OFTEN & SUDDENLY
GABRIELLE G.
Often & Suddenly, Copyright ©2019 by Gabrielle G. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written consent of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, band names, incidents are the product of the author imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author pr publisher.
Disclaimer: This book contains explicit mature content and language and is intended for adults ages 18+.
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Often & Suddenly
by Gabrielle G.
Who will be the first to fall ? The uptight lawyer or the laid-back tattoo artist?
A friends-to-lovers m/m romance filled with angst, love, and forgiveness.
* * *
Happiness is overrated.
Finding someone who has my back and takes care of me is optional, and Luke Gritt is not an option.
The way I see it, he’s only a sexy complication.
* * *
***
One-night stand?
No thanks.
Friends-with-benefits relationship?
Tricky.
Especially with an insanely hot, three-piece-suit man who lights up only around me.
If opposites attract, Dex and I collide.
1
Dex
I don’t know why I got drunk.
Every year is the same shit. My best friend, who’s also my client and my brother from another mother, forgot my birthday. Ian always does. Not because he’s too busy filming or directing, but because even though we’ve known each other forever, he’s never paid enough attention to my life to know when my birthday is. What was a little harder to accept was that his twin sister, Virginia, my other best friend, forgot as well. I know she’s wallowing right now because she’s in love with our friend Ryan and she’s too stubborn to admit it, but still… Did Ryan think of my birthday either? No. Should he have? Well you would think he would have remembered the first time he fucked a guy, but you never know where heteros stand with their homosexual experiments.
* * *
Last thing I remember from last night is being pissed they forgot my fortieth—I truly believed they would have thought of the big four-oh.
My father and stepmom sent me a text. My half-sister, Emma, and nephew, Asher, posted something on Instagram, and my staff got me a bottle of scotch that I drank alone once I got home. Which explains my headache this morning, but not why my sheets felt as though someone else had slept in them. I didn’t find any trace of a sexual encounter though. No condom, no strange cologne, no clothes. Nothing. Feels as if the invisible man got me hard and disappeared as fast as I came.
How do I know I came last night? Because when I don’t have sex regularly, I feel tension between my shoulders, like when you hunch forward for too long. My balls get too heavy to carry. To avoid this, I need to fuck or be blown weekly. Masturbation doesn’t help.
I’ve had so much shit to do for the gang and my other clients that I haven’t had sex in two weeks. But this morning, I can stand proud and the backache is gone. That's the first clue I got laid.
Also, after finally coming into the office around two in the afternoon, I found a cake on my desk. No name, no card, just a plain white cake—my favorite—with a message on the frosting. “Don’t ignore me, I sucked your dick!”
I’m totally internally freaking out for a few reasons. First, I don’t remember going out and meeting someone.
Second, it means I fucked someone in my bed, and I never do. I don’t want guys to know where I live and to show up on my front step. My house is private. Nobody goes there, not even my friends or they very rarely do.
Third, the guy knows where I work. That’s also a big no in my book. I generally go to a club, fuck them in the back alley or at their house, and leave.
Lastly, I don’t remember. Dex Crawford always remembers. I like control, organization, and lists. I don’t forget shit, I never lose control, and I don’t drink heavily.
So what the fuck happened last night? Frustration and anger crawl along my skin, feelings I know too well. I’ve lived with one or the other for twenty years.
I fumble with my phone for clues, but all I see are a couple of texts with Luke, the guy who tattooed Ian’s wife, Julie. Luke and I aren’t really friends. I mean, we know each other and hang out with the same people, but all he does is get on my nerves about tattoos until I tell him to piss off. We live in different worlds. I wear Gucci suits every day, while he’s in ripped jeans and Target T-shirts.
* * *
Luke: Hey Dex! Happy Birthday. Hope you’re doing something fun tonight.
Me: Whatever. Is drinking alone fun?
Luke: Are you okay Dex?
Me: Who cares, nobody ever does.
Luke: Getting your Ian out, I like it.
* * *
Ian is a whiny, insecure baby. He has other qualities, thank God, but mostly, he and his wife think the world was created in their belly buttons.
Me: You’re funny. Now let me drink. Return to your tattoos and friends. I’ll return to my bottle.
* * *
That’s it. No calls in or out. No other clues.
I call Marlene, my stupid assistant, to get more details on the special delivery I received. “Marlene, how did a cake arrive on my desk?”
“Good morning, Dex. I think it was a delivery.”
For the love of God, the time I lose explaining shit to this woman… “What I want to know is who sent it.”
“I… I…”
She should know by now to answer quickly. She’s been here for five long weeks.
“For fuck’s sake, spit it out!”
“I wasn’t at my desk when it came in, boss. Claire from reception brought it up.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “So it was delivered downstairs?”
“I believe so…”
“Are we sure it wasn’t dropped off by someone?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m not asking you to think but to know. Find out. I don’t want to lose my day trying to figure out who I should thank for a birthday cake!” I hang up before she has time to give me another excuse as to why she’s so incompetent.
As my assistant, she doesn’t have much to do. Her biggest job is being a guard dog and making sure that when I work, nobody barges in. But even that is too hard for her.
I’m an entertainment transactions lawyer in Los Angeles. In a day, I deal with a lot of shit. From rights acquisition, to film contracts, record deals, production agreements, and more. Plus, I have to fix every problem my friends get into, and they do, a lot.
I’m Ian’s and Julie’s publicist, as he’s an Oscar, Emmy, and Golden Globe winner and one of the hottest actors in Hollywood right now, and she’s a writer and producer. In the beginning, she was a PR nightmare that he got tangled in and I’m always on the lookout for her to fuck up Ian’s career in a way.