Landry’s voice turned amused, playful. “Does my good girl want another hard fucking?”
“Please!” She tried to rock back and impale herself, but his strong hands held her hips still.
Cris’ eyes never left hers.
Landry’s hands massaged her ass. “How did you enjoy the first time I fucked you, baby?”
“I loved having your cock inside me!”
Cris blinked, but his eyes never wavered.
“Well, I loved fucking you. You have such a sweet, tight pussy. Any man would love to fuck you, and yet I’m the lucky bastard married to you.” His hands tightened on her. “I’m the only man who gets to do this to you.” He thrust, hard and fast, sinking all the way into her.
Her hands fisted the sheet as she cried out.
It felt so.
Fucking.
Good.
Cris watched them, the look of satisfaction on Landry’s face, the look of passionate pleasure on hers. He had the dubious distinction of knowing neither was faking it.
The bed shook as Landry fucked her hard and fast. Her spine rounded as she threw her head back and moaned, “Don’t stop!”
“I’m not going to stop. I’m going to make love to you all night long.”
Cris wished he could fall through the floor, that it would open and swallow him. He’d been painfully wrong earlier. His imagination and wondering what Landry had in store paled in comparison to the reality.
Landry sat back, holding her tightly to him, and made her sit up. She threw her head onto his shoulder as she rode his cock. His hands roamed her body, then settled over her breasts where he cupped them in his palms and rubbed the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. She reached back, stretching her body, and hooked an arm around his neck as she rocked against him.
Their lips connected and Cris was once again relegated to silent witness instead of forced voyeuristic participant. He tried to tune out, to imagine himself in Tilly’s place, impaled on Landry’s cock and lost in the moment, and he couldn’t.
All he could think about was the last time he made love to Tilly, not knowing at the time it was the last time he’d ever make love to her.
The night before he flew out to L.A. for the job where, almost three weeks later, he read an email only two hours old from an old friend of his. On an email account he rarely checked anymore, and hadn’t checked in nearly six months. While he sat in a hotel room less than five miles from the hospital.
A perfect storm of coincidences.
Landry fucked Tilly as Cris thought about walking into the ICU and finding Jaimie and Gentry sitting in the waiting area, remembered seeing the shocked surprise on the men’s faces.
Gentry had stood and warmly embraced him. “Fuck! I didn’t know you lived here.”
He’d kept his face schooled to an expression of dispassionate concern. “I don’t. What happened?”
Gentry and Jaimie, who’d taken the condo next door to Landry’s, had received a knock on their door from the CHP officer doing a next of kin search early that morning.
He listened to Gentry run down Landry’s injuries. “Is he going to make it?” he’d hoarsely asked his old friend.
Gentry hesitated, wetting his lips before answering. “They don’t know.”
“Who else is here for him?” He looked around.
Jaimie shook his head. “We’re it, bro. He’s got nobody unless he’s still got family in France.”
Gentry and Jaimie lied for Cris and told the nursing staff Cris was Landry’s partner. They left out the little factoid that Cris hadn’t had any contact with Landry in over six years, since the day he moved out.
The nursing staff paged one of the on call physicians, who explained to Cris about the seriousness of Landry’s condition. Not the accident injuries, for while serious, he would heal from those. But the cancer they’d discovered during the surgery.
“What has to be done?” Cris felt numb, hadn’t yet been able to bring himself to touch his former lover, the man he still loved.
His Master.
“He must have immediate treatment. I need a signature on the forms though.”
Cris felt himself nod. “Whatever you need.”
When the doctor left to get the forms, Cris barely noticed him leave. All he could see were
Landry’s closed eyes, both blackened and swollen, his broken nose, the ventilator tube taped in place, the IVs in his arms, and the bandage around his head.
Wake up, he thought. Look at me you son of a bitch.
The man who had haunted his dreams all these years, even while he loved Tilly, didn’t move, a machine breathing for him, monitors logging every heartbeat.
The man he once thought had a heart of stone.
The man he hated because he couldn’t stop loving him no matter how hard he’d tried to forget him.
The doctor returned, handed Cris a clipboard, and indicated where he should sign.
Cris didn’t read the paperwork, but he didn’t sign at first, pretended he was looking it over.
Considering.
“Is he going to make it?” Cris asked, hating how choked his voice sounded.
The doctor looked grave. “I can’t make any promises, Mr. Guerrero. His condition is very serious. If we start cancer treatments immediately, we have a chance of saving his life. We can do more surgery tomorrow. He’ll need radiation and chemotherapy in addition to surgery. I won’t lie and say it’ll be easy, but the oncologist said he’s seen people survive who are in much worse shape.”
He’d signed the paperwork and walked to the waiting room to talk to his old friends again.
Tilly’s moan brought Cris fully back to the present as Landry slowly fucked her. He’d dropped one hand between her legs and spread his own farther apart, forcing her to open wider.
Cris watched Landry’s cock as it repeatedly disappeared inside her, his balls bouncing at the bottom of every stroke. Landry extended his middle finger, flipping Cris an upside-down bird before he used two fingers to rub her clit. That drew more happy moans from her.
His cock felt damn good inside her. She felt the restrained strength in his hands, enjoyed knowing he could be so gentle and tender with her while the dark master within could beat Cris to a pulp. Hands that could torture and inflict pain, yet for her alone brought so much pleasure.
Safety.
“I want another one from you,” he said. “I want to feel you squeeze my cock again.”
The sound of his voice stripped every ounce of will from her soul. All she wanted was to be part of him, to let him take her however he wanted.
“Please make me come.” She kept one arm hooked around his neck as her fingers burrowed into his hair. Along her back she felt the fine hair on his chest rubbing her flesh, his skin warm against hers.
Her husband.
“I’ll make you come all night long if you want, sweetheart. Anything to make you happy.”
Her heart fluttered.
Sweetheart.
He was the first man to call her that in a romantic way since…
Resisting the urge to open her eyes, she ground her hips against him even as his fingers skillfully strummed her clit and drew her closer to climax.
The part of her that didn’t ever want to want or need another human being in her life tried to resist despite how good it felt. That part of her knew she grew dangerously close to loving this almost-stranger.
Right now, for the first time in years, she let the notion of spending the rest of her life with someone take root in her heart.