Life According to Liam

by V. L. Locey

  “That’s right. Growth is good. You’ll see, this trip is going to change our lives, I can feel it.” He kissed me lightly as the cab pulled away from the curb. Instead of watching my little house melt away I closed my eyes and let my head rest on his shoulder all the way to the airport. I felt quite the same way and while the prospect of something life-altering was thrilling it scared me to my marrow to think of Kelly and Liam not needing me anymore. Who would I fuss over and care for if not them?

  The flight to our destination—the exact island still a mystery to me because Bryn was a controlling stud who liked to keep me dangling—was posh. I sat in first class—which had never happened to me before—sipped chilled mango juice and feasted on imported fare. As we approached for landing, I gaped out the window.

  “Welcome to Moorea,” Bryn whispered beside my ear. “Did you know that it’s believed that James Michener based his fictional Bali Hai on this magical island?”

  “Did you memorize that from some travel site?” I tore my eyes from the beauty of a volcanic island and looked lovingly at the beauty of a German/Swedish/Welsh goalie. It was hard to say which was more captivating.

  “I may have.” His smile was dazzling as was the exuberant kiss we shared as we slowly descended.

  When we touched down Bryn whisked me off the jet, fingers laced with mine, carry-ons bouncing off our backs, and we hustled to claim our bags and go climb into the green and yellow tour bus. I let the warm, balmy air tickle my cheeks until Mr. Hurry Britches shoved me toward a seat. I grumbled. Bryn smiled in that terribly sexy sort-of amused way of his.

  “Forgive my pushy nature, but I am desperate to get to our room.”

  “Looking to take a nap, are you?”

  “Mm, perhaps after I tie your wrists together and make you whimper with pleasure.”

  Nothing silly or witty blossomed on my tongue. “Okay, so the fastest way to the hotel please, driver,” I shouted over the two other people on the bus, gaze locked with Bryn’s. “We’ll sightsee later.”

  Our hotel was not at all as I had expected. I’d assumed we’d be in a luxury suite in some skyscraper of a building. Nope. Bryn had gotten us a beachfront luxury bungalow. I stood in front of the beautiful Polynesian shack—and I say shack only because on the outside it looked like a handcrafted hut complete with a thatched roof that moved in the ocean breeze just as the palm trees outside our front door did—and marveled at the beauty of the white sand and aquamarine surf not ten feet away.

  “Come look at this,” Bryn called from inside. I forced my feet to take me inside, the call of the South Pacific beckoning me to linger a while longer. What I saw indoors was almost as stunning as what was outside. Almost. The bungalow was modern and well-appointed. A king-sized bed in a huge bedroom with an outfitted patio, a separate sitting area, food and drink bar that had a minibar and an espresso maker, free Wi-Fi as well as a 32-inch TV on the wall, and a small desk under a window that faced the sea. I found Bryn in the detached private bathroom.

  “Wow,” I murmured as I gazed at the walk-in shower that was big enough to hold the Ravens first line with elbow room to spare. The shower walls were tan, mahogany, and white pebbles that matched the taupe and dark brown walls and sinks.

  “It has rainfall showerheads.” Bryn smiled and turned the water on. “We need to make love under these.”

  “Yes, oh yes we do,” I whispered, awestruck at the sheer beauty of this bathroom. The man playing with the taps wasn’t too shabby either. He’d kicked off his sandals upon entering the bungalow and was now in lightweight tan khaki shorts topped with an eggshell button-down shirt. “After we hit the water.”

  Bryn turned off the shower, nodded briskly, and dashed into the bedroom. I followed hot on his heels, both of us chuckling like boys as we tossed our clothing to the bed as we searched for our swim trunks. I did take a moment to admire his ass and thighs when he was stepping into his blue trunks.

  “Last one in cleans up the clothing,” he said, winked, and then ran to the patio and flung the door open.

  I stood there like a dummy, swim trunks in hand, knowing I was going to be refolding our clothes but not really caring one whit. I actually laughed, happy to see Bryn so carefree. He tended to be so reserved and in control, which was wonderful for a goalie and a lover, but it was nice to see him letting go. I shoved one foot into my trunks and then the other then jogged out to meet my lover in the surf. We frolicked and kissed in the waves for at least an hour or two. Lunch followed at the main hotel, and then we ambled back to our bungalow to nap.

  “You could help just a little,” I grumbled while pairing socks. Bryn sat watching me from a highbacked, cushioned chair next to a big armoire. He was once again barefooted, and his usually tidy hair was windswept and probably stiff with seawater. A delicate wind blew in the through the open patio door, rustling the soft white sheers that hung on so artfully over the doorway.

  “You lost so you fold. Besides, I find it highly arousing to watch you doing such domestic chores. Maybe someday we can get you into a French maid’s outfit?”

  “Nope. I draw the line at stockings. I can giggle and bend over to show you my ass in a flirtatious manner as I fold your shirts if you’d like.”

  “Yes, I think I’d like that a great deal. Show me your ass, Michael.” I shook my booty playfully. “No, I meant take off your clothes and show me your ass, Michael.”

  The shirt I’d been folding slithered from my fingers. I glanced back at him and got lost in his smoldering eyes. The aura in that bungalow changed instantly. Closing my eyes as a shudder of want ran through me, I pulled my shirt up over my head, slowly, and let it drop to the floor. Bryn shifted, the cushion creaking just a bit. He waited patiently, knowing I’d do his bidding. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my trunks, I wiggled them down over my hips, exposing my ass to him inch by inch. I let the trunks slip down to my ankles then stepped out of them.

  “Such a glorious ass. Show it to me.”

  I threw him a look over my shoulder. “I am.”

  “No, Michael, I want you to show me your ass. Spread yourself for me.”

  “Oh hell,” I whispered hoarsely.

  “Come closer.” I padded over to him, giving the open patio door a worried look. “Stand right here. Good. Now bend over and show me your ass.”

  “The door…”

  “Is sheltered. No one will see anything unless they step onto the patio. Now, show me your ass.” He spoke slowly, firmly, and with utter control. My cock was so hard it ached. I spun around, bent over, and grabbed my ass cheeks. His growl made me tremble as did the swipe of his tongue over my hole. “Don’t move. Stay right like that, Michael.”

  “Yes, yes, okay.” I let my head fall forward and dug my fingers into my buttocks. Bryn moved, the cushion sighing gently as he slid forward on the chair. Another swipe of his tongue along my crack pulled a soft little sound of surrender out of me.

  He mumbled something in Swedish, or I assumed it was Swedish, and then buried his face in my ass. My knees nearly buckled. His tongue worked at my hole, spearing it and then lapping at it like a man starved. He moved downward, sucking my balls into his hot, wet mouth. Slurping and groaning, he slathered spit over my nuts then went back to feasting on my ass.

  “Shit, oh Bryn, shit,” I gasped, my nails now gouging into my ass cheeks.

  “Get the lube out of my bag,” he said, his lips tickling my hole when he spoke.

  “I’ll have to let go,” I panted.

  “I know.”

  I took a wobbly step, my ass cheeks slick with spit, and shoved my hand into his shaving kit, finding the tube of lube right away.

  “Now come back to me. Bend over and…yes, that’s perfect. You’re very eager. What do you want now, Michael? Tell me. You’ve been so good. I want to give you whatever you want as a gift for opening yourself up to my hungry tongue.”

  He ran a hand over my ass, right cheek and then left, as I stood with my head down, my gaze on my knees,
my fingers pulling me wide open for his enjoyment.

  “I want you to fuck me…bare. Bare and hard. Fill me with cum.”

  There was a moments pause. I was sure he wasn’t shocked by the request. We’d discussed giving up the condoms as we were both negative, on PrEP, and committed to making this a monogamous relationship.

  “Your wish is my command,” he purred, standing up behind me. I closed my eyes, my breathing shaky, and waited for him. He didn’t fool around. He dropped his shorts, stepped up behind me, and squeezed a fat dollop of lube on the crack of my ass. I gasped then groaned as he ran two fingers into the slickery glob then pushed those fingers into me. I rocked back onto them, toes to heel. “You are eager.”

  “I’m half nuts with want,” I confessed right before he removed his fingers and pushed the plump head of his cock into me.

  “Take a step forward. Grab the footboard. Good, mm, yes, good.” He stayed with me as I moved then thrust, hard and deep. A yelp burst out of me. I wrapped my fingers around the footboard, closed my eyes, and let my head drop down. Bryn gave me what I had asked for and ten thousand times more. The sound of the surf was blotted out by the thwack of sweaty skin slapping sweaty skin. I whimpered and begged, egging him on, until he was moving like a piston, fucking me so hard and so fast the top of my head bounced off the footboard. Thank God it was nicely padded to match the headboard, or I’d be suffering some major head trauma.

  “I’m close,” he snarled, surging up to his toes to go even deeper. “Do not touch your cock. I—I get you off, Michael.”

  I bobbed my head because speaking was impossible. He came like a charging bull, rough and loudly, his cock kicking and spewing inside me. I so wanted to join him, but he’d said not to, so I clamped around him, milked him, made him shiver and moan in ecstasy. As his cock still pulsed, he hoisted me upward, slapping a hand to my chest and one around my cock, he pressed my back to his chest. His dick slipped out of me then I felt the warm trickle of his cum escaping me.

  “Now you come for me.” He nipped at my ear and jaw until I turned my head for an awkward kiss. He jerked on my cock as he sucked on my tongue. “Come for me.”

  I let my head roll to his shoulder and reached behind me to tug him as close as I could. He worked me perfectly and within a minute I blew apart, coating his hand with cum.

  “God, oh God, oh holy God and all the little ghosts and saints and sweet cherubs,” I gasped as I melted into his embrace.

  “Do you like the feel of my cum running down your legs?” he asked, his breath hot and moist on my ear.

  “Oh holy hell yes.”

  “Mm, good. I love filling you up.” He kissed my ear, just once, and then nuzzled at my neck until he felt it was time to move apart, much as neither of us wished to. “Shower or nap?”

  “Shower.”

  He smiled a devil’s smile, his gaze darting downward. “Ah yes, a shower should be first. Then a nap, and then dinner. Come along, let me wash off the mess that I’ve made of you.”

  Fingers twined, he led me into the shower and washed me down, stopping only to kiss me or caress my belly or whisper sweet little things into my ear. After we were washed and presentable, he even helped tidy up the clothes. Yes, I was in paradise—no doubt about it.

  Fourteen

  Bryn

  Two days after our arrival it was my birthday. Michael woke me up with breakfast in bed which I found quite endearing. As we ate fresh fruit and wheat toast, he filled me in on the news back home. Liam was adjusting well to daycare and had even wrangled an invitation to a birthday party in three weeks. Kelly was happy and had a date the night after we returned home with some man who worked for the city.

  “Guess his grandfather is on Kelly’s wing,” Michael said then dropped a chunk of melon into my mouth, his fingers wet and sweet when I sucked the juice off a moment later. “I’m reserving judgment until I meet this Craig.”

  “He might be a fine young man. Give him a chance.”

  “Hmm, yeah, and he might be an oversexed goon with a rutabaga for a brain.”

  I snickered at him. “Have you been writing while I’ve been sleeping?”

  “Actually, I did jot down a few ideas for a blog post but no writing. This vacation is all about us.” He shimmied over me, taking the lap tray away and holding it over his head until he was settled on my lap. The thin sheet did little to hide my growing erection. “No blogging allowed. So, now that we have birthday breakfast completed, what do you want to do with the rest of this very special day?”

  I winked at the man. “The day is full of adventure.”

  “Why am I starting to feel tired already?”

  I patted his sweet ass and then bucked him up and off me. I had a jam-packed day for us, starting with some hiking and exploring the inner crater of the volcano that had formed the island, touring a pineapple plantation, and an afternoon doing some deep-sea fishing. Then back to the bungalow to shower and eat dinner, which was being served on our patio, followed by a walk along the beach at sunset where I would tell Michael how much I loved him. Sex on the beach would follow. It was all laid out and perfectly planned. A glorious birthday spent on a French Polynesian Isle with the man I adored.

  All went perfectly until we had finished our meal, a succulent dinner of fresh fish that had been wrapped in leaves and baked in an a’hima’a, an underground oven. The side dishes were delightful, all consisting of breadfruit, sweet potatoes, and bananas. I sipped on Poisson Cru while Michael had some fruity rum to wet his whistle. Dessert was vanilla bean ice cream topped with roasted pineapple, rum, brown sugar, and hibiscus.

  “I may explode,” Michael groaned after we pushed away from the patio table, thanked the hotel staff who would clean up after us, and made our way to the beach. “Two dishes of ice cream.” He jabbed at his belly. “Good thing you like this gut of mine.”

  “I adore it.” I draped my arm around his neck and kissed his ear. The moon hung low over the waves, making the sea look like it was made of coconut milk, so white where the soft waves rolled over our bare feet. “I adore a great deal about you.”

  “It’s certainly not my fishing ability.” He chuckled.

  “No, it is not your fishing ability.” I laughed in agreement. “I’ve never seen a man hook himself on every casting attempt. It was quite the show.”

  “I’m a much better spectator of sport fishing.” He slid his arm around my waist. “But I did okay on the volcano climb. I only fell down a dozen times.”

  “Tending to your skinned knee was a bonding moment,” I said, pulling him tightly to my side so that we could linger under a cluster of palm trees and watch the moon rise higher into the sky. “This whole vacation has made me feel so much closer to you.” I nudged him around with my hand on his shoulder until we stood looking at each other. “I knew before we even came down here that I was losing my heart to you but having you at my side these past few days, waking up with you and seeing your sleepy smile in the morning has made me certain of my feelings. I love you, Michael. So much and so deeply.”

  “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

  I gathered him close and kissed him passionately. He responded with fire, as he always did to my touch, and soon we were on our knees, the pearly sea washing over our legs then sweeping over us when we fell onto the sand. I pinned him to the beach, eager to have him writhing under me as the sea ebbed and flowed around us. With gentle waves sweeping up over us, I got as far as his navel before realizing that sucking him off while rolling around on the sand wasn’t nearly as romantic as the movies made it out to be. My tongue was gritty and no matter how I tried to scrape the silica off it lingered. Finally, I had to admit defeat and start spitting sand. Michael found it all rather amusing, leading me back to the bungalow and into the shower stall. Once we were sand-free, I could proceed with my plans on loving him as well as I could.

  I spread myself out over him once he was splayed out on the bed, his skin still damp from the
shower. Both of us were hard, aching with want. He pulled his knees to his chest, his green eyes hot and hooded.

  “Hurry,” he panted, his cock weeping in anticipation. I glanced down at my own prick, slick with lube, the engorged head resting by his tight hole. A white-hot bolt of want went right to my balls. “Stop looking and get into me.”

  My gaze moved from his ass to his face. “So pushy,” I muttered then rocked my hips, giving him just my cockhead. The man whimpered, his eyelids falling shut. “I should only give you that much.”

  “No, please, give me all of it,” he said then wet his lips. I was helpless to do anything but what he wished, I thrust, burying myself in him, and was rewarded with a low keen that I knew well by now. It was the sound of the man I loved giving himself totally to the pleasure of our joining.

  “Is that what you wanted, my love?” I pulled out then slid back in, rolling my hips. He moaned sensually, taking his cock in his hand, and I had all the answer I needed. We spoke little after that, our bodies speaking for us. He shot his load first, beating my release by seconds. I pulled out and came on his tender belly, enjoying the hell out of the sight of my spunk filling his belly button after the convulsions subsided. “Ah, you are such a glorious sight,” I whispered as I trailed a finger through our seed, mixing the spend together then working it into his skin. “I love you.”

  “Mm, the feeling is very mutual,” Michael replied dreamily, his muscles now lax. I dropped over him to steal a kiss then led him, yet again, back to the shower.

  When I had him in my arms, his back to my chest, our skin slippery with thick soap suds, I placed a kiss to his ear.

  “I love you. Are you tired of hearing that?” I asked, my fingers working up the lather on his stomach and chest.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that.”

  “That’s good to know. I’ll say it daily then, even when we’re miles apart. That’s a vow I make to you.”