St. Nacho's 4: The Book of Daniel (13 page)

I shook all over, weak with need, while he readied me for him. His fingers pumped inside me, and when I started to push against his hand, begging for more, he slipped it free, pushing me back until I hovered over his cock. I was almost senseless by this time, and he had to explain what he wanted.

“Get me ready.” He pressed a condom into my hand. I must have looked at it like I’d never seen one before, because he took it from me and opened it, handing the latex circle back unwrapped.

Feeling foolish, I rolled it down on him, giving him a pump or two, then held myself still.

“What are you waiting for?” His eyebrows rose.

“I want to kiss you while you push inside me.”

He smiled faintly, gazing up at me, and then his entire body rippled beneath mine. It was like riding some magnificent, mythical animal as he rolled up onto his elbows. His abs strained, and when his lips met mine, I sank onto his cock, trying to relax. He seemed impossibly large, and I felt tight. I worried whether I’d be able to take him even though I wasn’t exactly untested in that area. He pressed his lips to mine, and for that bright moment, we were connected by a circle of hunger and need that raced from my lips to his, down through his body and back to me through his cock.

I resisted him only as long as he resisted me. When my tongue swept in to take his mouth, his cock surged past the tight ring of muscle, past my brief, unconscious resistance until my body capitulated for him. I rocked back, and he pushed up, and little by little our bodies joined. With a groan he dropped back, and I sat up fully, one palm flat on his chest, split open and spread wide, impaled on him. I felt him as deep as my heart, and I let out a noise I didn’t recognize as coming from me at all.

“Dan,” he whispered, shifting, drawing out and then pushing his hips up and around in tight circles to push deeper still. “
Daniel
.”

I didn’t know where my hands should go, so I wrapped them around myself—across my body to grip my own shoulders—and rode him like that, letting him hold my hips so we could find a rhythm together. And fuck, it felt good and bad at the same time—confusing to let him in that deep. I opened myself so completely and yet I was still, for all intents and purposes, clinging to myself, alone.

I wanted more. I needed him to pull me down and engulf me completely.

I needed him to hold me. I needed skin. I needed to taste and touch more than I needed to be fucked, and I stretched and reached out for him, taking his face in my hands and bringing our mouths together for a searing kiss that I wanted to last forever.

One minute I was on top, and the next, he’d pulled out and rolled me over facedown so he was lying on me, crawling up, nudging my legs apart, spreading me once more while he licked and kissed all along my spine. He entered me again, this time kissing my shoulders and my neck. He breathed softly against my temple and said my name and
gimme
and
yeah, yes, mine
until he seemed to lose even the power of one-syllable words.

He fucked me slowly. Deeply. He drew grunts and satisfied little huffs of air from me until I couldn’t breathe except to pant.

It was perfect.
Cam
was perfect, and at last, when he wrapped his arm around me like a python to pump my dick with his hand while he fucked me into oblivion, I blew all over, howling my delight into a pillow.

He chuckled hot breath into my hair and rubbed his bristly face along my shoulders. “
Daniel
.”

I was boneless and sated and oh, so very content to gather his hand in mine. I kissed and rubbed my cheek along the knuckles like his damned cat.

His other hand, still splayed across my lower abdomen warmed me even though what spunk he hadn’t wiped away with the sheet had started to cool and dry.

I felt his cock soften; he slipped it out of me, dropping the condom over the side of the bed.

“Jeez.” He sighed.

“Feel like a nap?” I turned and tucked my head between his neck and shoulder, shamelessly wanting his arms still wrapped around me.

“Mmmhmm.” He sighed as our bodies came into contact again. I wrapped my leg over his to keep him close.

I had planned other things for the afternoon. Exploring the beach, the pier, the shops. Dining. Dancing, if he wanted go to a club. I was just too comfortable to move. “Just for a bit.”

“Mmmhmm.”

* * *

I lay beside Cam later, fading in and out of some forgettable dream. I had the peculiar sensation that I was being watched, and when I opened my eyes, I found Cam’s blue gaze fixed on me, curious, as if he were observing a slow growth of mold on my face.

I shot up, startled. “What?”

“Nothing.” He ran the tip of his finger down my nose. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Ah,
no
. I scrubbed at my face and glanced at the clock. Eight p.m. Perfect for a late supper and a walk on the beach. “Bree used to tell me that, but I can’t say I’ve ever heard proof. What did I say?”

He grinned. “Mostly nonsense I think. You did say a name. Jack.”

“Ah.”
Jack
. I chuckled. He waited, but I ignored his curiosity.

“Who’s Jack?”

Gotcha
. “Jack was my zeyde’s dog—predictably enough, a Jack Russell terrier. I haven’t thought about him in years.”

“Really.”

I nodded, shifting so I could lay my head on his outstretched arm. Not a pillowy soft bicep, that. It was like sleeping on small boulders. I faced him. “I used to love that dog. My dad wouldn’t let us have one, but we could play with Jack. I was eight when Jake was born, and Zeyde made me this grand presentation of a key to his place and asked me if I thought I could handle the responsibility of walking Jack on my way home from school. I think he just wanted to keep me out of the house so my mom and Jake could nap.”

“Your grandfather sounds like a great guy. Yasha told me a lot about him.”

“He’s the one who always called Jake
Yasha
. He was a good man. He tried to make things better when…when they weren’t.”

“He was good to you. He took Jake to Israel?”

“Yeah. Jake had a hard time in school. When he was younger, I was always there to protect him, but when I went to university, things got bad. Mom lost it when he came out. She called me first thing, hysterical. She talked all that out to me so she wouldn’t let him see how much it bothered her.”

“That’s why you never came out to her?”

“I’d never seen her like that. No way she could have handled two of us. She was devastated. But you’ve got to hand it to her. Regardless of how much that upset her, she stood by him.”

“I see.”

“They’re gone now, though. I guess it’s finally my turn.”

Chapter Thirteen

Cam and I had dinner by candlelight in front of an amazing panoramic ocean view. I hardly paid attention to the well-prepared California fusion cuisine which took the disparate aspects of French and Asian cooking and merged them with typical fresh California ingredients. Cam frowned at his plate like the waiter had presented him with soylent green, but dinner was lovely. Maybe it was the first time in my life that good food took a backseat to watching my date.

When the waiter presented Cam’s dessert in a flaming shot glass, it was nothing less than priceless.

“Are you kidding me?” Cam asked, polite enough to wait until after the waiter left. He flipped the saucer from his coffee over the glass to smother the flame. “Pudding should never be on fire.”

“What can I say? The reviews said this place was good.”

The food had been delicious. I’d had black sesame seared ahi with greens and some sweet hot dressing with wasabi grits—or something. Was it white polenta? Cam had beef tenderloin with summer squash and wasabi mashed potatoes. It was first-rate, but maybe not Cam’s style, because he pulled apart the self-indulgent little towers of food suspiciously, separating the dish’s elements onto the plate like a child, after which he peered at each thing before he ate it like he expected it to move. He’d frowned in concentration to the point I thought sweat would pop out on his brow.

Note to self: save pretentious restaurants for business lunches.

“It is good,” he admitted, when he finally dipped his spoon into his dessert. “The fire kind of caramelized the sugar in the fruit on top.”

I wasn’t too hungry so I let my dessert sit for a while, preferring to slouch on the table in a way my mother would have hated, leaning my head on my hand and watching Cam like some lovesick teen.

“I’ve been watching every move you make, and next time I’ll get the restaurant exactly right.”

The gaze that had been focused on his spoon rose to my face. His cheeks darkened. Maybe he wasn’t used to being the center of someone’s rapt attention like that. I couldn’t imagine why. I loved looking at him.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I want study you and figure out everything you like, everything that makes you happy, and then pour it all over you like…rain.”

Cam’s brows drew together. “That’s—”

“I know it sounds creepy. Like someone should be piping in the soundtrack to
Psycho
, huh?”

“A little.”

I shrugged. “I don’t really always know what to do with people.”

“I’m starting to get that.”

“But there are some people I want to make happy.”

He sagged a little and put his spoon down. “And you figure that you’ll watch them and see what they like and give them that?”

“Well…yeah.”

“But there’s more, right? There’s more than just giving people things they like, or even experiences, like riding your bike or a horse on the beach.” Cam took my hand. “What I like is
you
.”

Jeez
. A bubble must feel something when it pops. It’s only air, floating along separated from a vast ocean of other air by the thinnest membrane of soap and water, a microns-thick skin containing it, keeping it from melting back into infinite space.

Cam’s words popped some rigid bubble that kept me isolated even when I was with the people closest to me. The pressure around me equalized as I came to terms with my new reality. I was dizzy with anxiety, and my heart raced like I’d run a marathon.

He pushed his dessert away. “Can you learn to give yourself away the same way you give away things?”

Ah, fuck. Could I
? I didn’t know. I was pretty sure I never had. Even looking all the way back, past Bree, past school, way back into childhood, I’d always functioned the same way with people. Like a cross between pet owner and classy Santa Claus, managing the environment for those I loved and gifting them with their favorite things.

I’d never even approached a dog without a treat in my hand.

“I don’t know what I have to give.”

Infinitely optimistic, Cam said, “There’s bound to be something though, right?”

“Right.” I dropped several bills into the leather folder left for us by the waiter. Cam let me. He probably knew there was no stopping me. The conversation we were having didn’t warrant an intervention at that point. I worried that he considered the price of dinner a small skirmish when there were much larger wars in our near future.

Cam got up from the table. “Don’t look at me like that.”

I rose and picked up my jacket, shaking it out and pushing my arms through the sleeves. “Like what? How am I looking at you?”

His face softened. “I’m not trying to blow down your house of cards, Daniel.”

I nodded, but whether he was trying or not, he had, and we both knew it.

* * *

That night we walked hand in hand along the beach. More than one person reacted to that. Some were positive, some not. I had to admit I wasn’t anxious to wear my sexuality on my sleeve, but it felt all wrong to treat Cam like less, to hide what I felt for him away in the hotel room when I could have showered a woman with affection in public.

I sensed disapproval from strangers like waves of energy, whether I was looking at them or not. At one point, a couple of teenage boys spit on the ground in front of Cam’s shoe and called us faggots.

I must have seemed pretty stricken, because Cam dropped my hand without rancor and kept walking, still close, brushing shoulders, but not overtly indicating that we were a couple. I knew it wasn’t like him to hide who he was. In my surprise, I’d slowed. When he turned back to wait for me, his eyes held nothing but affection. I took his hand firmly in mine again, and we kept going.

“You sure about this?” he asked carefully.

My heart was so full of all the new things I was thinking and feeling that I almost couldn’t answer. Mostly I’d never been sure,
really sure
,
about anything. Well. Except one thing.

“Cameron Rooney, I feel lucky to be here with you. I don’t care who knows it.”

I heard him let out the breath he was holding. “All right.”

We went back to our hotel, and I’m ashamed to say I fell asleep in his arms, listening to the susurration of waves through the open slider—even though he might have had other ideas.

* * *

I blinked when the sun slatted through the gaps in the blinds. Cam had obviously just woken up himself. He looked around disoriented, as if he was trying to put together a memory of the night before. I noticed when his gaze landed on me, he didn’t seem disappointed.

“You should look away before you turn to stone. I need to shower and my breath probably smells like ass.”

Cam ignored my advice. Instead, he laughed and rolled toward me, giving me a good long, not unpleasant kiss. “Come on then.”

I grimaced when I rose to my feet. I was definitely not twenty-five anymore and here it was.
The shower scene
. The full monty: vertical, naked, in the bright light of morning, without the heat of passion to gild us and blunt any imperfections. Cam was safe. He didn’t have any imperfections.

I didn’t think the harsh light of day was going to hurt me much, but I thought I looked better between the sheets in the moonlight. Most people do.

I let him lead me, clad only in our boxers, to the bathroom. I must have let on that I was feeling shy, because he joked around about it.