57. Epilogue

FISCHER

THE FOLLOWING SUMMER

" W hat the fuck did you just do?" Matthew asks the second I exit the network offices.

So, he saw that.

It's hot, muggy, and we're in Midtown. This is not where I wanted to have this conversation. And this isn't the reaction I was expecting. I have a plan involving candles and possibly hot wax. "I didn't realize you still watched the show," I say, keeping a safe distance for the moment.

"I watch it every night. How could you do something like this without talking to me about it first? Does this mean you're leaving?"

My head rears back. Leaving? As in taking an overseas assignment? I halfway want to check him for a fever.

"No!" I grab him by the arm and pull him closer to the building. He has to come willingly. I can't exactly manhandle him with half my weight on a cane. But he does. "I'm not going anywhere. I just want to focus on my writing."

"So that's it? You just quit? Without talking to me? How long have you been thinking about this?"

I sigh. "A while."

I handed off my prime time show tonight to a brilliant up and coming anchor named Paulina Ramos. In the last year, I've started a successful podcast, and I'm enjoying the freedom of being my own boss, which also, to an extent, comes with writing. My articles are still being published in all the major publications, but I have yet to finish the book I've been working on for nearly three years now.

More importantly, however, being on TV prevents me from living my life the way I want to. What I want is to be with Matthew. Forever. And have it be no one's fucking business but ours.

"Since you're here, I could use your help getting all my crap out of my office. Wanna come up?"

He stares at me like he barely recognizes me.

"I'll explain," I tell him. "But under protest, because this isn't how I wanted to do this."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you told the world your future plans before you told your boyfriend."

I ignore that and lurch away from him, using my key card to let us into the building. The security guard downstairs gives a nod as we head to the bank of elevators.

Matthew had to have come straight from his workshop because he's got glass dust all over his t-shirt and shorts. He smells like solder and sweat, which isn't as bad as it sounds. Who among us doesn't find artists particularly hot? The fact that his work is so physical only makes him more appealing. His talent is like porn to me, and with Gavin's help, he's managed to get some attention in New York over the last several months.

The tree sold about a month after Matty took a baseball bat to it. No longer a "Tiffany lamp," it was disturbing and intriguing. After the Reel made its rounds online, galleries were contacting him . Including Ravenna's.

Matthew wanted her to sell it. He said it was the least she could do, and I think he enjoyed the irony.

I know I did. The more I looked at the skeletal figure of twisted words, I could see the similarities between it and the lines he uses in his sketches. The glass was dazzling and beautiful, but Matthew was right—the real art was beneath all the pretty embellishments.

He has an upcoming show at a gallery in Chelsea, and I couldn't be prouder of him. His new pieces are smaller, but stunning, dark, deep, queer, and sexy.

I've never wanted to be associated with him more than I do now because the idea of him taking another date to his opening does make me want to leave the country. But since that's out of the question for every reason I could list, switching things up with my career is the next best thing.

I'm comfortable with my decision. Now I just have to explain it to him.

A newsroom never stops on twenty-four hour cable news, so we're far from alone up here, but my office has a door. I close it behind us, and Matthew takes a look around. "This is gonna take more than one trip," he says, distracted.

"I don't need everything," I assure him.

He faces me, and in a softer voice, with a wounded look on his face asks, "What the fuck?"

"I don't want to be on TV."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Mission accomplished."

I shake my head. "Not that kind of surprise."

"Then what ?"

"I want to marry you. For real. I want to be your best friend and your husband. I want to buy the apartment across the hall and live in it with you and Vaughn. I don't want a fucking doorman anymore. I want you and me. I'm way too selfish to have it any other way."

"Are you…proposing? To me ?"

"You were never gonna do it."

"It's complicated, and I was waiting for the right time."

"Well, so was I, but you messed that up. And I can't wait until Vaughn turns eighteen."

"Fischer…" His gaze goes all soft, and he reaches up to touch my face. I cover his hand with mine. "I want this."

"I do, too."

"No," he says, crowding me, backing me up against the door. "I don't think you understand. I need this."

He slides his hand behind my belt and gets a grip on my waistband, yanking my hips to meet his. I drop my cane in my rush to grab him by the face. He kisses me, and I yield to it. God, he's so hot when he forgets where we are, and it feels like I'm all he can see. "Let's go home."

He shakes his head. "No. I'm angry with you, and you need to be punished."

I get a head rush as my cock fills. "Baby…I like the sound of that, but…"

He shuts me up with his mouth and starts unbuckling my belt. I turn my head. "People are here."

"You know I don't give a shit about that. And you don't work here anymore."

"That just means they could arrest me instead of fire me."

"Not if you're a good boy and keep your mouth shut."

"It's not possible."

"Sounds like a dare."

"It's not— Matthew ?—"

Again, he stuffs my mouth with his tongue, and I take it with a low groan. His erection grinds, rock hard, against mine as he ravages my mouth. "Did you have a question?" he asks.

"I don't know," I say, dazed.

"Maybe I can refresh your memory."

He unzips me as he kisses me again, deeper this time, and it makes me stupid.

By the time my pants are undone, he's got me panting against his mouth. When he tells me to turn around and face the door, I don't ask questions. On either side of the door are windows with open blinds. I don't have a sightline from my position, but I'm sure he does. Quickly, as a last ditch survival effort, I flip off the lights and lock the door.

Admittedly, I don't expect him to fuck me.

I expect a facsimile of sex. He'll grind on my ass through his pants and jerk me until I nearly come, then he'll punish me by making me wait until we get home.

"You're not actually pissed at me are you?"

"I'm very annoyed," he says, breaths blowing heavily against my neck. He sucks at my jawline. His overheated flesh meets my bare ass.

"Shit," I whisper, my cheek smashed against the door. "Do you even have lube?"

"Of course I do," he says, like I'm an idiot for thinking otherwise.

"Why?"

"I always have lube when I'm with you," he says like it's a stupid question.

"Always?" I ask. "Even when we go to Maggie and Stuart's?"

" Always . But I'm not sure you deserve it tonight."

"Fuck," I breathe, eyes squeezing shut.

He finds my mouth with his and pulls away after one sweep of his tongue. "You're drooling for me. Give it." He holds up his palm.

I gather what I've got and spit it into his hand. He adds his own, and I hear the slick sound of him coating his cock. I'm trembling with anticipation, need, and the fear of getting caught being railed in my office by a man. I bet it would come as quite a shock to a lot of people that this is how I like it.

"Like" being an understatement.

This is how I have to have it .

While we've been talking, he's been getting ready. A phone rings on the other side of the door, startling me just as his cock touches my clenched hole. "Let me in, princess."

"I'm freaking the fuck out. Someone's gonna see."

"You already know that's not gonna stop me. I need you. Give it to me."

"Matthew," I groan, and let him in.

He lets out a shocked exhale as he slides in deep. " Ffffuuuccckkkk , princess, I love this ass…"

"Cover my mouth," I whisper.

He does as he licks the sensitive skin behind my ear. I let out a groan and get a white knuckle grip on his wrist.

"You were gonna ask me something?" he whispers, thrusting hard and deep.

" Umph ."

"Or you wanna keep another secret?" Another gut-rearranging thrust. "You think I'm gonna let you get away with that?"

I shake my head.

"I love you more than fucking anything. Do you know that?"

"Yes," I say against his hand, stuffed and panting.

"When we get home, you're gonna ask me my question. You're gonna ask me over and over and over with my cock in your throat until my feelings aren't hurt anymore." With every over he nearly lifts me off my feet.

Taking his hand off my mouth, he turns my head at an almost impossible angle and kisses me as he fucks me into the door. With his other hand he pulls out my cock and jerks it roughly. I almost can't bear the sensation, the pressure, the friction—the mind-bending pleasure he pulls from me.

Done with the kiss, he puts his hand over my mouth again so he can really take me apart. Shortening his strokes, he moves faster, forcing me rapidly to the edge.

I keep imagining someone on the other side of the door, recording us, watching the way Matthew fucks me like I'm his whore and he can't control himself. I surrender to his strokes, my body overwhelmed once again with the way every move winds me up.

"You feel so fucking good. Gonna make me come so fucking hard," he growls near my ear.

Oh, God… Without warning, just an epic failure of control, I explode in his hand, my body vibrating at the cellular level. It's the filthiest orgasm of my life, and he covers me with it, forcing me to push my cock through my own mess over and over again as rails me hard and fast. A moment later, he growls, and pins me to the door. His deeply buried cock throbs in my hole, filling me with his cum.

He twists me into a kiss again as he drains himself inside me. Several long licks and many moments later, he pulls away. I let my head fall against the door again, and he rests his forehead on my shoulder while we both catch our breath. "Will you marry me?" I ask.

He lets out a short huff of a laugh, circling my waist with his arms. "How?"

"Colorado," I tell him. "After I annul the adoption."

"You'd do that?" he asks.

"For you? Absolutely. So, are you still pissed?"

"No," he says quietly. "Fucking you fixes everything."

I manage to push off the door and turn in his arms. I bury my face in his neck where I smell all the things that make Matthew Matthew . All the things I can't imagine living without and can't remember how I ever did.

"I have a ring I want you to wear," he surprises me by saying.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I designed it myself. I wanted it to be perfect, but it took forever to get it right."

"You were going to propose?" I ask.

"I was just planning to claim you. Make a real night out of it."

I laugh softly. "I don't hate the sound of that."

"Maybe now I'll save it for the honeymoon."

"Seriously, though. Are you okay with making it official?" I ask.

"I should be asking you that. You're the one who has to hide your identity. I hope that's not what all this quitting your job business is about."

I pat his chest and back away to pull up my pants and put myself back together. He tucks himself back into his shorts and gazes at me from beneath a lock of his dark hair.

"You know," I say, "I appreciate everything Stuart and Maggie have done to keep their society out of our bedroom, but I have kind of an independence kink. Don't know if you knew that about me."

He huffs. "You're about the least independent person I know."

A laugh rumbles up my throat. "Fair. I just mean I like to be the one to say who I am."

He takes my hand now that I'm zipped up and pulls me close again. "Who are you now, then?"

"I want to be yours," I say. "Only yours. All yours."

Matthew cradles my cheek in his warm hand, love and desire a constant storm in his eyes. He has the most expressive eyes I've ever seen, and I've visited every corner of the globe. "I accept," he says with a smile.

"Thank you for giving me a home."

He presses his mouth to mine. "Always, always, always. I love you so much."

"I love you, too, baby. You think I should ask Dick and Donna to give me away?"

We rest our foreheads against each other's, and I watch Matty's smile grow wider. "That feels right to me. At the airport, though," he adds. "I don't want them tagging along to Colorado with us."

I laugh. "Whatever you want," I promise him.

"Hmm…" He kisses me. "You know I always like the sound of that."

"Then take me home. I feel like I owe you an apology."

He tugs on my lower lip with his teeth, and I groan. "Brave man," he says. "Now that you've got no place else to be, I plan to take my time. Might not even let you out of bed for a few days."

I gather my near future holds more forced orgasms than I think I can handle, but as all my doubts about the distant future continue to fade with every promise made and kept, I let him take my hand and lead the way home.

THE END