Timothy laughed. “But he’d pay us back by dragging us to a Rams game and explaining offsides until our eyes crossed.”
Jimothy sat ramrod straight and recited, “Any part of the head, body, or feet is in the opponents' half, excluding the halfway line, and any part of the head, body, or feet is nearer to the opponents' goal line than both the ball and the second-to-last opponent.”
Jimothy and Timothy laughed. “Whatever the hell that means.”
Rick said, “I like football, and I’m not even sure.”
Timothy’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, held up a finger, and walked away from the table, talking.
Jimothy and Rick started clearing the table.
Rick snatched a last bite of bread from his plate as he delivered it to the kitchen. “Man, that was good. I’d love to learn how to make that sauce. The stuff from cans just doesn’t cut it.”
“Yuk.” Jimothy grinned. “I can teach you to make it in a half hour.” He glanced at Timothy with a conniving look on his face.
As they took the last load of dishes to the dishwasher, Timothy came in. “Will you excuse me for a few minutes? That’s a friend that I’m doing some PR for, and I need to email a plan over to him.”
Jimothy looked over his shoulder from the dishwasher. “No problem, Dad. I’ll take Rick on a tour of the house.”
“Good plan.” He smiled. “But don’t let him get away. I made Tiramisu for dessert. I’ll bring it back with me.”
The second the door closed, Jimothy grabbed Rick’s hand. “Come on. You’ve never seen the second floor.”
About ten seconds later, they’d scampered up the stairs, and Jimothy headed for a bathroom down the hall.
Rick got an impression of a large game room with a big TV on the wall and maybe a couple more bedrooms before the bathroom door closed behind him. Hell, nobody had to ask him twice. His cock was already filling at just the idea.
The bathroom was large and modern with vessel sinks that took up most of the counter.
Jimothy whispered, “You want to bend over?”
“Oh, hell yes.” As much as he loved blow jobs, nothing took the place of anal for him.
To the sound of drawers opening, he unfastened his belt and zipper and then shoved his jeans and briefs down his legs. Hell, he’d had practice with fast fucking with Denny, but this was Jimothy, and Rick didn’t even want to think about any other guys.
Ass throbbing, he bent way over and planted his forearms on the low counter. Instantly, two sticky fingers pressed into his hole, and it only took seconds before he was riding them like a little pony.
Jimothy whispered, “Ready for more?”
“Hell yes, hurry.”
He did. With very little Jimothy finesse, that considerable dick rammed into Rick and began thrusting hard and deep—just the way Rick loved it. Nobody tried to prolong the pleasure. This was drive-by fucking, and they both got on with it, but somehow, Rick’s brain still lit up with a pleasure unequaled by any other experience. When he was gasping in aftermath and wiping cum from the cabinet with a washcloth, he kept swallowing hard against the wave of feeling that expanded his heart.
After a quick washdown with a different cloth, Jimothy adjusted his jeans and whispered, “I’ll go down first and say you’re in the bathroom.”
Still inhaling deeply to catch his breath, Rick nodded, but as Jimothy reached for the door, he grabbed his shoulders and pulled his head back for a deep kiss. “Thank you.”
All Jimothy did was smile, but it made Rick want to pull down moons and stars and present them as gifts. Jimothy walked out the door.
After taking a quick sponge bath to remove the sex smell, Rick trotted back downstairs to join the charade again. Funny how pretending to be Jimothy’s builder pal made him feel empty, incomplete. Jimothy had said his father would be excited if he thought they were a couple—an out and proud couple. That idea gave Rick jitters, but it still made him smile.
Jimothy glanced at his watch and chewed his lip. Usually a meeting with a prospective homophobe would have gotten his protective armor up. Normally, he’d have put on his brightest colors and most outrageous glitter. For this meeting, he’d resisted. It was kind of like the only thing that stood between Mr. Ronconi going to his daughter’s wedding or staying home sulking in his house—was Jimothy. Not true, but it felt like that, and his stomach flipped around like a herd of kangaroos. On top of that, he was early. He hated being early.
He glanced at the watch again. Five minutes until…
An old Audi pulled into the lot and parked a couple cars down from Jimothy. Hell, he didn’t have to wonder. The man was an older, meaner-looking version of Rick, minus the hair and beard. The guy looked at his watch, took a visible deep inhale, and climbed out of the car. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt.
Taking his own deep breath, Jimothy stepped out of the Lexus and hit the lock.
Mr. Ronconi looked back at the beep.
Jimothy smiled but not huge. More reserved. “Mr. Ronconi?”
He didn’t smile at all, but stuck out his hand and said, “Rich.”
“I’m Jimothy.” He shook hands. “Was it confusing having a Rich and a Rick?”
“Nah. We called him Junior most of the time.”
“Ready to shop?”
“I guess so.”
Jimothy led the way into Benny’s. Benny was behind the counter glancing at a newspaper, and he looked up and grinned. “Jimothy, twice in a week? How’d I get so lucky?”
“Benny, meet Rick’s father, Rich. He needs a new suit and some other things for that same wedding.”
Benny came around the counter and eyed Rich. “Not as much tailoring, which is good since we’re running out of time.”
Rich frowned but said, “If I go to the wedding, I could end up walking my daughter down the aisle, and I don’t have a tux, so we better make the suit dark.”
Son of a bitch. He thought that up all by himself. “Good plan.” Jimothy nodded and started pawing through the inventory.
After fifteen minutes of suggestions and rejections, Rich walked into the dressing room with two suits, a sports coat, two pairs of dress slacks, and some jeans. Jimothy glanced at his watch and tapped on the side of the dressing room. “Rich?”
“Yeah.” He opened the curtain and stepped out in a midnight blue suit that almost fit in the jacket and just needed some taking in and up on the trousers.
Jimothy nodded. “Looks good.”
“Lot’a money.”
Jimothy shrugged. “Up to you. I have to get going. Your appointment at my salon is in two hours.” He put a hand on his hip. “I need to warn you, it’s a salon, not a barber shop. The first time Rick came in, he ran out terrified. So, if you can’t take women or men like me flitting around you, then cancel soon. Believe me, we have plenty of people who want the time.”
Rich chuckled. “My kid ran out on you, huh? Yeah, I can see that. Worried about his fucking alpha image. Don’t worry. I been flitted at by the best of ’em.”
Jimothy raised his brows. “Then I’ll see you in a couple hours.” He walked out of Benny’s and straight to his car before he exhaled. Jesus, he felt like he’d been in a battle without a shot fired.