by Beth Bolden
“Cute and funny.” She tapped a perfectly manicured finger against her glossy lips. “Where are you staying while you’re in town?”
Something he’d never once expected that Rochelle Andrews would ask him. For a split second, he was almost tempted, but he reminded himself that was insane. He’d wanted—he still desperately wanted Diego, in every sexual and non-sexual way he could think of, and now that he was finally getting his shot, he was going to blow it?
Yeah, there was no way he was going to do that.
“With a friend, who I’m meeting up with later.” Another lie. He could’ve, of course, there were people he knew in New York who would have been happy to invite him to stay, but in reality, he had a very nice, very empty hotel suite waiting for him.
“Oh, that’s too bad. We’re having a little get-together after this, and I’m sure it’ll be more fun. If you came, I know it would be.” Rochelle seemed sincerely disappointed that he wouldn’t be coming with her, and Benji, who looked in the mirror and sometimes saw that unpopular, bullied little boy, couldn’t quite believe she’d just essentially propositioned him.
“Maybe next time,” he said, even though he had zero intention of there ever being a next time. Of course, if Jay got his way, there would be, but they’d be sitting in his office, hashing out the details of their fake relationship.
“I really hope there is. By any chance, do you know if there’s a back door here? I think the front is loaded with paps, and I really just don’t feel like dealing with them.” She shot him a dazzling smile, and even though there didn’t seem to be any ulterior motive in her words, that fake mask was back, and it made him nervous.
But Benji couldn’t blame her for hating the paparazzi, because they were often horrible bloodsuckers who would do anything just to get a single shot of a high-profile target. Like Rochelle Andrews, for example.
“Yeah, I know the back way out. I’ll show you, if you want?”
“That would be great,” she gushed, a little over-the-top for what he’d agreed to do. Still, he picked up his whiskey glass, and she followed him through an unmarked door in the club, down the back stairs, and then out into a dark alley.
The instant she came out the door, a flash bulb went off, and then another. Benji froze, because he’d just been caught exiting the party with someone he really hadn’t been exiting the party with. Still, it was mostly innocent, right? Just two people in the same place, at the same time. That’s all.
Rochelle shot him an apologetic look that he didn’t buy for a single damn second, and even more damning, she put her hand on his arm. More camera flashes. “Oh, shit, they seem to be out here, too, don’t they?”
“Yes,” Benji said, grinding his teeth, and unceremoniously pulling away from her. “You’re welcome.”
He marched back the way he’d come and managed to corner Jay while he was just finishing a conversation with Solange. She drifted away, and Benji turned on Jay.
“What the fuck, you set me up!” Benji exclaimed.
“You wouldn’t go either way,” Jay said with a mild shrug, “and I figured it would be good to have these in the back pocket, in case you decided Rochelle was a better option.”
“So she knew why I started talking to her in the first place,” Benji said, disgusted that after all his time in the entertainment industry, he’d been fooled by her act.
But Jay just chuckled. “She does think you’re very cute. I told you it didn’t really have to be fake.”
“It’s not happening,” Benji said. “Get rid of those pics, I don’t ever want to seem them again.”
“If you say so,” Jay said, but his easy capitulation made Benji nervous. Why else go to all that trouble, if he was just going to give in the first time Benji said he wasn’t going to do it?
“I do,” Benji said firmly. “I’m really serious about this.”
“Clearly,” Jay said. “Diego must be worth a whole hell of a lot if you’re willing to throw this golden opportunity away.”
“He is,” Benji insisted through stiff lips, and turned and left.
———
Benji knew the first thing he needed to do when he got back to the hotel was call Diego. He wasn’t sure what he should say, but there needed to be something along the lines of a warning. Yes, he could envision himself telling Benji, there might be pictures of me and Rochelle Andrews, but I promise they don’t mean anything. It was just a coincidence.
Except it hadn’t just been coincidence. The whole thing had been orchestrated by Jay, and Rochelle had willingly participated.
It wouldn’t be complete honesty if he didn’t include those two little tidbits in his conversation with Diego, but Benji knew how he’d react. Just tell Jay no, Diego would say impatiently, confused that Benji not only continually put up with Jay’s shenanigans, but in some respects, trusted him to have his back.
Diego didn’t understand because Diego was a hundred percent happy with his place in the entertainment industry—which was a complete rarity. Everyone else kept jostling for position, elbowing each other out of the way, desperate to get ahead in any way they could. Benji did too, but it wasn’t because he was desperate for public adulation; it was that annoying voice in his head that kept telling him he could always do better.
But Diego wasn’t like that, and had never been like that, which despite Benji’s own drive for success, he admired and respected and fucking enjoyed. If Benji was being honest, he envied Diego’s chill ability to deal with whatever came up.
The upside was he’d never have to question if Diego was with him because he truly wanted and loved him, or if he was just waiting for a better opportunity to come along. And that was something, after the last ten years of being in the industry, that Benji valued more than almost anything else.
Still, Benji thought, stripping off his jacket, and collapsing onto the couch in the living portion of his suite, he was going to have to tell Diego something.
First, he shot off a quick you free? text, because he didn’t remember if Diego had Ana this weekend, and the worst way to start this conversation off would be to wake up Ana.
Almost instantly, Diego responded. Yeah.
Taking a deep breath, Benji dialed, and Diego answered on the first ring.
“Hey,” he said, sounding mellow. “What’s going on? You bailing as my security next week?”
“No way,” Benji insisted. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Best way to spend a Tuesday, watching you go green on the teacup ride.”
“I don’t go green,” Diego spluttered, though he sounded pleased.
“We may have to put that to the test,” Benji teased.
“Are you saying I couldn’t keep up with you? Because I guarantee you, you name the park and the ride, and I could do it all.”
Benji leaned back and tried to keep his mind G-rated. With all of Diego’s talk of rides and doing it all, it was a stretch.
Fucking hell.
He couldn’t help but imagine leaning back, just like this, on the bench of one of those candy-colored teacups, Diego straddling him, biting his bottom lip and screwing his eyes shut as he took all of Benji’s cock.
Double fucking hell.
“You went real quiet there,” Diego said speculatively. “You doing something you shouldn’t?”
Triple fucking hell.
“You could take . . . do it all, that is,” Benji stuttered, and even he could hear how deep and gravelly his voice had grown. The problem with ten years of sexual tension was that ,when you reached the end, sometimes it was hard to think of anything else even though Diego deserved more. Deserved better than someone who just wanted someone to endlessly rut into him.
“What did you do tonight?” Diego asked.
Something Benji really didn’t want to contemplate. The mental image of Diego riding the shit out of him smack in the middle of Disneyland was far better, even if it probably would make next week hell on earth.
Even in the most magical fucking place
on earth.
“Went to a party. Talked to some people.” Benji hesitated. This was the right moment to tell Diego, but he couldn’t quite get his mouth to form the words. What if Diego wasn’t understanding? What if Diego didn’t believe him? Benji didn’t think that was really possible, but friendship was different than a relationship. They had completely different rules.
“And had a few drinks,” Diego teased. “Explains all those dirty thoughts you don’t want to tell me about.”
Diego had wanted to take it slow, had even made that pretty clear on their date, but now he wanted to know what Benji thought about when they were talking like this?
He might’ve said it even without the booze, but it sure didn’t hurt. “I’ll tell you.”
“You will?” Diego sounded surprised.
Benji shifted until he was lying down on the couch, propped up with a pillow or two. He ghosted his palm over his hard cock, pushing against the fly of his dress pants. He barely held in a moan. Diego had just wanted to know what he was thinking about, he hadn’t said he wanted to have phone sex.
“I was thinking about Disney, okay?” Benji admitted. “That teacup ride, me sitting on the bench, leaning back, hands on your hips, and you’re . . . all over me. Kissing me, touching me . . .”
“Riding you,” Diego supplied, his own voice a lot deeper, darker. Like he was picturing it right alongside Benji. “That’s right, isn’t it. You want me to ride the shit out of you, until you can’t take it anymore, you just have to thrust up . . .”
He had been imagining it for so goddamned long, he could almost feel Diego’s slim hips in his hands, how wrecked he’d look, Benji’s cock splitting him open.
“You like that?” Diego demanded when Benji didn’t answer immediately. “Is that what you want?”
“I want it. I want it all. I want all of you.” He palmed his cock again, and even as he did, knew the orgasm he’d eventually have would pale in comparison to the one he wanted with Diego.
Diego was going to blow his mind into a million tiny pieces, and then put it back together again.
Diego’s tone was hushed when he spoke again. “Are you . . . you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”
“You mean, am I touching my cock, thinking about it?” Benji found that Diego’s boldness gave him his own in return. One-handed, he unbuckled his belt, and after unzipping and unbuttoning, shoved down his pants and briefs. His cock sprang up, already flushed at the tip and oozing precome, and this time he couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him when he closed his hand around its length.
“Fuck,” Diego swore, “you fucking are.”
For half a second, Benji was tempted to apologize. I know you wanted to go slow. But Diego was the one who’d encouraged this, who’d even asked if he was touching himself. He must want this as badly as Benji did.
“Yeah,” Benji moaned into the phone, as he stroked himself once, then again. It was a little dry, but his grip was tight and it felt almost as good as he imagined Diego’s hand would feel. “Goddamn it, you’d better be doing it too.”
Diego’s answer was a tight hiss of pleasure as he touched himself. Benji’s mind went blank. That was what he sounded like when he felt so good he couldn’t help it anymore. Instantly, he wanted to hear it again, and again, and he wanted Diego to make that exact same sound in his ear as he came apart.
“We should’ve done this when you were still in LA,” Diego half moaned, half laughed. “Why did we wait ’til you went across the country?”
Benji wasn’t sure how he’d waited, his self-control was a tenuous thing these days, but he’d done it because that was what Diego had said he wanted.
But maybe in the middle of phone sex wasn’t the best time to bring that particular fact up.
“Two days,” Benji gritted out. “And then my hands are going to be where they belong—all over you.”
“I still remember what they feel like, pressed into my hips,” Diego murmured. “I couldn’t forget.”
He must be talking about the time they’d faux-fucked on stage, the video of which Leo kept claiming still existed somewhere on the internet.
“I want more than that this time around.”
“Anything,” Diego promised roughly, and then broke off in a muttered curse. “I’m too goddamned close.”
“I want to put you on that bench and suck your cock,” Benji said. He’d never done it before, but the idea of wringing those sounds out of Diego while he sat there, trying not to squirm, trying not to thrust, had him so hard, Benji wasn’t sure he was going to last either.
“Oh fuck,” Diego said, and while Benji had always really liked vocal partners in bed, there was something intoxicating about the short, bitten-off words and aborted noises coming out of Diego. He wanted more, he wanted to work for it, he wanted Diego to drown in bliss, until he couldn’t help but scream.
“I want you to come for me, Diego,” Benji said, and wrapped his fist around his own cock, hoping that he wouldn’t blow his load before Diego did. “Paint that goddamn gorgeous chest for me.”
That must have been all he was waiting for because Diego gave a little wail, and then panted, almost soundlessly, into the phone. But Benji was listening as intently as he’d ever listened to anything in his whole goddamn life, and the sound of Diego coming was enough to push him right over the edge too.
For a good twenty seconds, they sat in silence. It wasn’t quite awkward, Benji decided, just . . . contemplative. Like, yes, they had really just done that.
“I guess this makes it official now,” Diego said, and he sounded shaky and a little unsure.
“It was official long before this,” Benji promised. “It was official when you let me into your house last week. I’m not . . . I’m not ever going anywhere, okay?”
He could practically hear Diego smiling through the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I . . . maintain I wish that you’d been on the West Coast when we’d done that.”
“We have a whole life to do it together,” Benji promised, and he was amazed the permanence of that suggestion didn’t faze him at all. But then wasn’t that why he’d always been so scared of deepening their friendship? That he knew it would be both the beginning and the middle and the end? All the love he’d ever need or want?
“We do,” Diego confirmed. “We do. Still.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry I sort of gave you the cold shoulder during our date. I didn’t mean to; I was nervous and I think I chickened out a tiny bit.”
“You said you wanted to go slow, there’s nothing to apologize for.” Except, Benji thought, that his nice shirt was now streaked with come. That was going to be an interesting visit to the dry cleaners.
“I know, but I wanted more, and I knew you did too.” Diego sounded cross with himself, and it would’ve been adorable, but Benji didn’t want him taking the blame for something that wasn’t even his fault.
“Listen,” Benji said. “This isn’t an easy transition. There’s a lot of pressure, with the band and everything, and you know, it being ten fucking years and all, since we started wanting this. It’s okay to be nervous, and slow it down. It’s okay to be nervous, and tell me about it too. I was . . . terrified before I came over for our date. I changed shirts three times. I haven’t been that nervous, probably ever.” He dropped his voice lower. “All the nerves mean is that I care about you a lot, and I don’t want to fuck it up. But guess what . . . we’ve already tried to do that, lots of times, and it hasn’t happened yet.”
Diego sighed, but there was a contented edge to it. “One of the things I love most about you is that you always say the right thing.”
“Only to you,” Benji laughed, once his heart made it past the one of the things I love most part of Diego’s sentence. “Everyone else, I fuck that up on a regular basis.”
“I’ll see you on Tuesday, yeah?” Diego asked, hopefully. “I’m hoping this little interlude didn’t scare you away from Disneyland altogether.”
“No way,” Benji
said. “I’ll be there, bright and early, with my shades on.”
Diego laughed, and said, “Good to know. See you then.”
When Diego hung up, Benji knew that he hadn’t wanted their conversation to end. Even just the reassuring words and the teasing, flirtatious comments—not even the blindingly hot mutual masturbation they’d just had.
And it was of course in that moment that Benji realized that during the course of their conversation he’d never once confessed to the one thing that he’d called for in the first place: the pictures with Rochelle.
He couldn’t call back now and add that to the end of what they’d shared. He was going to have to come up with a different way, and a different time to tell him, and pray that they didn’t come out in the time it took for Benji to get back to Los Angeles.
Cleaning up in the bathroom, he pulled up his texts and sent one to Jay. I’m holding you to that promise, he typed, those pictures better never see the light of day.
CHAPTER NINE
Diego believed he was prepared for Benji’s appearance bright and early Tuesday morning. It had been two days since the phone call that had decimated all his self-control and the very last bit of his hesitation. As he’d gotten Ana ready, he’d forced his fingers to stop trembling, and focusing on his daughter had helped, but as it turned out, that was only temporary.
At seven thirty precisely, the doorbell rang, and carrying Ana, Diego crossed to the entry to open the door.
Benji was standing on the stoop, dressed in a pair of tight black jeans that did terrible, sinful, all the bad things to his thighs and a black t-shirt, practically spray-painted onto his chest and arm muscles.
He beamed at Diego, eyes hidden by a pair of aviator sunglasses, but a wide smile spreading across his face. “Awww, look at her!” Benji said, coming closer, wiggling a finger at Ana, who promptly grabbed it and cackled with success. “She’s getting so big. And beautiful too, but then . . .” Benji shrugged bashfully, his other hand reaching out to curl around the curve of Diego’s waist. “She has exceptionally beautiful parents.”
