Page 51 of Putting Down Roots

He grins slyly.

“That had been my plan all along.” I shake my head at the marvel that is Luca—who can sometimes be withdrawn and shy and at other times have these complex plans—but he still has further surprises.

“I want to ride you.”

Hells yes!

As the sky lightens, he kneels astride me. I reach for the lube and squeeze some into my fingers to stretch him first, then squeeze some more on my cock before he lowers himself onto me. He pushes himself onto me quickly and I feel how tight he is—a gasp escapes me. He’s grinning in delight. As he moves his hips up and down, he grasps his own cock. My view of the sunrise on midsummer’s day, is my boyfriend silhouetted against the oranges and pinks of the sky—riding me—with his back arched and bringing himself to peak pleasure. In that moment, the sight of it is enough to take me over the edge, and I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. He comes a heartbeat later and I draw him down onto my chest. We lay and watch the rest of the sunrise together.

CHAPTER 44

Jackson

“Thanks mate.”The last of the new signs for the gardens have been loaded into the van.

“Sorry again about you having to come over for them,” the sign maker says. “My van will be back on the road on Monday.”

“No worries.” I need the signs for tomorrow—Sunday. We only have two weeks until we finally open to the public, and Keith has promised to come and help put them up.

“You’ve done a good job.” I mean it. The signs are beautiful and well made.

“Well, we had good artwork to work with.” The designs are Luca’s. He’s chosen a cherry blossom motif. The beauty of it struck him, and when I said that it was a symbol of survival, new beginnings, going forward, and love, he wanted to use it. He’s adopted the cherry blossom for a tattoo as well—another of his designs. He has it inked onto his back, on his right side, in mirror of my own. The delicate pink blossoms against Luca’spale skin and dark features are stunning. I love to trace the pattern with my fingers, across his shoulders and down his back to his delicious butt. I need to stop there. It’s a long drive back to Larchdown, and it’ll feel even longer if I have to drive back uncomfortably aroused.

I close the doors and climb back into the van. It’s late afternoon and I have a couple of hours’ drive ahead of me, so I want to get on my way.

As I get closer to home, I notice black clouds amassing on the horizon, right over Larchdown Valley. I’m not aware of a storm forecast, but the weather can change quickly sometimes. The wind has slowly been growing stronger as I head east. The sky goes dark, and I hear a rumble of thunder. It gathers into a crescendo of noise, just before a jagged spurt of lightning flashes. A minute or two later, the rain falls. It looks like it’s in sheets, and the wind lashes it straight into the windscreen. I have to slow down as visibility reduces. I’m still ten minutes from home, but with the slower speed it’s going to take me longer. The rain doesn’t ease up. There are a few more lightning flashes and lots of thunder.

I reach the village—it’s dark. It looks like the lights might be out, possibly from the lightning. Now I feel anxious, eager to be at home, to make sure all is okay.

The house is also in darkness as I race up the drive. Jumping out of the van, I dash to the house. My t-shirt is soaked before I’ve got halfway to the front door.

“Luca!” I call, as soon as I’m through the door. I can hardly see anything. The storm seems to need to show some more anger, and a lightning flash is followed by a loud thunder crash. It sounds like the storm’s overhead.

“Luca!” I frantically race from room to room looking for him, and when I can’t find him on the ground floor, I head upstairs. After a few minutes I still can’t find him, and I’m getting worried.He can’t be outside, can he?

I head back down to the hallway.

“Luca!” Another lightning flash, and this time I see the cellar door’s open—I hadn’t noticed it the first time. I’ve only been down there once before, a few weeks ago, to fetch a bottle of wine. The door is under the stairs and easy to miss. But I also know that Luca never goes down to the cellar—it’s too much of a bad memory.

“Luca?” I call, as I descend the stone steps. The temperature drops, and in my wet t-shirt I can feel how cold it is.

“Luca?” I call again. It’s pitch black, even the low light of a storm-laden sky cannot light where there are no windows. I think I hear a noise—a slight scuff.

“Luca?” I try again. Then comes a sob. I need no more help, and I home in on the sound. I find Luca huddled on the floor. Another sob escapes him. I fear he’s having a panic attack.

“Shhh, it’s ok, I’m here.” I touch him and he flinches. I know it’s just a reaction, but it breaks my heart.

“It’s okay, it’s me,” I say soothingly, and gather him in my arms. He puts his head against my chest.

He says nothing for a long while, and I just hold him tight.

“Jackson?” he whispers.

“Right here, baby.” I say into his hair.

“You’re wet.”

I chuckle slightly, partly amused and a whole lot relieved. If he notices that, he might not be as bad as I first thought.

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