Page 83 of The Retreat

“Owen…” His voice tells me he’s fully immersed in pleasure.

“If you try and speed this up, I’m going to make you wait.”

He whimpers my name again, and I take my time with slow thrusts, watching myself go deeper with each one until finally my hips slam into his ass. He gasps, grabbing my wrist. I dig my fingers into his flesh, pulling back to drive myself fully into him over and over.

“You’re going to make me come,” Colin gasps through moans.

“Wait.”

He presses his face into his arm, his whole body shaking, but he holds it off. I grab the bottom of his throat, using the leverage to pull him back on to my cock, unable to take my eyes off of him. We were made to fit. Our bodies come together, and it almost makes me believe there is good in this world.

“Come for me,” I say when I’m close, and we go off like fireworks.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Colin

This morning, I’m exhausted. I had a tournament last weekend, and this weekend I’m in California to watch Owen. I’ve gotten special permission from the school to attend online lectures in order to travel with him to keep up the appearance of our marriage. A perk of being married to a Godfrey that I am taking full advantage of, as well as the school taking advantage of the free publicity.

Owen was up before the sun for warm-ups and strategy meetings while they have breakfast as a team. I don’t expect to see him before his first match.

It’s given me time to lay in bed and think.

Last night was amazing.

Intense.

Perfect.

I smile that smile of teenage crushes, belly flutters, and pink cheeks. The kind of feelings that Hallmark puts in all of their Christmas movies.

He commanded me in every way. Stole my breath.

But what does it mean? Does he want to do it again, or did it cement that he’s not interested?

“Uuuuugh!” I scrub my hands over my face, annoyed at myself.

If he wants to do it again, I’m good with it. If he doesn’t, we’ll make it work. There’s plenty of other ways to get each other off.

Forcing myself out of bed, I get in the shower, jack off to the memories of him stretching me, and lay around until I have to get ready to head to the arena to watch him.

There’s a lot of pressure in these events, and even the families feel it, but my experience has been pure chaos. With Owen being the poster boy for gay fencing, the media and tabloids have subjected me to all means of harassment. They’ve become obsessed with our sex life. Jokes on them, we’ve only fucked once. I even had someone follow me into the bathroom once to ask me who the man was in our relationship. It’s gotten so bad. Owen had to hire a guard to come with me to this weekend’s matches.

I’d thought Owen had been exaggerating when he told me how bad it was with the media, but it seemed to get worse with every passing week and the better he fenced. Since the media has been so bad, I’ve been a little more careful about what I wear to these events. Owen and Oliver are always impeccably dressed, even at home, and the last thing I want to do is embarrass Owen or give the team a reason to give him shit. Especially since they will be going internationally. We are representing the USA, and I don’t want to jeopardize any opportunities.

Since we’re in Santa Clara, it’s cool but nothing like the freezing temperature of New York City right now. So no snarky, sexually suggestive crop tops. In public.

My distressed AMIRI black skinny jeans with leather patches look painted on. The black AllSaints lace up boots make me feel like I’m going to kick some ass. And the white button-up Billy Reid Oxford shirt rolled up to the elbows brings it together. I look sexy as fuck, with my stacks of bracelets on each wrist and a few chunky rings. Deciding I don’t want to deal with my hair, I pull it back into a messy bun just as Roberts–my guard–knocks.

“How do I look, Roberts?” I strike a pose for him.

“Twink-ish as usual,” he says without really looking at me. “Ready? The car is here.”

“You keep me humble, big man.”

He gets us down to the car with no issues, which is normal. It’s when we get inside that it’s iffy. Oliver is in the car when I slip in, and I jump.

“Will you give a guy some warning?” I put a hand over my heart.

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