Page 70 of Love in Mission City
His face fell. “My rental unit doesn’t allow pets. I can’t even have a goldfish.”
I felt his pain viscerally. “I own my house. So I make the rules.”
He cocked his head.
Too soon.Still… “Come home with me.”
“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
We took twenty minutes. I organized the boardroom to perfectly reflect the professionalism we intended to portray while Orlando cleaned his jizz off the photocopy machine and ran the garbage, including the used condom, out to the dumpster. Somehow, everything just worked, and soon we were in my car driving due north to my house in the hills north of Mission City. A house I’d designed, of course. A house George had built. The one true point of contention in our divorce.
In the end, I’d bought him out of this as well. I’d offered to design him something else, but he’d refused. Undoubtedly because of pride.
As I turned onto the tree-lined driveway, the motion-activated lights illuminated.
When we got within sight of the house, Orlando gasped. “Oh God, Knight, it’s amazing.”
I tried to see it through his eyes. I’d gone for very west coast modern with unusual geometric shapes and huge expanses of glass. The living room, visible from the driveway, was two stories of glass. Facing south, no less. But I’d used glass that reflected sunlight so the space didn’t overheat. I was conscious of fitting into the environment, even as I’d chosen concrete and steel as my main building elements.
I’d barely put my SUV in park before Orlando leapt out of the vehicle and moved to the front of the house.
I turned off the engine, grabbed my briefcase from the back seat, and joined him.
“This house is spectacular.” He grinned as he met my gaze. “I mean, probably a disaster in an earthquake—”
Nudging his shoulder, I offered a sheepish grin. “I’ve done my best, but nothing will withstand the big one. Until that time, I’ll enjoy the view.” Of nature, of my property…of my little slice of heaven. “Come inside?” A silly question, since truly, where else would he go? Still, I wanted to make it clear he was welcome in my space.
He grinned. “Only if you show me the bedroom first. I want a long hot shower and then for you to fuck me into the mattress. In the morning, you can give me the grand tour.”
Well, okay then. A man who knows what he wants.
And since my cock was very much in agreement, I advanced to unlock the front door, and then held it open for him. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
He went up on his tiptoes and placed a kiss to my lips. “Nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Only later, as he lay replete in my arms, did I contemplate his words. Did that mean no one had ever invited him in before? Or did it mean no one had ever opened their home to him this way? Because, as far as I was concerned, he had the run of the place.
Whatever that meant.
And on that note, I drifted off to sleep.
My alarm, seven hours later, was a rude awakening. I shut it off as Orlando groaned.
“Seriously? It’s still dark. What is it, five?”
I smiled. “Blackout blinds. But closer to six.” I flipped on the bedside lamp which emitted a warm white glow.
He burrowed his head under his pillow.
“Our meeting isn’t for a few hours yet.” I traced the line of his lean frame, down his back, to his flank, and then over to his ass, which I squeezed. “You sore?”
Another groan. “Not really. You were…gentle.” He peeked out from under the pillow. “Might you be more forceful this morning? I like the idea of being a little sore while sitting on the conference room chairs.”
I squeezed his ass again. “Insatiable.”
He grinned. “That’s me.”
“I thought you wanted a tour of the house.”
