Measures the details as if he were reliving the entire episode frame by frame.
The feeling was indescribable. Her mouth was an oven and he thrust toward the back of her throat as he reached for her locs, the ferocity within causing him to tremble. Toes curling on the cool carpet, legs outstretched, holding her head in his hands while bucking his hips slowly. Darkness settled around them like a blanket. Occasional house creaks and groans, spiking the otherwise silent hush of the night.
And finds nothing.
Nothing of substance to clear him from the truth.
Am I a faggot?
Because I let another man…
“STOP IT!”
Reese glances up sharply. He is yelling—not at her. Not at anyone in particular.
He drops his head and shakes it forlornly. This whole thing has been blown way out of proportion, and if he just closes his eyes, blinks back the tears that seem to be waiting in the wings, he’ll be alright.
He’ll wake up tomorrow, snug and warm in the confines of his bed, Carly on her side, spooning him as she’s fond of doing, everything the way it was before. Everything okay.
He hasn’t done what Miles alleges.
Ryan blinks.
He did not allow another man to fellate him.
He did not.
Could not.
Blinks again.
No heterosexual man in his right mind would.
Or could…
Right?
Ryan looks to Reese for an answer.
She smiles sheepishly when their stares meet and lock.
Sorrowfully, she lacks the answer to this fundamental question.
Chapter 10
Miles listens to her breathing. It’s like the slow, steady hand of a Swiss watch—predictable. She has been asleep for over thirty minutes now. Olivia faces away from him, covers pulled up to her neck, clad in a silk nightgown that comes down to mid-thigh. It is after one in the morning, yet Miles is wide awake. He stares at the patterns of shadow and light dancing off the stucco wall and listens to the wind howl. He can’t sleep, not with things left in this unresolved state.
Miles considers the things he has to do…the people he has to see.
Ryan.
His thoughts have not strayed far from his friend this past evening.
Their conversation went badly. Not at all the way he had planned.
Miles had rehearsed it a thousand times. Was hoping and praying Ryan would understand…would see things his way, open his eyes to this new way of thinking, this new way of existing.
But not yet…
Miles, for one, marvels at his newfound freedom…this newfound lifestyle. It’s amazing how differently things look now. Colors more vibrant, air more pungent. Miles is loving life. He is, in a word, alive.
His thoughts race back to his shower. Miles had wanted to be alone—needed time to decompress, to sort things out. But Olivia had violated the sanctity of his temple by entering the stall.
His shower…
But it was okay.
Olivia is his wife. He loves her. He still desires her. And above all else, he still wants her in his life.
No contradiction as far as he’s concerned.
Miles smiles in the near darkness, then reaches down and takes hold of himself, feeling the blood rush.
Oh yes, it was fine that Olivia came in when she did.
For that is the beauty of this, this new thing—Miles can have his cake and eat it, too!
He suppresses a giggle.
Yes, he’s having his cake and eating it, too.
Making love to his wife was exactly what the doctor ordered. In some small recess of his mind, he had fantasized about delicious things happening between Ryan and himself tonight, but he knew it was too early to happen. Ryan’s response was typical, and Miles was not the least surprised by his reaction. Poor guy didn’t know what hit him. He kind of liked doing that—witnessing the deer in the headlights look, all confused, unable to make any sense of what was being said. But then all the pieces suddenly dropped into place. And in time, sooner rather than later, Ryan would come around…just like Miles had.
Ryan will come to understand the power of male sensuality—the bond two men can share.
After all, he had passed the first test by allowing another man to take him in his mouth.
Oh yes, he will come to crave it the way vampires crave blood.
That he will. Miles was sure of it.
Miles pulls on his penis, which is semi-hard. Thoughts drift like tendrils of smoke back to that wonderful evening, the night when he was able to consummate his lustful fantasies with action. Ryan had been so far gone, so consumed with obsession that he would have fucked a stump if he’d thought it belonged to Olivia.
Miles wasn’t stupid….
He’d seen all along what was going down…
Carly had to be a fool for not seeing what was transpiring before her very eyes.
So, Miles took the bull by the horns and took advantage—not the way he had planned it—but sometimes you have to take hold of the situation and seize the moment. And that’s exactly what he did.
He doesn’t regret a thing.
Olivia stirs. She turns on her back, and then sighs heavily before turning to face him, breathe in his face, inches from his own. Still out. Arm draped over his shoulder before dropping to her side. Miles places one hand on hers, caressing the flesh, feathering the curve to her digits as he masturbates with his other. Slowly, methodically, he draws her hand closer.
Inching nearer to his engorged state.
Miles finally places her hand on top of him. Wraps her fingers around his girth.
Tugging at his hardening member with her slender fingers.
Miles is grinning now as he lifts the silken fabric. Finding the space between his wife’s legs, he rubs her with the palm of his hand.
Olivia emits a slight moan, then parts her legs wider.
Miles considers his two lovers: Olivia and Ryan…Ryan and Olivia.
His wife is stirring, eyes fluttering before coming awake, feeling her hand on her husband’s sex.
Miles is thinking, I took Ryan that night and made him mine…just like I’m going to do to you tonight, my love.
Olivia is thinking, My husband is insatiable, but I can feel his cravings tonight, and this is something I can handle.
She smiles in the near darkness and spreads her thighs wider.
One more time…
Chapter 11
The harshness of sudden light makes his head throb. Like a siren in the dead of night, it is piercing, painful. Ryan, head down, glances up quickly. And just the act of doing so makes him dizzy. The bar is vacant. The bartender, Reese, is cleaning up behind him. She is scooping up half-empty beer bottles, placing them on a drab gray tray. A cup of coffee is positioned in front of him. Gingerly, he reaches out for the handle, puts the mug to his lips, and takes a sip. Lukewarm. He grimaces as Reese walks behind him, her hand on his shoulder as she leans in.
“You straight?”
Ryan