Page 34 of The Missing Ingredient

“Went onto a couple of gay porn sites with guys going for it. To be honest, it didn’t really do anything for me at first. Not until I stumbled on one guy built a lot like you. Totally different face, but when I covered that with my hand and thought of you… well, let’s just say we definitely had liftoff. And now I can think of nothing else. Certainly gave me some ideas for Friday. So come on, talk to me. If I was with you now, what wouldyoulike to do tome?”

And there it was. In reality, Marcus would have liked to have tapped Tom’s fine ass on Friday, but he knew the idea might freak the man. In his early twenties, Marcus had bottomed twice, but both times he’d never really felt it, not the way some of his bottom partners had, rolling their eyes back, genuinely aroused and stimulated beneath him. Maybe that’s simply how he was built. Or maybe he’d never been with the right man. But if that’s what it took to get Tom Bradford in his bed, then he would get himself physically—and, moreover, mentally—prepared. Still, there was something else he had always wanted to do to Tom Bradford.

“I’d pull down your sweat bottoms and suck you dry.”

“Details. Give me details.”

“Tom. Can we have real sex before we get into the phone variety?”

“Spoilsport.”

“Not really. I want to know what sex with you actually feels like before we resort to talking about it. You know, I want to know what it’s like with our hot bodies wrapped around each other, or to suck you into my hot moist mouth while my lips squeeze around the head of your cock and my tongue caresses around the salty head before I take you deep in my throat and swallow hard. Or the sensation of straddling your lap with you buried deep inside me. Especially while I’m lubed up and nuzzling your ear and neck, or licking and biting your hardened nipples while I ride you home like a seasoned jockey. Should I go on?”

Tom’s ragged voice came down the phone. “You bastard.”

“Gay phone sex is a breeze. It’s the real deal beneath the sheets that matters.”

They both fell silent for a moment, Marcus enjoying the simple sound of Tom breathing down the phone.

“Can I ask you something else?” came Tom’s voice.

“Anything.”

“Why were you never with anyone? In all the time we knew you, I don’t think you ever introduced us to anyone.”

“Nobody fancied me.”

“Bullshit. I don’t believe that for a second. What’s the real reason?”

“Honestly? I did meet a couple of people, but none were keepers. Maybe it’s because no matter how I tried, I never found anyone who lived up to you and Raine?”

“So what? It was our fault? We ruined you?”

“You didn’t ruin me, but—I don’t know—everyone needs role models, something to aspire to. And you two did set the bar pretty bloody high.”

At the mention of Tom’s late wife, Marcus thought back to the telephone call he had made the previous day.

“Tom, how old is your father?”

“Seventy-three. Why?”

“And Moira’s sixty-nine, yes?”

“Yes. Why the interest? Is this about their anniversary?”

“What anniversary?”

“They’ll have been married fifty years this year. But if you were thinking about offering to do something special for them, they’ve already said they don’t want anything overelaborate. Just a small dinner with close friends and family.”

Marcus mulled the words over, wondering if now would be a good time to tell Tom what he’d found out about the day Raine died. Whether wise or not, he decided against it, not wanting to ruin the intimate moment they were having together. As though he’d heard Marcus’s thoughts, Tom’s voice came down the phone.

“I wish you were here. Lying next to me.”

“So do I.”

“Are we still good for seven on Friday?”

“Yes. I’m off the whole day.”

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