This was so much better than talking about work or family or any of the million other things in our lives. It was pure connection. When Mikey and I were pressed close together like this with nothing between us, I felt the simple joy of being in the moment with him, of knowing we were each other’s everything right then regardless of what came before or after.
“Please,” he said on a gasp. “Don’t fuck with me right now. I can’t take it.”
I didn’t question him. Instead, I simply slicked up my fingers and prepped him quickly while leaning up to murmur words in his ear.
“Watching you beg with your ass in the air like this makes me want to come all over you. You’re so fucking beautiful. I can’t believe I get to be with you like this. That’s it. Fuck, you feel good. Shit, oh god, Mike. Fuck. Let me in, baby.”
I finally suited up and pressed my dick against his opening, running my hands up his back and into his hair before leaning down along his back and thrusting my hips forward some more.
Mikey sucked in a breath, and I stilled, waiting for him to adjust. When his hand came back and grabbed my leg, I knew he was ready.
I pounded that poor Texan chef into the floor of the cave like our very lives depended on it. Thankfully, we were alone in the house because Mikey couldn’t stay quiet. He shouted and cried out until his voice sounded wrecked and my heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest.
At one point I pulled out, flipped him onto his back, and shoved a pillow under his ass before finding my way back inside his hot body. He was sweaty and flushed, glassy-eyed and dazed. When I finally found just the right spot and hammered it over and over again while he jacked himself, his eyes widened and then squeezed closed.
His body contracted for a minute before his release hit. Watching him come was the best thing ever, and it always seemed to speed up my own orgasm. I came hard inside him until I felt as wrecked as Mikey sounded.
Sex with him was intense, whether it was hot and hard or slow and sweet. It wasn’t transactional like the guys I’d been with in the past. It was a meaningful physical addition to the emotional connection we’d spent years building.
I finally felt like we were exactly the way we were meant to be: together in every way.
It was clear to me I was falling hard for him, and when I woke up to his sweet kisses a little while later in the silent early morning hours, I did my best to tell him so with the slow, tenderness of our lovemaking. I’d woken up spooned around his back, and, after sliding a condom on, I slid easily into his still-slick channel and rolled my hip gently in and out of him until I felt the hot drip of a tear hit my arm.
“Baby?” I murmured into the skin behind his ear.
He shook his head. “Keep going,” he whispered roughly. “Feels so good.”
I thought the tear was a happy one. It was only days later, after things had gotten weird between us again, that I began to wonder if the tear hadn’t been a happy one after all.
22
Mikey
Leaving the sleepy, warm embrace of the man I loved was pretty much the worst thing ever. But I’d made a deal with the devil, and it was time to pay the price.
I snuck out of Tiller’s bed, away from his warm body, and made my way to my bedroom. I’d already spent most of the afternoon yesterday preparing meals to help tide him over while I was gone. He had much more knowledge and resources now than he’d had five years before, so I knew he’d be fine whether I’d cooked for him or not. But he was right when he said cooking for someone was how I showed them love. Even the fridge and freezer were full to the brim of his favorite meals.
After packing for longer than the original week I’d planned, I headed out to my car and tossed my luggage in the hatchback. The drive to the airport was uneventful, save for the mental cursing I did at my father.
Of course I’d agreed to his terms. When Tiller had come back from the specialist with fear in his eyes, it hadn’t even been a question. I’d told myself it wasn’t a big deal. I could change my mind at any time. It wasn’t like I was giving Tiller up for good. As long as Tiller didn’t have to play this week, I could deal with the rest of it later.
In the meantime, I mourned the loss of my father, of the man I’d thought he was, had hoped he was. It was clear to me now he wasn’t that man. Maybe he never had been. He cared more about his job than my heart, and that was an incredibly heartbreaking and bitter pill to swallow.
It was especially hard to take when I couldn’t lean on Tiller for comfort and understanding.
So I was a sad sack as I checked my bag in the terminal and made my way through security, and I was extra pitiful at the gate when the agent called me up to give me an updated boarding pass reflecting the upgrade to first class Tiller had somehow managed from afar. I hated that I loved him. Worse than that, I hated that I was essentially lying to him. It wasn’t fair, but neither was my father prioritizing his fucking playoff chances over Tiller’s career.
When I boarded the plane, I stashed my carry-on bag under the seat in front of me, fastened my seat belt, and grabbed the blanket before curling up in a little ball and trying to close out the world around me. It didn’t work.
“Hey, aren’t you the guy who makes the couscous salad at Hilltop Cafe?”
I blinked up at the thirtysomething woman in yoga pants and a flowery tunic standing in the row in front of me facing backward. She had creamy brown skin and a shaved head that set off her big brown eyes and thick dark lashes. She was gorgeous, but after scrambling my memory, I couldn’t place her.
“Uh, yes?”
She slapped a palm over her heart and smiled. “Thought so. I saw you deliver it one time. I am in love with that salad. I’ve been begging Sid to finagle the recipe out of you for months. I was devastated when I found out you weren’t supplying it anymore.”
I returned her smile and held out my hand. “Thank you for saying that. I’m Michael Vining.”
She shook my hand over the top of her seat. “Konni Prater, nice to meet you. Hilltop Cafe is kind of my office,” she said with a light chuckle. “I’m a writer, and for some reason I can focus more with the buzz of hungry customers around me. Sid and Marti are awesome to let me loiter in a back booth most days.”
As other passengers continued to make their way down the aisle, Konni rifled through her bag before stowing it in the bin above her seat. When I saw her at an angle, I realized I did recognize her.
“Oh, I think I remember seeing you there. Do you wear glasses when you work?”
She grinned and nodded. “Yup. Kind of like yours. Love those, by the way. But not as much as your food.”
As she winked and took her seat, I realized I felt a little better than I had before. There was more to my life than Tiller Raine, and I needed to remember that. Even Tiller wouldn’t want me to spend my week in Aster Valley sniffling about him. I needed to embrace new opportunities and push all of this other shit to later, maybe after Christmas which was only a week and a half away now. I had my own talents and plans that had nothing to do with Tiller or football, and it was in my best interest to make sure whatever direction I took with my own future, I was actively choosing it instead of letting the tide of indecision take me.