Caleb reached around and gripped Mason’s shaft, and Mason involuntarily shuddered and tightened around him. Caleb emitted a primal growl, biting into Mason’s shoulder to muffle the sound. Mason turned his face, and their lips clashed.
“Caleb, oh Caleb,” he whispered.
“Why do you make me feel this way?” Caleb begged to know.
Mason had no answers to his question. He shook his head, and kissed him again as the tension between them escalated and the pace quickened. Caleb laid him on his side and continued the pounding thrusts that stole Mason’s breath away. The slick sound of bodies meeting faster and faster signaled the inevitable.
“Yes,” Caleb groaned. “Uh! Mason!”
Mason held onto Caleb’s outer thigh, thrusting harder into Caleb’s racing hand as he masturbated him.
“Caleb!” Mason screamed in a whisper.
Caleb dragged his warm lips over Mason’s neck and shoulder, emitting staccato moans that spoke of satisfaction beyond compare. Mason strained arduously against him, and Caleb squeezed him tighter.
“I can’t—Ah, God!” Mason sobbed.
“Now!” Caleb slammed into him with such force that his erection burst free. Caleb jerked and snatched off the condom with a sudden eruption of hot, silky pearls of ejaculate. His climax rained to Mason’s inner thigh as he said his name over and over. He rubbed his jizz shot over Mason’s cock, and Mason quaked.
Caleb rolled him onto his back and passionately lapped up the milky evidence of his own climax. His soaking wet mouth wrapped around the tip of Mason’s cock, and he sucked, and Mason felt his world turn inside out and his vision go blank. He clutched the back of Caleb’s neck and surged into his mouth as his body let go. “Ah!” he cried. Caleb breathlessly swallowed him and sucked, heightening the ecstasy.
Mason clenched his eyes shut and squared his jaw as tremors surged through him, and he rode Caleb’s tongue slow and hard. His jizz spilled from Caleb’s lips to dribble around his cock, and Caleb rubbed it around the sensitive tip. Mason cried out and clutched his wrist to stop him.
Caleb stretched over him and kissed him with their intermingled flavors still on his lips. Their rapid breathing slowed, and the sensual swirl of his tongue behind Mason’s teeth sent aftershocks of pleasure through him. He hugged Caleb closer and sighed his name.
Mason stared up at the ceiling as he processed the fact they had actually gone all the way. He realized, with a start, that the television could no longer be heard from his parents’ room, and he panicked. “You have to go,” he whispered urgently.
Caleb nodded understanding and quickly climbed from the bed. The artist dressed in the shadowy room. “Will you come to me?”
Mason nodded and stretched, achy but sated beyond belief. “Saturday night,” he promised.
Caleb peered out the door before discreetly slipping from Mason’s room and disappearing down the hall. Mason prepared to shower, hoping his parents had not heard them. They had to keep this a secret. Because now that Mason had tasted the glory of sex with Caleb, he wanted more.
Chapter 8
It was Saturday night and Mason’s parents had compelled him to come with them to dinner at a very upmarket restaurant. He was supposed to be sitting for Caleb, but he could not turn them down. He studied the gleaming silverware as his fingers twitched around his cellphone under the table, wishing he could call and tell him he would not be able to make it. Mason sighed and shoved the device into his pocket as Robert and Belinda entered the room.
“I was wondering when you two would get here,” Mrs. Sinclair said, smiling.
Robert explained, “Traffic is a mess. How’s it going, Mom and Dad? Mason?”
Mason nodded and looked away. The dinner date was to talk wedding planning, a subject which did not interest him in the least. He waved for a server, prepared for the boring night ahead. “Cognac, please,” Mason murmured.
Mr. Sinclair looked at him in surprise. “What did you order?” he asked after the waiter left.
Mason shrugged nervously. “I’m twenty-one, Dad.”
“Oh, leave him alone. He’s growing up,” Robert interjected with a laugh. “Things still going well between you and Riesling?”
“You should see them together,” his mother answered for him. “She comes over almost every day. They make a handsome couple, just like you and Belinda.”
“Just remember to take it slow, okay, Mr. Romance?” Robert cautioned with a grin. Mason smiled wryly. When his drink was served, the heady scent of the semi-sweet liquor made him think about Caleb. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Wow…you must really be smitten with her,” Robert murmured.
Mason locked eyes with his brother, belatedly realizing he was watching him the whole time. “Sorry about that, my mind was wandering,” Mason stated sheepishly.
Robert lifted a brow but did not probe. “So, Mom, we hired an event planner. I hope you don’t mind. I convinced Belinda it would be best if we took some of the load off you and her.”
“Oh, Robert! You know I was set on helping you plan!” Mrs. Sinclair pouted.
“I agree, Mrs. Sinclair,” Belinda insisted indulgently. “I told Robert that you and I will work closely on this, and the event planner just better go along with our ideas.” The women laughed.
Mason rolled his eyes in amusement. His father sat forward and raised a glass for a toast. “Well, fellas, the women have spoken. We’re simply here to lend moral support to their chicanery, eh?” Mr. Sinclair laughed. Robert and Mason clinked glasses with him. Mason relaxed as he let the alcohol loosen him.
Robert changed the subject. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, Mason, I put in a good word for you down at the firm. Whenever you’re ready to shoot over a resume, let me know and I’ll have HR ready and waiting for you.”
“Ha! Didn’t he tell you he’s thinking about a gap year abroad? That’s all I keep hearing about,” Mr. Sinclair said teasingly.
“What? That’s fantastic!” Robert beamed. “What are you planning to do? Sign up for a volunteer organization?”
“Well, I want to hit several places, so I’ll have to fund it myself,” Mason replied. He was pleased with his brother’s interest in his plans.
Mr. Sinclair chuckled softly and gestured with his glass. “For someone who’s so good with numbers, he has deluded himself into thinking a few freelance accounting jobs will cover the costs.” Mason ducked his head self-consciously. “I’ve done my best to discourage him from the nonsense, although I must admit I’m impressed by his tenacity. He actually has a handful of clients.”
“Don’t discourage him,” Robert said. “You’ll find a way to cover the costs, Mason. If you need a loan, I can help you. Just think, Dad. Had you not traveled the world, you never would have met Mom.” Mrs. Sinclair met her husband’s gaze and smiled.
“That’s different. I went to Seoul on business.”
“It’s not so different,” Mrs. Sinclair spoke up.
Mason hid his shock at their support. It emboldened him. “Actually, I already picked up a better paying job…Mr. O’Hara asked to use me as a model for his art. He has offered to fund half the trip.”
Belinda clapped. “Bravo, Mason! You tell him we would love to see the painting when it’s complete.”
“I thought he was a schoolteacher,” Robert said absently.
“And I thought I told you not to go bothering him,” Mr. Sinclair said quietly as he set aside his wineglass. Tension thickened the conversation, and Mason studied the table.
“I’m twenty-one, Dad,” he reminded him. “I haven’t bothered him. We’re friends.” When he lifted his eyes, Mr. Sinclair’s glare hardened and Mrs. Sinclair looked troubled. Belinda looked confused. Robert put down his fork and studied each of them.
“Okay, it looks like I’m in the dark about our Mr. O’Hara. What’s going on?”
“He’s a millionaire artist. Whatever it is he’s cultivating with your brother, he probably shouldn’t be,” Mr. Sinclair said firmly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mason asked.
His father would not say more. Mason sighed and shook his head. Robert continued blithely, “If you’re worried he’ll use Mason for his own gain, just make sure to get everything in writing. Whatever dollar amount he promised, hold him to it.”
“What about Riesling?” asked Mr. Sinclair.
“Dad,” Mason groaned.
“What about Riesling?” his mother asked.
“Mom, nothing. Dad is overreacting. It’s a business arrangement.”
“Are you really that naïve? You really are as green as they come,” Mr. Sinclair snorted derisively. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you from the very first day!”
“Oh,” Robert intoned.
Mason clutched his head and looked down. His father continued to voice his displeasure as everyone else at the table became silent. Mrs. Sinclair slowly put down her napkin. The sound of forks clanging against plates and conversation buzzing at other tables droned in the background as Mr. Sinclair’s muted whisper-scream shot daggers of embarrassment through him. “Stop,” Mason whispered in anguish.
“You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know why he bought you a new typewriter? You think I don’t notice that even when you take walks with your girlfriend, you look up at the window at him?”
“Dad, please! Stop!”
Mr. Sinclair jabbed his fork in Mason’s direction. “You stay away from him!”
“Desmond,” Mrs. Sinclair intervened. His father clamped his lips shut at the sight of her expression. Mason trembled and fought back tears. She laid a hand over his and tugged it away from his hair, smoothing the ruffled strands. Calmness slipped into the space where his heart was being broken by his father’s angry judgement. Mrs. Sinclair sighed. “Robert, please, tell us more about what’s going on at work,” she moved the conversation along for all their sakes.
Two weeks. Two weeks had passed since Mason had promised to pose for him. As another Saturday night came to an end, Caleb turned off the light and climbed into bed, knowing not to wait up. Mason had left him hanging to go out to dinner with his parents the first time. This time Caleb did not know what his excuse was, but he was puzzled by the apparent lack of interest.
Mason no longer looked up at his window when he took his faux romantic walks with Riesling. He had skipped Caleb’s watercolor classes. Maybe he changed his mind, Caleb thought. He could not imagine Mason passing up the opportunity to get paid to sit for him. Maybe the sex had scared Mason away.
“Or, he got what he wanted,” Caleb muttered bitterly.
He tossed and turned in bed, finally getting up and grabbing his tablet to watch a hypnosis video. Instead, he found himself searching pictures of Vido Charles’ work. Caleb reached for the sketchbook on the nightstand. It fell open on a picture of Mason he had drawn from memory. There was his zeal, staring from the page in Mason’s glistening eyes. Caleb had captured his melancholia in this one.
He roughly swiped a tear from his own face. “This is stupid,” he muttered. He was pining after the writer as if there was something between them. He laughed at himself. If the prospect of a large sum of money could not buy Mason’s attention, then what was the point of losing sleep over him? Caleb almost threw the tablet but remembered it was well after midnight, and there was a family sleeping beneath him.
He stared at the ceiling. Was this how girls felt when he did not call them back? Again, he laughed at himself. He sniffed and wondered if he could get adjusted to a life of obscurity, give up trying to rejuvenate his career. The very idea made him want to end it all and that thought terrified him.
He had no family, no friends, no connections, and no support system. Now he had no goals or dreams and no future. Everything was behind him. Caleb considered booking a flight back to New York and just fading away in the anonymity of the big city. A knock at the door interrupted his pity party. He tossed aside the tablet and threw back the covers, rushing across the room with his heart beating faster with every step.
Caleb opened the door for Mason. He kept a hand on the doorknob, blocking entry, but Mason pushed past him.
“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I had to wait for my parents to go to sleep.”
“Just when I figured you weren’t interest—”
“Shut up.” Mason clutched his face and kissed him silent. Caleb’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows went up at the take-charge behavior from the shy twenty-one-year-old.
“What’s this?”
Mason pushed closer. Caleb stumbled against the door. He fumbled with the lock as Mason’s tongue swept deeper into his mouth, and that wildfire that only he could ignite blazed hotter. Caleb asserted his dominance and shoved Mason toward the bed. With a moan, they both fell, tearing at each other’s clothes.
The shirts came off. Caleb unknotted the drawstrings of Mason’s lounge pants and stretched over him with his hands to Mason’s wrists, pushing his arms above his head as he kissed him wildly. Mason chased his mouth with his tongue, whispering heatedly, “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. I thought you had had your fill.”
“I can never get enough of you. I didn’t want to stay away, but I had to be careful.”
“Mm…” Caleb nipped at his chest as Mason wove his fingers through his hair. “Careful of what?” Caleb asked. The scent of Mason’s skin sent him spiraling with dizzy anticipation. He slipped a hand into Mason’s boxers and rubbed the smooth, rigid cock that strained toward him. Mason laid a hand over his and stopped him. They stared intently at each other.
“They know there’s something between us,” Mason whispered.
“Who?” Caleb moaned. He stole another kiss, and their bare chests met. With raw hunger, he yanked off Mason’s pants and struggled out of his boxers to be skin to skin, barely hearing what Mason said. He bit back a shocked expletive when their bodies met. Mason arched his back and thrust against him.
“My parents,” he gasped.
Caleb pushed away. “What?”
Chest heaving, Mason studied him to gauge his reaction. The surprise was written plainly on Caleb’s face, and Mason reluctantly continued, “I told them it’s a business arrangement. That I’m working for you as a model.”
“Did they buy that?” Caleb wondered if this meant he needed to find somewhere else to live. He couldn’t imagine Mr. Sinclair being okay with a homosexual relationship going on right under the roof of his “Catholic household.” He sighed shakily and shoved a hand through his hair.
Mason looked down. “I think if we keep it what it’s supposed to be in case they check, we should be able to fool them. Please understand.” Caleb nodded quickly and moved toward him on his knees to cup his face. “I know you think I give in too easily with them, but I have to keep the peace. I’m sorry.”
“Hush,” Caleb murmured, bowing to kiss him again. He pressed his forehead to Mason’s and closed his eyes, turning his face to breathe in the moment. He had never wanted forevers from anybody, but this series of encounters was doing something to his soul. He did not think he could handle being told no, with paradise so close.
Caleb pressed Mason to the bed, luxuriating in the feel of his satiny skin as they kissed. They touched each other eagerly. Caleb closed his lips over Mason’s beating pulse and sucked the side of his neck as Mason stroked his cock. Mason exhaled heatedly past his ear. His tongue darted out to trace the shape of Caleb’s earlobe.
The sensual exploration became a wrestling match for supremacy. For just a second, it was hard to tell if they were warring or making love. Arms pushed and hands pulled and mouths clashed. Their bodies grinded and broke apart, like the heat was too much to bear. They rolled together in bed as the passion intensified.
But the tables turned when Mason got Caleb on his back. Caleb’s head hit the mattress with a quiet thud as his spine arched when Mason’s blunt nails raked down his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut. Mason traile
d kisses to his burgeoning erection. Once his tongue swirled over Caleb’s cock, the battle was over. Caleb surrendered.
Mason’s mouth wreaked havoc with his senses. Caleb speared into the hot, wet orifice that was baptizing him in pleasure. Mason’s mouth rode up, around and down his hardness, his hand following the same track. The ecstasy began as a whisper and swelled to a loud hum. Caleb shuddered with a cry of joyous abandonment.
“Don’t let them hear us,” Mason whispered.
Caleb tensed and dragged him back to what he was doing. When a rain of sultry kisses fluttered to his balls, he bit his fist to muffle the scream that threatened to erupt. Caleb clutched the back of Mason’s head, pressing him to his body. Mason groaned and brought his mouth to the crown of Caleb’s dick.
“Stop!” he gasped.
Mason paused and looked up at him. Caleb yanked open the drawer of the nightstand and grabbed the small bottle of lube hidden within. Mason took the bottle from his hand and doused him with a generous dose. The slippery liquid spilled down Caleb’s balls onto the bed.
Writhing with need, Caleb gathered some on his fingers and beckoned for Mason to come closer. As Mason straddled him, Caleb eased a finger into his body, rubbing in and out until it coated his lover liberally. All the while, he watched Mason’s face—the lowered eyes, the parted lips, the sharp intake of air signaling pleasure. He wanted it just as badly. Caleb grabbed his hips and brought him down.
Inch by inch, his thick girth was swallowed whole. Mason melted with a quiet exhale and took all of him. Caleb groaned in bliss. “Yes,” he whispered. “Uh, yes.” He pushed deeper as Mason braced his hands against his chest with a soft moan.
He rocked forward, partially rising off Caleb’s cock. When he rocked back, he took him inside again. Back and forth. Harder and faster. Caleb gamely tried to suppress his cries, but it was so unbelievable that it was almost impossible to make no sound. Mason stroked his erection in a slick, tight sheath. Caleb rolled his hips and thrust in and out to meet him.
The veins stood out along Caleb’s neck and temples at the effort required to hold himself in check. As Mason gained momentum, the waves of ecstasy crashed one after another. He rode harder, and Caleb inhaled hoarsely, clawing at his thighs. “It’s even better,” he gasped. “Why is it even better this time?” Caleb felt like he was dying of pleasure. His fragile body would surely come apart upon climax.
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