Bombora Read online

  Damn if he wasn’t the most gorgeous person—not man, person—I’d ever seen in my life, wearing an impeccably tailored gray suit as easily as he wore his dark hair and incredible eyes, bright even in the dim lighting of the bar. The whole look-don’t-touch idea went bust when I let my eyes linger a moment too long on his mouth. Plenty of men have gorgeous lips, cocksucking lips, and I suppose in some circles I’m considered one of ’em. But this man… you couldn’t look at a mouth like that and think about anything but sin.

  I tried so hard not to stare, but it was too late. He caught me out and turned the full force of those eyes towards me, gaze flicking up and down over my seated form in quick assessment. I couldn’t for the life of me look away, though I frantically reminded myself talking to anyone wasn’t part of the plan. When a slow smile curled those criminally full lips and he tilted his head in invitation, I was up and wandering closer before I registered my feet upon the ground. My face and neck flamed with the force of my blush. This was retarded; Hugh’s favorite joke was that I could impregnate women with a look. Nate Fessenden didn’t get embarrassed. I was being retarded.

  Attempting to man up and bite the bullet, I smiled and said, “Hey,” throat tight. At the sound of my voice, his smirk widened and he met my gaze with a hell of a lot more gumption than I felt. “Can I buy you another drink?” I offered. We were both drinking Scotch, from the looks of it, and I was relieved he wasn’t holding an appletini or something equally embarrassing.

  After that, the details were blurry. His name was Phel—Phelan. I gave a fake name, Nate Smith, which felt awkward and wrong on my tongue but marginally less terrifying than telling him my real identity. Still, intensity crackled between us like something out of the Harlequin novels Emilia read on weekends, heady and thick. It was a sharp reminder I’d never felt anything so potent toward a woman—hell, not even another man. I’d felt it from seven feet away, and the feeling was even stronger up close as I breathed in Phelan’s musky, soapy cologne and the subtle scent of whatever product he’d used in his hair.

  I was shocked by his forwardness, which was nothing I hadn’t encountered before, but never with such… style. Phel seemed uninterested in mincing words about what we both wanted, choosing instead to demonstrate his interest in me. No question what we were going back to his apartment to do. I’m a pretty confident guy, but Phelan’s self-assuredness blew me away, left me too dumbstruck to do anything but follow him out of the bar. His arm around my waist all but anchored me to the decision I’d taken a scant thirty seconds to make. Amazing how easy it is to cheat, once you get down to it. I wanted him, pure and simple, with more force and more certainty than I’d ever wanted or known anything in my life. Gay, straight, bi… it didn’t matter. There was just this, this, this.

  Fortunately, Phel didn’t live far. We came to an old limestone church that looked like it’d been built in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century, and I didn’t realize until we walked in the front door that it was a residence, not a place of worship. The interior was gorgeous and masculine, renovated with lots of glass, marble, and steel to offset carefully preserved arched doorways and stained glass windows that hinted what the building had once been. Its effect was of a pastiche palace. Located in the heart of Columbus, this building screamed wealth and status.

  As we passed the concierge on our way to the elevators, we were greeted with a nod and a respectful “Good evening, gentlemen.” Phel showed no concern if the man noticed our possessive arms around each other, though to be fair we hadn’t even kissed yet. After all those flirtatious touches at the bar, Phel’s breath hot in my ear when he invited me back to his home, telling me how much he wanted to see how I looked in his bed… holy shit. I was so desperate to taste him I felt drunk with it, but he kept his hands to himself even after we stepped into the elevator, leaning against the opposite wall with this look on his face that promised way more than I could fathom at the time.

  Nate Fessenden, I thought, you are out of your motherfucking depth.

  I tried to distract myself by studying the expert craftsmanship of our surroundings, noting that nothing was shoddy or cheap or half-assed, not like so many cookie-cutter developments these days. Occupational hazard. The building’s foyer looked like something worthy of the Pope. Not that I guessed otherwise, but it was obvious Phelan shelled out to live here, and part of me was as curious to see his apartment as I was eager to get him behind closed doors. I had no idea what I’d do once we got there, beyond taking his clothes off and making him moan. Mostly I just needed to get my hands on him.

  We rode the elevator up a couple of floors, and it dinged open to reveal a dimly lit hallway. There were only two doors, one at either end, and I followed Phelan to the one on the left. He slid his key into the lock with steady hands and gestured for me to enter with a serene expression. Greeting me was a wide, artwork-lined hallway paneled in rich cherrywood, the light fixtures reflecting back at themselves from the polished marble floors. I could see where the hallway opened up to a large kitchen and dining room, and beyond, an industrial-looking staircase that led to the rest of the house. Work had brought me to some pretty fancy homes in my day, but aside from Hugh’s SoCal palace, this was the first time I’d ever been a guest someplace so lavish. I had no idea what Phel did for a living, but it definitely wasn’t construction. I glanced over at him with my eyebrows raised when he acknowledged his home with little more than a sigh, for a moment only resembling any old nine-to-fiver returning to the nest after a long day at the office. He tossed his keys into an elaborate-looking metal bowl on the hall table.

  Overwhelmed, I indulged myself a moment to take it all in, leaning back against the door and pushing my shirtsleeves up above my elbows. My discarded blazer hung loose in one hand. Though the night air outside was cool, it felt over a hundred degrees inside; I was unbearably warm and growing warmer. My eyes fixed on Phelan’s back as he shrugged out of his own suit jacket, looking slim and calm and collected, the thin material of his cherry blossom-pink shirt pulling attractively tight across his shoulders.

  The flash of hunger I felt when he turned to look at me must have transmitted, because he was in front of me within seconds, lips inches from mine, hands ready to fist the fabric of my button-down. Those haunting eyes of his were even more incredible up close, lashes as long and full as a girl’s, irises bluer than the plumage of one of those birds of paradise you see on the Discovery Channel.

  “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I breathed incredulously, heart pounding, and my chest ached at the throaty laugh Phel gave in response.

  Unexpectedly, almost shyly, his gaze flicked over to the rest of the apartment that was visible beyond the hallway. “Do you want the tour, or a drink?” he asked.

  All nerves, I chuckled. “Not really, man.” I wouldn’t have minded a glass of water and the opportunity to check out the kitchen finishes, compare notes for the renovation Emilia and I had been discussing for a while, but obviously I wasn’t going to say that out loud.

  My answer earned me a sly smile. “Good.” Phel’s hands settled lightly upon my chest and slid up to the collar of my shirt. His thumbs proceeded to play with the button at my throat below where I’d undone the first couple. “I wasn’t joking when I said I wanted to see how you looked in my bed,” he informed me, “but I’d settle for getting you out of these clothes first.”

  “I’d settle for kissing you first,” I countered, swallowing.

  He shrugged and leaned forward enough that I felt his breath tickle my teeth; the slightest movement of my head made our noses bump and our lips brush. So fucking close. “No reason we can’t accomplish both at once,” he amended, and with that there was no more talking, and our mouths finally fused together with all the weight of our anticipation.

  Phelan’s kisses were way too forceful and dirty for the composed demeanor he’d presented at the bar, and I quickly found myself pressed back against the door with a thigh between my legs, my mouth opening on a gasp to le
t Phel’s tongue inside. He kissed hot and powerful, self-assured, and I felt like I was being claimed or something. Stop being a pussy, I coached myself. This I could do, and there was no way I’d let myself be a freaking bystander while my mouth got all but ravaged by someone this insanely hot. “Passive” wasn’t how I wanted this encounter to go down in memory. I’d show him forceful and dirty, all right. I could give as much as I took.

  Once he worked open the buttons of my shirt and skimmed his palms over my chest, I grabbed Phelan round the waist and turned so our positions were reversed, bearing him against the door. The impact was a bit harder than intended, rattling the wood in its frame. Although I winced at that, Phel inhaled sharply into my mouth, pushing back with his hips but otherwise unable to shove me off. I had a couple of inches and a good thirty or so pounds on him, despite the breadth of his shoulders and his muscular legs, and keeping him in place was enough of a struggle to make it hot.

  With one hand around his slender wrists, I was able to pin his arms high above his head, fumbling with his tie and the buttons of his shirt while he purred nonsense at me and bit kisses to my neck and jaw. His chest was beautiful, lean and spare as the rest of him. I couldn’t resist the small groan that escaped me as our skin pressed together. By then my body felt like a construction site: nipples hard enough to cut glass, cock swollen enough to pound nails. The last time I’d been this turned-on was… never. Never with Emilia, never with anyone. I couldn’t help but think of the first time I’d let another man go down on me, how sharp the arousal had been then too—this was like that, times a billion.

  Once we were half-undressed, it was easy to keep going and reach for Phel’s belt buckle, the fastenings of his pants. Our lurching hips made progress a bit complicated, but he favored me with a sound of such ecstasy, once I reached inside his boxers and wrapped my hand around his cock, that I probably would have chewed through leather to get to him. I wanted to swoon like a fucking maiden at the feel of that heavy dick in my hand, and he was so wet for me, so hot, I felt the shiver start in my shoulders and travel down to my feet.

  Like most good Midwestern boys, Phel was circumcised. It was similar enough to my own that I started pumping my fist up and down his length without having to think too hard about the mechanics. We seemed to like a lot of the same things, if his moans were anything to go by, except for where I preferred a faster jack, he made the most noise when I slowed the pace and concentrated on long, firm strokes from base to tip, pausing to catch and swirl my thumb in the precome easing the way.

  The sight of him flushed and vulnerable in my arms just about undid me. After trailing my lips up his neck, I paused to tongue his ear before I pressed my mouth to his once more, I felt almost as wanton as he looked, trying to reap as much friction as possible by thrusting my crotch against my own forearm. As soon as I let go of his wrists, Phelan’s hands were everywhere, clutching at my shoulders, my back, my hair. Holding us together. I wanted so badly to make him come right there, but that seemed a bit crass, considering we hadn’t made it past the front foyer. Plus I got the feeling he wouldn’t be pleased to ruin his expensive suit.

  As I started to slow down, Phel made a noise of frustration and cursed, “Fuck, Nate,” his hips hitching a little in my direction. “Why’d you stop?”

  I couldn’t suppress a laugh at the pissed-off look on his face. “Because. It’s early and I think we’re just getting started, yeah?” I had no idea what time it was, nor the day or year. “I really want to see you naked. Besides, I’m sure your dry cleaner will thank me.” When he grimaced rather adorably, I released his cock with some reluctance and curled that hand around his side, enjoying the slide of bodily fluids against his skin. “Bedroom?” I suggested.

  He nodded and pushed himself away from the wall. “This way,” he directed while toeing off his shoes. I did the same and, accepting his outstretched hand, followed him through the kitchen to the stairs.

  The staircase was made entirely of brushed steel and glass, obviously a modern addition in a very modern space. But save for a few paintings on the walls, there was nothing to indicate a personal touch, no clue this was Phel’s home and no one else’s. I don’t mean I suspected he might have a partner who lived there, or even a roommate—unlikely—but I didn’t see anything of the man in our surroundings. Staged Ikea rooms looked less clinical. Then again, I guess living in a church was statement enough.

  We bypassed the rest of the house to reach his bedroom. On the second and third floors were the living room and study. Maybe there were some extra bedrooms in there somewhere, though I reminded myself that I had no reason or need to acquaint myself with his home.

  I must have made looking around an obvious undertaking. His voice startled me a little, shaking me out of my thoughts.

  “I don’t spend all my time in Columbus,” Phel explained. This was a weird conversation to be having while half-undressed. “Between here and Chicago, I never really have enough time to make either place feel like a home.” He smiled ironically, and I couldn’t resist pulling him to me for a kiss, reveling in how warm and buttery he went in my arms. With his hair spiked up in every direction, he looked like pure sex. Pulling away, he nipped at my bottom lip and added, “A friend always helps solve that, though.”

  On the way to what I assumed was the master bedroom, on the top level, we passed a glass-railed balcony that looked down onto the rest of the apartment, revealing massive arched windows on all sides and a giant fireplace. The grouping of leather couches in the living room made it look like something out of a design magazine. Some adolescent part of me immediately wanted to go have sex on them and rough the place up a bit, leave a mark.

  “Nice digs,” I said, unable to hide my curiosity. I suppose it must have made me look a little materialistic, but I was desperate to discover something about the other man that would take him from a complete stranger to someone familiar. After almost eight years of marriage, I’d forgotten how unnerving it could be to come home with a virtual unknown, and the extent to which you need to compartmentalize to make it seem normal. “What part of the church are we in?”

  “The steeple,” Phel told me with a hint of a smile. “The bedroom’s through here. I’ll give you the tour after, if you like. I wouldn’t mind, ah….” Uncharacteristically, based on what I’d seen so far, Phelan blushed and trailed off.

  The way his eyes ticked over to the living room a floor below us made me think my idle fantasizing wasn’t far off the mark. “Wanna christen the rest of the house, huh?” I offered, taking childlike relish in the pun. I was met by a flash of his eyes and a sharp bite of his lip. Bingo. Nice to know I wasn’t the only one with my mind in the gutter. “Haven’t lived here long, have you?”

  He chuckled. “No, I have. It’s just not like me to bring people home. You’re the first in a long time—since before I lived here, at any rate.” With another subtle inclination of his head, he tugged me toward him and maneuvered us both in the direction of the bedroom.

  “What made me different?” I asked. I bit at his earlobe, palming the small of his back. For some reason the idea made me shiver and go warm with pleasure.

  A hiss emerged from between Phel’s lips as I moved to suck at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, nosing his shirt collar out of the way. I could see the bed just a few steps away now, his room large around us in the darkness. “I told you,” he gasped. “I wanted to see how you looked in my bed.”

  “Well, here we are. Bed.”

  After letting myself be lowered onto the duvet, I pushed up to my elbows to watch as Phel moved around the bed to grab condoms and lube and turn on a lamp. I got a better look at where he slept. Though not brightly lit, the room was industrial and cave-like with its exposed crossbeams, air ducts, and stone walls. The tops of the stained glass windows were visible just past the balcony.

  “I feel like I’ve wandered onto the set of The Hunchback of Notre Dame,” I said. It was easier to comment on that than the condoms and lube, whic
h reminded me I was still undecided as to how things should proceed. I’d fucked a guy only once and was otherwise uninitiated. Thing was, I couldn’t say the idea of Phelan taking me up the ass was remotely a turn-off. In fact, the thought made me shiver a little bit, my cock giving a sharp twitch of agreement.

  Shedding his shirt and dress pants, which he then folded over the back of a chair, Phel lifted his eyebrows at me. “Come now, we’re both far too attractive for that to be true,” he quipped.

  I chuckled at the remark, but it came out sounding like a dirty old man laugh as he stepped out of his underwear and turned to face me, completely naked. His body was better than I’d imagined, pale and wired with muscle, hips bisected by deep cut lines that begged to be tracked with a finger or tongue. Nestled in the bed of dark hair that trailed from his navel, his cock was still half-hard, magnificent, curving in a perfect Playgirl arc down over his balls.

  He flexed his shoulders a little under my gaze. “You’re still not undressed.”

  I didn’t need to be told a third time. While I was shrugging out of my shirt, he came to help remove the rest of my clothing, and I felt my cock jump. Legs on either side of my knee, he unbuckled my pants and slid them down my legs, obligingly pulling my socks off as well. Phel took a step back to look at me. Under the scrutiny I felt both ridiculously exposed and like the hottest guy on the planet; his gaze was so appreciative that I burned all over.

  Before I knew it, Phel had stepped closer again and was kneeling on the floor in front of me, pushing my legs apart with a hand on either of my thighs. His aggressive, businesslike manner excited me, and the mischievous look on his face fired me up even more. I tilted my hips toward him a little in invitation, and all the warning I got was an arched eyebrow and that same enigmatic smile from earlier. Not pausing for breath, he ducked and slipped his mouth over the head of my cock, holding me still, tongue immediately working to send me into overdrive as he swallowed me down. Some adult film actors had to work to make deep-throating seem like a breeze, and never quite managed to hide the instinctive cough or gag. Phel didn’t have to try.