he studied Ryan’s face.
Ryan grinned at his young lover, thoughts of Grace driven away for the time being. There would be more discussions later, more anger and hopefully a resolution they could all live with, but for now Ryan’s need was deep and throbbing. He required a connection, a physical and emotional bond that only Henri could provide. Yanking his own zipper down to release his cock which ached nearly as bad as his heart, Ryan reached for Henri, and walked him over to the balcony’s glass and stainless steel barrier, kissing him as he maneuvered them nearer the edge.
Henri moaned when his ass hit the barrier and he pushed Ryan back, going down on his knees and taking Ryan’s cock all the way into his mouth and to his throat, swallowing his full length. Ryan buried his hands in his lover’s silky black hair and gave into the exquisite sensations as Henri let the tip of his cock strangle him. Thrusting his hips forward, Ryan felt Henri’s hand slip around and clutch his as, while he strained with the effort of staying upright.
"Hell yes, right there," Ryan’s voice was hoarse as he reacted to the finger Henri slipped into his tightest hole.
Henri buried his finger deep, but moved his mouth up to lap at the head of Ryan’s cock before swallowing him again with a moan of desire muffled by his lover’s long shaft. Ryan sensed himself tensing for release, but he clamped down on it, wanting more time to revel in it, needing something else.
"Come up here," he whispered. Henri released his cock, leaving it glistening and throbbing in pre-orgasmic agony. He pulled his finger out of Ryan’s ass and grinned at the tall blond man. Sauntering into the condo to wash his hand and grab the lube, Henri shed his jeans and shirt, leaving them in a crumpled pile that would normally drive Ryan insane but for now just made him smile as he watched the handsome young man’s bare ass in one direction then his great, thick cock as he returned. Ryan licked his lips and pulled Henri close again, devouring his mouth, fucking him with his tongue, their arms entangled and hands grasping, breathing ragged.
"I want to fuck you so bad, Henri. Please." Ryan ran his lips down Henri’s latte colored flesh, licking his way down to the tight copper buds of his nipples.
"Then what are you waiting for," Henri growled, pulling Ryan back over to the balcony’s edge. "Take what you want."
Ryan grasped Henri’s shoulders and shifted him around to face the balcony’s edge, using the lube on his own cock and on Henri’s thick shaft, making the young man thrust his hips as he turned to give Ryan his ass.
"Mmmmm, yes, lovely," Ryan murmured, using two lube-slicked fingers to probe Henri’s lusciously tight hole, shoving past the tight resistance, finger fucking him while he stroked the man’s thick cock with his other hand, loving the look of Henri’s back as his muscles tensed at Ryan’s touch. Pressing his own cock up against Henri’s soft skin, Ryan closed his eyes and bent over his lover’s back, keeping the rhythm of his hands on either side of the man’s body, fingers sunk deep in his ass as he pumped his rod, paying extra attention to his thick, sensitive head, feeling pre-cum drip down his hand.
"Oh hell, Ryan, you’re gonna make me blow," Henri gasped as he held tight to the glass barrier at the balcony’s edge. Henri’s head tilted back as he thrust his hips up into Ryan’s hand then back against the pressure of his fingers.
Ryan stopped, pulled his fingers out and repositioned himself, guiding his throbbing cock into Henri’s now-ready ass, slowly, an inch at a time, gritting his teeth against the urge to shove himself in, to make the connection he needed so badly. Rough, hard, immediate. Keeping his fist wrapped around Henri’s cock, Ryan buried himself inside his lover, holding himself still for a moment, feeling the muscles clench around him, making small thrusts ever further inside, his balls pressed up against the dark skin of Henri’s ass. Slowing his hand, he glided up and down, smelling the salty sweat and passion between them. Then an undercurrent of another familiar smell stole over Ryan, turning him on even more. Grace. Her perfume still clung to Henri’s body.
Ryan bent over Henri’s back further, wanting to taste him, lick the salty sweat from his back, soak up what was left of Grace’s essence on the man’s skin. Henri tilted his hips up giving Ryan full access, leaving the head of his own cock in Ryan’s hand where he toyed with it, running his fingers around the sensitive edges of his bulging erection.
"Now you can come," Ryan grunted, pulling back and shoving himself inside again and again, up on his tip toes, grasping Henri’s hips leaving him to stroke his own cock in the last seconds before climax.
"Oh, yes…God!" the scent of Henri’s sweet release filled Ryan’s nose, the sound of his loud grunt of satisfaction making him thrust harder, deeper, needing him, nearing his own orgasm as he thrust into Henri’s ass one last time, his balls contracting and his cock spurting and filling him. He spasmed, holding tight to Henri’s hips, letting his cock twitch and empty, his whole body suffused with well-being and lightness he so desired after this night. The tight ring of Henri’s anal muscles flexed and Ryan pulled out, running hands across the man’s lube and cum slicked ass.
"Mmmmm…."Henri arched back once more as Ryan ran his hands up his sides to his arms, leaning over and cradling him from behind, kissing his shoulders and neck.
"Jesus Christ," Ryan whispered into Henri’s thick hair. "You are amazing." He sighed with satisfaction as the man turned to face him. Wrapping his arms around Henri’s dark brown body, Ryan gripped him kissing his full lips tenderly until Henri broke away.
"I love you," he said to the tall man holding him. "So much. You know that, right?"
Ryan nodded, still managing the final throes of passion inside his head. He pulled Henri in for another kiss, letting his lip and tongue speak for him. But Henri stopped him.
"I want to hear you say it."
Ryan took a deep breath, grabbed both of Henri’s hands and looked into his eyes. "I love you, too."
Henri smiled. "About time, my emotionally constipated lover."
Ryan grimaced. It was the exact thing Grace had called him earlier in the week. He started towards the shower, his cock at half-mast, the night air starting to chill his skin. Henri gazed at him.
"Let’s just talk to her, okay? You’re torturing yourself with this."
Ryan turned, his eyes trained on the horizon.
"But not tonight. I, um, I have to leave for Paris tomorrow. I can’t dump this on her then leave."
"But you can stalk out on her at a party full of naked strangers, stay away for a night, and then go away for five days?" Henri threw up his hands. "I'm amazed she puts up with you at all."
"It’s not always this bad. It’s just lately she keeps bringing up the kid thing and we agreed when we got married it wasn't an option. And you’ve been around more, meaning I spend more nights in the office," he ran a hand down Henri’s chiseled chest to his abs and put a hand around the man’s still hard cock. "Ah shit, you’re right. I should." Ryan did a quick wash up, then walked slowly back out to the balcony. He didn’t have to reach for his phone. Henri had it in his hand already and was punching in Grace’s number.
He kissed Ryan’s lips once then handed him the ringing phone before heading back inside. Ryan watched him go, took a deep breath and listened to the tiny sound of Grace’s phone ringing not that far from where he sat right now. Relieved and terrified, he waited but frowned when she didn’t pick up. He hung up then dialed again, getting her voice mail almost instantly, Grace’s soft Southern drawl soothing his ears. Knowing she was ignoring him and not really surprised, Ryan put the phone down next to his empty glass.
He strolled into the small bathroom and turned the hot water on full blast before climbing in and letting the steam clear the post orgasmic stupor he always fell prey to.
Simmering garlic permeated the air. Minutes later, redressed in jeans and a tee shirt and sitting back on the balcony, Ryan jumped when Henri pressed a cool glass of ice water to his temple. Ryan smiled at the vision of his lover, dressed only in jeans holding a plate of something delicious. He accepted the morsel of warm cheese drizzled with olive oil and caramelized garlic. When Ryan’s phone buzzed with a text, Henri grabbed the device, frowned at the screen, then handed it to him. "I think you have some ‘splainin’ to do."
Ryan stared at the screen.
"Don’t bother coming home. I’m sure you can buy whatever you need for your trip tomorrow. It remains to be seen if I’m here when you return," leapt off the screen and put a vise around his heart. He stood up, grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and pulled it on. Henri just sat and watched him scurry around.
"How are you going to fix this?"
Ryan ran a hand through his hair. His shoulders slumped as he realized he had no idea. But he had to do something. He wouldn't let Grace go, not even for Henri. He kissed his lover’s cheek then his lips before standing up and taking a deep breath.
"I don’t know. But I’ll figure something out."
"Let me know if you need me." Henri leaned back in the lounge and finished his drink.
Ryan didn’t answer, just watched the last sliver of the balcony disappear between the sliding doors of the penthouse’s private elevator. Heart pounding, he left rubber marks on the concrete in his haste to get to Grace, to salvage the marriage that meant more to him than his physical need for another man.
Chapter Nine
Thirty minutes later...
Grace glanced up when she heard their door slam. Stifling a shudder of dread, she realized she was actually going to have to go through with her vow to keep Ryan at arm's length, to give him a dose of his own aloof prescription in order to retain her sanity after this crazy night. One hand kept a death grip on the glass of red wine, the other was clenched in her lap, clutching her knee in anxiety. She loved this man, had let him seduce her, leave her, then sweep her off her feet knowing full well his emotional limitations. So here she was. Her bed to lie for certain. And she had been rolling around in it too long avoiding the emotional connection she needed.
Ryan’s heavy footsteps approached but she remained seated, staring out at the panoramic view of the Detroit River, taking shaky sips of wine to show her indifference. She didn't look up when Ryan stood right in front of her although it took everything she had not to leap up and throw herself into his arms. To beg him to tell her everything was fine, that he wasn’t fooling around, that he still loved her.
Grace had tried being emotional before, to draw him out of the shell he crawled into. Hadn’t worked then and she didn’t think it would now. So here they were, Grace staring at the floor, at the tips of her husband’s shiny shoes, anywhere but into his deep blue eyes. She could hear him breathing, standing so near she could reach out and touch the crease of his trousers. But she remained stock still, not realizing she was holding her breath until he finally spoke.
"Grace," Ryan knelt down. She looked away and exhaled.
"Please look at me." She moved her knees out from beneath his hands. Ryan remained kneeling in front of her, hands clenched together and she shut her eyes against the temptation to cry.
"I deserve the silent treatment. God knows I’ve used it enough myself, right?"
She stayed quiet.
"So, tonight. I, um, probably shouldn't have made it a surprise. I guess I thought you wouldn’t even consider going if I told you what it was." Grace kept her gaze trained on the horizon outside their window. The memory of Henri’s hands, lips and tongue on her body still lingered just below the surface. She wrapped the robe closer around her body.
Ryan ran a hand across his hair and down his face. Grace knew this gesture like she knew her own physical ticks. Heart clenched at the thought that this may be the last serious conversation they had as a married couple, she took a deep breath and continued to just listen.
"I wanted you to have a good time tonight. I, um, know the guy who owns the place and who hosts and, well, I know you’re researching to write some steamier stuff. It just seemed, I don’t know, helpful for you to see some of that scene for yourself." He stood and walked over to the bar but instead of pouring himself a glass of wine, he put both hands on the copper surface and hung his head.
Grace watched him as the unasked questions she had bubbled up in her mind. How do you know him? Why do you know about "that scene?" Her throat tightened in agony. But she remained still, unbending. There was a peace in the silence. For once she wasn’t formulating her answers before he finished talking, trying to figure out a way to make him communicate better or stop being mad for whatever reason.
He kept his head down. "Grace, I'm sorry. I should've never made you feel bad for,” he stopped, seeming to choke back words. She held her breath again, "for being with him." Ryan seemed to deflate. His large frame slumped from the shoulders as his hands dropped to his sides and he turned to look at her. The depth of sorrow in his gaze caught her off guard. The long- suppressed tears behind her eyes slipped out and she let them flow.
He took two steps to the couch and pulled her to her feet, his mouth on hers, his strong arms holding her shaking body. For a moment, she let herself enjoy it, to experience heart-bursting relief that he seemed to still want her. But the memory of his look as he gazed at her and then at Henri back in that bedroom forced her to struggle out of his embrace and step back. She brushed the tears away and resumed her silence.
Ryan stood there, his arms still out as if cradling a ghost, his face was a mask of regret. Grace decided to speak.
"Tell me Ryan. Tell me what you’re feeling right now." When he moved towards her, he she took a step back and held out her hand.
"Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. Stay over there and just fucking talk to me." Grace was proud she kept the tears out of her lowered voice. Her hands no longer shook as she put them on her hips.
"This has nothing to do with the fact that I had sex with a complete stranger at a party you took me to, does it?"
Ryan shook his head. Keeping his stubbled jaw clenched without speaking, he spoke volumes with his eyes. But Grace wasn't going to let him off that easy. She stood silent, waiting for him to say something.
He lowered his head then looked back up, his eyes glistening.
"I love you, Grace. I'd never do anything to hurt you. I have never, ever felt the way I feel about you before, but I was never taught how to be close, how to open up or let anyone in on my thoughts. If my parents weren’t screaming at each other and throwing shit, they were drunk and ignoring each other. I have zero frame of reference for anything like a healthy adult relationship. It’s why I avoided them for nearly forty years. Until I met you."
He took a shuddering breath and kept talking.
"I spent hours shut up in my room, wishing I was anywhere but in my own house waiting for my father to throw my door open and start berating me for anything and everything he could think of, even though I made straight As, played two varsity sports, made my own money mowing lawns and kept my room spotlessly clean." Ryan’s knees appeared to buckle as he collapsed into the nearest chair. "It was never enough. Luckily, he rarely laid a hand on me. But my brothers weren’t as fortunate."
Grace put a hand over her mouth. She knew things were not good between Ryan and his older brother, and both of his parents had died years before. She was very close to her father, who was still alive and enjoying retirement in his little slice of heaven in the Carolinas. Her sister, Alice, was one of her best friends. Their mother died of breast cancer when Grace was in her twenties. Even though that had been brutally hard on her family, Grace had no frame of reference for serious dysfunction yet the thought of Ryan, small and sad
, hoping to please an impossible father, nearly broke her heart.
She took a step towards the man who now sat with his head pressed between his hands as if hoping to squeeze memories out. As she stood in front of him, hand reached out to touch his hair, he looked up and grabbed her, just when she was about to ask why he said "brothers" when she only knew about one.
"Please Grace, don’t leave. I can’t imagine my life without you. I’ll do anything." He stood and pulled her close, covering her lips with his, the very masculine scent and feel of him making Grace’s unshed tears wash down her face, giving their desperate kiss a salty tang.
Ryan seemed to want to possess every inch of her, his usual slight reserve when it came to kisses completely gone. Grace wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck as he picked her up and they collapsed onto the couch, lips never breaking contact. Grace pulled away, her head spinning with emotion.
"Ryan, wait."
She struggled out of his arms trying to put together what he said. They still hadn’t addressed the looks she'd seen exchanged between him and Henri. Regaining a seat, Grace tried to ignore the voice in her head that told her to let it go, to enjoy Ryan as the man she knew. Ryan turned over and laid his head in her lap, a familiar position for them both after a long, stressful day. Grace ran a hand through his thick, blond hair.
"I thought you only had one brother." Her voice was barely a whisper.
Ryan covered his eyes with one hand, the thin platinum band on his ring finger catching the lamplight. Grace put her hand over his, wanting to feel the heat from his skin, hoping he was ready to tell her more.
"I had two. Liam was between Sean and me." He took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, his deep blue eyes hard with anger. Grace ran a hand through his hair again, a familiar gesture, one that usually calmed him after a tough meeting or a bad plane ride. "Liam was my hero growing up. He was just a year and a half older. They didn’t call us Irish twins for nothing." He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. "I followed him around from the minute I could walk. We slept in the same bed for years even though we didn’t have to. Sean was busy staying out of our father’s way, then playing baseball. He had no patience for snotty nosed little brothers."
