by Megan Slayer
“Dad-I’d-like-to-fuck. Jesus .” He stole another glance at the DILF’s ass, then backed out of the parking spot. “He’s probably not gay.”
“Here we go again.” She rolled her eyes. “You’d find any reason to get out of talking to him.”
“Don’t start.” He knew better. Julia was his voice of reason and wing woman. She’d been his best friend from the moment they’d met at The Courier in Cleveland. She’d stuck by him after the paper downsized and he lost his job. Without her support, he wouldn’t have gone for the job in Cedarwood. He loved her with his entire heart, but he wasn’t in love with her any more than she was with him. He drove across town to her townhouse and parked in her miniscule driveway.
“I’m going to say this once, then I’m not going back to it.” She faced him and remained in her seat. “You can drool all over every man you see for all I care. You can dream about them, masturbate to their images in your head, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash. You can fuck whomever you want, too.”
He stared at her. He’d heard this speech so many times, but there was something new in her voice. Something stronger.
“Stop selling yourself short.” She patted his cheek. “If you could see yourself the way I see you, the way your ex-boyfriends saw you, then you’d stop this bullshit. You’d have confidence. You’re so handsome. I know lots of people who would kill for not only your head of thick hair, but those cheekbones and your eyes.”
“Ju.” She’d never understand.
“You’ve got the clearest, palest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I’m jealous. Look at me. I’m stuck with mud-brown eyes.” She snorted. “Jesus. You don’t get it. You could have any man you wanted. Hell, any woman you wanted if you were bi, but you’re not. Stop cutting on yourself and believing you’re still that chubby kid I met at the paper ten years ago.”
“I can’t.” He’d tried. Dear God. No matter what he did, he still saw himself at eighteen when he looked into the mirror. No amount of running, weight lifting or dieting seemed to change his reflection.
“I know you can’t.” She recoiled from him and averted her gaze. “Look at us. I can’t get a date if I try because everyone thinks I’m with you. Guys don’t approach me, but they do you, and you’re scared. I haven’t had sex with a human being in a year.”
He didn’t want to know that, but he appreciated her honesty. “Ju. I’m sorry.” She was right. He hid his sexuality unless they were in the clubs—all far away from Cedarwood. He dragged her along and expected her to have fun looking at the pretty bodies but knowing full well she couldn’t touch.
“Look, whether he’s a dad or not, if you’re attracted to him, you should at least introduce yourself. What’s the worst that could happen? You fall for him?” She sighed and left the car. “I need a shower and a fat cock. Unfortunately, all I’m going to get is the shower.” She grasped the door frame. “Call me if you want to talk.”
“I will, sweets.” He’d fucked everything up. Remy drove back across town to his closet-sized apartment. He couldn’t get the image of the runner from the park or Julia’s words out of his mind.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. The little green light was blinking. Someone must’ve called or texted. He swiped his thumb across the screen. A text. Not from Julia. She used her phone for calls. Texting, she claimed, was against her religion. He knew better. She hated the poor grammar everyone used when they texted. She always used proper punctuation and spelling.
He checked the screen.
Saw U @ the pk
Run w/me 2moro
His heart skipped a beat, but the good feeling disappeared instantly. This wasn’t a text from the hunky runner. That guy wouldn’t have his number. He groaned and realized who’d texted him. Seth, his ex-boyfriend. Fucking balls. He and Seth had been a mistake from the start. Seth hadn’t come through Julia. No, he’d met Seth at a club on a night he’d gone alone. After a blow job in the parking lot, he’d sworn he’d fallen in love. They’d tried to date, but that hadn’t worked out. Well, no, they might have been decent for each other if they’d actually gone out on a ‘date’. Instead, they got together for sex and called it something else. All Seth ever wanted was sex.
‘Love between men doesn’t exist,’ Seth used to say. ‘It’s all fucking sex, and I want it all.’
Sometimes he wished he had Seth’s outlook on life. He liked sex too, but he needed more than just fucking for a relationship.
He should reply to Seth. If he didn’t, Seth would keep sending texts, and eventually he’d break down. He refused to give in this time.
Can’t. Mtgs all day.
It wasn’t a total lie. He’d be up to his eyeballs at the paper tomorrow. He wished there were more people working for The Cedarwood Tribune . Maybe then he wouldn’t be writing sports articles instead of the pop culture stories he loved. He knew almost nothing about sports, but he’d ended up in that department during the last downsizing. It was either write about softball and wrestling or give up his job.
He abandoned his phone on the couch and stripped down. Sweaty clothes were fine in the club or during a run, but gross afterward. He turned the knob in the shower. While he waited for the water to heat, he strolled around the bedroom. Steam billowed from the stall.
Remy stepped under the spray. His muscles ached from the run and the stress in his life. He lathered the washcloth and turned his back on the water. These were the times he wished he had a partner. Showers were better when shared. He loved the feel of his man’s hands on his body, stroking him, caressing him. Soap sliding down his belly to his cock. He curled his fingers around his shaft and closed his eyes.
Hunky runner should be there with him. He imagined the man sharing the stall. They wouldn’t have to speak, just feel. He stroked his dick and pictured the handsome guy in front of him. Would the fantasy match up to reality? He wondered what it would be like to have the man’s hands all over his body. Would he and hunky runner kiss? Rough or soft? Would the guy take the lead or bottom for Remy? Was he the type to shove his partner against the wall and take what he wanted?
He increased the speed of his strokes. He hadn’t needed much to reach orgasm. Hell, he’d been on a hair-trigger since the run. God, he was so close. He tipped his head back and rested his shoulders on the wall.
“Fuck,” he growled. The heat in his belly spiraled through his body. His nerve endings tingled as the climax hit. He squeezed his eyes shut as he came. He shivered and sank to the floor of the stall. Cum slid down the drain along with the bubbles.
Remy panted and his thoughts returned to the runner. He could go back to the park and try to catch him, but he doubted the guy would still be there. He’d probably finished his run and left too.
Julia had been right. He should’ve said something when he had the chance, or better yet, made a chance. For all he knew, he could’ve been in the shower with hunky runner, not jerking off alone. Still, the memory of the guy and the way his eyes flashed when they met played on a loop in Remy’s brain. He liked the man way too much for only making eye contact with him.
He staggered to his feet and dipped his head under the spray to clear his thoughts. Whether the guy had actually noticed him or was just being nice was still up for debate. Not that hooking up with him would matter. Life went on despite Remy being alone.
He switched off the water and grabbed the towel. The mirror was steamed over, and that pleased him. He hated looking at his reflection. Every time he looked in a mirror, he swore he saw the chubby kid he’d been at eighteen staring back at him. He ducked into the bedroom and toweled the rest of the way off. He wasn’t going to think about his ex, his past or the guy from the park. He had a novel to work on and it wouldn’t get written unless he put in the wordage.
Remy draped the towel over the laundry basket to dry, then stepped into a pair of boxers. He wished he didn’t have to work at the paper and could focus on his book, but someone had to pay the bills. He needed a fairy godfather to come along and take
care of everything. How about a boyfriend to encourage me and give me moral support? Oh, and hot sex? Unfortunately, none of them had shown. He plopped down at his desk and sighed. Being grown up and single could really suck.
* * * *
Remy managed a little more than six thousand words before he crashed for the night. The next morning, he completed write-ups for two swim meets and a wrestling tournament. He still had to attend a gigantic softball tourney, but it wouldn’t be too awful. He drove over to the softball complex and parked by a light pole. The festival would take place that afternoon too. If he remembered right, it was over at the community park. He locked up and tucked his notebook into his back pocket. At least he’d be in between the events if he decided to attend the festival.
He snorted. Technically, he was supposed to write an article about the festival too. Somehow being there on official business was not as much fun as attending because he wanted to be there.
Oh well. He’d take the required notes and come up with something good. He owed Colin and Farin that much. But once the sun went down, he was on his own time.
He sat through the first two games of the tournament in the announcers’ booth and scribbled notes for later. He couldn’t wait until he could get back to his novel. There was something off about his characters, but he wasn’t sure what. If he had a boyfriend or someone not Julia, he’d run through the problems. Julia hated his book but never told him to quit. She’d been his rock. Too bad he wanted cock instead.
Once the games concluded and the winners were given the trophy, he walked around the softball complex to the park. Music played, but he couldn’t make out if it was singing or just a band. Bubbles floated on the wind and the scent of food frying caught his attention. People milled around the various booths and trailers. A line of food trucks ringed the east end of the park. Across from them were a string of games, including a fishing one and a ring toss. His belly gurgled.
Remy headed in the direction of the food trucks. He wanted something fried. A gyro, barbecue or even one of those massive cups of French fries, but his diet wouldn’t allow for it. He scratched his stomach. Fuck my diet. He deserved a cheat day anyway. Everything smelled too good to pass up. He queued up to the line for the gyros and pulled his notepad from his pocket. He scribbled notes as he waited for the food. With all the hen scratch, he just might have the makings of a few good articles for Monday.
He ordered a smoothie to go along with his gyro, then waited by the pick-up window. He noticed a crowd gathering in front of the band shelter. A group of musicians strode onto the stage. Rock music blared from speakers on either end of the tiny band shell. Those kinds of music weren’t his thing. He preferred hip hop and techno, but at least the band made the tunes sound good. He picked up his food and ventured to the edge of the crowd.
His nerve endings tingled, and when he glanced across the hill, he noticed the hunky runner. Holy hell. The guy was just as good-looking in jeans and a button-down as he was in his joggers and the tight T-shirt.
Blood rushed to Remy’s dick. Damn. He leaned on the closest tree and shifted his jeans to relieve the pressure on his cock. He’d been drawn to men before, but nothing like with this guy. He wanted to run across the lawn and throw himself into the man’s arms. He didn’t even know the guy’s name! God. He was either undersexed and starved for attention, or he was losing his mind.
Remy finished the gyro, then worked on the smoothie. He studied the runner. The guy didn’t seem to have kids—or at least none were hanging around him this time—so that was a plus. He worked the tight jeans look well and filled out the shirt like a model.
He could hear Julia’s voice in his head. ‘Talk to him.’ Oh sure. Just waltz right over there and say something intelligent. Like he could do that. He’d probably trip or, worse, open his mouth and come across like a fool.
He gathered his courage. If he wanted to get to know the man, he’d have to take the first step. Besides, if he stopped walking, he’d lose his nerve. Damn it. He wasn’t going to wuss out this time. He navigated through the crowd to where the hunk stood. Two guys joined him—Colin and his partner, Jordan.
Well, shit. Remy ducked behind another tree. He liked Colin, but Officer Hargrove was another story. He and Jordan would never be friends. He hated the way the cop tended to act as though he was better than everyone. Remy would never forget the summers he’d spent just outside Cedarwood at his grandparents’ house. Like clockwork over those three weeks, he’d run into Jordan, and every time they were out of earshot from the adults, Jordan had made a big deal about Remy’s weight. He growled under his breath. He’d used to be fat, and he knew Jordan would bring the matter up.
Remy held back and waited for Colin and Jordan to leave. He wasn’t about to make a move with them around.
As the sunlight faded, so did his spirits. Colin and Jordan weren’t leaving. Hell. They’d spread out a blanket near the man. He didn’t want to interrupt, but damn it. He’d lose his courage.
He stole another glance at the man. Remy wanted to feel the guy’s hands on his body and his cock deep in Remy’s ass. He longed to have hunky runner’s teeth grazing his dick. He bit back a moan.
Jesus, I need sex.
He spotted Seth over by the speakers. What in the name of God is Seth doing here? He hated anything that wasn’t a club. The desire to go to someone who he knew was a bad deal overwhelmed him. Seth would definitely sleep with him, but was that worth it?
Probably not. He’d been down that road, and it had taken him a year to get over the devastation of Seth leaving. He’d been more devoted to Seth than Seth had been to him, but still. He’d fallen hard for the guy. He blew out a long breath and turned his attention back to the hunky runner.
He spied Colin and Jordan on the blanket, but the hunk was nowhere near. What the hell? He finished the rest of his smoothie and chucked the cup in the closest garbage can, then rested his hands on his hips. The sunlight was gone and the stars were out. If he wasn’t alone, it might have been a romantic evening. He wished he could be like Colin and Jordan—with a partner and happy as hell.
The music resumed and lights flashed on the stage. Remy crossed over to where he’d seen the guy last and pretended not to see Colin or Jordan. He wasn’t in the mood for one of Jordan’s comments. He turned on his heel and headed back toward the parking lot. He should’ve known he wouldn’t find the guy.
“Hi.” Hunky runner stepped between Remy and the path to the lot. “Leaving already?”
A shiver raced the length of his spine and he stopped in his tracks. “Uh…no.” He wasn’t going anywhere now.
“Are you enjoying the festival?” he asked. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Bobby.”
“Remy.” The moment he touched Bobby’s hand, sparks shot along his arm. His nerve endings tingled again. “The…festival is getting better.” So much better. He nodded to the softball fields. “Thought I’d head over here to watch the fireworks. Want to join me?” He’d stepped way out of his comfort zone by asking that question, but he’d never know if Bobby was interested if he didn’t try.
“Sounds like a plan.” Bobby fell into step beside him. “You were at the trails yesterday, weren’t you?”
“I was. I run with Julia.” Well, no. He ran, she jogged, then walked, but who was keeping score?
“What’s your best time?” Bobby’s hand brushed Remy’s.
Remy waited a moment before answering. He wanted to grab Bobby’s fingers, but damn, that would be too forward. Besides, his running times depended on who was at the track that day. “I don’t clock my times.” Liar. “I just run to clear my head.” He wasn’t totally lying there. He used the quiet time when Julia didn’t come along to think and sort out his issues.
“Yeah?” Bobby nodded. “I do the same thing, but I have to keep a record of my time. It’s my being anal.” He bumped shoulders with Remy. “Next time you’re ready to run, call me. I’d love to have someone to run with.”
“Sure.” Rem
y stopped by the wooden fence separating the softball fields from the rest of the park. “I wasn’t sure if I’d like the festival.” But then Bobby had arrived and knocked him for one hell of a loop.
“Oh? I wasn’t sure, either. I’m not a crowd kind of guy.” Bobby glanced over his shoulder. “Colin and Jordan are nice to talk to, but they’re not you. I was kind of hoping you’d be here.” He draped his arm around Remy’s shoulders. “I’m also seriously hoping you’re gay.”
“I am.” He snuggled up to Bobby. Thank you, God. Bobby was interested. He breathed in the scent of Bobby’s cologne and sighed. Bobby smelled like pine and sex, and he loved the way Bobby took control. He was a natural bottom and needed a top to keep him in line.
The fireworks exploded overhead. Splashes of blue, pink and green light illuminated Bobby’s face for a moment here and there. He noticed the flecks of amber in Bobby’s dark eyes and the curve of his lips when he smiled.
“You’re studying me, aren’t you?” Bobby murmured.
“Kind of. It’s nice to see you close up, rather than running past you at full blast.” He brushed his nose along Bobby’s cheek. “I’ve been dying to talk to you since I first saw you.”
“I don’t bite.” Bobby turned Remy around until he faced the fence, then eased behind him. He wrapped both arms around Remy’s waist and rested his chin on Remy’s shoulder. His breath tickled Remy’s ear. “No, I do bite, but only if you want me to.”
Remy groaned. When Bobby spoke, he rubbed the bulge in his jeans along Remy’s ass. The man was packing the goods, and Remy wanted to unwrap his present. He threaded his fingers around Bobby’s and ground his butt into Bobby’s groin. Hell, yes, he wanted that dick in his hole tonight.
“You don’t hold back, do you?” Bobby asked. He nipped Remy’s earlobe. “Want me that much?”
“Uh-huh.” He’d rather skip out on the fireworks and make some of their own. “My car’s not too far away.”
