Page 64 of Famous Last

“I think you can probably work that one out,” said Spencer, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

“Right at this moment, if you could have anything in the world from me, Spence, tell me what that would—”

Spencer’s patience gave out.

“Stop teasing me! I wantyou. I just wantyou. Please.Now.”

With a grunt, Marshall began the slow writhing dance of bodies. Spencer found the pain and pressure subsiding, replaced by a slow build of pleasure. Marshall moved purposely slowly, too carefully, until Spencer wrapped his legs around his lower back and began to push against him, encouraging him and wanting more.

Inevitably—and far too soon—his body began the delicious but irreversible headlong rush towards orgasm. Marshall drove into him, exactly where he needed him, wanted him, until he grabbed for his own cock and pulled a couple of times, issuing a wanton moan as his muscles clenched tightly, his legs wrapping firmly around Marshall as he spurted warm liquid onto his chest and stomach. And as the muscled strength in his legs subsided along with his twice-spent body, he felt Marshall thrusting erratically and shuddering on top of him, felt sure he sensed the condom inside him filling with warmth.

Spencer blinked his eyes, blissed out and sublime, unable to move. He barely noticed Marshall rise from the bed and disappear for a moment before returning with a warm damp cloth and dry towel. Spencer opened his eyes again to watch as Marshall gently cleaned him then lay back down again, their heads touching on the bedclothes. Spencer reached down to knit his fingers with Marshall’s.

“Hey, I’ve got an interview tomorrow with Ed Coleman, editor-in-chief of theNational Herald. Did you happen to have anything to do with that?”

“I’m not going to lie. We met up last week about some other things and I might have mentioned you. But just so you know, someone else already put him onto you. He likes your work, Spence, and he’s been meaning to contact you, but I think I might have given him the nudge he needed.”

Someone else had recommended him? Spencer wondered who else knew about his work and also knew Ed.

“Well, anyway, thank you for that. I’m seeing him at ten tomorrow. What’s he like?”

Marshall admired Ed, who he described as a no-nonsense, hard-working journalist, someone who had made his way to the top in an undeniably tough and cut-throat industry. Marshall talked about hotspots around the world they had visited together, adding anecdotes of their time in the field.

“By the way, I need to leave very early tomorrow morning for a prior commitment. Hope you understand?”

“Of course,” said Spencer, staring up at the ceiling. He had been hoping they might have breakfast together before he headed for his interview. “That’s fine.”

“Oh, heavens, Spencer,” said Marshall, pulling Spencer into his arms. “You think I wouldn’t rather be here with you? Of course I would. But I’m helping pack and deliver food parcels and Christmas presents for the homeless, something we doevery Christmas. It’s a UK-based charitable organisation I’ve supported for many years. But we’re having to do it in shifts this year and I happen to have picked the early morning shift. Originally they said they only needed my face as an ambassador, but I prefer to get stuck in and help with the heavy lifting, so to speak. What they’re doing is vital, especially this year with the virus taking away a lot of people’s livelihoods. We’re not the only country in the world where the number of homeless has risen at a time of year when people should be preparing to celebrate the festive season with their families and loved ones. So I want to help where I can. What I’m doing is a drop in the ocean, but I like to think that every tiny bit helps.”

“Now I feel dreadful. If I didn’t have an interview to stress over, I’d join you.”

“Tell you what,” said Marshall. “Come back here tomorrow night and I’ll cook you dinner. I’d like to hear about your interview. And I want to pamper you for a change. Deal?”

“Definitely. I’ll head home after the interview, feed her ladyship, and pack a bag. What time shall I come back?”

“Six too early?”

Spencer leaned in and kissed Marshall.

“Six is perfect.”

Chapter Seventeen

The second time Spencer awoke he was alone.

Much earlier that morning, he had sensed Marshall trying to slip quietly out of bed, but the man had not been able to resist leaning over and kissing a bleary, half-awake Spencer. After which, they’d made out until Marshall had pushed his body gently away and insisted he go back to sleep and wake refreshed for his interview. At first Spencer had complained, wanting to spend the precious few morning moments in the shower with Marshall—until being reminded that they would be together again later that evening.

Right now, everything in Marshall’s huge bed felt soft and comfortable and excessive. He pulled one of the fine cotton pillows from the other side of the bed and pressed his face into the softness, the scent of Marshall still lingering in the fabric. Certain parts of his body ached, but not in an unpleasant way. If Marshall had remained in bed with him, he would have happily instigated another round of lovemaking. Pushing the pillow away, he stretched his arms out across the mattress and grinned at the ceiling before pulling his knees up to his chest.

Rather than lying naked, overthinking things, he swung his legs to the side of the mattress and sat up. After pushing his hands through his hair, he noticed the blurry outline of a blue Post-It note stuck to the bedside clock. He snatched up his glasses and read the words.

Morning, Sleepyhead. Follow the Post-It trail. Next stop, kitchen.

Spencer laughed softly to himself. Even though the clock read seven-thirty, and he felt sure no house staff would enter the apartment without knocking, he pulled on a pair of track pants and a white tee before jumping onto the carpeted floor.

In the kitchen, he spied a yellow note affixed to an impressive stainless steel coffee machine, not dissimilar to his parents’ new purchase. Beneath the spout sat an empty white mug with the red logo of a news television channel.

Press the caffè latte button and wait. Next stop, living room.

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