A Betting Man / a Marrying Man (4 page)

“Don’t you want my number?”

Terry smiled at me and removed his phone from his jacket pocket. I gave him my number and made sure he programmed it in. We both stood up at the same time and I reached for his hand.

“So, I’ll call you, okay?” I rubbed my finger across the gloved palm of his hand. He nodded and I grinned. “Do you want to share a cab back?”

“I think we live in different directions, Kent,” Terry smiled sheepishly.

I stepped closer to him and pulled him into my arms.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” I said and then laughed as Terry snorted into my sweater. I pulled away and cupped his face. “I really did.”

I walked him out to the street and made sure he was safely in a cab before hailing my own. I slid into the heated car and leaned back in the seat. I really had had a good time tonight with Terry. It was easy and comfortable. I hadn’t seen much of him under all those baggy clothes, but tonight when he helped me up I got a good feel of the muscles under his clothing. Terry was not scrawny. By the time I got to my apartment, I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, much less shower the night off. I fell into bed and winced at the pain in my ass.

I really need to learn how to ice skate.

~TERRY~

I didn’t hear from Kent all weekend. I’d dialed his number fifty times at least, but never hit ‘talk.’ I just didn’t want to be the one to give in. I didn’t want to look desperate, but dammit I was. The man had barely kissed me and I swore I nearly came. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to kiss him and rub him and fuck him.

I sighed loudly and pulled my flannel jacket on. I had to go to work; it was Monday and it was always the busiest day of the week. Well, tied with Friday. With the holidays approaching, I knew my job was going to be an extra pain in the ass. I strolled into the office at exactly nine in the morning and found Spencer at his desk. He was not, however, working. He seemed to be waiting for me.

“Morning, boss.” I walked to the opposite side of the room and filled my coffee cup.

“Something you want to tell me, Terry?” Spencer asked, his arms crossed.

I turned around to see him holding a package.

“No, why?”

“Yes, there is. I have a package for
you
from Hawke Advertising.”

“For me?” I took the package from him and shook it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t fragile. I put my coffee cup down and tore the package open. There, wrapped in tissue, were a sheepskin jacket and gloves. I picked up the note between them and read it.

Now you’ll have something besides me to keep you warm on our next date. Kent.

I couldn’t help the smile that crept up. My stomach flopped over and I knew I was grinning from ear to ear. I ran my hand over the jacket, feeling how soft it was. A short cough interrupted me and I glanced over at Spencer.

“So, who’s it from?” Spencer leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

Uh oh.

“Um, Kent Samson?” I braced myself. It was a good thing, too.

“What?!” Spencer shouted, jumping out of his chair. “Why is Kent Samson sending you a jacket and gloves?”

“We kind of had a date Friday?” Was I asking a question? Why was I answering with a question?

“You…had a date…with Kent Samson.” Spencer said it slowly. “You had a date with a straight man.”

“I’m just that good,” I said, batting my eyelashes at Spencer.

Spencer glared at me.

“He didn’t seem very straight when he kissed me,” I said, with an almost dismissive wave of my hand. Almost. It was hard to be nonchalant when Spencer looked like he might explode.

“What’s going on, Terry? I thought you were smarter than that.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Kent Samson!” Spencer snorted. “Come on! He’s the biggest womanizer in New York!”

“I thought that was Trump?”

“Stop trying to be funny!” Spencer pointed at me. “This is how it starts! First it’s a jacket, and then a shirt, then some shoes, then you change your hair. Then it’s suits, high-priced dinners and before you know it, you’re not
you
anymore! You’re some new version that hates what he’s become!”

“Is that what happened to you, Spencer?” I kept my eyes on him, noticing that his eyes went wide. “Because I know you used to be that man on Wall Street. So what happened, huh? The rat race get to be too much for you?”

Spencer flopped down into his chair with a loud sigh. I felt bad now. In my curiosity, I had looked him up about six months into my employment with him. He’d been one hell of a force to be reckoned with at the tender age of twenty-three. Four years later, he just dropped out of sight one day. Spencer sighed loudly and rubbed his face with his hands.

“Yes, Terry. That’s what happened. I forgot who I was and I stepped all over people to get to the top. That wasn’t me, I was
not
that kind of man and at the end of the day… I just couldn’t look in the mirror anymore.”

Spencer stood up and walked to me, taking my hands.

“Just promise me you won’t change, okay? Don’t let Kent Samson turn you into someone you’re not.”

I almost snorted. If only Spencer knew my family, how I’d grown up, he’d see that I was never
that
man. I’d left home because I couldn’t conform to
that
lifestyle, be
that
person. Money, in the wrong hands, was evil. I’d seen it enough growing up. It certainly wasn’t going to affect me now. I squeezed Spencer’s hands and smiled at him.

“I won’t change, Spencer. Do I love the jacket? Sure I do. Will I throw out this one? Hell, no.” And I wouldn’t. I’d bought my flannel jacket from a thrift store with my first real paycheck. It was mine. The first real piece of clothing I’d bought with money I’d earned. It was a symbol of my independence from my family. Spencer seemed to deflate a bit and he smiled at me.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want you to change, Terry. You’re a good kid.”

“I’m twenty-three.” I raised my brows.

“I’m almost thirty. You’re a kid.”

Spencer eyed me for a moment and then grinned.

“So? Is he a good kisser?”

I laughed.

* * * *

For the next three days, Kent would text me in the morning telling me to have a good day, and then again at night to tell me to sleep well. It was cute. I was standing in front of Joe’s getting my cup of coffee when my cell phone beeped at me. I looked at the text and smiled.

How about dinner on Friday?;)

I know I must have looked drugged up on some good shit as I read the text. My cheeks hurt I was smiling so wide. I texted him back.

Sure. What time and where?

Seven? @ Gray’s?

The man was my hero.

Sounds good. ;-)

I’ll see you then! <3

My jaw dropped. Kent Samson had put a little heart at the end of his text? Why did I feel like a teenage girl? I seriously wanted to run down the street screaming. This was New York City, no one would notice. I take that back… the tourists would notice and then I’d be on YouTube with the heading “Crazy New Yorker screams down Broadway!”

Eh.

I pocketed my phone and finished my deliveries for the day. By the time I got home, an angry Figaro was meowing at my bedroom window. I let him in and went to take a quick shower. I flopped down on my bed and turned the TV on. My phone chimed and I picked it up. Kent was calling. My heart raced immediately. I hit ‘talk’ and sprawled back on my bed.

“Hello.”

“Hi, how was your day?”

I smiled to myself. “It was good. Thanks for the texts.”

“You’re welcome. I’m looking forward to Friday.”

“Me too, there’s just one thing,” I grinned.

“Oh?”

“Well, I need to know if I should order my usual.” It was quiet for a few seconds. I’m sure Kent was wracking his brain trying to remember my hotdog from our first meeting.

“No onions. I plan on kissing you. Goodnight, Terry.”

“Night,” I breathed into the phone. I sounded like a 1-900 number. Kent wanted to kiss me again? God, I needed to jack off. I looked over to the side to see Figaro staring at me.

Yeah, not jacking off with the cat staring at me.

~KENT~

The week went by so slowly I thought Friday would never come, but here it was. I looked over the worksheets on my desk. Amazingly, Blaine had talked Porsche into the name ‘Unforgiven’ for her perfume line.

I am just
that
good.

And Blaine got a bed buddy in the process. Better him than me; Porsche’s high maintenance was barely worth the lay.

I swore the clock was moving backwards. I couldn’t wait to see Terry. Somehow, his purple hair and blue eyes had caught my attention and held it. I fidgeted for the rest of the day. I had nervous knots in my stomach and my hands were constantly sweating. By six-thirty, I was contemplating screaming.

I took a cab to Gray’s Papaya and found Terry standing by the entrance. A smile lifted my lips as he looked up and down the street, checking his watch. I paid the cab and got out, bundling my trench coat around me. Terry was wearing the jacket and gloves I’d bought him. He looked so handsome. I snuck up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“Hi.” I smiled when he stiffened for a brief second, and then relaxed in my arms.

“Hi.”

Terry turned to face me and I marveled at how beautiful he looked with winter-blushed cheeks. His eyes sparkled as he smiled at me.

“Did you get my thank-you note?” Terry asked.

“Oh, you mean the one you hand wrote, and then had delivered to my office by one of the other bike messengers? That note?” I grinned.

“Yes, that one. Thank you so much for the jacket and gloves.”

“It’s my pleasure. Ready for that hotdog?” I asked.

We strolled along the street talking as we ate. Terry had a great sense of humor and I found myself laughing more than once. Once we had finished our hotdogs, we took a walk around Central Park. It was dark but we stayed on the lit path. Terry talked about work mostly. He really didn’t delve into his life, which I appreciated because it kept me from having to talk about mine. We’d been walking around for hours when Terry suddenly stopped.

“This is me,” he said with a shy grin.

I looked up at the apartment building. It wasn’t the worst-looking one on the block. It was one of the older ones that had been remodeled over the years and it still had charm. I looked into Terry’s eyes and saw a reflection of what I was feeling. I wanted to kiss him. Oh who was I kidding? I wanted to touch him. Terry slipped his hand into mine and then unlocked the door to the building. We went up a flight of stairs and stopped in front of his door. Terry turned to face me and I backed him into the door, putting my hands on either side of his head.

“So, is this good night?” I leaned in closer.

Terry raised his eyes to mine and licked his lips, swallowing hard. I almost heard it.

“Do you want it to be?”

Oh fuck. My dick was hard. I removed one of my hands from the door and touched his face lightly. Leaning in, I felt his breath tickle my lips. I hadn’t kissed him with tongue the first time, but boy did I want to taste him now. I traced a path across his bottom lip with my tongue. Terry released what sounded like a whimper and opened his mouth. My hand went into his hair as I dipped inside his mouth to taste him. I think I groaned. His tongue met mine and my other arm wrapped around him, pulling him into me. I was taller than him, not by a lot, but it was enough for me to pull him up so that we were evenly matched. Terry whimpered in my mouth and my dick pressed into his hip. Fuck, but I was so hard it hurt. We broke from the kiss and stared at each other. In that moment, I would have given every cent I had to fuck this man.

Terry unlocked his door and opened it. He turned back around to face me and put his hand out. I slipped my hand into his and we walked into the apartment. Terry shut and locked the door then leaned his forehead up against it. I could hear him taking deep breaths. I leaned against him and put my lips near his ear.

“We don’t have to do anything,” I whispered.

Terry exhaled, and then leaned back against me. I unzipped his jacket from behind, and then pulled it over his shoulders. My hands wrapped around his waist and I leaned in to kiss his neck softly. Terry’s breaths quickened as my hands lifted his shirt from beneath the waistband of his pants. I ran my palms up the soft skin of his stomach and Terry shivered at my touch. He leaned his head back as I slipped my hands down to cup his erection. Our lips met.

“Kent,” Terry breathed into my mouth.

Fuck me. I’d never felt like this kissing Blaine. Hell, I’d never felt like this kissing anyone. And I’d never gotten hard kissing Blaine. I was rock solid, leaking in my damn Calvin Klein’s. Terry turned into my embrace and really started kissing me, his erection pressed into mine. We licked at each other’s mouths, heading toward the bed at warp speed. My jacket was in a heap on the floor and my shirt went with it. I pulled Terry’s shirt off and got a good look. He was sculpted. Nice-sized biceps, washboard abs. Fuck. I licked my lips and fell to my knees in front of him.

“No,” Terry said gently.

I looked up at him and he cupped my face. Terry slid down to the floor and we were both on our knees. He urged me to my feet and I stood in front of him. Terry’s fingers expertly unbuttoned my pants and slid the zipper down. My legs began to shake as he mouthed my cock through my underwear. I’d never gotten head from a man. Plenty of women, but never a man. I looked down at that angelic face with a devilish mouth and fought to stay upright. Terry was fisting his cock with one hand as he pulled my underwear down to my knees and began the most sinful suck on my cock.

My legs shook almost uncontrollably as Terry swallowed my length and girth like I was a Popsicle. It was so fucking erotic I couldn’t look away. His hand cradled my balls and shifted between that and jacking my shaft as he bobbed up and down, taking me to the root and back again. I wanted to give him the keys to the city. I wanted to fuck him. Vibrations shot down my shaft and I almost screamed, shooting my load down his throat. My fingers fisted in his hair as my hips bucked. Terry moaned with my cock in his mouth and then came with a loud drawn-out groan. I collapsed on the floor as my legs gave out.