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Authors: Lane Hayes

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance

Better Than Chance (24 page)

BOOK: Better Than Chance
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My heartbeat sped up, and it had nothing to do with the jolt of caffeine. It was small statements like that which made me aware things were more tenuous between us than I would have liked. Uncertainty wasn’t something I did well with.

“Oh?” I tried to play it cool. I was terrible at feigning nonchalance. Peter gave me a lopsided grin and reached out toward me again before pulling his arm down. He coughed and looked away, seeming embarrassed by his affectionate gesture.

“I was thinking it might be nice to get away this weekend. Maybe go to the beach? A friend of mine has a small house in Rehoboth he said was free for the weekend. Want to get away for a couple of days?”

He could barely look at me and his words were a jumble. I had to sort them through my own head to catch his meaning, and when it dawned on me what he was asking, I was almost too surprised to answer. Peter finally turned his full attention to me when I didn’t respond immediately.

“Um… yes. That sounds amazing.”

Peter gave in to his own impulses and yanked me into his arms, pressing our bare chests together. I tilted my head slightly to look into his eyes and was taken aback by the desire I saw there. For the first time since we had begun our “affair,” I knew without needing a word of confirmation that Peter was feeling all the same things for me that I felt for him. I hadn’t taken my friends’ advice to confront him yet, but a lightness in my heart at his adoring gaze made me think my confession might not be so poorly met after all. I smiled in return and kissed him passionately, throwing every unsaid sentiment into the action.

 

 

T
HE
DRIVE
from DC to Rehoboth, Delaware, took two and a half hours. We left on Friday in the early afternoon. Peter worked in the morning, while I had opted to take the entire day off. I hadn’t done anything so decadent while I worked at Jackson and Burnell. It felt liberating, and was probably a sure sign that change on the work front might be a good thing for me. I hadn’t said anything to Peter about it yet. The timing hadn’t been right for any of the bigger subjects I probably should have braved. Maybe this weekend, I mused.

I talked nonstop during the drive. I couldn’t stop myself. I was full of nervous excitement, which led to a litany of endless chatter. My commentary ranged from the weather (“So damn hot, I can’t wait to get to the beach!”) to the scenery (which varied from “Yuck. Hopefully this area will get cleaned up!” to “Unbelievable! It is so beautiful here!”). Peter didn’t seem to mind. We got stuck in a little traffic on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, which made him a little tense. However, I noticed that he seemed to relax the more I talked, so I happily obliged.

 

 

W
E
ARRIVED
in the seaside town of Rehoboth in the late afternoon. Peter parked his SUV in the carport attached to a huge Nantucket-style, gray-shingled two-storied beach house, complete with an unobstructed view of the Atlantic Ocean from the wraparound porch. The interior was spacious and welcoming, and obviously had been remodeled recently with gleaming plank hardwood flooring and updated lighting. The kitchen was enormous with a giant island and a breakfast nook with a grand bay window boasting a lovely ocean view. Peter took me upstairs to the master suite, which featured a large king-size four-poster bed and a generous bank of windows with more views of the golden beach and Atlantic beyond. It was glorious.

“Wow!” I set my bag down on the bench at the foot of the bed and went straight for the window. It was a magnificent setting.

“You like?” Peter nuzzled my neck as he slung his arm around my waist bringing my hip in contact with his.

I turned into his arms, bringing our bodies as close together as possible while still fully clothed.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

I nodded, licking his neck from his Adam’s apple to the tip of his stubbled chin, gently biting him before showering him in silly kisses meant to make him laugh. He chuckled and pulled his arms straight so that I stood a couple of feet away from him. I offered him a comical smile, and he laughed again, calling me an idiot before he gathered me close in his arms again. I sighed happily. Chances were pretty damn good that we’d spend a good deal of our time in the bed behind us, but frankly this… standing in the circle of his embrace… felt better than anything I could have imagined. I was where I belonged.

We rode bikes into town for dinner at a seafood restaurant that Peter assured me served the best clam chowder he’d ever eaten. He was noticeably more relaxed. It had been a slow progression from the moment we began our drive to the time we were seated at our oceanfront table. By the time we had ordered our first glass of wine, Peter’s demeanor was carefree and tranquil. He had listened to my countless meanderings for hours, but now he was an equal participant in our conversation as he regaled me with stories of other visits to the area. A good friend from college owned the property we were staying at and frequently opened it for his friends to use. Peter had been a number of times and seemed to know the area well. He was full of ideas for entertainment. We could bike everywhere, explore the town, go body surfing. His eyes lit up as he talked on. He became more attractive to me than ever as he lost his inhibitions and began to think of fun ways to spend our time together at the beach.

“What are you smiling at?” he grinned with his glass half raised to his lips.

“You… you just seem happy. That’s all. It’s nice to see you let your hair down.”

Peter quirked his head to the side as if pondering my observation.

“I am happy.” The smile he gave me then was breathtaking.

I wondered if this was one of those moments my friends had talked about that I seemingly had a terrible time reading. Was he trying to tell me I made him happy, or was I guilty of asserting the meaning I hoped was true? I sat there with my heart in my throat wishing I were brave enough to tell him how I felt. It was on the tip of my tongue to say the words, but fear held me back.

We awoke the following morning to the sound of seagulls crying and the crash of waves on the seashore. Peter looked over at me with hooded eyes. I leaned over, kissed him chastely on his lips, and wished him a good morning. He returned my kiss with fervor and gently pushed me back on the bed as he explored my waking body with sure, firm hands. I remembered his boast months ago that he was good with his hands and damn but it was true. I was rock hard and begging for more within minutes.

Peter slid his body against mine with an urgency that let me know he was as desperate for contact as me. Our precum created a natural lube as we ground our pelvises together. I stuck my right hand between us to grasp his thick cock while reaching around to grope his ass with my left hand. I was trying to pull him as close to me as possible but I felt him slide his body forward as though he were trying to get more of my hands where he wanted them… on his ass. Or maybe in his ass? I gulped.

We’d never gone there. Peter had topped me exclusively, and honestly, there had never been a discussion about preferences. I decided to feel him out, so to speak as I let my left hand slide a little farther between his cheeks. He moved up my body, giving me better access to finger his hole. I swallowed hard, feeling a thin sheen of sweat cover my forehead as I gently rubbed over his opening. Peter sighed somewhere above me. His eyes were closed in blissful concentration. He seemed lost in his own pleasure.

“Honey, give me the lube.”

Peter looked down at me as if seeing me for the first time. I wondered for a second if he was going to stop me and take control. I watched as he licked his lips thoughtfully, his dark eyes clouded with desire. He leaned over toward the nightstand and handed me the lube, then set a condom beside his knees. Whose dick it was going to cover was still undetermined. I took the lube with unsteady hands and poured a generous amount on my right hand. I used my other arm to bring him closer to me so that he straddled my chest completely with his hard, weeping cock inches from my mouth. I licked the head of his beautiful dick and heard his moan somewhere above me. I was practically whimpering myself as I ran my tongue over his slit bathing him in my saliva, then sucking it clean. I busied my fingers at his ass, rubbing him until he pushed back on to my hand with meaning. Gently I slid one finger inside his tight channel. We both groaned aloud. Peter ran his hands through my hair and caressed my chest before twisting my nipples almost painfully, sending a shock wave straight to my groin. I was desperate for more. I added a second finger and stretched my writhing partner with my right hand while I let my left drift over my own insistent hard-on. Peter stilled his movement above me and looked deeply into my eyes.

“I want you inside me.” His voice was hoarse. Almost a whisper. I could only nod in acquiescence.

Peter shifted off of my torso and grabbed the condom he’d left on the bed. With sure fingers, he unwrapped it and slid the latex on my turgid member, adding more lube before he climbed back over me. He held my gaze as he set my cock at his entrance and very slowly pushed down. He stopped almost immediately and winced.

“We don’t have to….”

“Shh. I’m fine, baby. It’s just been a while.”

He took a deep breath and tried again, slowly inching his way down my shaft, never breaking eye contact. When he was fully seated I heard a soft cry and realized it was me not so silently begging him to move. Peter chuckled softly as he placed his hands over my neck and on my chest as he rocked his ass in a sensual motion up and down my dick. He was in complete control as he rode me at a leisurely pace, rolling gently as though trying to reacquaint himself with an old sensation. When he sped up his movement, my breath caught at the sheer beauty of him taking what he wanted. He was passionate, free, and unfettered. I placed my hands on his ass when I couldn’t control my own urges any longer and stilled his hips as I fucked him from below setting a faster tempo.

“Fuck! Yes, fuck me, baby. Like that.”

“Open your eyes, honey.” I could barely hear myself speak but he must have heard me. He looked down at me, his eyes heavy with desire.

I grabbed his cock smearing his precum over it to use as lube and stroked him firmly while I fucked him. I could feel my balls draw up and a wave of ecstasy wash over me at almost the exact same time he lost his rhythm as his own orgasm claimed him. We came at the same time rocking into one another until the last waves subsided and we were left limp and lifeless.

I had been a sexually active gay man for at least a decade, but that was the first time I had ever felt so connected with a lover. I recognized there was a part of me that tended to become overly emotional when things struck me as highly significant. This was one of those moments. I was practically choked with emotion, tongue-tied and more than a little afraid to ask if Peter felt the same way I did. So I kept quiet, deciding once again to follow his lead.

“You think too much,” he reprimanded gently.

He kissed my nose sweetly as he slowly pulled himself off of me and flopped to the other side of the bed. I offered him a watery grin. I couldn’t speak. Thankfully he seemed to understand or at least he didn’t push.

 

 

W
E
SHOWERED
together, quietly washing each other with tender touches and light kisses. I could have happily stayed under the warm spray with him all day, but the water turned cold, forcing us to dry off and figure out other ways to amuse ourselves. After breakfast we opted to change into our suits and head down to the beach. We body-surfed and sat in the sand talking about everything from politics to feats of engineering. We made each other laugh doing handstands in the sand. Peter was a master, and I would have conceded that he had won our little contest but teasing him was much more fun. When we got hungry, we went back to the house and made a light lunch before falling back into bed. This time it was Peter who moved inside me with a passion and intensity he’d never shown before. Again, I wanted to quantify our lovemaking but was reluctant to break the spell. I fell asleep in his arms satiated but still longing for something more.

 

 

“Y
OU
HUNGRY
,
babe?”

I was nestled in Peter’s arms, resting my head on his sun-kissed chest.

“Yes!” I flung my leg over his and hoisted my body so that I lay on top of him, covering him neatly. He chuckled but didn’t attempt to move me. Instead he let his hands wander… over my shoulders, down my back, and finally resting on my ass. He kissed the top of my head and squeezed my body closer to his in a sweet embrace. It was a strong show of affection, and I basked in the sweetness of it until my stomach rumbled loudly announcing it was indeed dinnertime.

Peter laughed and pushed me off of him.

“Come on. A friend of mine owns this great little place in town. It’s a seafood place, but there are other things on the menu if you’re tired of clams, crabs, and fish.” He hopped off the bed and dragged me playfully with him to the shower to get ready.

 

 

R
AINBOW
FLAGS
flew proudly at the entrance of Greta’s Bistro as they did in front of many of the small businesses along the main drag of Rehoboth. We parked our bikes near the front of the small restaurant. It had a quaint neighborhood vibe known to locals or out-of-towners lucky enough to have stumbled upon the converted bungalow. Peter’s friend, Greta, was a large woman who looked to be in her midfifties. She was tall and built like a brick, with square features and a heavy torso. Her jet-black hair was wild and liberally streaked with gray. She reminded me of a gypsy with her bangles and colorful billowy clothing. Her face lit up when Peter walked in.

“Well hello! To what do I owe the pleasure, gorgeous?” Her loud voice boomed effectively announcing our arrival to the entire restaurant.

Peter didn’t say a word. He simply wrapped her in a bear-like hug and kissed her cheek. Her huge hoop earrings swayed as she chuckled heartily and pushed him away calling him a scoundrel. I laughed at the silly pirate-like face Peter made.

BOOK: Better Than Chance
6.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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