One (Love by Numbers Book 5)

by E. S. Carter

  I switch off my tablet, otherwise she’ll just ring back and hide it under a pile of magazines before rushing to the front door to welcome Flynn. Swinging the door wide, I’m greeted by a sight that turns my blood molten and has my head spinning with desire.

  Flynn, in a tight white t-shirt and distressed jeans.

  This man could wear a bin bag and I’d be rock hard and raring to go within seconds of laying my eyes on him.

  “Perfect timing.” I swing the door wide and step back to let him in. My instincts scream at me to welcome him with my mouth on his, but I don’t want to scare him away before he’s even through my front door.

  I shouldn’t have worried, the second his feet pass over the threshold, and before the door is fully closed, his lips are on mine in a drugging and demanding kiss.

  “I’m starving,” he smiles into my mouth.

  “Good thing I cooked enough to feed a small army.”

  “I wasn’t talking about food.”

  I laugh lightly against his lips before gently pushing him away.

  “At the risk of sounding like a typical housewife, I’ve been slaving over a hot stove all afternoon. So I’m going to feed you, and you’re going to like it.”

  He steps into me and rolls his hips to show me just how much he likes something, and I don’t think it’s the thought of the meal that’s quickly going cold.

  “Oh, I’m hoping to be fed a whole lot more.”

  The line is cheesy and delivered with a wink. With the confidence and swagger of the old Flynn, he breaks the contact of our bodies and takes a step back before turning to walk down the hall and straight into my kitchen. The arrogant bastard prowls through my house like he owns the place and like the besotted fool I am, I follow him.

  “Wow. This looks amazing. I know you said you could cook but I was expecting a takeaway, or something precooked that you were gonna try and pass off as your own.” He places the lid back on the pan filled with peanut butter sauce and chicken and spins to face me. “I’m impressed.”

  “Yeah, well. Don’t expect it to happen often. This is a peace offering.”

  “So you’re only going to cook for me if you have something to apologise for?”

  “If you’re lucky.”

  He laughs and takes a seat at the kitchen table. “It’s like being married but without the benefits.”

  “What benefits?”

  “Conjugal rights.”

  I bring the food to the table and set the pans and bowls before him, motioning for him to tuck in and help himself.

  “Someone planning on getting laid tonight?”

  He pauses, a ladleful of chicken in sauce hovers in mid-air dripping onto his plate. Without an ounce of humour, he looks directly at me and says, “I’m planning on being laid tonight.”

  I all but slide off my seat in a puddle of shock and overwhelming desire.

  Did he just say what I think he did?

  “Yes, Iz. I know what I want, and I want it tonight. So eat up, because as delicious as this all looks, I know it’s not what’s going to sate my appetite.”

  Fuck. How the hell am I supposed to sit here and eat when my brain has just melted into a puddle and caused all the blood in my body to rush to my cock?

  Around a mouthful of chicken, he grins and gives me another wink.

  The bastard knows exactly what he’s just done to me, and he’s revelling in it.

  “Are you sure you cooked this? It’s delicious.” He remarks, shovelling another large forkful into his mouth, a dribble of thick sauce running down his chin.

  “You eat like a pig. You know that? I chuckle in an attempt to gain back some control.

  “No. I eat like a man who wants his main course to be over so he can get on to dessert.”

  And there goes the last of my control.

  I place my knife and fork on the table and stand.

  “You know what else I excel at?” I ask. My fingers trembling at my sides like an addict who is staring at his next fix.

  He shakes his head and with another provocative grin, stuffs his face with even more food.

  “Using the microwave. So put down that fucking fork, finish what’s in your mouth and then meet me in the hot tub.”

  He drops his fork with a clang. “You have a hot tub?”

  I don’t answer. Instead, I step away from the table and slowly begin to strip. When I’m down to nothing but my boxers and Flynn’s face has turned from shocked to lusty, I turn and make my way across the kitchen to the outdoor patio.

  The scrape of a chair against the tiled floor lets me know he’s only seconds behind me. Good. He can be the one to follow me this time. All’s fair in love, war and fucking.

  I flip open the cover to the tub and steam billows out into the early evening air. My rationale of coming out here was to relax Flynn. He may be eager to have his cherry popped but I remember my first time as a bottom, and the experience wasn’t pleasant. I don’t want that for him. I want to show him that allowing me into his body is as much about his pleasure as it is mine.

  By the time I’ve slipped my boxers off and have one leg in the warm, bubbling water, Flynn is buck naked before me leaving a trail of clothes in his wake. His erection is proud and pointing straight at me, his eyes locked on the side view of my arse.

  “And there I was thinking I might have to persuade you,” I tease, before slipping my other foot into the tub and sinking down to fully submerge my body in the soothing water. As the bubbles caress my chin, I turn my eyes to Flynn.

  “Are you going to stand there gawping all night or are you gonna join me?” I swoosh my arms across the surface creating rippling waves.

  “Join. Definitely join.” His face is filled with a heavy dose of wonder with a large amount of apprehension added on top. He keeps his gaze on mine as he slips off the leather band around his wrist, carefully placing it on the seat of a garden chair. I’ve never seen him take it off before. It’s been on his wrist since the very day we met.

  He catches me looking at the discarded bracelet, and the question must be evident on my features because he answers before I have a chance to ask. “It was Clark’s. It’s getting old and a little worn so I try not to wear it in water.”

  His admission brings the night I left him into the forefront. If we have any chance of this becoming more between us, I need to explain some things before I let him take this monumental next step.

  His muscled frame should make him appear bulky and ungraceful, but his movements are always fluid and beautiful to watch. The way his thigh muscles grow taut as he climbs into the tub and his abs ripple as he straightens and sinks into the water, has me salivating and thinking that maybe talking can wait until later.

  No. We talked after sex last time and look where that got us.

  “Ah, this feels good. Doing my own stunt work and fight scenes are using muscles even I didn’t know I had.” Once fully submerged, he leans his head back and relaxes into the warm water.

  I stare at the thick cords of muscle that run down his neck and expand over his shoulders and mull over the right things to say. Flynn must be doing the same because he speaks before I have the chance to open my mouth.

  “I know I told you what Clark did, but I never explained why he thought the world would be a better place without him.”

  His head lifts, and he glances at the one piece of his brother he has left. My eyes follow his to land on the braided leather bracelet.

  “Clark was a gentle soul. He was the kind of person that would give you the shirt off his back if he thought you needed it more.” We both look away from the bracelet at the same time and our eyes meet. Wanting to give him the strength to continue, I stretch out my legs, the need to touch him and to let him know I’m here more important than my next breath.

  The gesture earns me a smile as he grabs my ankles and pulls my legs up into his lap. With sure fingers, he runs his hands up and down my calves. It’s something I’ve noticed about Flynn. When he’s nervous o
r has something important to say, he can’t seem to keep still so will always find a way to use his hands. Usually, he fiddles with his leather bracelet, but as that sits a few feet away, I get the welcome attentions of his large hands on my skin.

  His eyes lock on mine when he continues and says, “He was also gay. But for whatever reason he kept that hidden from us. I’m not sure why, my parents couldn’t give us much growing up, but they were always very supportive and accepting. Neither one would have turned their back on him, in fact, I think they already knew judging from some things that came out after he’d passed.”

  “It must have hurt to find out he had such a big secret and didn’t tell you.”

  His eyes betray him before he can speak the words, a watery sheen dulling their deep brown gaze.

  “It fucking killed me. We were best friends you know? Sure, Clark had never had a serious girlfriend, but neither had I. I was too busy with sports, and he was always making stuff. I just thought that was our thing. I never once thought he was struggling with who he was.”

  “We all struggle with who we are at some point in our lives, Flynn. It’s human nature. The difference is when struggling with something as fundamental to you as your sexuality when you live in a world full of ‘normal’ makes you feel like you’re wrong. That your very existence is wrong. Everyone wants more than anything to fit in, to conform, to be who they think others, particularly those they love, want them to be. I grew up with four very straight, very focused brothers. I was just lucky that my mother saw I was different before I ever did and she encouraged us to all be who we were supposed to be.” I slide forward to take his hands. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t struggle internally. I’m not gay, and I’m not straight. I’ve always been turned on by the way someone makes me feel and not by the equipment they have between their legs. I’m an equal opportunity kinda guy.”

  He laughs at that. It’s a strained laugh, but I’ll take it.

  “So Clark was worried about you all finding out? That’s why he thought he had no other choice?” I know the statistics of young gay men who end their lives, I know the figures are too high, even in a world that has moved on and is far more tolerant of difference than it has ever been before.

  “It wasn’t just that. Clark had always had issues about his self-worth. He could never see what others did. He couldn’t grasp that he was bright, funny and talented and just about the best person I’ve ever known.”

  His eyes leave mine to stare off into the darkness, his wistful look changing into one of barely contained fury.

  “His suicide letter mentioned a man, Robert Ashworth. Clark’s tech college advisor. From what we could gather, he’d confided in this man and instead of counselling my brother, he took advantage. Robert Ashworth was married with three kids. He was also bi or maybe closeted. Whatever. The fucker made Clark believe that he loved him, even fabricated this whole scenario where he’d left his wife and kids for him, just to get into his pants. For almost a year he groomed him, then for the six months before Clark died he made him believe they were in an exclusive relationship together.”

  Mother fucker.

  So much of Flynn’s previous confusion, hatred and anger now make perfect sense, and my heart aches for him.

  Tears trickle down his cheeks, and my soul screams when his face turns back to mine. The naked anguish he wears, the guilt he feels for the way he was with me, it’s as plain as day for anyone to see.

  “Don’t, babe. What happened between us is in the past. Ancient history never to be repeated or brought up again. I get it. I get all of it.”

  He opens his mouth to disagree, but I don’t let the first sound escape. I bring my lips to his in a chaste kiss, and he sighs into my mouth at the contact. Wrapping my arms around him, I straddle his lap and pull us tight together until we are chest to chest. This isn’t about sex right now, despite both of our hard cocks pressing up against each other. This is about comfort, forgiveness and acceptance.

  I can tell you the exact moment when the embrace I shared with Isaac turned from one of solace into one of overwhelming need.

  It was seconds after I acknowledged my truths and accepted his forgiveness.

  The loss of Clark would always leave a gaping hole in my chest, one nothing and no-one could fill, but Isaac Fox was quickly claiming the other parts of my soul. He had crawled through the gouge that severed my heart and seeped into my blood. Having him flowing through my veins didn’t make me whole, but it made me replete.

  Scar tissue is the toughest skin of all, but instead of allowing mine to keep me weak, he made me see it as proof I was still alive.

  “Take me to your bed.” It was time. Time to give myself to him, time to submit completely to this thing between us. This consuming, healing, powerful connection that I’d felt from the very first day we’d met.

  “You don’t have to…”

  “I know,” I kiss his lips before pulling away to look deep into his eyes. “But I want to.”

  On unsteady legs, I rise from the water, and a thrill runs down my spine at the hunger in Isaac’s gaze as he follows the path of each rivulet.

  “Less looking, more action.”

  I extend my hand for him to take and then it’s me left agog as his lean muscles glisten and shimmer under the moonlight.

  “Fuck, you’re hot.” I can’t help it. I have to tell him how fucking much he turns me on.

  I swear the look on his face is as though nobody has ever said those words to him before, which I know cannot be true. Everyone and I mean everyone looks at Isaac Fox and appreciates what they see. I don’t care if you’re a man, woman, priest or nun, there is no denying this man is beyond handsome.

  “What? Cat got your tongue? Have I finally made Isaac Fox blush?”

  He shakes off his bewildered look and all but growls as he tugs me towards him. “Somebody is gonna get my tongue in the next few minutes, and it isn’t going to be a cat.”

  Hell-fucking-O. Isaac Fox is finally out to play, and I want him to give me everything he’s got.

  I devour him with my mouth in a hungry, albeit brief kiss and then forcefully tug him out of the hot tub. Unconcerned about trailing water through his house, I lead him willingly back through his kitchen, down his hallway and up his stairs.

  “Second door on the right,” he instructs as we get to the top of the stairs.

  Just before we reach our destination, I spin around and shock the shit out of him by pinning him to the wall outside. With my entire body pushed flush against his, I stare into his face and make sure he knows just how much I want what is about to happen.

  “When this door opens, I don’t want any more second guesses. I don’t want any more concerns about whether I want this, whether I want you.” To prove my point, I thrust my cock against his and he moans deeply in the back of his throat at the sensual contact. Punctuating each roll of my hips, I enunciate clearly. “I. Want. You. Inside. Me.” With a last nip to his parted lips, I turn and open the door.

  When he said before that his room looked just like mine, he wasn’t kidding. Inside, the only furniture is a king size bed with pale blue sheets.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place,” are my last words before I spin us towards the bed and toss him onto his back. He lands and immediately tries to rise, but I’m on him in seconds. My tongue plunges into his mouth and my body writhes against his creating a friction so delicious that we are soon both leaking with the need for more.

  “Need more, Iz. Need to taste you” I rasp out and with a surprising show of strength he flips me onto my back, and the air rushes from my lungs with a huff.

  “No. I’ll be the one to decide what it is you need. Tonight, you’re mine so just lie back and enjoy the ride, because it’s gonna be a wild one.”

  Then he’s snaking down my body. His sights firmly set on my pulsing shaft. I haven’t had Isaac’s mouth on me for so long that I pray he doesn’t torture and tease me. I want his lush lips wrapped around my cock,
and I want it now.

  As if he’s read my mind, but more likely because his hunger for me is directing his actions, he doesn’t tempt me with long licks, he dives straight in, sucking me right to the very back of his throat in one long, fast drag.

  “Fuucckkk.”

  My hips piston upwards and my entire body quivers. Electricity arcs across my skin, and I swear his mouth is attached to a power socket. He eats me with a ferocity that has my toes curling and my hands fisting his sheets.

  “Stop, Iz. Stop,” I tremble out when I’m seconds away from blowing my load. I grip his hair in my hand and pry him off my cock with a sharp tug.

  “I want you inside me when I come and much more of that and it isn’t going to happen.”

  His reply is a grin. A dirty, sex-filled, salacious grin.

  “Under the pillows, lube and rubbers. Reach up and get them, babe.”

  My numb fingers release the cotton of his sheets, and I stretch up one hand to retrieve them. When I feel the bottle on my fingertips, I close my hand around it and slide it from its hiding place.

  “Just lube. No need for rubbers. I’m clean. I got tested as part of my film contract, and I want my first time to be just you, just us. I trust you, Iz.” He rises from between my legs, looking from my face to the bottle now extended towards him. With a swallow, he replies, “I’ve never been inside anyone bare. I’m clean too. Got tested a while back and there’s been nobody else for a long time.”

  “You didn’t fuck Céline after I left that night?” It’s stupid to bring up that night long ago, but I can’t help asking.

  “I wasn’t there for Céline. I left straight after you did. I didn’t fuck her.”

  “Okay, then,” I whisper, my voice catching with an unnamed emotion. “Just us.”

  I place the bottle in his hand and move to get on my hands and knees. The bottle hits the bed with a thud and his hands still my hips before I’m halfway turned.

  “No. Not like that. I’m not taking you from behind the first time. I want to see your face, and I think it’d be better for you if you controlled things.” He lies on his back alongside me, and I peer down at him in confusion.