by Liz Crowe
Rob frowned at him.
“Yeah. Your pal Mr. Gordon, has remained true to form one time too many it seems.”
“What happened?
Blake told him, keeping his voice neutral, trying to control the warring emotions of pleasure that it was over between his sister and that asshole, and deep sadness from the sound of her voice earlier on the phone. She loved the guy. He knew it. But this was for the best.
“Wow. No chance for explanation, eh? No opportunity for ‘my pal’ to…”
Blake held up a hand. “No more excuses for him Rob. He won’t change. Sara and I know his type, okay. I’ve explained it to you before. Our father…”
Rob stood, anger snapping in his eyes, startling Blake. “Jack Gordon is not your father, for God’s sake. But, you’ve painted him with that brush now. I guess he truly has no chance.”
“Hey, you don’t know how hard it was…”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Blake. We all had our own dealings with dysfunction. Your mother seems perfectly content with her life now. You said yourself Matt quit fucking around after…”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Blake stood, meeting Rob’s eyes, their bodies mere inches apart. He fought the extreme urge to kiss the other man, apologize, and just admit he was right. The minute he’d heard Sara’s last words on the phone something in him wanted to tell her to take it back–to let Jack explain. He hadn’t. When his lover pressed a hand to his face Blake closed his eyes, leaned into it a second, then moved away. “I’ll be in the brewery. Need to check a few things.”
“You have got to stop walking away from me Blake.” He stopped in the doorway separating the restaurant from the brewery, his brewery, the one that had provided him the impetus he needed to get over the one woman he’d loved. The man who’d done just as much towards that end spoke words that sent a knife through Blake’s heart. “Or one of these days I won’t be here when you decide to communicate.”
He kept walking, let the sounds, smells and feel of the one space where he felt truly happy these days envelop him, shutting out the scary noises in his head that warned him he could be throwing away everything he loved, just because he felt so strongly about his sister’s fiancé.
Noting the late hour, Blake realized he ought to be tired. He’d been up at five a.m. for a punishing workout, after which he spent two stressful hours across from a lender on a task he was foisting on his partner, he should have been exhausted. Trying to prove his worth, needing to see his products on store shelves and not just in the restaurant. Something else Rob was most likely correct about–but Blake refused to acknowledge it. Then he’d proceeded on to his usual ten hours of brewery work. His skin still crawled as if covered in ants. His brain hummed with a strange energy and his hands shook as he held a clipboard and tried to focus on the graphs indicating temperature changes in the fermenter in front of him.
“Fuck!” He heaved the board against the wall, and it made a satisfying clatter splitting apart and sending chunks of metal and molded plastic as it flew across the room. He put his hands against the cool stainless steel. Closing his burning eyes, he pictured her, her deep red hair, infectious smile, the woman who’d given him a chance as a brewer, taken his heart in her hands and then squashed it like a fucking bug.
“Calm down.” Rob’s voice in his ear, the sudden sensation of the man’s body pressed against his back made him nearly leap out of his skin. “Shhh…It’s okay. You’re gonna give yourself an aneurism. Then I’d have to kill you for dying on me.” Blake took a deep breath as Rob put his hands over the ones he had pressed against the fermenter, threading long fingers through his. His lover’s lips at his ear, then his neck brought his cock to immediate attention, making him groan with the pain of keeping it trapped behind his zipper. A need so strong roared up from the soles of his feet, making the room darken, and then get suddenly bright.
“I need you,” he could barely hear his own voice. “Please, Rob.”
“I know,” the other man soothed, keeping his lips against Blake’s skin. Blake leaned his head against Rob’s shoulder, arched his back and pressed his body even closer against his partner. Rob released one hand, keeping the other one tightly clasped in Blake’s, pressed against the cold metal of the brewing vessel. Blake sighed as his lover stroked his rock hard shaft through his jeans, ran his hand down Blake’s thigh and back up, cupping his need, never stopping the trail of kisses down his neck.
“Are we alone in here?” Rob’s voice was breathy, rough with lust. Blake nodded. “Cause I’m gonna fuck you baby. You want that? I know I do.” Blake felt his chest loosen, sensed his own pure need for everything about his lover pour through his psyche.
“I love you.” He whispered, as Rob unzipped him, releasing his already weeping cock to the cool air. “Oh God,” he groaned as the man passed a hand up and down his length, over the aching head of him.
“I love you too.” Rob’s voice anchored him, held him to the earth. Blake’s natural tendency to lose control, the side of him he held tight around Sara so he could be what she needed from him, he’d only shown to two people: The woman who’d broken his heart, and the man who was gripping his jaw, turning his face around so their lips could meet.
Blake turned all the way around, needing the full contact, wanting to put his arms around his tall blond lover. Rob pressed into him, keeping his hand on Blake’s cock, shoved his tongue between his lips, sweeping into his mouth as if he owned it. Their groans filled the room, as Blake threaded his fingers through Rob’s thick hair and the other man increased his speed, using Blake’s own fluid as the perfect lubricant. He broke away, staring deep into Blake’s soul. “Let her go.” He demanded. Blake nodded, more than a little confused as to who Rob meant until he realized he meant both of them. Let his sister live her life. Let go, once and for all, of the redheaded brewery owner who’d nearly killed him.
“Okay. I promise.” He sighed as Rob turned him back around. He would do anything to keep the man in his life.
“Huh, not likely.” Rob eased his jeans down and Blake stepped out of them, planning his feet apart, his hands back on the stainless steel vessel in front of him. “I know you Blake Thornton. Better than anyone. I know how your mind works.” Blake felt the other man’s thick shaft against his ass, his strong hands gripping his shoulders, trailing down to his waist and hips. “But it’s okay.” His voice dipped lower as he positioned himself behind Blake.
Blake groaned as his lover touched a cum-slickened fingertip against his ass, pressing in, breaching the tight ring of muscles. “Let go Blake. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere because I know you, and I still love you.” He shoved in deeper bringing a loud grown to Blake’s lips, making him arch his back, offer himself to the man. Rob shoved his tee shirt up, pressed lips to his back, licked up to his neck, then bit down hard as he pulled out his finger and pressed his cock into Blake’s body with a hiss and a soft moan. “Oh God. You feel so good.”
Blake braced himself, letting his body accept his lover’s invasion, going beyond the pain and reaching the extreme pleasure as Rob’s long cock reached deep, caressing his gland. His own cock jerked, leaked more and he closed his eyes, trying to do what Rob said–trying to let go, to fall and let someone catch him. The smell of their mutual lust swirled around him, the feel of his man’s body against and inside his and his own deep need for it all made him gasp. When Rob gripped his hips and eased out and back in he grabbed his own cock with one hand, keeping himself braced against the vessel with the other.
“Harder,” he grunted. “I know you want to. Take me like you want.” Rob groaned, dug his fingers into Blake’s hips and pounded into him. He felt the other man’s intensity, his need to prove something and he pressed back, pumping his fist against his own cock as the orgasm gripped him, deep and Rob’s cock pressed up against his prostate, making him cry out and cover his hand and belly with his own fluid. His body jerked and his brain continued to buzz when he felt Rob change his angle
and the speed of his thrusts. With a grunt, Rob released inside him.
“Dear God, what you do to me,” Rob draped across Blake’s back, wrapped strong arms around his waist, keeping their bodies joined. Blake reached back and laced his fingers through his lover’s hair as his own body calmed, finally after the last two days of sheer stress. “I’m sorry.” Blake felt tears prick the back of his eyes.
“No.” He stood, wincing slightly as Rob’s cock slipped out of his ass. “You have no reason to be.” He pulled his jeans up, wiped his hand on a nearby towel and turned, smiling, watching as his lover caught his breath, hands on hips. He tugged the other man’s jeans back up, and then held his face between his hands. “I’m sorry. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. And you’re right.”
Rob raised an eyebrow, but returned his kiss, his lips firm and blessedly reassuring to Blake’s orgasm fuzzy brain. “Hold on, let me get that on tape.”
Blake pulled away, started to speak but Rob put a hand over his mouth. “No talking. Let’s go home.” He brushed Blake’s lips once more then draped his arm over his shoulders and guided him out of the brewery.
Chapter Five
The sunlight pierced the blinds and stabbed Jack right between the eyes. He groaned and rolled over, right onto the floor. He played downward facing dog for a minute, getting his bearings, realizing this was not his expensive, imported carpet beneath his hands and knees.
What the hell?
“Jack?” a female voice called from the kitchen. He scrambled to his feet, looked down at his rumpled jeans and plain white t-shirt and took deep breath. He touched his denim-clad cock – morning hard, like a rock, and ready for action. He gulped.
Shit. Did I? Please God no.
He dropped onto the couch in relief when Suzanne emerged, two steaming hot mugs of coffee in hand. Dressed in her usual boxers and t-shirt, she curled her small frame onto the chair nearest him and handed over the cup. “So, you ready to talk now? Last night was more about showing off, wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t want to know.” Jack’s head pounded in time with his heart.
She chuckled into her cup, her deep red hair scraped back into a ponytail, her face bright and clean, and refreshingly familiar. “No. You’re right. You don’t. I’m not a hundred percent sure but would guess there are some photos of you that look fairly incriminating.”
He groaned. “Fuck. Me.”
Suzanne set her cup down and smiled at him. “No thanks. Been there; done that. Didn’t work for us.”
He grinned at her and let the caffeine work its usual magic. One of those women most comfortable in the company of men, Suzanne always had a way of setting him straight. Time spent with her in high school and college convinced him that she had to be one of the more amazing women on the planet.
They’d ed the air early in their relationship. One weekend in college on a ski trip, they’d been on a poor man’s junket, sharing a room between four of them. After far too many schnapps shots and a bit of pot, she’d ended up passed out next to him. When he woke, his cock hard in ways only a young man’s could be, she’d grasped it, rolled on top of him and fucked his brains out while their friends stayed passed out on the other side of the room.
Jack ran a hand down his face.
“Yo. Earth to Gordon. Where the hell did you go?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Just strolling down memory lane a little,” he raised his eyebrows at her. She raised her middle finger in return making him laugh, which made him wince in pain.
“Okay. So. How are you gonna fix this you dumbass?”
He rose and took her cup, made his way into the kitchen and poured them more coffee. “She’s just so, I don’t know, stubborn, amazing, frustrating, perfect. You know?” She glared at him. “Yeah, I know, I’m no better.”
“Look Jack, you are a smart guy. Successful, but Sara isn’t a walk in the park. I know. I know her brother pretty well.” Jack grinned when his friend’s creamy porcelain skin flushed bright red. He put a hand under her chin.
“God you’re cute when you blush red as a lobster.” She jerked her face away from him.
“Fuck you. Now listen. Seriously, Blake is hyper-protective of her, I know, but he does want her to be happy. Maybe you should talk to him?”
“Right. The guy would just as soon chop me in half with his fucking black-belt Kung Fu grip. He scares the living shit out of me.” Suzanne sipped and looked away from him. “Sorry babe. I know it’s tough for you.” He watched her swallow and blink fast.
Jesus, way to go Gordon. Make your one friend mad.
“No, no, it’s fine. I just can’t get past the God damned irony of you, in love with Blake Thornton’s sister. Jesus. Seriously.”
He pulled his friend to her feet and gathered her in for a hug. She sighed and leaned into his chest. “You might want to check your Facebook page.” He groaned.
“I hate that shit. Talk about a necessary evil.”
“Yeah, well a few of your pretty new friends from last night probably have you posted on their walls, complete with tags.”
“Great. In the meantime, thanks for letting me pass out here. Some other time I’ll admit that I have no memory of getting here. Humor me and tell me how fucking fabulous I was for you.” She pushed him away.
“Yeah, right. That’s past us, dude, remember? Now, get the hell out of here and get Sara back. Or I will kill you.”
****
Sara’s skin pebbled in the cool air. The ropes made a pleasant creaking sound and felt solid against her wrists. She’d accepted how much enjoyment she got from being bound, but Jack had gone slowly. Trust was still such a tough thing for them both to breach. When the room went dark, the soft whisper of silk tied behind her head, she tried not to let her teeth chatter.
“Shh, my Sara. All is well.” Jack’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. His lips caressed her check, neck, fluttered over her lips. She didn’t respond. Knew she wasn’t supposed to, not yet. His hands trailed down her skin, bushed over her erect nipples, across her stomach and hips all the way down to her calves. “I’ve got you. You know I’ve got you.” She nodded, moisture slicking the top of her thighs as he continued to caress, tease and massage her entire body. She never knew where his hands would land next. She loved it.
As his fingers grazed her clit, trailed down her lips, dipping in and out enough to make her squirm and her skin flush with inner heat, she bit down on the urge to thrust her hips into his hand. “Mmm hmm, lovely.” His fingers entered her, slow, spreading her walls, reaching up to tease the g-spot he’d discovered and used to his advantage.
“Ahh…” She couldn’t help it. The fingers stopped. All was quiet. She knew he’d left the room. He’d done it before. His lips reappeared at her breast, sucking hard on her nipple then roaming upwards to her neck, jaw, and then her mouth. Dear God the man was a class-A kisser. She sighed into his mouth, letting him work his magic, the creaking of the ropes a musical compliment to the soft sounds they made between them. Then, he was gone again.
Sara shifted, knowing he’d be back. After what felt like an hour, she took a chance. “Jack?” Silence descended. Her feet were freezing, and her shoulders had started to ache.
Where in the hell was he?
Strange sounds started trickling in, Feminine noises, but not from her. Shuffling, moaning, Jack’s voice raised but unintelligible. Then the absolutely, unmistakable sound of a woman in the throes of a monster climax worthy of a porn movie. Sara gritted her teeth. “Jack?” The ropes burned her wrists; claustrophobia hovered on her horizon. “Get this blindfold off me! Where are you?”
Then, blinding light as the cover was ripped from her eyes. A tall, sultry brunette stood over her, eyes gleaming, hands on her hips as she surveyed Sara’s prone and vulnerable position. “Nice work honey. Thanks for waiting your turn.”
Sara squirmed. “Where’s Jack?”
“Didn’t you know? He can’t be trusted. Don’t even t
ry Sara. Don’t even try.” Then the woman was gone, and Sara saw her, wrapped around the tall frame of the man she had loved once, had trusted, once. The sound of her own scream woke her up.
She sat, clutched blankets to her mouth, her wrists on fire with residual rope burn from a few weeks ago. Her left ring finger was empty. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she flopped back on her pillows.
Oh yeah. She’d given it back to him.
This weekend she had to face him again in front of everyone at the Stewart Realty Company Picnic.
Wonder if faking a case of Ebola would suffice for an excuse? She sighed and climbed out of bed.
After a scorching hot shower, take-out coffee and a deep breath, she entered her office, slipping in the back so she wouldn’t have to face the inevitable gaggle of colleagues at the front. She fired up her computer stared at the screen. It glowed, sharing more than she wanted to know. Stupid Facebook. She should have known better. She’d spent two days hiding out, gathering her mental and emotional resources together so she could face the office, ready to admit that she’d failed to hang onto the hottest bachelor in the tri-state area. Then she would avoid all conversations with anyone about their ruined relationship for a few weeks.
Her scalp tingled as she clicked through a series of photos posted to Jack’s wall, in various stages of mouth fucking a couple of girls who, if they were twenty-one, Sara would be the god damned Queen of England. She sighed and noted the date.
The same as the night she’d given him his ring back. Perfect.
“Now do you see? This was the right thing to do Sara. You don’t want to live our mother’s life, remember?” She could practically hear her brother’s voice. The ever-present, hugely annoying tears spilled over again.
“Hey Sara!” Craig dropped into the chair by her desk. She tore her eyes away from the searing images on the computer screen to acknowledge him. They hadn’t spoken much in the last few months, not since their near close encounter just before Jack’s big proposal.
