With or Without Him (21 page)

“Oh b…f…sh…,” he muttered.
I’m losing my mind.

Tyler licked and pushed until his tongue breached the barrier and then Haris could barely inhale.

“That’s…oh fuck.”

He slid into a fugue-like state in which he was ultra-aware of the feel of Tyler’s silky hair against his inner thighs, the rub of his nose against his skin, the rasp of his cheeks, the wet warmth of his tongue reaming his ass, and the firm touch of expert hands on his cock and balls. He wanted the sensation to go on forever, but the deep ache in his gut told him he couldn’t last much longer.

“Not yet,” Tyler muttered into his butt.

“I…can’t.”

“Yeah you can. Think of something boring.”

He tried and failed. A sharp pain sprang up at the base of his skull, an army of ants stampeded down his spine and his body spasmed. Tyler pressed on the triangle of skin behind his balls and the already intense orgasm hit him harder. Every part of him became caught up in the sensation, not just his cock and his exploding balls. His back arched off the bed, his lungs locked and his heart faltered. Long, thick ropes of come spurted up his chest, and a drop hit his lips.
For fuck’s sake. When does that ever happen outside porn movies?
For a long, delirious moment he hung frozen in ecstasy before he fell back to the bed, making sounds that sounded suspiciously like childish sobs.

Tyler soothed him down with licks and soft caresses.

“Fucking hell,” Haris blurted. “Unbelievable.”
Where did you learn to do that?
Even as the thought surged into his mind, he pushed it aside. Whatever Tyler had done in the past didn’t matter. He was his now. For four months anyway.

His heart rate slowed, his breathing eased and the world came back into focus. He leaned up to look down at Tyler’s smug grin, and he smiled.

“Hold that thought,” Tyler said. “You’re very messy. I have some cleaning to do.”

Supporting himself on all fours over Haris’s body, Tyler licked his way up his chest, lapping at the come until he reached his chin.

“Your fucking chin? How did you manage that? Think we should have a contest to see who can shoot the farthest?” Tyler asked.

“No because we’re not teenagers and you can practically bend yourself in half. I don’t enter contests I can’t win.”

“That’s not very sporting.”

“I’m a control freak. I can’t help it.”

Tyler lowered his head and sucked on Haris’s lower lip, using the tip of his tongue to caress the point just below it. Haris groaned, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him down to lie on him.

“How come you’re so good at this?” Haris spoke without thinking. “You know every way to drive me wild.”

When Tyler tensed he regretted the question.

“Guess I’m naturally gifted.” Tyler paused. “Or a sex maniac. Or both, I suppose.”

Haris laughed.

“Talking of sex…” Tyler moved off him. “My turn. Roll over.”

“Let me switch off the light.”

“No.” Tyler snagged his arm as he started to get off the bed. “Leave it on.”

A bubble of unease grew in his gut. Haris hesitated.

“I’m in charge. We agreed.”

“I…I don’t—”

Tyler pinned him with his gaze. “I know you don’t, but the scars aren’t going away. I don’t know how long you’ve lived with them, but I don’t see them when I look at you. I won’t see them when we’re fucking.”

How could he not? But he wanted to feel the length of Tyler pressed on his back. No one had fucked him like that. Ever. He rolled over and closed his eyes. He might be telling himself to relax, but his heart hammered and his fingers curled into fists. If Tyler touched his scars, he’d flip but instead the guy licked his ankle, and when he sucked at the patch of skin there, below the bone, Haris just about flew.

Under a flurry of kisses, caresses and licks up his calves and then his thighs, gradually the tension seeped from his body. Tyler was slow and patient, massaging the anxiety out of him, getting him ready with his fingers. By the time the guy had slid on a condom, lubed up and pressed himself into him, nothing had ever felt more right. He stopped thinking about his back, stopped thinking period and just enjoyed the weight, the pressure, the heat of Tyler’s body on his, in his, the sounds the guy made as he rocked into him and the sensation of Tyler’s cock buried inside his body.

When Tyler came, trembling against him, instead of thinking he couldn’t have chosen someone better, Haris wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. What if four months wasn’t enough?

Tyler lay slumped on top of him, his cock still inside him, panting into his neck. He had his arms stretched over his, their fingers entwined.

“You have such a responsive ass,” Tyler muttered.

“It’s talking to you?”

“Oh yeah. It said, ‘Thank you, Tyler, for fucking me beautifully. You are so wonderful.’” He laughed. “God, I could lie here forever on you like this. Your ass didn’t say that part. That was me.”

Haris chuckled.

It was several moments before Tyler pulled out. He climbed off the bed and padded into the bathroom.

“Am I still giving the orders?” he called.

“Depends.”

“Get in here and wash me, slave,” Tyler said.

Haris grinned and climbed off the bed.

They very nearly didn’t make it to the charity event and not because Tyler couldn’t get the hang of tying his bow tie—although he couldn’t. Haris gave up in the end and tied it for him. But once Tyler stood in front of him in his tux, he looked so damn sexy, Haris wanted to strip him and drag him back to bed which kind of alarmed him. Maybe if they fucked often enough, he’d get Tyler out of his system. Wasn’t that what the four months was about? Scratching an itch? Proving to himself he could sustain a relationship? Keeping tighter control of his emotions? Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d grow to believe it.

As they sat in the back of the car, their knees touched and Haris’s cock twitched.
Christ.
He was seriously worried about the chances of an inappropriate boner whenever Tyler was in the vicinity. He’d have to keep his jacket fastened the entire evening.

He’d called Stan and told him they were going out and hopefully the guy was somewhere behind them. Several glances through the back window had shown no sign of anyone following.

“What are you looking for?” Tyler asked.

Haris considered lying, but he needed Tyler to have his wits about him just in case. “Wilson thinks a white Fiat has followed us on occasion.”

He hadn’t expected the wide-eyed look from Tyler, nor the obvious tension in his body.

“You know someone with a white Fiat?” Haris asked, stones tumbling in his gut.

“No. Following in a Fiat? That’s not very glamorous. Not a BMW or an Audi?” Tyler’s smile looked forced. “Why would someone be tailing you?”

“There probably isn’t, but in my business I have as many enemies as friends. Better to be careful.”

He was relieved when Tyler didn’t press him. He might have enemies in the business world, but there would be no logical reason for them to tail him.

The car stopped and Wilson came round to open the door. Tyler had already exited on the other side.

“Didn’t see the car tonight, sir,” Wilson said quietly. “What time would you like to be collected?”

“Ten thirty.”

Haris joined Tyler in front of the floodlit Natural History Museum. Christmas music travelled through the air from an ice rink in the grounds.

“Maybe we could—”

“No,” Tyler said. “My butt’s been punished enough.”

Haris smiled and headed toward the entrance along a path lit with blazing torches.

“What’s this in aid of?” Tyler asked.

“Fundraiser for a cancer charity. It’s a dinner and an auction.”

“And it’s okay for me to come?”

“I bought the whole table. There’s room for you.”

Haris showed his ticket to the chap on the door and they walked into the towering central hall.

“Wow,” Tyler said at his side. “It looks fantastic.”

Haris agreed. The giant diplodocus skeleton took center stage, but elaborately decorated tables had been arranged around it, the place settings sparkling under the multitude of lights. Above the middle of each table sat a Christmas tree, supported on silver branches. At the side of the room, a group of singers dressed in Victorian clothes were halfway through “Hark the Herald”. All the scene needed was fake snow.

A waitress approached with a tray of drinks, and Haris and Tyler took glasses of champagne.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Tyler said.

“You’re welcome.”

“Work from the outside in on the cutlery, right? And don’t worry, I won’t lick my plate, just so long as there isn’t any maple syrup.”

He chuckled. “Come on. Let’s mingle.”

Tyler hung back. “What am I supposed to say if someone asks who I am?”

“The truth. You’re a music student and you’re my friend.”

“You’re no fun. I wanted to tell them how much you like fucking my ass.”

Haris almost choked on his champagne.

Chapter Twelve

Another world.
Tyler stood in a tuxedo costing eight hundred pounds, wearing ninety-pound shoes, drinking champagne and feeling a fraud. It was a beautiful world and he didn’t belong here, though Haris did. He admired the way Haris could turn on the charm. He seemed to know everyone’s name and had a smile for each person he met.
Though none like the ones he gives me
.

Haris introduced him as a talented musician, an up-and-coming star with inspirational flair, a name to remember for the future while Tyler shuffled his feet at his side. Then a guy who worked for
Spot
, a music magazine Tyler loved, had given Tyler his card and told him to give him a call.
What the fuck planet am I on?
Before his nerves got the better of him, Tyler invited him to the gig on Tuesday and when he’d said he’d try to make it, Tyler had just about passed out.

At their table, name cards were slotted into little silver Christmas trees. Haris sat on one side of him, a Dr. Sally Freeman on the other. Tyler introduced himself and shook her and her husband’s hand. He picked up the auction program from the side of his plate and scanned it. People were offering all sorts of stuff: holiday in the Caribbean, the use of a private jet, a huge painting by David Hockney, services of a wedding planner.
Christ.

“Everyone’s been extraordinarily generous,” said Dr. Freeman.

Tyler nodded.

“What do you do?” she asked.

She had to be the only person in the room Haris hadn’t told. “I’m a music student. My final year. Are you a doctor of medicine?”

“Yes, a children’s cancer specialist.”

“My brother had leukemia.”
Oh God. Where had that memory come from?
A blurred image came into his head of Noel with no hair, and Tyler struggled unsuccessfully to bring his features into focus.

“I hope he was one of the lucky ones.”

“Yes and no. He died, though not from cancer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Life can be very unfair.”

“Yep, it can.”

She turned to speak to her husband and Tyler felt Haris squeeze his knee.

“You told me you didn’t have any siblings,” he said quietly.

“I don’t anymore.”

“What was your brother’s name?”

“Noel.”
Can’t talk about him.
“So have you offered something on this list?” He leaned to whisper in Haris’s ear. “Blowjobs every night for a week. Should I bid? I can go up to seven quid. That should be the winning offer surely.”

Haris laughed. “I think we’ll keep that private. You could do something though. Maybe play at someone’s dinner party or give guitar lessons. I can tell the auctioneer to put another item in. The more money raised the better.”

“You serious?”

“Of course I am. I’ve told everyone I’ve met that you’re as big as Mozart.”

“Hey, he was five-four. I’m over six feet.” He chewed his lip. “I’ll play at a dinner party if you like.”

Haris beamed and stood up. “I’ll tell the auctioneer before you change your mind.”

Oh God, what if no one wants me?
Tyler gulped at the thought of there being no bids. He’d slide under the table with embarrassment.

As Haris moved farther away, Tyler hovered on the verge of going after him and telling him he’d changed his mind when his gaze collided with someone he’d hoped never to see again.

Gerald sat staring at him.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Tyler couldn’t look away. The guy’s fat lips curved in a smile and finally Tyler managed to spin around. He reached for his wine and almost tipped the glass over. Panic fluttered in his stomach. What if Gerald said something to Haris?
Like what?
He could hardly tell him the truth. But he didn’t need to tell him the truth, did he? Tyler put the glass down before he dropped it.
Christ.
Shit. Bollocks.
He flicked his wrist repeatedly with his finger and thumb.