Page 24 of Best Man
He looks towards it and back at me. “Is it not comfortable? Are the sheets polyester?”
“No.” I gape at him. “Can you really not see the problem?” He shrugs. “There’s only one bed,” I say impatiently. He stares at me and I launch into problem-solving. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. But luckily there’s a sofa. I’ll sleep on that.”
He starts to laugh again. “Zeb, it’s like meeting a stranger. You didn’t thinkanyof this through, did you? What ishappeningto you?”
I shrug, feeling my cheeks flush to my horror. “It was a bit of an impulsive move,” I finally admit.
He smiles at me kindly. “Well, luckily I excel in those,” he murmurs. “I’ll guide you along.”
“May God help me.”
He chuckles. “Listen, that sofa is as uncomfortable of a piece of furniture as I’ve ever sat on. There is no way you’re sleeping on that while we’re here.” He shrugs. “There’s an easy solution to all of this.”
“Get another room and tell people that you’re saving yourself for marriage?” I say glumly, and he laughs, his whole face lighting up and those warm eyes of his limpid and clear.
“No, silly. We’ll just share the bed.”
“Oh my God.” I sigh and lean back, covering my eyes. “I’m your bloody boss. You can’t share a bed with me.”
Warm fingers cover my hands, and he prises them away from my face. I blink as I see his pretty face close up. “If it makes you feel any better,” he says solemnly, “we’ll put a pillow between us, each keep one foot on the floor at all times, and I promise to hide the key to my chastity belt.”
I shake my head, only realising that he’s still touching my face when his fingertips slide across my skin. I repress a shiver.
He smiles and steps back, adjusting the towel around his waist. “Zeb, we’re both adults, and it’s time you realised it. We’re both perfectly capable of sharing a bed without leaping on each other the moment the lights go out.”
I swallow hard.Speak for yourself,I think.It’s getting increasingly difficult for me to keep my hands off you. Instead of saying the words, I send my face into its customary polite mask. It’s stood me well over the years, covering up my occasional shyness and the resulting awkwardness. I found a long time ago that people largely accept the face you show to the world. I’m not sure it works with him, however, because his eyes sharpen as if he’s looking inside me, and those eyes turn kind and warm.
“If this is a problem,” he says slowly, all mirth gone, “I’ll get another room. Fuck everyone else’s opinion. You’re the important one in this situation, not any of those probably snotty bastards.”
I blink. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.
“Oh, there’s no need,” I say softly, incredibly touched by the passion and heat in his voice. It’s odd to have someone so focused on me and my feelings. I’m not entirely sure it’s comfortable though, so I stand up. “Never mind,” I say briskly. “We’ll work it out. Thank you for being so patient.”
His eyes sharpen as he stares at me, then, after a long second, they soften again. “You don’t need to thank me for being patient. Don’t ever thank me for that.”
I study him, wondering what he’s thinking, before realising that I probably look like an idiot at the moment. “Never mind,” I say quickly. “I’m going to shower and change for dinner.” I look at his current outfit. “You’ll need to wear your suit.”
“Never crossed my mind not to,” he says glumly. “I’d probably wear court robes if I had any.”
I shake my head. “Well, I’m just going to shower,” I say again, slightly awkwardly, compounding my idiocy by pointing at the bathroom door as if he doesn’t know where it is. His mouth twitches, and he stands up and stretches.
I watch all the muscles move languorously under his skin, sliding like silk, and feel my cock thicken. “You do that,” he says throatily.
Once I’m inside the bathroom, I lean back against the door and shake my head, groaning silently. Against my will, my hand strays down to my cock which is pushing impudently against my jeans. Isuppress a moan but can’t help stroking along its length, the rough denim catching my nerves and making them sparkle.
Through the door I hear thumping and then the sound of “Fine Time” by New Order starting to play. I shake my head as Bernard Sumner begins to sing about age. I strip off quickly, feeling the cooler air strike against my hot skin. I start the water in the shower and step into the huge enclosure, inhaling the scent of green tea that lies heavy on the damp air.
The spray cascades over me. He has it set to a harder pressure than I normally do, and I reach out to lower it, but the water strikes my nipples at that point and the pleasure sparkling through me makes me groan low. I stiffen, but I’m pretty sure that the noise of the shower and his music is covering my sounds.
I reach over and fill my palm with the shower gel in a green bottle. It’s only when the rich scent of green tea fills the shower enclosure that I realise it isn’t mine but his. I bite my lip and consider washing it off, but without any thought my hand lowers to my dick, and I grasp it tightly.
The shaft is engorged, the skin tight, and just the touch of my fingers makes me jerk.
“Fuck,” I gasp, and tighten my grip and shuttle my cock through it. I shouldn’t be doing this here, but I’m too far gone to pay attention to the active part of my brain.It doesn’t matter,I tell myself.Everyone does it. But even as I think that, an image comes into my head of Jesse on his knees in front of me, all that shiny hair wet and clinging to the sharp bones of his face. He has his mouth open and I grab his hair and push his head back, shoving my cock into his mouth. His lips are swollen and tight around the shiny length of my cock, and despite my brain screaming at me to stop this, lightning pools in my balls and I come with a heavy grunt all over the glass doors of the shower.
I lean back against the wall, panting and feeling its coldness against my hot skin as the water rushes over me, washing away the come clinging to my cockhead. I scrub my head against the unforgiving glass.What the fuck is wrong with me?I am a forty-four-year-old man stuck in a hotel room sharing a bed with my twenty-four-year-old employee. And with only a door separating us, I just wanked over theimage of forcing my cock down his throat. I wonder wildly whether this is some sort of midlife crisis.
JESSE
