You Can See Me (15 page)

“Ssssssss…damn it, Blair,” Pres hissed like a snake when Blair pulled up his length in a tortuously slow combination of sinful tongue, sharp teeth, and plush lips. “Blair, you’re killing me, honey.”

Right after Pres’s confession, Blair let out a loud, tormented groan that deliciously vibrated around Pres’s dick head as he felt Blair’s hot come run down his thigh. Blair’s body shook with his orgasm, but he never released Pres’s cock.

The pressure started in Pres’s balls and rocketed up his shaft. There was a split second of complete stillness before Pres slammed his head back into the pillow and let loose the first thick rope of his essence inside Blair’s mouth.

“Blair!” Pres managed to shout before burst after burst of creamy goodness was swallowed eagerly. Blair didn’t falter. He gripped the base of Pres’s cock and milked him with slow, steady strokes all while sucking painfully hard on the head of his dick, making sure Pres would remember him and this orgasm well into the evening after he awoke. He’d have a fucking hickey on his cock head for the next two days. Pres squeezed his eyes closed at the erotic pleasure-pain of Blair’s intense sucking.

“Aughhh. Shit.” Pres gripped both sides of Blair’s head and wrenched him off his sensitive, spent dick with a hard pop from the bastard’s evil mouth. “Augh. You motherfucker.” Pres’s chest heaved up and down.
Damn, that was intense.
Pres rubbed his deliciously abused cock and winced at the tenderness. He concentrated on getting his heart rate back to normal. “Fuck, Blair.”

Blair let out a deep chuckle that quickly turned into an erotic moan as he licked the last remnants of Pres’s come that ran down his soft cock.

“You are fuckin’ phenomenal when you come unhinged, Strawberry.”

Pres smiled at the “Strawberry” endearment. He found it kind of cute now, or maybe he was just too relaxed to care.

He’d been dozing off when he heard the water start running in the bathroom. Blair came out with a very warm rag and gently washed his spunk off Pres’s thigh. Then there was the telltale sign of his company getting dressed to leave. Pres felt a few different feelings about that, but chose not to overanalyze it and enjoy his current serenity.

Blair leaned down and gave Pres a slow, tongue-less kiss on his slack mouth.

“I can walk you out,” Pres managed to say through a stifled yawn.

“Sleep, Strawberry. It’s almost five in the morning. I’ll lock up when I leave.” Blair pecked Pres on his forehead. “Can I call you?” he whispered against his skin with a little uncertainty in his country drawl.

“I’d like that a lot.” Pres reached his hand up to stroke Blair’s cheek and felt him lean into it. “And Blair, thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“My pleasure, darlin’.”

Pres was already drifting into a peaceful slumber when he heard the chirp of his alarm and his front door open and close shut. After months of agony, he finally drifted into sleep with a smile on his face and without the assistance of alcohol.

Ric was one hundred percent exhausted. Even though he was still off the surgery rotation, he was swamped down in the ER handling small traumas. Halloween night was one of those nights the hospital dreaded…along with every other unofficial holiday. Every one of the hospital staff was either there or on call, andRic handled everything from sugar overdoses to gunshot wounds.

Jesus Christ, the damn bar fights are the worst. Assholes getting drunk and pummeling each other—in silly-ass costumes—until they are either pepper-sprayed by the cops or one of them gets brutally injured.

Ric was in deep thought as he made his way into his building. Everything about the shift had royally gotten under his skin. His coworkers had steered clear of him and his foul mood. He’d barked and growled at the nurses and orderlies for everything, whether it was their fault or not.

If he hadn’t run into Prescott and his smoking-hot date, then perhaps things wouldn’t have gone so bad. It’d never dawned on him that Pres would eventually move on. Ric was the one who had sworn off relationships since he stormed off Pres’s yacht.

How could I be so stupid? Of course he would move on. I just didn’t expect it to be with a man. Sure as fuck not one that looked like a six-foot-two Texas god.

Ric got pissed every time he thought of that man’s face or that sexy accent. His body shook, and his hands clenched. Ric couldn’t say for sure if his panic attacks hadn’t gone undetected by his coworkers tonight or not. However, if Ric was being totally honest, he couldn’t care less.

It was five in the morning, and all he could think about was crashing hard. He didn’t even stop and get breakfast at his favorite diner for fear of falling asleep at the counter.

Ric trudged through his building lobby and tried to give smiles to some of the staff, but doubted he managed to pull it off. He decided to bypass the stairs, which he usually took in his continuous effort to avoid Pres, but today he just couldn’t make the trek. He was bone tired.

Ric leaned his head back against the elevator paneling and watched the numbers light up all the way to floor ten before his eyes drifted shut for the rest of the way. When the doors opened, he came face-to-face with Prescott’s Texan.

Fuck me.

Instead of the gorgeous prick getting on the elevator and leaving, the cocky bastard took a couple steps back and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway and stared openly at him as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His hazel eyes scanned Ric up and down, taking in his disheveled, stressed-out appearance.

“Do you have a fucking problem?” Ric growled, refusing to pretend to be cordial to the man even though he was a complete stranger and had done absolutely nothing to him.

The man had the nerve to smirk at him and shake his head as if pitying Ric, or perhaps throwing it in Ric’s face that he’d definitely had a better night than he had. Ric did try to hide his anger at knowing the man had slept with his Pres. Why the hell else would he be leaving at five in the damn morning? Unless he delivered newspapers or milk, he had absolutely no reason to be on this floor this time of morning.
Bastard.

“No, I don’t have a problem,” he drawled slowly, making sure to put extra enunciation on the “I” part of his sentence. “But, obviously, you do. Or else you wouldn’t be scowling at me for no reason.”

“Fuck you,” Ric snarled, stepping just a little closer. He wanted to tear the man’s lips off for talking with that accent. Then he wanted to rip his hands off for daring to touch his Prescott.
The man’s probably a male gold digger.

“Did you enjoy taking advantage of Prescott? Did you get what you came for?” Ric growled like a rabid animal three inches away from the man’s face, but he’d be damned if the asshole didn’t even flinch at his showcase of fury. No reaction whatsoever.

The Texan had one hand casually tucked in his jeans pocket, kicking back one side of his stylish blazer, while he lazily rubbed his other hand over his taut chest and washboard abs that showed through the thin material of his untucked dress shirt. Ric hated to admit it, but the man looked well fucked, and he wore it well.

“How could you do that to someone like him?” Ric fumed, and it took everything in him to control his rage.

If I hit him, no one would know. There’s no one around, no witnesses. It’d be his word against mine.

“I knew I’d peg you in less than five minutes.” The man spoke with one dark brown eyebrow cocked up. He ran his fingers through his bed-tousled dark brown hair and let out an exasperated breath.

“Excuse me?” Ric blinked.

“Now I know why you were too stupid to hold on to Prescott Vaughan. You were too busy feeling sorry for him. Instead of you seeing a brilliant man, a world-renowned, accomplished chef who happens to be one of the most talented men to ever set foot in a kitchen, you see a needy, helpless man. Ahhh. Now it makes perfect sense.”

“Don’t try to act like you know me because you don’t,” Ric growled, still trying to be mindful they were in the hallway of the floor that he lived on.

The Texan pushed off the wall and closed the few inches between them. His six feet, two inches of height had him eye to eye with Ric, and the man showed no fear. His handsome face was now a mask of furious anger.

“I saw you treat him like shit on the bottom of your shoes last night. I watched him beg you for five fuckin’ minutes of your time, and you spat in his face. Now, you have the audacity to say I’m mistreating him? Fuck you,” he snarled right back at Ric.

Just as fast as the man’s anger came, it disappeared, and he composed himself to reveal that smirk that Ric selfishly rejoiced Pres couldn’t see, because it was sexy as fuck…and the man knew it.

Ric watched his competition push the elevator button as he rubbed his hand over his morning stubble before speaking again. “You know what they say, don’t you, Doc? One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and Prescott Vaughan is definitely a rare, precious treasure.”

The Texan inched in even closer, which surprised the hell out of Ric since they were practically nose to nose. Ric was smacked in the face with a faint soap-and-water fragrance that made his eyelids flutter and his own dick jerk to life. Ric’s half-lidded eyes were riveted to the Texan’s plush lips as he leaned in and whispered directly into Ric’s open mouth.

“If you don’t pull your head out of your ass and claim Prescott Vaughan like he wants, I won’t stop until I’ve fucked the sexy strawberry ten ways to Sunday and there’s not a single trace of your existence left in his mind, because with or without you, he needs love, and I was the one there last night to lick his sweet tears when you walked away.”

The elevator doors opened at his final words, and the smooth Texan took a few graceful steps backward into the elevator and gave Ric a sexy wink right before the doors closed.

Fucking asshole,
Ric thought.

Pres was waiting in the lounge in his building for Blair to come have dinner with him. The man had called Pres just like he’d said, and then every day after that for weeks. Before Pres knew what hit him, Blair had become very important to him. He still worked as an escort, but he always made Pres a priority, and he swore to him that he wasn’t fucking his clients.

They had at least three to four dates a week. He took Pres to a comedy show, where he’d laughed until his stomach hurt. They went to several restaurants all over the city, and he even took Blair with him to a French bistro he had to critique last week.

Pres was shocked when Blair surprised him one evening by taking him to a food rave. He hadn’t been to one in years, and the greatest part was how all the young chefs knew him and were chomping at the bit for his culinary expertise. The women swooned at his spectacular smelling sense and super-sensitive tasting palate. It made Pres feel like he was on top of the world, and Blair had done it all for him.

Spending time with Blair had shown Pres what he’d been missing his entire life, even during the small amount of time he’d had with Ric. He enjoyed the company of men, and he wasn’t in a constant state of bending over backward to please and satisfy all the time. Pres didn’t like the weakling he’d become after his fiancée left and while dating Vikki.

Pres was falling hard for Blair, and they both couldn’t deny what was brewing between them, but there was something missing, and they had yet to put their finger on it.

“Hey, Strawberry.” Blair’s deep voice reached him before he made it to the table.

“Hey, sexy. Sit your ass down and stop drawing attention.” Pres smiled wide, loving their sexy jeering. Pres felt Blair give him a soft kiss on his lips.

“Mmm. You taste good.” Blair leaned back in and licked Pres’s lips.

“You’d better stop before your sinful mouth gets you in trouble.” Pres laughed. “You hungry, babe?”

“Maybe just an appetizer, I had a big lunch,” Blair stated as he read the menu. “So what do you suggest, Chef?”

“The Mexican egg rolls,” Pres said without hesitation.

“Is it your recipe?” Blair asked.

“Yep. They’re really good, too.”

“I’m sure they are, you brilliant man. So hey, before I forget, do you want to go to another comedy show next weekend? My dad got me free tickets.”

Pres felt Blair grip one of his hands that rested on the tabletop and rub it lightly.

He reached over and lightly brushed Blair’s face with the backs of his fingers from his temple to his chin. Since their first meeting, Blair had picked up on Pres’s constant need for intimate contact, and he never let Pres down.

“Sure, that sounds like fun. You want me to have Scott drive us?” Pres flipped his hand over and linked their fingers together.

“No. I’ll come and get you. Then we can walk down on the beach. There’s not much time left before it’s too cold to enjoy—” Blair suddenly stopped speaking.

“What’s wrong, Bl—” Pres froze at the spicy-sweet scent that wafted over their table.

“I’m gonna go make a phone call, Strawberry. Looks like someone has something to say,” Blair stated calmly.

“Okay. You want me to order for you?” Pres asked as Blair continued to stroke his hand.         

“Sure, darlin’. I’m your man. You know what I like.”

Pres heard Ric let out an indignant snort at Blair’s obvious verbal sucker punch.

* * * *

Ric stood at the entrance to the lounge and watched Pres and his Texan fondle all over each other. The man looked smooth, and Pres looked mouthwatering in his sleek business suit. The bastard said he would step aside and let Ric have a chance to fix his mistake, and a mistake he did make. He loved Prescott Vaughan, and he was ready to be what he needed in a partner…not a nagging parent.

I’m just gonna be bold as fuck and say my piece right there in front of his new beau.

Ric sat down opposite of Prescott and tried not to let his tongue wag out of his mouth at the man’s stunning appearance or let his anger show at the Texan’s pet name for his man. Ric blurted out, “What the fuck is a strawberry?”

“It’s a
sweet, soft red fruit with a seed-studded surface,” Pres replied coolly.

“No shit. I mean, why the hell does he call you that?” Ric asked.

“Why does that matter to you, Ric?”

“It… I… Well, I was wondering is all.” Ric wanted to kick himself at his fumbling over his own words. “Never mind. I wanted to maybe talk to you, if you had some free time.”

“Some free time?” Pres retorted.

“Yes, Pres. I think I made a mistake,” Ric said in an extremely low tone.

“You think…you made a mistake.” Pres threw up air quotes when he said the word “think.” “So what exactly am I supposed to talk to you about, Ric? I tried—no, I begged—to talk to you for months, and you were sure that you’d made the right decision, no matter how much I tried to argue…through your fucking apartment door, because you wouldn’t open it,” Pres spat. Ric could see Pres’s anger bubbled just below his exterior.

This was not going at all how Ric had thought it would go. How was he going to explain this to Pres and get him to come back? He was sure that Pres still loved him enough to allow him to apologize and give him a second chance.

“Pres, I wanted to apologize. I was going through something very toxic to my heart, and I got scared. I saw you go into that water, and it just paralyzed me. A wound that I thought was healed wasn’t. I needed to heal. I should have just talked to you about it, but I was so scared of losing my heart again.”

Ric saw Pres’s face lighten and the scowl disappear.

Oh, thank you, God.

“You are my heart, Pres, and believe me, the thought of losing you tragically still makes my head pound instantly. But, I will not shelter you, or constantly hover over you either, if you give me another chance. There was not an hour that went by these last few months that I didn’t think about you.”

Pres didn’t speak any more. His beautiful eyes were hidden behind his sleek Gucci shades, and his face was a stony mask.

“Baby?”

“Don’t,” Pres snapped angrily. “Don’t you fuckin’ call me that. I need to think about this, Ric, but I honestly don’t feel like you deserve another second of my time.”

“Are you in love with the Texan?” Ric wanted to bite his tongue at blurting out his thoughts, but it was out now, and he really wanted to know.

“First off, his name is Blair. Second, yes, I do love him,” Pres answered without a bit of hesitation.

Ric wanted to run out of that lounge and throw himself in front of the next vehicle that was barreling down the street at over sixty miles per hour. Pres had moved on and was in love with another man. Ric had waited too long.

How the hell did I let this happen? I was in love, and this man loved me, and I threw him away. Now he’s another man’s treasure, just like the Texan said he’d be.

“As much as it hurts, baby, I hope he treats you good, because God knows you deserve it.” Ric got up and placed a soft kiss on Pres’s cheek. He meant to pull away quickly, but he lingered. Pres smelled so good…fuck…like a ripe, sweet strawberry.

Ric almost let a sob escape, but he controlled it. He couldn’t pull away. He let his lips dwell on Pres’s soft cheek after he noted that Pres wasn’t pushing him away.

Pres turned his lips toward Ric’s mouth, but didn’t kiss him. He whispered softly, “Blair is my very special friend. He was there for me when I was drowning in depression. I do love him, Ric, but he’s not my lover.”

“Oh… I thought… The way you two look together, you look very friendly,” Ric admitted with a little more venom in his voice than he intended.

“That’s just his nature—”

“Yeah, being an escort and all, I’m kind of a natural flirt.” Blair’s deep voice interrupted Pres’s last statement.

“A w-what?” Ric stammered, pulling back from Pres’s cheek. He was sure he hadn’t heard what he thought he heard.

There are male escorts that look like you? I thought all those commercials were false advertisement.

“You heard me right, Dr. Hottie.”

Uhhh, that fucking accent is driving me up the fucking wall. Does he have to make everything drip sex?

Blair laughed deep in his chest. “Oh, Strawberry, his face right now. The phrase ‘fish out of water’ comes to mind.”

Pres laughed, and Ric immediately turned his attention away from the sex fiend. He hadn’t heard Pres laugh in so long. As much as he wanted to hate the guy, he had been good for Pres. Now that he knew what Blair did for a living, his mind couldn’t help but drift to some of the things that southern mouth of his had done to his Pres…or could do to Ric.

What the hell? Don’t think about him. He’s the enemy.

“Blair, the waitress didn’t come take our order yet. You want another drink?” Pres asked the Texan nicely. Ric found himself wishing that Pres would turn a little of that kindness on him.

Why? I don’t deserve his kindness.

“No. I’m going to head out. I finally got a hold of my elusive professor, so I’m going to go meet him while he’s still in his office. I’ll catch up with you at the end of the week for the show.”

“Okay, honey. Will you call me later?” Pres grinned at the dark-haired beauty.

“I most certainly will. I gotta go. Give me a kiss, darlin’.”

Ric clamped his large frame to his chair to keep from bolting up and wrapping his hands around the smug bastard’s throat.
Pres would be pissed if you killed his new BFF by asphyxiation.
He gripped the armrest as he watched the Texan put on a show. Blair placed both hands on the arms of Pres’s chair, securing him in. He seductively licked his lips, locked eyes on Ric, and slowly bent down to bring his pretty mouth in contact with Pres’s slightly parted lips, never breaking eye contact with Ric.

He’s fucking daring me. Don’t let me find out where you live, you cocky asshole.

Ric couldn’t take his eyes off the two men, one of them being his man, the other a pain in his ass. The bastard had the nerve to let his tongue just barely graze Pres’s lips before he began to pull back slower than humanly possible. Pres admonished him for the stunt.

“Behave, honey. Don’t goad him,” Pres whispered against Blair’s still-lingering lips.

“Yes, my treasure.” With that said, the Texan winked at Ric and walked out of the lounge like he owned the entire damn building.