Faking A Groom (Marital Bliss Book 3)

by DJ Jamison

  Mal’s sharp eyes were on them.

  “Do you want him to write about your father, about…his work?” Rory checked.

  Avery took a deep breath, straightening under Rory’s arm. “I was hoping my engagement to a man might be newsworthy on its own. A senator’s son…somewhat of a public figure.”

  Mal looked thoughtful as he sank back into his chair. “Well, in an ordinary publication, I’d say no. We’ve got actual celebrities coming out. We’ve got queer politicians. Hell, we had a gay man run for president, and it barely made waves.”

  “It certainly got him media attention,” Rory pointed out.

  “That it did. It was good for queer visibility and acceptance. But it proves that there’s really no political danger to acknowledging a gay son.”

  Avery bit his lip. “So, you’re saying there’s no story.”

  “Oh, there’s a story. But I don’t want to write a hit piece if it’ll just hurt you more,” Mal said. Rory had known he was a good guy, and here was the evidence. “I think there’s value to exposing the senator’s true colors, but I don’t want to use you against your knowledge to do that.”

  “Shit,” Avery said.

  Rory had to save this. “What if we had information that would allow you the news piece you want, if only you write the fluff piece on our engagement first?”

  Mal’s lips quirked. “You want to negotiate? I’ll bite. But I need to know everything before I can agree to those terms.”

  “Rory,” Avery said under his breath.

  “We can trust him,” Rory said. He locked eyes with Mal. “We want to give Senator Kinkaid the chance to do the right thing. We were hoping our engagement in the news might inspire him to make different choices.”

  “What’s my story if he does have a change of heart?” Mal asked.

  “Exactly that. You can write the story of Senator Kinkaid pulling support from a bill containing a measure that opens the door to discrimination, taking a stand for LGBTQ rights. You can raise awareness of the legislation for your readers, while also getting a nice human-interest story about a father’s love and acceptance of his son.”

  Mal nodded slowly. “I could work with that. But first, tell me about this legislation.”

  And so it began…

  Rory could feel the unease coming from Avery as he filled Mal in on all the details of the legislation and their fears of what it could mean, but he really saw no other way to get Mal on board. It was a risk, maybe, trusting Mal—but a reasonable one. He was Holly’s brother, and Mal wouldn’t easily hurt her best friend. Besides, Rory had practically told Holly the full story. Mal could put two and two together without their help, but this way, they had at least a little control over the timing.

  He just hoped Avery would forgive him for taking the decision out of his hands.

  Avery felt raw and exposed after the interview as he and Rory left in their separate cars. There were a few hours left in the workday, and he was glad for the extra space. Rory had gone off-script, and Avery wasn’t exactly happy, though he understood why he’d done it. Mostly, he needed some time to process everything he’d divulged that had nothing to do with politics and legislation and everything to do with his inner turmoil.

  There was a sickening pit of regret in his stomach, the feeling he’d revealed too much about himself. He would look cowardly and weak if Mal wrote up half of what he’d told him. He’d always feared that people would see him as less masculine for wanting to feel pretty, instead of rugged. For wanting a man to take him, to really possess and dominate him. No whips and chains needed; just strong hands and a hard body pinning him to the bed was the stuff of Avery’s fantasies.

  But it didn’t matter because Avery was weak even without those things. He had been too weak to stand up to his father, too weak to hold on to Rory—not once, but twice—too weak to get what he wanted, no needed, to feel whole.

  By the time he returned to Rory’s cottage, half convinced Rory would work late again to avoid him, his head was a noisy mess. He’d gone round and round, castigating himself. He’d give those crazy priests who abused themselves for their sins a run for their money. Avery almost wished he could bruise and bleed, purge the pain from his body.

  Rory’s car sat in the driveway. Avery’s stomach fluttered to see it there. As much as he wasn’t fit for company, he also wanted to see Rory. Craved being around him. Craved so much more than that.

  He’d blown his shot at everything.

  Rory stood up from the sofa expectantly when Avery walked in, looking unusually nervous. “Avery, I tried calling you.”

  Avery blinked, retrieving his phone from an inner pocket of his suit jacket. “Sorry, I had the ringer off.” He stared at the three missed calls, the two texts.

  I’m sorry if I overstepped. I was just trying to make it work.

  I’m worried. Please let me know you’re okay.

  “Are you okay?” Rory asked. “I know that interview didn’t go as planned, and I should have made sure you were on board with that, but I trust Mal. He’s good people. He’ll keep his word.”

  “I guess you’d know, since you two know each other so well,” Avery muttered, remembering suddenly the hug between them. The way the two of them had locked eyes during the interview. They’d probably fucked at some point; Mal looked like a guy who’d bend over and beg for it. Did Rory fuck him gently? Or pound him hard? Oh God, the images that poured through his mind. The longing Avery felt to be in that position.

  Rory blinked. “Seriously? You’re jealous of Mal?”

  “No.” Avery crossed his arms over his chest, feeling transparent as fuck. He was jealous. Of so many things. He hated the idea of Rory and Mal, of Rory with any other man. He was jealous of every man Rory had fucked. Jealous they’d gotten to have Rory, but also jealous that he’d never gotten to experience it because he was a coward.

  “Avery, you have no reason to be jealous.”

  Avery dropped his arms, feeling off-balance. He’d expected Rory to yell, not reassure him.

  “Sorry. I just… There was something in the look you exchanged.”

  “There wasn’t.” Rory shook his head. “There couldn’t be.”

  “Why not?”

  Rory looked as if he didn’t want to answer. He half turned away, hiding his expression. Avery wanted to demand answers, hope flickering like a lightning bug, but he didn’t have that right. Instead, he pleaded.

  “Please, Rory. I need to know. Maybe I don’t deserve to know, but I just...this day has been rough, I’m all over the place, and, and…I’m feeling crazy right now.”

  Rory turned back, his forehead creased in concern. “The interview—”

  “Fuck the interview,” Avery said. “I don’t feel crazy about that. It’s this—” he paused to wave a hand between them “—this thing I’ve ruined. The feelings inside that twist me up. The things I want, the things I fear.” Avery’s voice broke. “I don’t know how—”

  “Shh.” Rory drew him into his arms, stroking his hair. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not,” Avery choked. “It’s not okay. I don’t want you to be with other men. I don’t want you to hook up with Mal.”

  “I’m not with Mal,” Rory said. “I’ve never been with Mal.”

  Rory pulled back, and Avery hastily tried to get his expression under control, to mask the fear and desire and pain of longing for something and knowing that you’d sabotaged your own chance at it.

  “Do you really think I could look at anyone but you?” Rory said.

  Avery blinked, caught by surprise. “Do you mean…”

  He couldn’t voice the question. He couldn’t voice his hope only to have it crushed. He’d rather hear it from Rory’s lips.

  Coward, his mind reminded him.

  “You don’t hate me for ruining our night together?” Avery managed, trying to force the words out. Trying to find the courage to ask what he needed to know.

  “Our night together was perfect,” Rory said
. “After what we shared, you’re all I can think about.” Avery’s heart leapt at the words. Rory kept going. “I wish you weren’t. I wish I wasn’t hung up on something that can’t happen, but Jesus Christ, I want you all the time.” There was an awkward pause, and Rory breathed heavily as if he’d been running instead of spilling his feelings. “You’ve certainly got nothing to be jealous about when it comes to Mal or any other man. What the fuck that means, I don’t know.”

  Avery stared for one heart-stopping moment, then he lunged forward, kissing Rory hard. All his pent-up desire and frustration poured out in a forceful kiss that sent them stumbling drunkenly across the room. Rory gasped, clutching at Avery’s arms, and he shoved his tongue inside, desperate to possess Rory’s mouth while he could.

  Any minute now, Rory would push him away. Any minute—

  “Wait,” Rory gasped, breaking the bruising kiss. “Wait, wait. We can’t do this.”

  “We can,” Avery urged, locking eyes with Rory. “Please. I know I messed up before, but please…just let me kiss you. I need to kiss you.”

  Rory’s lips were a delicious red, nearly the color of a plum, and just as succulent. Avery pressed another kiss to them, gentler this time, and another. He kept waiting for the rejection, but it didn’t come. Rory sighed against his lips, kissed him back, and gradually, the soft kisses deepened, grew wetter, needy. At some point, they collapsed onto the futon together, just kissing and kissing like teenagers in their first make-out session.

  Avery was afraid to push for too much. He wanted Rory again, wanted him naked, wanted to touch him everywhere and be touched in return. But he’d drawn a line in the sand between them, and as much as he wanted to step over it, he was still scared. He was frustrated by that fear, wanted to push past it, but he wasn’t sure he was ready. He was afraid his reality would shift in ways he wasn’t prepared for. It wasn’t just that he felt conflicted—wanting it and feeling like he shouldn’t want it—but also that he feared how good it could really be, and how that would make him feel, knowing how much he’d sacrificed over the years. Because Avery already knew it would be amazing, deep down he knew. Because a man could only resist his desires so much. In the dark of night, when no one watched, Avery explored that part of himself, with fingers, with toys he hid as carefully as his silky, lacy clothes and makeup. And in the light of day, he pretended it’d never happened, pretended he didn’t need it.

  Rory pushed off Avery’s jacket, tugged his shirt from his pants, and found the skin beneath. Rory brushed his knuckles along Avery’s treasure trail of hair just above his waistband, making his cock throb with a yearning for touch. With one finger, Rory circled his navel, tracing the rim of his belly button, before dipping in. Avery gasped as sparks shot through him. His hole clenched longingly as fire unfurled deep in his groin.

  He made a surprised noise against Rory’s mouth at the teasing. It was erotic but strange. This feeling that Rory was touching his navel the way he might touch his hole. Avery’s stomach clenched and trembled, and he felt as if he might come in his pants. It made no sense at all.

  “Rory,” he gasped. “What…”

  “Too much?” Rory guessed.

  “Yes.”

  Rory started to withdraw from him, and Avery threaded his hands through his hair, tugging him back and kissing him again. “Don’t go. Don’t…just need a minute.”

  “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “We should,” Avery argued.

  He nibbled on Rory’s bottom lip, and Rory groaned. It was the sound of surrender.

  Avery did it again, this time swinging a leg over to climb into Rory’s lap. He’d never done that before, taken that kind of position. He was the guy twinks wanted to climb on, not the other way around. He hesitated, balancing on his knees on either side of Rory’s lap, feeling large and ridiculous.

  Until Rory grabbed his hips and pulled him down.

  “I’m too heavy,” Avery muttered.

  “Rub against my cock, and a two-ton anvil wouldn’t be too heavy,” Rory said breathlessly. “I need the pressure.”

  Avery settled more of his weight on him, testing, but Rory didn’t blink, sliding his hands up the back of Avery’s shirt and caressing his skin, before sliding down to take two handfuls of his ass. “Are you sure about this, Ave?”

  Avery rocked his hips, grinding against Rory. His cock felt so tight and hard, like it’d burst if he didn’t find release. And he wanted that release with Rory. He needed it with Rory. He’d about jerked himself raw these past days since having him.

  His body knew what it wanted, but Avery was still hesitant.

  “We don’t have to fuck, right?” Avery said. “I mean…there’s so many things we could do without that right?”

  Rory hesitated a fraction of a moment, no doubt remembering Avery’s attitude the morning after on Bliss. Perhaps remembering that Avery had once begged to be fucked and now seemed to be shying away from it.

  Avery had never begged before, but he was ready now. “Please, please, Rory, I just need you. I can’t take this need and tension and distance between us anymore.”

  Rory lifted his face, kissing Avery’s neck, then biting it enough to make him jerk. “I should say no, but I really can’t resist you. You’re right. We don’t have to fuck, not now, not ever if it’s not right for both of us.”

  Avery’s stomach twisted at that. He didn’t like the idea of never. But he also wasn’t ready for now, so he was grateful Rory was willing to accept his reluctance and give him another chance.

  He pressed harder against Rory. “Thank you. Fuck, I need this.”

  “Don’t thank me until you’re coming apart in my bed,” Rory said. Slapping his hip, he said in a firm tone, “Go.”

  This was probably a horrible, terrible, no-good idea, and Rory was all in favor of it. They were crossing boundaries, and this time there really would be no dropping back to a working partnership. But then, it wasn’t as if it had worked when they’d tried before. They’d crossed this line while on Bliss Island. Now, they were merely dropping the pretense that they didn’t want one another. And Rory, at least, was relieved.

  There was enough pretense in their lives right now.

  Avery headed for Rory’s room, almost lust-drunk as he stumbled in his haste to get off Rory’s lap. “Finally, I get into your bed. You wouldn’t believe how badly I’ve wanted to be in here with you.”

  “Probably about as badly as I’ve wanted you in here,” Rory said as he pulled Avery in for another kiss.

  When they parted, Avery glanced at the queen-sized bed, then the dresser cluttered with belts, hair ties, and leather bracelets, along with a large bottle that Rory used as a piggy bank of sorts. Rory pulled his shirt over his head while Avery looked around his room as if it held the keys to the kingdom. Rolling his eyes, he said, “You can study my music collection later. Let’s get naked.”

  Avery’s eyes jerked back to him, watching as he unbuckled his belt and kicked off his shoes. Avery kept watching as Rory shoved off every stitch of clothing, even his blue cotton boxer briefs, and stood with his cock bobbing in front of him. Last, but certainly not least, Rory reached behind him and pulled off his hair tie, letting his hair cascade around his shoulders.

  Avery stepped forward, plunging his fingers into Rory’s hair, combing through it. “This fucking hair”

  “Not too much?”

  “Just right,” Avery said, using Rory’s hair to pull him against his body. Their lips met, and so did their chests and hips. Rory’s cockhead grazed against the material of Avery’s slacks.

  Avery looked like a debauched businessman, his suit jacket discarded, his dress shirt untucked and wrinkled, his hair a mess from Rory’s hands.

  As much as Rory liked the look, he wanted more skin.

  Moving his lips to Avery’s neck, feeling the prickle of stubble after a long day, he began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Rory fumbled once or twice, nerves taking over. This wasn’t just sex with a man he
wanted, this was sex with a handsome but complicated man, one who had owned his heart for longer than Rory wanted to admit.

  Everything he felt for Avery now would be magnified after tonight. He already knew that. He was stepping right up to the edge of a cliff and jumping off, hoping he didn’t shatter when he reached the ground. But Rory was a realist. If he shattered, he’d mend. Eventually. But the fall? It would be fucking glorious.

  Avery helped shed his shirt, his broad, smooth chest coming into Rory’s view. Pink nipples, already tightened to peaks, flat but soft stomach. Rory unfastened Avery’s pants, pushing them down to reveal light blue silk boxers.

  “Oh, now, this is nice,” he said, gripping Avery’s cock through the fabric. He slid his hand back and forth, stroking him with the slippery material. “This is almost as good as finding you in lace. Boxers, huh?”

  “I like how they feel, uh—fuck,” he said as Rory tightened his grip. Then gasped out, “Against my skin.”

  “I can see why,” Rory said, continuing to stroke Avery. “Do you like how this feels?”

  “Y-yeah,” Avery said hesitantly.

  Rory, struck by inspiration, released Avery to tug his boxers down. He lowered himself to his knees, helping Avery step out of the garment, then picked it up. He had to tread carefully with Avery. He wasn’t ready to talk about why he liked these clothing items—which weren’t feminine, not beyond a social construct, just pretty, or soft, a combination of the two. Rory didn’t know if Avery merely liked the feel of the material, the look of it on his body, or if he felt something inside—something that needed to be expressed.

  He wasn’t about to psychoanalyze him now with a magnificent, sexy body in front of his face, and he wasn’t qualified to do that anyway. But he could use actions to show Avery that he accepted this part of him. Using the silky boxers in his hand, he stroked the smooth material up the inside of one leg. Avery stared down at him, eyes blown, lips parted.

  He stood straight, tall, with his legs slightly apart. He was a textbook male specimen, which perhaps was why he struggled to accept the side of himself that wasn’t molded to society’s expectations. Even his cock was thick and long, a symbol of male pride. But the night Avery had dressed up at Bliss? Rory had seen, really seen Avery Kinkaid for the first time. Not just a side of Avery, but all sides of Avery. His strength, his vulnerability, his sex appeal, his sweetness. Avery was not the brash jock Rory saw when they first met, nor was he the laissez-faire businessman who hit on Rory at that gala. He was all of those things, and so much more.