Songs of Love : Books 1-3

by M J Calabrese

  Chapter Six

  Dylan was seated out on the patio when I arrived at the restaurant. As I approached, he stood. I could see the indecision in his eyes. He didn’t know whether to hug me or just greet me and not touch. He finally just stuck out his hand. I took it, then dragged him into a hug. It was something in between a bro hug and a lover’s hug. On impulse, I leaned back, grabbed his face and I kissed him. I noticed a cell phone flash from close by. I probably took more time kissing him than I should have, but God, his lips felt good on mine. I missed that unique taste that was all Dylan. The feel of his stubble on my fingers as I caressed his cheek felt wonderful and familiar. My fingers continued their journey on down his jawline to his chin, then I dropped them to his chest and gave him a pat.

  “Nice to see you, Dylan. It’s been a while.”

  He stood there, mouth gaping open slightly as I stepped back and sat down across from him. “Uh, yeah.” He fingered his lips where I’d kissed him. “Nice to see you, too.”

  The waiter came over and took our drink orders. Dylan surprised me by ordering a Cola.

  “No beer?”

  He shook his head, “Clean and sober one year.”

  “Oh!” Now I was really surprised. I knew Dylan’s alcohol and cocaine habit was getting way out of hand even before I left. Part of me believed one day I would turn on the news and they’d tell me Dylan was dead from an overdose. I’d remembered a DUI about five years back, but nothing recent.

  “Yeah, I went into rehab. I was high on set one day. The Producer came up and demanded a pee test. Of course, it came back positive. My lawyer played it down and I didn’t get fired, but I knew I had to do something, so….” He held his hands out in surrender then laid them back on the table.

  I saw a sadness in his eyes that almost broke me. No matter what had happened all those years ago. I hoped we were still friends. I reached out and put my hand atop his. He gave me a little, tentative smile then turned that hand palm up. It only took an instant for our fingers to intertwine.

  “So, what’s going on?”

  Dylan looked down at our hands. His grip tightened as he spoke. “You know I still love you, right?”

  What could I say to that? “Yeah.” I shook my head and fought back a smile. Lame.

  He focused on my face. His lips pressed into a tight line. He started to speak twice and twice he stopped himself. He looked away.

  “When was the last time you got tested?”

  I could feel the instant the earth stopped spinning. Like in the movies, everything just slows down. I found I was having a hard time breathing, but somehow I found enough to fill my lungs and to speak.

  “Three years ago when Eric moved in. I was negative then. He and I…, we…, only use condoms. I don’t trust as easily as I used to.”

  Dylan grinned weakly, but he still didn’t look at me. “Good.”

  The waiter returned with our drinks then took our orders.

  We waited, then suddenly spoke at the same time.

  “Who’s Eric?”

  “Are you HIV positive?”

  We smiled at one another and then started to laugh. Again we tried to speak and again we spoke at exactly the same time, saying the same words. “Doesn’t matter.”

  I shook my head. “Eric’s my boyfriend…, well, former boyfriend. After three years living together, we broke up this morning. He wanted me to marry him and I refused to divorce you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. It was three years of great sex and bad decisions, mostly mine, that will end up costing me a few hundred thousand dollars to get rid of him.”

  “What?” Dylan looked stunned.

  “Yeah, probably in the $600,000 to $700,000 range.”

  “Oh, my god, Hey. That’s like 200k a year. No piece of ass, no dick, no blowjob is worth that much.”

  “If I divorced you, that’s about what it would cost us to settle. About $200k per year married.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep one night so I sat down and figured it out. It’s just an approximation.”

  Dylan smiled. “Well, I guess we’d better stay married then.”

  “You never answered my question.”

  He cocked his head, frowning. “What question?”

  “Are you HIV positive? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

  He shook his head. “I know I was a bit of a whore in the past and I was definitely a bastard to you. I really do feel awful about that, Hey. In answer to your question, no, I’m not positive…, well, at least I hope not. I did get a call from The Center letting me know one of my past sex partners tested positive. He said the guy said I had sex with him like four months ago, I went in and I’m negative, but they suggested I repeat it in another couple of months just to be sure. So I’m not out of the woods yet.” He toyed with the condensation on his glass. “I gotta tell you, it scared me. I started thinking about…, well, everything.” He looked up into my eyes, “I started thinking about us. I started thinking about life. I started thinking about what we used to have and how happy we once were until I screwed it all up.”

  Dylan took my other hand, holding it. “I started thinking about who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, day in and day out. You’re the only person I ever wanted to have that with. I came to realize, you’re the only person who’s ever mattered to me. I should have fought harder to get you back. I should’ve found you that night and begged you to take me back.” His beautiful blue eyes started to tear. “I am not going to be perfect.”

  I started to shake my head, but he continued on. “Let me finish, Hey.”

  I nodded and motioned him to continue. “I’m not going to be perfect, but if you will consider taking me back, I can promise you I will never drink again. I’ll never do drugs again and I’ll never screw around on you again.”

  “Dylan.” I whispered.

  “No, please. I made poor choices, especially back then. I can’t change my past.” He lifted my hand and kissed it. “I am in therapy. I’ve cleaned up my act, but that wasn’t for you. That was for me. Even if you tell me to fuck off, even if we do get a divorce. I will still have to live with myself and I’m choosing not to live it in a stupor. I like being clean. I like being sober.” He sighed. “I still love you, Hey. I love you sooo much. I think I’m ready to be a husband to you. A real one this time. Someone you deserve. I will cherish you. I’ll make you happy, every day. Please give me another chance, Hey. Please.”

  I just stared at him. A thousand thoughts swirling through my mind…, and then our food came. I looked at it and suddenly I wasn’t hungry. I knew what I needed to say and I knew that he would get it. He always understood me.

  “You want some of my sweet potato fries?”

  Dylan’s smile started out small and as I watched him, it grew. He reached out, taking a little more than half and dropping them onto his plate. “I’ll take anything you’ll give me.”

  We sat there talking and laughing for hours. Catching up on some of the major events in our lives. Suddenly the trill of the reminder alarm on my phone broke our reunion revelry. I reached over and turned it off. Taking my napkin, I wadded it up as I pushed back my chair. “Sorry, I’ve got to go and meet with a real estate appraiser so I can pay that blackmailing dickwad off.” I grabbed the check and left a $100 tip. I figured we’d rented the table long enough I needed to pay for it. “I don’t know what you have planned for this afternoon, but you could ride with me, see the house. We could talk some more.” I remember I grinned. He knew what I meant. “Then I could drop you back here to pick up your car.”

  Dylan looked down, scuffing the floor with the heel of his shoe. Embarrassment clearly etched on his face. “Uh…, I can’t drive anymore.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Two years suspended license. Second DUI.” He laughed, “You saw my mug shot, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, it wasn’t pretty.”

  �
�Oh, come on. You haven’t had a bad picture in your life.”

  Dylan pulled out his phone, swiped through his pictures, then held it up to me.

  “Ok.” I smirked, “I was wrong. You must’ve been on quite a bender.”

  He nodded then followed me out to the valet kiosk. I looked over and it didn’t take a genius to figure out the paparazzi had spotted Dylan. Feeling a bit vengeful because I knew Eric would see it. I leaned in close to Dylan and pulled him in for a wet, tongue to tonsils’ kiss. I felt his hands come up, one on my hips and the other capturing the back of my head as he deepened the kiss. I felt a little guilty about using him, but as he pulled me closer, rubbing his hardening cock against my thigh, that feeling quickly disappeared.

  It took a not so discreet cough from the valet as he got out of my car to break us apart. I handed him a tenner and got in. As Dylan was about to get into the passenger side, one of the bolder photogs asked if the two of us were getting back together. He glanced over at me. I just gave him a shrug and a little smile. My handsome husband gave them one of his best Hollywood smiles.

  “What do you think?”

  ****

  The drive was a short one, but like in the restaurant, we kept talking about work and mutual friends I hadn’t seen in years. There were no awkward silences, but we both knew the small talk was covering a lot we still hadn’t said about the past. I told Dylan about my Dad dying in prison. He’d been stabbed in the neck by another inmate. “He probably couldn’t keep his mouth shut and it pissed someone off.”

  “Sorry, Hey, but it really couldn’t’ve happened to a nicer guy.”

  I nodded and was quiet for a moment, tapping my finger on the steering wheel while I was waiting for the traffic light to change. “Do you know,” I said quietly, “even if you die in prison, you have to serve your entire sentence. So Dad’s cremated remains are sitting on some shelf in a closet on the prison grounds.”

  Dylan pursed his lips, “Huh! Somehow that seems appropriate.”

  “How about your parents?”

  “I moved them to California about two years ago. The winters were getting to Mom and Dad had a small heart attack. Mom put her foot down and made him sell the business, but you know my Dad, he needed something to keep him busy. So, I bought them a fixer upper in Studio City and Dad is loving it. It’s got a casita. That’s where I’ve been living. Doesn’t make sense for me to get a place when I travel so much.”

  Somehow this struck my giggle button and I snorted, “So, you’re back living with your parents.”

  Dylan tried to look offended, but failed. “I am not living WITH my parents. I’m just living in their back yard.”

  We both laughed.

  He looked out the window, “I know. I’m pathetic. Can’t drive and I’m living with my parents. How the mighty have fallen.” He paused.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him looking back at me.

  “Mom asks about you from time to time.” He said softly.

  “Are you going to tell her about us?”

  “Is there an ‘us’?”

  I smiled. I already knew the answer, but I wasn’t willing to say the words yet. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter Seven

  It took the appraiser an hour. He handed me his card and said he would email me the report. The way he was commenting on the place, it didn’t look like I had much to worry about. He kept mentioning I should upgrade, well, pretty much everything, so it was going to appraise lower than Eric thought.

  I walked the appraiser to the door, thanked him and shut the door. Leaning back against it. I closed my eyes. My shoulders drooped. I felt exhausted both physically and mentally. Dylan’s strong hands pulled me toward him and I went willingly, resting my forehead against his.

  “It’s been a hellava day.”

  Dylan stroked my hair. I knew what he was offering. I knew it would be so easy to fall into his arms and forget everything. Past. Present, and future. I raised my head and looked into his dark blue eyes. God, how I missed those eyes being on me.

  “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

  I could feel Dylan shift from one foot to the other as he drew my body closer.

  “I’d rather,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. “I’d rather stay for breakfast, but I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

  I groaned, melting into him. I missed his body. I missed him writhing beneath me in ecstasy as we made love. I missed the feel of his cock in my mouth. Why had I waited so long? My arms tightened around him and I turned my head to kiss him. Oh, God! How I missed him. But then, I drew back. I let my finger tap his broad chest. “Uhmm…, sorry. Let’s try dinner then see how it goes. Is Chinese takeout okay?”

  He looked at me. I wondered if he was going to do what I asked. The outline of his cock told me that he missed me, too.

  “Do you remember what I like?”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the Chinese food or sex so I decided to err on the side of caution. I walked to the kitchen and pulled a well-used menu from the restaurant delivery drawer. “You prefer sweet and sour chicken, white rice and, uh, crab rangoons with a side order of spring rolls.” And I smiled, remembering one more item. “And my cock in your mouth as you attempted to suck me off before the delivery boy arrived.”

  Dylan grinned and strolled over, plucking the menu from my fingers. “You do remember.” He gave me a little peck on the lips. “Let’s see if I can remember what you like. Uh…, Mongolian beef with white rice. You’d steal half my rangoons and one of my spring rolls and once I sucked you until you were really hard, then I bent over the counter in the kitchen as you fucked me. Just as the doorbell rang, you came in my ass.”

  “Aw, babe, you do remember. That was a real race to the finish.”

  “I hid behind the counter while you crammed your filthy dick back in your pants and paid the guy. I always wondered if he caught anything off that money you handed him.”

  “Hey, I tipped him well.”

  We couldn’t help ourselves. We laughed until Dylan’s stomach growled. He smiled, placing his hand over his rumbling stomach. “I guess we’d better order.”

  Order placed. The delivery people were way behind. Dinner would be at least an hour before it arrived. L.A. at its slowest. Dylan took my cell phone and set it on the counter. He grabbed my waist and pulled me close. “Wanna make out like we were 19 again?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Over there on the couch?”

  I nodded and led the way. I knew what he wanted, but I had an idea of my own.

  “Put your hands behind your head.” I said as he got settled, stretching out on the soft leather couch. His eyes lit up and I was pleased to see he never questioned me about what I had in mind. I used my hip to make him scoot up against the back of the deep cushions. I started at this lips then traced a line down the center of his chest to his waist. I unbuttoned the top button of his trousers, running my finger underneath.

  “Jock strap?”

  He nodded. “I took a chance. I know how you like me.”

  I smiled as I grasped the pull on his zipper and slowly lowered it, then I slipped my hand inside. I squeezed his cock, feeling it twitch against my hand, straining against the constricting fabric. He tried to lift his hips toward my hand, begging for more. Trying to bring me closer to the target.

  “Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten the rules?”

  He sighed and shook his head as he rested his butt back onto the couch. I removed my hand, but he knew better than to complain. I slid down to his feet and removed his loafers, tossing each one over my shoulder. I lifted each foot and kissed the top. Using my tongue, I created a wet circle on the skin before moving over and sucking his great toe into my mouth. I’d always had this fetish, this kink, I liked his feet. Dylan groaned loudly, head thrashing side to side.

  “Fuck, Hey! You’re going to make me cum.”

  I let go of his toe with a pop. “Not yet.”

  Grabbing the cuffs of hi
s trousers, I pulled while he shimmied his hips until they slid off and ended up on the floor beside his shoes. He laid there with his legs splayed wide, inviting me in. I wanted nothing better than to put my cock in his tight ass, but I waited. I wanted to make him feel that stress of anticipation. I ran my hand up his thigh and over his cock, gripping the thick weave fabric before standing. Slowly, I removed my shirt, one button at a time. His eyes followed my fingers as they counted down to the bottom. I loved seeing him like this. Cock hard and weeping pre-cum. Hands tucked behind his head giving me total control. Legs spread so wide I could almost see the entrance to his body from where I stood.

  I continued what I considered to be a moderately sexy striptease, but from the ravenous way Dylan was looking at me, he definitely liked what he saw even after seven long years.

  His smile broadened, then his tongue caressed his lower lip, making it glisten. “Me likey. Love the way you’re carrying the extra weight. Mostly muscle with a touch of love handles.”

  I raised my eyebrows in annoyance. He caught my look and scurried to explain.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I like men with a little bit of meat on them. Makes me feel like they can handle me. Gives me something to grab on to when they’re fucking me hard.”

  “You still like it rough, don’t you?”

  Dylan grinned, “The rougher, the better, babe. I loved it when you wouldn’t take no for an answer and you’d pound my ass.” His eyes closed and he moaned, remembering. “I loved it when you’d take charge. You’d spank my ass until I couldn’t sit down then you’d make me beg for it, before fucking the shit out of me.”

  “Yeah,” I snickered, “Literally and figuratively.”

  He shrugged, giving me is best innocent look. “Don’t judge me, dude.”

  I stood and held my hand out to him.

  Dylan frowned, “What? Not here?”

  “No. That’s an Italian leather sofa and I’m way too old for rug burns on my knees.”