Page 22 of Room 810

In reward, I watched Gabriel’s camera inch down his body. I was so distracted I almost forgot what I was supposed to be doing, but he paused at that same infuriating spot, on the cusp of revealing the best part. Whining, I tilted my own camera down so he could watch me unbutton my shorts, lowering the zipper tooth by tooth.

“Mm, you shaved,” he pointed out.

“Waxed,” I said, correcting him, “so it’s nice and smooth.” To demonstrate, I ran my hand over my skin, lower into my shorts, and stroked myself out of view behind the fabric. These shorts weren’t meant to contain an erection, though, and things were quickly getting uncomfortable. There was only one thing to be done… I gripped my shaft and brought it out.

He made the most glorious sound. I saw his hand snake down his body, working at himself off-screen. “Show me,” I gasped, panting.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. It really was. I got a full view of his luscious cock, close enough to the camera that I could see the bead of precum glistening on the tip. I could almost taste it.

I squeezed my fingers around the base, drawing my hand up to the tip, and my balls drew up, sending warmth all through me.

“Gods, Toby,” he groaned, fisting his cock. “I w—I want…”

“Tell me,” I urged. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

He whimpered. “Your ass. I want to see how slick you are for me.”

Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my shorts, I shucked them in one move and kicked them aside, then I knelt on the chair, offering my ass to the camera. “Like this?” One hand still working my shaft, I used the other to peel my cheeks apart. I couldn’t see him like this, but I could hear him, and it was almost more erotic this way. I slid my hand through the slippery excretions and eased a finger inside my tight entrance, and the sound Gabriel made was almost inhuman.

“Add another finger,” he whispered, struggling to form words.

I did as he said, and when two fingers wasn’t enough, I added a third, pumping my hands back and forth at both ends. “Gabe,” I grunted, edging closer to my climax. “I wish this was your cock in my ass. You fill me so good. I miss the way you fuck me.”

“Toby,” he forced out, right before I heard him cry out, and I knew he was coming.

Heat burst through me, and I saw stars as I followed right behind him, my channel clenching around my fingers and cum spooling from my tip onto the chair beneath me. Easing my fingers free, I flopped onto the chair, avoiding the mess, and I got a perfect view up the length of Gabriel’s body, dick sated and softening, pool of cum across his stomach, heaving as he struggled to draw breath, and in the background, his eyes fluttering closed in sleepy bliss.

“Tell me how you taste,” I coaxed. If I was going to lose him, I would push my luck at every opportunity.

He gave me a lazy smirk, trailing a finger through the pool of cum and giving it a lick. “Warm, musky and salty. Nowhere near as good as you taste, though.”

We were on a dangerous path, and I knew I needed to let him go if I had any chance of keeping my heart intact. “Must be all the tropical fruit I eat,” I said, a nice safe answer, while I wished I could offer him a taste straight from the source instead. “Thanks for that, but it’s still early here, and I have work to do. I’d better go.”

He seemed a little disappointed, but he nodded and sat up, the camera moving back to just his face. “Right. Well, be sure to give me a call if you have any more questions for me.” Because we both knew that I couldn’t seem to say goodbye. And then, right before the call ended, he winked! I must’ve been rubbing off on him.

I laughed and put the phone down. Even though I missed him like crazy, seeing him however briefly was like a hit of drugs; it didn’t help me get over him, but it soothed the withdrawal. I told myself I would wean myself off slowly. All I needed was a little more time before I could let him go for good.

13

Gabriel

Iwashavingthebest dream. There were gripping fingers and flashes of skin, gasps and moans, an ache building, but when I rolled over in bed and reached for Toby, finding instead the cold, empty spot beside me, it all came crashing down. I reluctantly woke, opening my eyes and knowing what I would see. A hotel room. There was no warm tropical sunshine streaming through the window, no ocean breeze perfuming the air. And no Toby.

It took me a moment to remember where I was. After this long, all the hotels looked the same. Bed made with military precision, sheets bleached within an inch of their lives. Plastic-wrapped water glasses and sample-size shampoos and lotions. It was generic and bland, and I was struggling to find a way to make the review on this particular hotel stand out from all the others just like it. It was adequate, but I was still dreaming of my island paradise.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I threw back the blanket and rolled out of bed, my morning wood reminding me that my dreams were far better than reality. It seemed a cold shower was in order.

I felt a little better after a shower and shave, tugging on my newly purchased slacks and polo shirt. Routine. Yes, that was what I needed. The comfort of my planned schedule, nothing unexpected.

After making myself a coffee from the single-serve coffee pod, I booted up my computer to get a little work done before breakfast in the restaurant downstairs. The Scarlet Hotel file stared back at me from my desktop, still unfinished. Gods, what was wrong with me? It had been weeks, and I still hadn’t finished it. I’d never procrastinated this hard about anything in my life, but every time I sat down to work on it, I found myself making excuses. So, what was one more day? Instead of writing the review, I opened my email. And groaned.

I felt like the entire world was conspiring against me. Instead of ignoring the message in my inbox like I was sorely tempted to do, I took a bracing breath and clicked on it.

To:Barclay, GabrielFrom:Sheen, SawyerSubject:Please stop ignoring me!

Gabriel,

I’m going to assume you’re reading this and haven’t just dumped it straight in the trash like I’m sure you’ve done to every single email I’ve sent you over the past three weeks. You have to open one of them eventually, right? If not this one, then the next one or the one after that… I’ll never stop sending them, so it’s best if you just get this over with.

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