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Authors: Wade Kelly

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Bankers' Hours (29 page)

BOOK: Bankers' Hours
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I opened my eyes and read my clock. “Shit,” I mumbled. I couldn’t understand why I was so lethargic. I had never had a problem getting up to go to work. I liked my work. I didn’t remember the alarm going off, but it must have. Had I turned it off and remained in bed? If so, why would I do that? It seemed so unlike me.

Then Tristan trailed kisses down my neck, across my shoulder, and down my arm, and I realized why my normal behavior was changing. Tristan. His presence in my bed had coated my responsible, organized routine with a fuzzy sheen of dreamlike euphoria. We hadn’t even made love properly, yet I could not pull myself away from him. It was like being hypnotized without needing to watch an object swinging in front of my eyes. His voice, his touch, his lips lulled me into a constant state of vulnerability on the verge of irresponsibility. I would gladly face getting fired for one more hour in his arms.

I reached behind me, but he wasn’t under the covers. “Why are you…,” I began to ask, turning to find him fully dressed and on top of my blankets.

As I lay on my back, he rested his arm across my chest. “I’ve been at work for three hours already,” he explained. “You didn’t stir when I left, so I thought I’d take ten minutes and check on you. I found your alarm going off and you dead to the world.”

I groaned.

“Come on, last night wasn’t that bad.”

“Not bad? I think the Spanish Inquisition had less questions.”

“I should be the one mentally exhausted, not you. She asked me more about myself than the naval recruiter. If I can handle it, you should be fine.”

I rubbed his arm affectionately. “I’m worried she disapproves.”

He gave me a look. “She doesn’t. I’m pretty sure she liked me. But Grant, even if she doesn’t, you couldn’t have thought this would go smoothly. People are going to give us a hard time. We met and got married in four weeks, after only one real date. It will take time to prove to friends and family that we’re serious.”

What he said was true, but I didn’t want to think that
my
friends and
my
family would be as skeptical as everyone else. “I guess,” I pouted. “I don’t want to go to work.”

“Why not? I thought you said you loved your job.”

“I do, but I just don’t want to deal with people. My boss noticed my ring yesterday.”

“And?” he asked as if he didn’t see the problem.

“And she all but laughed at it.” I lowered my eyes and studied the ring on my finger.

“Why?”

I felt that damn emotion surging again. Somehow, since meeting Tristan, I’d become the kind of guy to cry at every little thing. I couldn’t understand it, but it was real. “She said it was a very girly ring.” I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t keep anything from Tristan.

“Is that why you were out of sorts last night, even before the conversation about kids?”

I nodded pathetically.

He touched my hand and turned the ring as if examining it. “It’s not masculine, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t need you siding with her,” I whined, on the verge of tears.

“No. I’m agreeing that it’s not manly, but that doesn’t mean I like what she said. It’s your ring, and she shouldn’t make you feel bad for choosing it.”

“Do you think I should get a different one? Maybe something simple?” I couldn’t look him in the eyes as I asked, because I was afraid of his answer.

“No,” he answered firmly, maneuvering so he was leaning on my chest and looking me straight in the eyes. “The look on your face when I slipped that ring on your finger in the jewelry store took my breath away. It was the closest I’ve ever been to a real-life fairy tale. I have a daughter, Grant. I’ve seen more chick flicks than I care to admit, and there’s one thing they all have in common: the princess always wants to be swept off her feet by the prince.”

Tristan brought my left hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. “You are my princess, Grant, and I refuse to allow you to give in to anyone’s preconceived notion of what is acceptable as a wedding ring. This one,” he stressed, squeezing my hand, “made your eyes shine. And this one is the one you should have. You tell your boss to go screw herself.”

I laughed even as I wanted to cry. “Thank you.”

He scooted up my body and kissed me. “You’re welcome. If you decide to play hooky from work, you could go to my place, or search online for a maid service to finish it.”

“I think I’ll give it another try. It’s pretty gross, but I don’t think a maid service sorts through personal belongings. They mainly clean. I’ll go through your crap and make a pile out back for you to take to the dump.”

He smiled. “Thank you. If you come across any eight-legged critters, I bought a can of bug spray that shoots twenty feet. You can kill them without getting close enough to get jumped on.”

“You have no idea how comforting it is to hear you helping and not laughing.” I’d heard my share of laughing for a while.

“I’ll never laugh
at
you. Laughing with you is different, and I do find the things you do amusing, but I hope you know I don’t mean it maliciously.”

“I do,” I admitted. “The way you look at me says you enjoy me… like
really
enjoy me.”

Tristan slid his hands under my shoulders and kissed me again. He was lying completely on top of me, but the stupid blankets in between us prevented me from wrapping my legs around him. But I wanted to. I held the back of his head with one hand and caressed his neck with the other while he plundered my mouth. He grunted as he wiggled his hips and spread his knees apart. He was hard now, rocking against me. He released my mouth, but only so he could give me another hickey, this time on my throat. I think he liked marking me, and I was not about to complain when the slight stinging on my neck traveled as tiny tingles all the way down to my toes. I wanted more tingles.

“Mmm, more,” I urged.

He chuckled deep in his throat and kissed his way down my neck, then moved the sheet and kissed down the center of my chest. I thought he’d keep going all the way down to the throbbing part that seriously wanted attention, but he stopped when his cell phone rang.

He fished it out. “Hello?” He listened and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I will. Be there in a minute.” He hung up and sighed. “I’m sorry, baby. I gotta go. Will said there were some bugs behind a cabinet or something. I need to figure out what he’s talking about before anyone goes to lunch.” He crawled off me and stood next to the bed. “I’ll see you later. I’ll grab some clothes after work and spend the night here, okay?”

I nodded.

He kissed me and left.

 

 

AFTER CALLING
in sick to work, I cleaned out more of his shit, but I didn’t come across any more spiders. Thank God. I ventured upstairs for the first time and found that Claire’s room was the only clean one up there other than the bathroom. Three other bedrooms were piled to the ceiling with crap older than the Jurassic period. Or was it an age? I wasn’t sure. Anyway, Tristan was almost ready to be on television for his hoarding skills, and I was not about to let that happen. I picked a room and sorted through it.

A few hours later, I heard him calling me from downstairs. “Grant? Are you here?”

“Upstairs, Tristan,” I called back. I was on my hands and knees scrubbing a spot on the carpet with stain remover, and I was determined to get it out.

“Hey,” he said from the doorway, leaning on the frame. “We can just replace the carpet once all this is cleared out, Grant. There’s no need to expend all your energy when I can think of a few things that are way more fun.”

I sat back on my legs and let out a long breath. It was tiring work. “Now you tell me,” I complained, but with minimal irritation. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you had a brake job or a lube job or a… hand job?” I grinned, thinking myself wickedly funny. It was unlike me to make lewd jokes, but something about Tristan was bringing out my inner bad boy—something I hadn’t realized was in me.

He grinned back, eyes gleaming. “Oh, really? I could take you up on that.” He started unzipping his work pants, and I panicked.

“No, no! I was joking. I’m not doing that here, not now. This place is dusty and full of yuckiness. Tristan, don’t.” I stood up as he sauntered toward me, all sexy swagger and lust. I swear the man dripped sex, but it wasn’t like I had anyone to compare him to. I backed up as he kept coming, until I hit the wall behind me. “Tristan,” I implored.

He grabbed both my upper arms and kissed me hard, pressing me against the wall with his entire body. I probably should have protested, seeing how I didn’t want to do anything like that in a room like this, but his kiss made me weak. Instead of pushing him away, I made involuntary cooing sounds, my body becoming more pliable as he continued kissing me.

My mind swirled as the room tilted. He made me dizzy. I was aware of his hands moving south, and I heard the zipper of my jeans, but Tristan was nibbling my ear as he did those things. His tongue in my ear made me shiver. When he reached into my pants and pulled out my cock, I felt like a heaving mass of goo leaning on the wall. I let my head fall back as he dropped to his knees and blew me.

I managed to remain standing, but after he finished swallowing my jizz I seriously felt like slipping bonelessly to the floor. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

He looked up at me with a wicked grin as he tucked my softening penis back inside my jeans. He zipped them up and stood. “I didn’t intend to. You bring it out of me.” He winked.

I glared, but there was no anger behind it. “I need a shower now.”

“I could take one with you.” Coy smile, caressing fingers. Tristan could probably coax me into doing anything.

I shook off the trance and stepped away. “No. I’m right in the middle of this. I really want to get more done in this room before I stop.” I turned around in the middle of the room and gestured to all the piles of stuff around us. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you had lots of work to do.”

He shrugged. “I do, but it was interrupted by an earwig infestation.”

A chill ran through me. “Earwigs?”

“Yeah. Remember Will called me earlier when I was at your house?”

“Yes.”

“He moved a box of old spark plugs and found a nest of earwigs. He was freaking out, so I went back to the shop. When I got there, Jeff had found more behind the trash can, and Wes about ran out the door when he opened the desk and found more in there. I don’t know where they came from, but I had to call an exterminator.”

“Eww.” I made a sound and shuddered. “I think I really need that shower now. You just made my skin crawl.”

“Mine too, actually. I’ve never seen so many bugs in one place. It was nasty.”

I left the room and headed down the steps. I was itching my skin as if the bugs were crawling on me, which they weren’t. Tristan followed close behind me. I pointed to the breakfast bar as I reached inside the back of my shirt to scratch. “A package came for you.”

“Oooh, wonderful,” he said, picking up the box. He opened the top and grinned at me.

I frowned. “Why do I get the feeling I don’t want to know what’s in that box?” I lathered up my hands at the sink so I could get rid of the smell of carpet cleaner.

He laughed. “Oh, but you will. Let’s go take that shower, and I’ll show you what I bought.”

I dried my hands and scowled. “Really?”

Tristan smiled and waved me to follow him. “Come on, baby, indulge me.” He winked, and I knew he’d seen right through my mock irritation. In fact, less and less irritated me. Being around him had worn down my will to fuss. Heck, I’d even washed my hands at the kitchen sink! I tossed the towel on the counter and ventured into the bedroom to find out what Tristan had ordered that was so mysterious.

I never thought showering together would be as unsatisfying as it was, but we really did only wash. Of course, I was harder than I’d ever been, because having Tristan’s hands on me was extremely stimulating even if he merely soaped me up. Apparently his little surprise in the box was worth waiting for, and he hurriedly rinsed me off and ushered me to the bed.

Once we were lying naked, still covered in water droplets and side by side on his bed, Tristan revealed the contents of his package: a dildo.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He was very pleased with himself, but I was not so thrilled.

“Oh, come on, this’ll be fun.”

I shook my head emphatically.

He lost his smile and gave me a serious look. “Grant, think about it. Look at the size of this dildo, and then look at me.” He held the dildo up and then held his baby seal club at its base and tilted it away from his stomach. There was no comparison. The little toy he bought was tiny.

“Why didn’t you get something bigger? Your cock is huge compared to that.”

He tilted his head. “Grant, it’s meant to help you adjust. First we try this, and then we try me. I’m not going to press inside you until you’re loosened up. It’ll hurt.”

I took the dildo and looked it over. It really wasn’t that small. As I held it, I realized it was about
my
size. Probably six inches, so a tad longer than me, and a little wider. I shifted my eyes over to Tristan’s massive rod. I got it. There was no way he could push that huge thing into me without ripping my asshole to bloody shreds. He was being considerate. I gave it back and said, “Okay. We can do that.”

He placed it on the bed and kissed me. He caressed my face and fingered through my hair. “You’ll thank me. I promise. All you need to do is relax. I’ll take care of you.”

I knew he would, but there was a part of me inside that was disappointed. I didn’t want silicone, I wanted flesh—his flesh—and I wanted my first time to mean something to the both of us. I licked my lips and took a deep breath as I spread my legs. “Do it,” I said, closing my eyes.

Tristan took a bottle of lube and coated his fingers. He lay next to me, up against my side, and kissed my cheek as he slid his fingers down my crack. I felt them touching my hole, but I couldn’t react. Tristan whispered, “I know this isn’t what you want.”

How did he know? How could he tell? I opened my eyes and gazed into his. He slipped one finger inside, and I flinched, but I kept my gaze locked. He kissed me some more as he slipped two fingers inside. It stung, but I fixed my mind on the feel of his tongue slipping and sliding around mine. I loved his kisses. I needed them. I bent my knee and pulled it back with one hand. Tristan used more lube and crammed three fingers in. It hurt, and I closed my eyes. The dildo felt about the same. It forced me open, but I told myself to relax, to let it happen, to enjoy it. This was for the best. I needed this.

BOOK: Bankers' Hours
11.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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