23. Aidan

CHAPTER 23

Aidan

For two fucking weeks I’ve been dancing around what is happening between me and Simon.

Which emotionally, is a lot. I’m falling hard for him and trying not to.

Physically? We haven’t even kissed again.

For two torturous weeks I’ve been waiting to see if he will try to get me naked, and he hasn’t. I’ve bounced between disappointment and total gratitude.

I know if we share the intimacy of sex, I’m not going to be able to resist my deeper feelings for him. Then when he heads back to London, I’ll be emotionally fucked. Devastated.

But I also know that Simon isn’t holding back because he doesn’t want me that way. He wants to have sex with me. He’s holding back because I’m holding back.

For a guy who always has a smile and a charming comeback, who can navigate any social situation, he’s very intuitive. It’s what makes him so capable of talking to anyone and making them feel like a million bucks. He understands people.

He sees me .

And he’s giving me space to sort out my head all on my own.

I think he grasps the reality of it—if he rips my shirt off and slips a hand down my pants, we’re having sex.

But he wants me to be sure.

It makes me care about him even more.

Blake is out of town playing hockey.

Elise is working tonight, finishing up a custom order for a client.

Simon asked me to join him at this corporate fundraiser event for cancer research and so here I am, dressed in a suit that makes me feel ridiculous, gripping a beer bottle like it’s a life raft, and watching him work the crowd.

He makes every person he speaks to feel special. He remembers names, spouse’s names, whose family member had cancer, and asks pointed questions about how they’re doing. His assistant is hovering, trying to give him facts and stats to use as talking points, but he waves her off repeatedly.

“I may be shit at keeping my desk clean, but I’ve got this,” he tells her.

He makes me feel special too.

My suit is off-the-rack and yet twice he’s told me how good I look and how much he appreciates me being here.

He also leaned in and murmured, “Though I really appreciate you wearing nothing at all when we’re fucking our gorgeous girl.”

He introduces me as his date, “a firefighter who saved me from going up in veritable flames.”

I don’t know how he can say shit like “veritable flames” with a straight face, but that’s Simon Armstrong.

His voice, with that sexy-as-hell accent, has started popping up in my dreams nightly.

I’m getting better and more plentiful sex than I have in my entire life with Elise, yet I’m waking up every morning with a throbbing erection because of the British billionaire’s voice.

It’s driving me up the damn wall.

When Simon shakes a man’s hand and tells him, “I knew you had this beat, William, never doubted it for a minute,” and the guy in his thirties holding hands with a crying woman, I know there is no use denying what I’m feeling.

I’m falling in love with Simon.

If we never touch each other ever again, I’m going to be heartbroken when he returns to London. There’s no denying it. That’s the outcome, because it’s already too late.

We both clearly want to have sex, and I figure there’s no reason to deny either of us that pleasure.

I’m going to be devastated either way when he leaves. So I can be heartbroken without ever having had the chance to share all of myself with him, or I can be heartbroken and have no regrets.

I choose no regrets every damn time.

No holding back, no more stilted dates, no fighting it.

Just wonderful fucking memories.

An hour later, after I’ve done my best to support him, chatting with various people and encouraging them to donate what they see fit to, I’m resolved to make the most of the time I have left with Simon.

“You ready to head out?” he asks me.

“If you are, yes.”

“I’m more than ready.”

I look around for somewhere to set my empty beer bottle down.

Simon takes it out of my hand and does his magic trick, where all he does is lift and tilt the bottle and suddenly someone is taking it from him.

“My place for a drink?” he asks once we’re downstairs. “Or are you calling it a night?”

“I was thinking you could come to my place,” I tell him, loosening my tie. “If that’s okay with you.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Your place? I’d love to. I can open your cupboards and poke in your drawers and learn all your secrets.”

I laugh. “I don’t have any secrets.”

“I know. That’s what I love about you.”

He says it casually, but it punches me in the gut.

Damn it.

I’ve already fallen in love with him.

Twenty minutes later, I unlock my door and gesture for Simon to go in ahead of me.

“I don’t know why I expected a dog to bound to the door and greet us,” Simon says. “I guess you just seem like a dog lover.”

“I do love dogs. It’s just too hard with my schedule to have one right now. Maybe someday.” When I have a live-in partner. That’s who I need in my life in order to have a dog. That’s what I want for myself.

“I love dogs too,” he says. “Especially hounds. But I have the same issue. Not home enough.”

He looks around at my compact living space. “This is nice, Aidan.”

I have the upstairs unit of a brick duplex. I wouldn’t call myself any sort of expert on home design, but I don’t have secondhand furniture or a keg in my living room. I pride myself on living like a grown ass man, past my college curb-picked junk days.

“Thanks. It’s still a little messy from my brother staying here over his Christmas break from school. He didn’t want to stay with my mother because she still thinks he should come home at midnight. It offended her, but she’s working through it.” I toe off my shoes and offer to take Simon’s coat that he’s stripped off.

I hang up both our coats and note how he lines up his shoes under the bench, the shiny dress shoes sporting a damaging layer of Chicago snow slush. It makes me feel compelled to fix it.

“Do you want me to clean those off?” I ask.

“What?” He shoots me a look and unbuttons his suit jacket. “God, no. They’re only my twelfth best pair.” He gives me a wink.

I shake my head as I chuckle. “Half the time I can’t even tell if you’re serious or not.”

“I never joke about Italian shoes.”

He wanders into the living room and spends a few minutes cruising past my display of family photos and my grandfather’s military awards, which he bestowed on me because my grandmother was tired of dusting them. I don’t mind dusting, or any cleaning. It makes me feel productive.

“Is this you?” he asks, pointing to a picture of me and my little brother and sister dressed like ninja turtles for Halloween. “The green one.”

“Yep.”

“You were a cute kid.”

I have my arm protectively around my sister, who was probably four at the time. “Thanks. I had a very good childhood.”

“Lucky chap,” he says lightly.

He has talked a little about his childhood with me, and the whole boarding-school-at-eight-thing still is hard to wrap my head around. “I’m sorry you didn’t have that.”

Simon waves me off. “Oh, my childhood was fine. Like I told you, I had great friends and lovely houseparents at school. I’m not crying over rich boy problems. But I can see how you grew into such a good man, Aidan. Seriously.”

The compliment warms me inside out. “Can I get you a drink? I have cheap bourbon.”

“My favorite.”

That makes me laugh. “Liar.”

“I’m adaptable.”

He is. Blake and I basically crashed his relationship with Elise and he was totally willing to shift and give her what she needs—all three of us.

For now, anyway.

I still have no idea what will happen when Blake retreats to the woods and Simon is back in London. I hope it’s me and Elise then.

But tonight is about now .

And right now it’s me and Simon and I want all of him.

I pour Simon a drink and grab myself a beer. My heart is racing, my blood thick with desire. I hand it to him and say, “Come here. I want to show you something.”

“If it’s a pet reptile, no thank you.”

“No. I don’t have any reptiles.” I strip my suit jacket off as I head down the hallway to my bedroom. I toss it over the chair I have in the corner and flick on a soft lamp. I set my beer on the dresser.

“The bedroom. What do you need to show me in here?” he asks, tone flirty but also a little hesitant.

I turn and close the gap between us, gripping the back of his head. “This.”

Then I kiss him.

I almost sigh in relief. It feels amazing to have my lips on his again, to smell his expensive cologne up close and personal. To let go of my fears.

Simon immediately responds, putting his hands on my waist and tugging me closer as we move our mouths together in a hot, passionate kiss. Urgency explodes inside me and I flick my tongue across the seam of his lips.

He opens for me easily and the thrust of our tongues has me gripping his hair with taut fingers.

Simon pulls back, breathing heavily.

“I missed this,” he admits.

“Me too,” I say gruffly. Then I add, “More. I need more.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes.” I nip his bottom lip. “Don’t ask me again.”

I shove his suit jacket down off of his shoulders so I can fist my fingers into the fabric of his shirt as I take his mouth over and over with mine, our tongues hotly tangled.

He pulls back again, making me groan in disappointment.

“I think I’ve figured out how our relationship dynamic can work,” he says, as he runs his palms over my shoulders, lightly squeezing my biceps.

Hearing him say “relationship” sends a jolt through me. “How so?”

“You let me buy whatever I want for you and I let you boss me around in bed.”

Oh, hell yeah.

Now I’m really turned on.

“It’s the perfect power balance, don’t you think?” He gives me a smile that rises slowly, confidently, deliciously.

“I can work with that,” I say gruffly. “Now take your shirt off before I rip it off.”

He obeys, but he’s unbuttoning so slowly it’s pure fucking torture.

“Not fast enough.” I reach out and tear it apart, sending buttons flying.

Simon gives a low moan. “That’s it. Take control, Aidan.”

Then it dawns on me he was moving at a snail’s pace on purpose. I tug his undershirt from his pants and slip my hand down inside them to give a hard squeeze on his dick. I begin to pump my hand up and down. “You are way more devious than I gave you credit for.”

“I prefer clever.” He is gritting his teeth now, grinding himself into my touch.

I stop stroking him.

“Fuck, why did you stop?”

“Now are you going to do what I say or not?”

“I’ll do anything and everything you say,” he pants. “God save the king.”

I almost laugh, but I’m too turned on to do much more than give a strangled gasp as I slide my hand up and down his hard length one more time.

Then stepping back, I shove him onto the bed. “Everything off. Now.”

I’ve seen Simon naked before, but I’ve never watched him strip for me .

He undoes his belt as he locks eyes with me and then shoves his pants and boxers down to his ankles.

Bending over, I yank them off his feet and toss them to the side. It gives me a perfect angle to brush my hand across his balls and stroke lightly up his dick.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Yes.”

Just to torture him—and myself—I step back again, unbuttoning the top button of my shirt. When he reaches out to help me, I stop him.

“Nope. I’m in charge, remember?”

His eyes darken, but he nods.

Then I unbutton the rest of my shirt and yank it and my undershirt off in one fell swoop.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he says.

I’ll take the ego stroke any day of the week. “It gets better,” I say with a smirk.

“Oh, I know.”

My pants hit the floor, along with my boxer briefs. I step between his legs. “Come here.”

Simon doesn’t hesitate. He drops his head down and eases his warm mouth over my cock. I hiss at the first contact.

“That’s it. So good.”

Good is a fucking understatement. Simon is working me from tip to shaft, slicking me up with his mouth, and I let my eyes drift shut briefly.

Then I open them again immediately, wanting to watch his shoulders, the top of his head, as he uses his hand to follow his mouth in a tight, hot slide. I don’t want to miss a moment of this, knowing there's an expiration date on my time with Simon.

“Oh, yeah, suck it, baby,” I encourage him.

He glances up at me and seeing his brown eyes soaked with desire while his mouth is full of my cock, almost undoes me.

I let him lick and suck, cradling my balls for another minute and then I can’t take it anymore.

“Enough,” I pant, pulling off. “I need you, Simon.”

Digging in my nightstand I pull out lube and a condom, which I rip open with my teeth.

“Let me.” He takes the condom from me and rolls it on my erection, squeezing the base of my shaft, while stroking himself simultaneously.

Bending down, I kiss him, hot and hard. Demanding. He tastes like bourbon and I feel almost drunk on the sensation of being here with him. I drop my knee to the mattress, ease him back onto the bed, crowding him.

As my tongue swirls over his, I tease between his thighs, testing his entrance by pressing the pad of my thumb inside. Simon moans into my mouth.

Breaking off the kiss, I lube up my fingers and start to work his hole with just the tip of my index finger, watching his face to gauge his reaction. “Good?”

“More,” he breathes. “Give me more.”

“Only when I say so,” I tell him, my balls tight with anticipation. “Or you beg.”

I continue to swirl a finger over him, teasing in and out, brushing over his thighs with the rest of my hand.

“ Aidan . Damn it.”

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me.”

My mouth is thick with desire, my cock resting heavy against his leg, and I’m driving myself as crazy as I am him. I’m used to Simon being a bit of a smartass, charming and quick with a comeback. He isn’t saying much, just bucking his hips, trying to encourage me, his right fingers digging deep grooves into my forearm.

I tease and tease until I’m in a haze and he half-lifts off of the bed. He looks as desperate as I feel.

“Fuck me, Aidan. I’m begging you.”

Lust and satisfaction punch me in the gut.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” I reward him with first one finger, then two, easing deep inside him, stretching him.

He groans from the back of his throat, collapsing back onto the bed, grip falling off of me. “Jesus fuck.”

I shove his knees up and apart and edge him above my fingers, stroking across his rim, before thrusting my cock in at the same time I ease my fingers out.

We both let out mutual cries of pleasure.

I pause, buried deep inside him, swallowing hard.

“You want me to fuck you?” I ask. “Say it again.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

I can’t hold back anymore. I take him, pounding into him so hard I’m shifting him back on the bed. But I’ve waited weeks for this moment and now here I am, his body a tight fist wrapped around my dick, his moans everything I’ve ever wanted.

“You feel so fucking fantastic, baby.”

As I slam into him over and over, I stare down at him, in awe that we got here. That I get to be with him, however brief.

“I’m close,” I warn him through gritted teeth. “Holy fuck, you’re just…”

His hands grip my ass and he squeezes, his gaze earnest. “Let me see you come. Drive it deep and just fucking let go.”

I couldn’t resist it if I tried.

My balls tense and I break hard, a moan tearing from my lips as he encourages me, raising his hips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs. “Inside and out.”

I’ve never been called beautiful before and it makes me feel…everything. My body is still spasming, buried to the hilt in his ass, and our gazes are locked, the connection intense, undeniable.

Finally, I ease up and pause, dropping my gaze to his dick while I drag in some much needed air. I feel fucking vulnerable all of a sudden, and I don’t want to show him that.

I pull out and toss the condom on the nightstand while I collapse beside him.

He turns to kiss me, but I ignore the quest, and instead shift down a little so I can study his dick.

“You don’t have to?—

He starts to speak, then immediately cuts off when I cover him with my mouth.

“Forget what I just said. Yes, you have to,” he says.

I chuckle, lips vibrating on his warm skin. That sounds more like Simon.

Working him with my mouth and hand, I cup his balls and ease a finger into his ass.

“Too much,” he pants. “Got to come.”

I don’t stop. Instead, I take him deep and open my throat.

When he moans, his hot cum lands in the back of my mouth, and I swallow all his salty pleasure.

Easing off, I wipe my bottom lip and smile up at him over his dick, flicking my tongue over the last bit of moisture pooling on his head.

“That was embarrassingly fast,” he says.

“My fault,” I say with a grin.

He nods. “Yes. It absolutely fucking was your fault. Brutal tease. I loved it.”

That makes me laugh. Happy and satisfied, I withdraw my finger and lay down beside him. This time when he tries to kiss me, I lean in, giving him a deep kiss.

“Do you need anything?” I ask him. “I can go get some water.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t you dare leave this bed. I don’t need anything. Just you,” he says simply.

“Works for me.” I stretch and turn the lamp off.

Simon closes his eyes and lightly runs his fingers over my chest. “I’m wondering something.”

“What are you wondering about?” I ask as I pull the comforter up and over our sweaty bodies.

“Dogs,” he murmurs, half-asleep.

“Dogs?” That’s the last thing I expected him to say.

“Yes. What breed we would get if the world wasn’t a cold, heartless place conspiring to keep us apart and devoid of furry companions.”

My heart just about stops beating in my chest.

That’s about as close to a confession of love as I ever expected to get from him.

I run my hand over the back of his hair. “I like golden retrievers.”

But he’s already asleep.

I lay awake, just savoring the feel of him sprawled over my chest under the blankets, the snow gently falling down outside my bedroom window.

It takes me damn near two hours to fall asleep.