He smiled fleetingly, eyes darting back to the house. He thought he saw the curtain shift and wondered if Caleb was watching their “very romantic” interlude as she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the cliff edge. “Be careful,” he said out of habit. She bubbled with laughter.
“Don’t you sometimes want to take the leap?”
“It would be foolish. It’s too dangerous,” he replied. She tilted her head and her long flaxen hair spilled over her shoulder. Not a single spark? Mason blew out a breath and looked at the rocks below. He sometimes wished he could like Riesling more. She really was the perfect girl for him.
“That’s your problem, Mason Sinclair,” said Riesling. “You play everything too safe, and I suspect that is why you haven’t chosen a company yet. You would rather the known misery of your parents’ tyranny than taking risks and getting out there, doing it on your own.”
He lowered his eyes and his lips tightened. She had struck a nerve. Riesling squeezed his hand and laid her head on his shoulder. Beneath them, the ocean slammed into the cliff face, swirling away in eddies. The sky and the sea were both the same shade of gray, making the join invisible. Mason shrugged his pea-coat tighter around him as the wind whipped at his feathery black hair.
“Let’s go back. The storms come up quickly,” he murmured.
Riesling followed him to the veranda that was supposed to be Caleb’s. Mason knew his parents would not mind him intruding on Caleb’s space, as long as Riesling was with him. She sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What’s troubling you?” she asked. “You always look so sad. Sometimes it’s unbearable to look at your sad face. Smile for me, go on.”
He found a smile as he gazed up at her. He watched the way she tossed her hair and looked away from him with lips parted and fluttering lashes. “Now you look sad,” he teased.
“Tell me about your friend upstairs.”
Mason shifted uncomfortably. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m not allowed to bother him. He’s a busy man. I’m sure my parents don’t want me to get to know him because they think he’d be a bad influence. My father says Mr. O’Hara can’t be very successful if he’s a schoolteacher and has to rent such a cheap room. But he’s not a schoolteacher, and you should see what he’s done to the attic. It’s like something out of a magazine.”
She lifted a brow. “How do you know?”
He contemplated not telling her, but he always ended up telling Riesling everything. “I went up to see him last week. We talked for a while. He’s trying to teach watercolor classes at the library. He placed ads in the newspaper.”
“Hmm…Maybe I’ll sign up to see what’s so exciting about him.”
Mason grinned, not understanding. “What?”
She cupped his face in an intimate gesture, and he noticed his mother standing in the hallway, watching them through the backdoor window. It was all for show. Mason nodded gratefully. “Every evening for the past month, when I have come over here,” said Riesling, “you have given me half your attention. The other half is on that window.” She tipped her chin up to indicate the attic. Mason frowned in surprise.
“That’s not the case.”
“Isn’t it?” She looked him in the eyes. His gaze skated to the ceiling of the veranda. Up there, Caleb was painting beautiful seascapes, listening to classical music and moving around his stylish apartment. Mason looked at Riesling.
“I’m just curious about the places he’s been. That’s all. Places I’ll never go.”
She hopped up from his lap and smoothed her skirt. “Well, then, see if he’ll take you.”
He grinned. “Stop teasing me. Do you want to take another stroll before you go?” She shook her head. He held out his hand anyway, and she reluctantly let him lead her down the porch steps to the grassy backyard that overlooked the Atlantic. “Don’t tell me you’re offended. I can have more than one best friend.” He flashed her a smile, and she softened.
“Of course you can, but I don’t want you to get in trouble with your parents.”
“You’re the one who said I play it too safely.”
She smiled wistfully. “Does he make you want to do dangerous things?”
Mason looked skyward and laughed aloud. “What are you asking me, silly girl?” He pulled her into a hug and buried her face against his chest, and she clung to him tightly.
“Does he?” Her voice was muffled by his jacket, but she tossed her head back and gazed at him with a smile. Mason touched the tip of his nose to hers.
“Please don’t ask me foolish questions. Mr. O’Hara is our tenant. Yes, I would like to be friends with him because he’s from New York. I can use his experiences in my stories; other than that, don’t read too much into it. Don’t you sometimes wonder what goes on outside this small town?”
She wove her fingers through his hair and sifted a strand out of his eyes. “I wonder about what goes on in the world of your head.”
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing goes on in this world inside my head. It’s such a lonely, boring place, best friend. Don’t begrudge me a fantasy to keep me company.”
“I don’t,” she murmured, bussing his lips lightly. “Daydream about your far-off places. Plot your escape. I’ll always be here when you come back to reality...if you can catch me!” Back to her playful self, she flitted away from him. Mason called her name and chased after her, and she laughed as she hopped in her car and locked the doors.
Smiling, Mason waved goodbye, but as soon as her car disappeared around the corner, his attention returned to the attic. He wondered what experiences Caleb could add to his collection of dreams.
Chapter 3
Mason stared at the typewriter until he was seeing double. He had heard Caleb O’Hara slip down the stairs and out the back door. Mason assumed he was headed out to give his first watercolor class.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He could not stop thinking about Caleb. He was trying valiantly not to let his imagination run wild, but a quiet voice from deep within him whispered, Why not?
No one could see inside his head therefore he could indulge. It was just a thought after all, and thoughts without words or actions have no consequence. A fantasy began to take shape. Caleb’s lips on his. Mason gripped the edge of the writing desk. He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled as his heartbeat accelerated.
He opened his mind again, and pictures flooded him like a river that could not be dammed. Caleb’s lips on his, the slant of his mouth, his tongue probing boldly, his hands pulling Mason closer…
“Stop it,” Mason muttered aloud. He swept his hair out of his face and tapped out another line to the story that he was losing interest in. The keys made a pleasant racket that almost distracted him, but he knew that he was writing to take his mind off the dangerous track it was meandering down. His plot and characters did not hold him, allowing his thoughts to venture beyond the first kiss…
Caleb pushed him to the bed and lay on top of him. When he kissed Mason again, there was more urgency.
“Do you want me to stop?” Caleb asked. Mason clutched the back of his neck tightly and half-rose, chasing his lips in answer. Caleb groaned and ran his hands down Mason’s chest to his pants and unbuckled his belt. Mason put up no resistance.
His eyes widened as the artist nuzzled his neck. The pleasure was aggressive and Mason’s head fell back as Caleb licked down his stomach. His abs clenched as Caleb deftly unfastened his pants and eased them down his hips. His soft mouth brushed Mason’s erection through his boxers. There was so much he did not know about what happened between two men but his imagination was happy to fill in the blanks. He closed his eyes and went with the flow.
“Don’t stop,” he groaned.
Caleb eased his swollen cock from his boxers and wrapped his mouth around him with a guttural moan. Mason felt the vibrations reverberate throughout his entire body. His toes curled from the shock. Caleb slowly pulled him deeper into his mouth. As more and more his shaft disappeared, the pleasure
intensified. Mason gasped and clenched a fistful of Caleb’s hair.
His hips rose off the bed as he thrust into Caleb’s questing mouth. (Mason wondered if there was a chance it would feel this good in real life.) His mind supplied details that made his breath hitch. The silky glide of Caleb’s tongue. The squeeze of his hand. The fluid tug of his mouth up and down. Mason shuddered as Caleb came back up.
“More?” he asked.
Mason was terrified to say yes. But this was a daydream, just a thought. Where would his vivid imagination take him? He nodded hesitantly, and Caleb gently turned him over onto his stomach. Fluttery kisses rained over the smooth cheeks of Mason’s ass. He flinched in surprise and alarm. When Caleb slipped his tongue into the crease—Mason had no idea what that would feel like, but he imagined it would be bliss—he cried out.
Then, he felt the artist rising to his knees behind him. Mason glanced over his shoulder. Could he take more?
Caleb exposed his rigid manhood. It was thick and long and swollen with arousal. He cupped himself and masturbated for a second while Mason watched. “Just do it,” Mason urged.
Caleb pushed into his body inch by inch, slowly. Mason tensed. He expected pain. He did not know if it would be unbearable or the kind of quick torture of a needle-stick. Even in his dreams, he pictured it being intense. In and out, an intense build-up. Desire threaded through Mason’s veins as his pelvis rocked forward and back to take him in.
He heard Caleb whimper with delight. He felt his blunt nails dig into the muscular flesh of his hips as he held him in place and fucked him slow and hard. Mason bit his bottom lip, sweat beading along his brow. He clenched his fist.
The desk. He clenched the desk. Mason opened his eyes. He was holding on so tightly to the woodgrain desk that his knuckles had gone white, and his fingers were stiff. He let it go, surprised at how quickly he had almost lost control. His cock was hard as steel. The blood rushed in his ears, and his balls tightened, yearning for release.
But he could not think beyond that. He refused to think beyond that. He glanced at the clock as an idea began to form. He wanted to see Caleb O’Hara. There was no way he would tell him he had been daydreaming about him off and on all evening. No way he would voice the thrill the thought of kissing him brought.
He could go to the watercolor class and watch him in a safe, public library. His parents had told him to stay away from the attic. He would follow the rules and keep this little rebellion to himself, the way he always had. There was something about the artist that made him want to resist more than normal, if only in his dreams.
Caleb peered over his easel at what constituted the class. The two students present nodded and smiled, and he dropped his head before they witnessed his scowl. He had to believe the class would grow over time as awareness increased. He needed the money therefore he had to make a success of the endeavor. Failure was not an option. He sighed and dipped his brush in a cup of water, drying it on a napkin. “We’re almost done here, guys.”
“Would you like to see it, Mr. O’Hara?”
“Yeah, sure,” Caleb said, feigning interest. He stepped around his table to peer at the work of his oldest student Mr. Dantzler, and his mood lifted as he squinted at the execution of the impressionist-style mountainside. “This is very good, Mr. Dantzler! Are you sure you’ve never painted before?”
“Only walls and ceilings,” the old man laughed. “Just goes to show you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
“Keep up the good work.” Caleb clapped him on the shoulder. He moved to put up his art supplies and tried not to notice Mason sitting a few tables away. “Uh, please feel free to complete your paintings at leisure and take them with you when you’re done. This is it for me for tonight. Thank you for joining, and I’ll see you back next Wednesday when we’ll work on light and painting trees.”
Caleb snapped the clasps of his toolbox and hefted the plastic container, making a split-second decision to confront Mason. He marched to his table and dropped into a chair, sending travel magazines sliding to the floor. The two men reached for the books at the same time, and their hands touched.
“Sorry,” Mason whispered, pulling away.
As Caleb sat up and put the magazines back on the table, they studied each other. Caleb cleared his throat and affected annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
Mason shrugged and shook his hair out of his eyes. “I wanted to see what your watercolor class was about.”
Caleb spread his arms. “Watercolors.”
Mason tightened his lips. “Do you own the library now?” he challenged. “I took the bus here to get destination ideas for the story I’m writing, and I stumbled on your class. I decided to stay to see it.”
Caleb reigned in his irritation. “Well, you never brought me the manuscript,” he mumbled.
“You told me not to come to your room without permission.”
“You can come up anytime.” The words rolled off his lips. Caleb did not intend them, but he did not take them back. Mason looked hopeful. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it and looked away. “What?” Caleb asked.
“I was wondering if you could tell me about the places you’ve been, if you have the time. I don’t want to hold you up. I just…I’ve always wanted to go to New York.”
Caleb pulled one of the travel magazines closer and tapped a picture of red rooftops. “New York is nothing compared to say, a sunset on the Baltic Sea.” Mason sat forward with interest.
“Do you always paint the ocean?”
“No,” Caleb murmured, eyes on Mason’s lips. “I prefer to do portraits.”
Mason’s brow furrowed. “Then, why have you been painting the Atlantic?”
I don’t have a muse, Caleb thought. “For practice. Come. It’s getting late. I’ll drive you home.” The young man fell in step beside him, and they exited the quiet library. Icy raindrops hit the pavement around them as they hurried to the car. Caleb noticed Mason wearing only a light cardigan and shrugged out of his flannel, sliding it over Mason’s shoulders. Mason smiled.
“It may be best for me to wait for the bus. My parents...”
Caleb scoffed. “I’m sure they won’t mind. You don’t need to wait out here in the cold.”
“Thank you, but it’s okay. They’ll find it…” He looked away sheepishly. “They’ll find it odd if I take a ride with you. Thank you, again. Drive safely.” Mason handed him his flannel apologetically. Caleb grabbed the jacket and studied him. He did not have the heart to leave him at the dreary bus stop where the overhead light flickered uncertainly and litter skipped along the sidewalk, lifted by a breeze.
Caleb sighed. “Well, come sit in the car with me until the bus gets here. I’ll turn on the heater so we don’t freeze to death.” He unlocked his vehicle and opened the passenger door for him, but Mason hesitated. Caleb noticed they were away from streetlights. “I won’t hurt you,” he chuckled. Mason flashed a soul-stirring smile, and Caleb warmed despite the freezing rain.
“I’m not worried about you hurting me,” Mason said.
“Then, what are you worried about?”
Mason climbed into the passenger seat as Caleb went around to the driver’s side and hopped in the Jeep. He put the key in the ignition and powered on the heater full blast. Waiting for the air to warm, he cast glances at Mason who sat stiffly beside him. Mason picked up an art book from the floor beneath his feet and flipped a few pages.
“Erotic photography.” Caleb hid a smile. “Sometimes I use the images for inspiration.”
“I’m sure,” Mason grinned.
“Shut up.” Caleb elbowed him, and Mason laughed softly. Caleb noticed he did not put the book down. He slowly turned the page to a woman posed seductively with her legs parted and a waterfall of milk raining down her torso. “Anyone looking at those pictures would be inspired.”
“She reminds me of a girl I used to mess around with,” Mason commented.
“Bullshit,” Caleb chuckled.
“You th
ink I can’t pull a girl like her?” Mason smirked and flipped him off.
Caleb crowed with laughter at being given the bird. He was captivated by the lighthearted banal chitchat as Mason increasingly let down his guard. “You’re surprising me tonight. I thought I had you figured out.”
“What could you possibly have figured out about me in the mere fifteen minutes that we spoke before?” Mason looked him in the eyes, smiling.
“That you’re sheltered and innocent.”
“No,” Mason replied. “However, that impression does usually work to my advantage with women.” He chuckled, wagging his finger to punctuate the statement.
“I see. So, you and Riesling are friends with benefits.”
“No, no. She’s different. We’re just friends. I can talk to her about almost anything. We come from the same world. She understands what it’s like to have parents who rule every aspect of your life.”
“I don’t,” Caleb snorted.
Mason went quiet, turning the pages, and there was a sense of quiet rebellion to the act. Caleb was glad that the rain pounded the roof of the car as the racket served to insulate them from the rest of the world. He discreetly shifted his erection as he looked at the book with him.
Caleb stirred with a restless energy that he could not put a name to. He kept stealing glances at his companion, and suddenly Caleb realized what the younger man seemed not to know. The restlessness was attraction. He was attracted to him. Caleb had never once even thought about sleeping with a man…until now.
Mason flashed a half-smile. “I see what you mean about this book. I’m feeling very inspired.”
Caleb chuckled and rested his head on the back of the seat. “Feel free to get creative,” he murmured.
Mason nervously tugged at the collar of his shirt. It was warm in the Jeep, and the scent of Caleb’s cologne was having a heady effect. He closed his eyes and eased his hips forward to take off some of the pressure. His body was responding to the erotic images, so he kept the book over his lap. His erection strained against the soft fabric of his clothes, and Caleb was watching his every move.
Room for Rent Page 3
