“Please.”
He comes at me, and I’m expecting a hard, frantic kiss like the ones I get after a night of drinking, but instead I get tender, soft lips pressed sweetly to mine. No tongue, just a lover’s kiss. He presses his forehead to mine, still cupping my cheek, his minty breath warming my face.
“This experience was amazing, Bri. Thank you for giving it to me.”
“Dude. My pleasure.”
Then we both laugh, and I know everything is going to be okay.
Jude
I lie in my bed staring at the ceiling. My brain is a muddled blob of sexual confusion. How the fuck is this actually happening right now? I can’t really wrap my head around what happened in the kitchen between me and Briar. Not only what happened, but that I initiated it. I thought I might die if I didn’t touch him. When the guys explained frotting to me last night, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Briar pressed up against me, our dicks rubbing together, and I made that happen. I fucking made it happen.
I scrub my hands over my face. What does this mean? Since the first time I kissed him, I haven’t stopped wanting to. Last night I wanted to fuck. What I can’t understand is, if I’m gay, why didn’t I see it sooner? Briar and I have always been close. Why do I want to make him more than just a friend now?
And if I am gay, what does that mean for the rest of my life? What if I’m not who Briar wants, and I’m left with this new self-discovery but nowhere to go with it? What if I can’t get it up with a woman anymore now that I know how nice two dicks rubbing together feels? What if, instead of tits and pussies, all I can see when I close my eyes is Briar’s smooth skin, big brown eyes, nice dick, and tight ass? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Is this what an existential crisis feels like? I’m thirty-four, and I’m just now finding out I like dick?
But do I? How do I know I would like all of it? Could I suck a dick? Could I take a dick? Am I seriously thinking about this right now? I’m losing my shit and the one person I talk to when this happens is the object of my meltdown.
A surprising tear slides down my cheek, and it hits me how freaked out I am right now. I can’t decide if I’m more worried my sexuality is shifting or that Briar won’t want more with me.
And how the fuck will I know if I don’t try?
“Hey, guys.” I walk into the center of the room after finishing some paperwork in my office. “Ready for a quick meeting?”
“Yeah,” Casper says, sitting on his chair backwards. “First, we need an update on this fake fiancé business. The wedding’s coming up soon.”
My body flushes with heat as I remember what we did in the kitchen yesterday. “Yep. Two weeks to go now. It’s going fine. Speaking of, I was gonna invite you guys out to Velvet this weekend.”
They all stare at me as an awkward silence settles over the room. “Did you guys hear me?”
“Why?” Luca asks.
“What do you mean why?”
“Is it a special event or something?” he continues.
I chuckle, realizing the issue. “I get it. I haven’t openly socialized much in the past, but I’ve been going out more with Briar and his friends, and we’ve been having a blast. I thought it would be fun if you guys wanted to join us.”
“Fuck yeah,” Micah says. “Velvet is rad.”
“I love it there,” Casper says. “Pretty people everywhere.”
Sam nods their head. “I like it too, but I’ve only been once. It has a good vibe.”
“Is Saint coming?” Casper asks, not being obvious at all.
“He’s invited.”
Luca is still staring at me like I’m a unicorn.
“What?”
“Sorry. I’m still stuck on you going out and having fun.”
I laugh. “I’d probably surprise you in lots of ways, Luca.” I wink. “Now, let’s talk shop.”
I go over the previous month’s financials and the profit-sharing pool I add to each month. At the end of the year I’ll distribute it as a bonus. It’s a good motivator to stay long term and build their client list with me.
After our meeting, I return to my office to finish up a few things before my next client. As I stare at my appointment book, I know I’m going to have to do something I never thought would happen. Reduce the number of appointments I take on. Dante Higgins posting about my work changed everything, finally putting me in a position where I can decline new clients. I think I’ll put together a referral list to make sure those people get on the books and then figure out how many new clients I can take on without burning myself out. The other artists can take on the additional clients. The shop has never been this busy. If it keeps up, in a few years I can think about expanding. I want to be the hottest shop in Miami. And I want Briar beside me the whole time.
A smile pulls at my lips as I let that thought settle in.
Briar
Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror at work, I drag my fingers over the mark Jude left on my neck yesterday morning. I fight back a smile as the highlight reel plays in my mind. Our bodies rubbing together, dicks pulsing in his strong hands, his mouth on me…whew. I shake my head before rubbing my dick. I’m not really sure how to process why he did that, but the biggest question on my mind is will he want to do it again. Or more. I know damn well I won’t be able to fight him off. Not that I want to.
I walk back out to my station bracing for the moment one of my coworkers notices my neck and asks about the mark. I’m a terrible liar, and I’m not actually sure I want to lie. Part of me wants to protect Jude’s privacy, but another part wants to scream from the rooftops that the hottest man in Miami wants me. That he’s the one who left the mark.
When I come out, I find myself alone except for Saint who is bent over one of the stainless-steel tables looking at some paperwork on his clipboard. The others are probably up front handling the influx of morning customers.
Saint looks up and smiles. “Hey, Briar.”
“Hi.” I twist around and open the cooler to pull out the cake I was cooling so I could start decorating it. “Saint?”
He looks up. “Yeah?”
“Um, could I talk to you about something personal?”
“Of course.” He sets his pencil down. “Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, it’s good. I’m just not sure how to handle something. With Jude.”
He nods. “Okay.”
“After we got home Saturday night, he came into my room and wanted to sleep with me.”
Saint nods. “Actually sleep or—”
“Actually sleep. He said he wanted to hold me.”
“Okay. You haven’t done that before?”
“Nope.” I almost rub my forehead but remember I just washed my hands. “Sunday morning though, he, um, he came into the kitchen and… Can you keep this between us?”
“Absolutely.”
I glance around to make sure we’re still alone. “We, um, he…” My body heats at the memory, so I blow out a breath to compose myself. “We frotted in the kitchen. He instigated it.”