Chapter Eleven

Lucas

I woke before the alarm to find Alex still in my arms. I was pressed against his back, my arm around him and he was still asleep, breathing softly. I smiled to myself but anxiety overwhelmed me when I remembered what I had told him last night. Something I’d never told another living soul. Why had I shared it with him?

I’d tried to put the incident from my mind so hard. I hadn’t even rationalised it as a sexual assault before Alex had called it that. Much less the R word. But I knew he was right when I thought about it.

A cold weight settled in my stomach when I remembered our conversation. I should have gone to the police; Alex was right about that too. I had allowed my attackers to get away with it and who knew if they hadn’t done it to someone else after or before me. I had showered in my hotel room after the event, huddled in the bottom of the cubicle. Then I had got dressed and driven back to London without a word to anyone, least of all Adam. He had left me a few angry voicemails but I knew he had accepted that this wasn’t unusual behaviour for me. I liked to hide away; he knew that. The next day I had photographed the bruises on my body. There were many. I was black and blue. The bite mark on my thigh had been visible for weeks. I had to make sure I pulled the sleeves of my shirt down and keep my hands hidden when I went into work after Christmas to hide the evidence of being held down on that bed. The black eye I hid with make-up, but it wasn’t enough. A couple of people asked me about it and I told them I fell over drunk at home after a party. They knew I was lying. I didn’t go to parties.

It was Christmas Day and my birthday. There were several people hoping I might drop in today, including Adam, Charlotte my PA, my friend James, and Heidi and Gordon who had fostered me as a teenager for a few years until I went to university. I would be disappointing all of them. The only place I was going to go was running Alex to his house before I came back here and probably went back to bed.

I stroked Alex’s belly, lingering on the dark hair that ran down in a line to his neatly-trimmed bush, before I moved my fingers up over his chest, tracing them over pecs and nipples. I thought again of how I’d asked him to model for me. I thought about last night and my cock swelled beyond its usual morning glory. He had an exquisite body, lean and subtly muscled and not a spare inch of fat on him. As well as his obvious physical attributes, he was also patient, kind, sweet and funny. A heady combination that stirred parts of me long dead. The night with him had gone some way towards expelling my demons. But he had his own. His mental health. Did I want this to go somewhere and if it did, was I man enough to be strong and supportive?

He made me want to be that man. From the very moment he had stood at my table in the restaurant and said I don’t know why anyone would want to stand you up. But what about the age gap? It was ridiculous. And I didn’t even know how ridiculous. He was in his twenties, wasn’t he? He couldn’t yet be thirty. God, maybe I was looking at twenty years. Or more. I squeezed my eyes shut. What would people say? Not that it was anybody’s business.

I brushed my lips against his neck and inhaled the scent of his lovely soft skin. God, he was beautiful. I had never wanted last night to end, when I was inside him for the second time. Then I had come crashing down to earth with a bang after confessing my terrible shame to him. And yet, I felt lighter for telling someone. The secret of the assault I had carried for twelve long months because I had felt shame that I couldn’t fight the men off, and shame that I wouldn’t be believed because the idea of being manhandled by four male models would be a wet dream come true for most people. Instead, it featured in my nightmares regularly.

Seeing José last night had brought it all back to me. And he’d acted like nothing had happened. That he hadn’t been about to force his cock into me when my phone rang.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tightened my arm around Alex. I wanted to hold onto him now that I’d found him, for as long as I could. And fuck my age, and fuck his age. Fuck that he was a waiter and fuck that I sold fucking underwear.

He stirred against me as I planted soft kisses on his neck where his hair was cut close to his nape. His fingers moved over mine and he stretched. “Sorry to wake you,” I said against his ear. “Hashtag not sorry.”

“Did you just say hashtag?”

“Yeah. I’m down with the kids.”

He laughed. I pressed some more kisses to his neck, inhaling his wonderful scent. Just then my alarm shrilled and I grumbled and rolled away to silence it.

“I have to get ready to go,” he said as I shifted back to him. My arm hovered in the air, about to pull him close again. Disappointed, I lowered it and lay back.

“Of course.” Was it my imagination or had he cooled off overnight?

He cast me a glance over his shoulder as he moved to the edge of the bed, looking around for his clothes. It was nervous, awkward, and my heart sank. Where was last night’s man? I slid out of bed and bent to snag the robe I’d left lying on the floor. Then I crossed to the door and plucked my spare robe from the back, before going back to hand it to him. He looked at me gratefully, obviously not wanting to walk naked to the bathroom.

“Thanks.” He stood and pulled it on and I saw a flash of half-hard cock that made my own harder. “Is it okay if I shower?”

“Yes, be my guest. I’ll go to the other bathroom and I’ll see you downstairs for coffee?”

“Yes,” he said and walked around the bed. As I set off to the door, we almost collided and danced around each other.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry.” I stepped out of the bedroom as I heard the en suite door close with my stomach sinking right down into my bare feet. I went along the landing to the guest room next door. In the chest of drawers there, I kept samples of products I sold. Of course I’d taken note of his underwear last night. He wore white Calvin Klein trunks that fit him just perfectly, moulding to his lean, strong thighs and delicious package. I searched through the underwear in the drawer. There were some recent additions—Christmas themed ones and some Pride ones. I guessed he’d be a medium and after lingering on the more exotic ones, I went with a pair of classic black trunks. My cock twitched as I imagined him in them. I found some socks too—Christmas ones— and I picked a few more pairs of underwear to make them a gift for him and pushed them into a paper sample bag with my company name stencilled on it.

I went back into the bedroom. All was silent in the bathroom when I knocked on the door. “I thought you might need clean underwear and socks,” I said. “I’ll leave them outside.”

“Thanks,” he said.

I’d just finished two lattes and set them down on the island when Alex came downstairs. I’d showered and dressed in a good suit, seeing as it was Christmas Day. And my birthday. I wasn’t going anywhere other than taking him home, but I still wanted to look nice for him. He didn’t need to see me in the joggers I watched Netflix in.

Even if he was giving me the brush off.

He entered the room and his gaze travelled over my body in my suit. There was no mistaking the interest in his eyes and it made my dick start to harden. I gestured to his latte. He hovered, looking at it, casting a glance at me before averting his gaze, making no move to sit down. His manner was uneasy, anxious.

My heart sank further. “Does the underwear fit okay?”

“Yes. It’s really nice, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I pushed the paper bag across the island. “There’s a gift for you. Happy Christmas.”

He looked at me in surprise before he pulled the packets of underwear out of the bag. “You shouldn’t have,” he said.

“It’s fine.”

“Thank you.” He seemed touched, his cheeks flushing. “Sorry,” he said. “I really have to get going. I have to get presents together and get changed and…”

He really was fucking me off. Disappointment overwhelmed me. What had changed overnight? He’d seemed into me. What a fool I was. What a fucking dick. He must have been drunker than I’d thought, maybe regretting going home with a strange man. Maybe it was what I’d told him. Maybe he couldn’t handle it. Maybe he didn’t want to be with a man who’d been sexually assaulted and was still traumatised and didn’t want to be fucked. Perhaps he couldn’t deal with that kind of shit. He’d come home with me for a good time and ended up listening to that .

I turned away so he couldn’t see my face. Robotically, I reached a travel mug from the overhead cupboard and poured his latte into it, sliding it across the island to him. I gulped at my own. I couldn’t take mine with me because the wanky Lamborghini didn’t even have a cup holder. Bollocks to that. Another reason to drive a Hyundai. That bad boy had two different sized cup holders in the middle. You could take a cup and a bottle of water. And at the back of those you could fit another drink and some snacks. Yeah, you’d never get dehydrated in a Hyundai. “Come on then,” I said, grabbing my keys from the worktop. “Let’s go.” I heard my cool tone and hated myself for letting him see I was wounded. He’d got fucked and now he wanted to leave. Why did I think it would be something more?

He hesitated then. “I can get a taxi,” he said. Perhaps my manner worried him.

“It’s fine,” I replied.

He watched me for another moment before he took his travel mug and headed for the door. He pushed his feet into his shoes and bent to lace them up. He pulled on his coat while I was getting my own shoes on, then I stepped past him to unlock the door while shrugging on my coat. He followed me out. While I locked the door, he went down the steps to wait for me next to the passenger side of the Lamborghini. Everything was coated in fine, powdery snow. My garden looked like a winter wonderland, birds flocking to the feeder I had hung on one of the oak trees. I saw him looking dubiously at the car.

“Don’t be fooled,” I said. “This model handles all terrain.”

He raised an eyebrow. He was probably wondering how he’d get home if we broke down or got stuck in a drift.

We settled inside to a nice uncomfortable silence as I headed down the drive.

“Nice ride,” he said awkwardly as I pulled out onto the main road.

“Likewise,” I said before I could stop myself. He shot me a look. I kept my gaze on the road and didn’t dare smirk.

“You’re a very funny man,” he said and his tone was half-amused, half-cool.

I said nothing. We lapsed back into silence broken only by the windscreen wipers lazily clearing the fat snowflakes and his instructions to get him home. He held his coffee in both hands, sipping occasionally. I bemoaned the fact we had conversed so easily last night and now we seemed to have nothing to say. Alcohol. It lubricates the tongue. Perhaps it had lubricated his arse too. Why else did he let me fuck him? He was clearly regretting the decision.

He only lived a few miles away. We were there in no time.

“Just here,” he said, indicating a small block of flats. It wasn’t the nicest of areas, but it wasn’t the roughest either. My car would probably be safe if he invited me in. Not that he was going to.

The car got some stares as I pulled over to the kerb. “Thanks,” he said, unclicking his seatbelt. He looked around for somewhere to put his travel mug, then passed it to me. I took it and looked around too. There was nowhere to put it in this ridiculous car. Apparently Lamborghini drivers didn’t drink. Anything.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, as ever polite and British when I wanted to demand what I’d done to deserve the silent treatment. He reached for the door handle. “And thank you,” I said quickly. Then I realised that sounded like I was thanking him for the shag. I rushed on. “I mean for last night. For the restaurant. Thanks for the restaurant .” Oh God, just shut up. He clearly hates you this morning . You must have been a shitty lay. “For not making me feel even more of a loser than I already am. For… keeping me company so I didn’t go home alone and hang myself.”

His eyes widened.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said hastily. “I didn’t mean that.” Didn’t I? I probably did.

“It’s okay,” he said with his gaze fixed on the hands folded in his lap.

I waited for something more. Nothing came. He reached again for the door handle and this time, I said nothing. There was nothing to say. I was a one-night stand that he didn’t want to repeat. For a short while, I had got caught up in the emotion and the excitement of it all and I’d thought it was something more. At my age, I should know better.

He opened the door, climbed out and closed it. I didn’t watch him walk away. I put the travel mug down on the passenger seat then stared straight out of the windscreen for a moment before I pushed in the clutch and shifted to first gear. As I started to pull away, a sharp rap on the window had my foot moving to the brake.

Alex was bending down to look at me. I buzzed down the glass with my heart surging in my chest.

“Do you want to come to my parents with me for dinner?” he asked.

I stared at him. “What?”