Excerpt for Busy with Work by , available in its entirety at Smashwords











B U S Y



W I T H



W O R K



N S F W





M I C H A E L S. B O O K E R

































Copyright © February 2018 by Michael S. Booker

E-Book Edition

Cover image by Michael S. Booker

All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, in any form or by any other means, without the written permission of the author.

























Other Titles by Michael S. Booker



NSFW

Not Safe for Work



Freshman

Freshman: Fall Semester – Volume 1

Freshman: Fall Semester – Volume 2



The Shadow Series

Shadow

Anomaly

Echo

Whisper

Lullaby

























To

Paul Bolduc









1











Stop looking at my boyfriend’s ass, Eric Dennis thought.

Aloud, Eric said, in his most calm and charming voice: “So, what do you think of the place, Mr. Wilson?”

Carter Wilson took his eyes away from Mathew Campbell’s butt, just long enough to glance at Eric and reply: “I’m not convinced. And please don’t call me ‘Mr. Wilson’, Dennis. I’m thirty-three-years-old—not sixty.”

Eric was going to say something, but Mathew interjected first. “What do we need to do to convince you?”

Wilson smirked. “I can think of a few things…”

Both Mathew and Wilson laughed. Eric did his best, not to cringe.

This was the third loft that Eric and Mathew had shown to Wilson that Thursday afternoon and the sixth place that they had shown him, overall. It was an understatement, to call Winston “picky”. He was an arrogant perfectionist, who never seemed to be pleased by anything or anyone—except for Mathew. However, Wilson was also a good-looking, thirty-three-year-old, six-foot-two, social media mogul, mega millionaire, quickly on the verge of becoming a billionaire. Carter Wilson was easily Eric’s most high-profiled client to date. Eric disliked the man but keeping Carter Wilson as a client was pivotal to Eric’s career. If Eric had to kiss the man’s ass, trot him all over the Bay Area to find him the perfect home, and allow Wilson to blatantly flirt with Mathew, right in front of him, Eric would have no choice but to swallow his pride.

“I don’t know,” Wilson said. He strode across the freshly polished, hardwood floors, in his chocolate-colored Ferragamo Oxfords dress shoes, surveying the expansive, recently renovated 1300- square-foot loft. He gazed out of the row of three, five-foot windows that overlooked the city of Oakland, as well as a beautiful and extensive view of the San Francisco Bay, and the skyline of San Francisco. “I was hoping for something in the City…West Oakland is so…blah. The building is nice. The space itself is damn-near perfect…but the neighborhood looks like something out of The Hunger Games. I don’t know if it makes sense for me, to spend close to two million, to live in a post-apocalyptic neighborhood. It looks like District 13 outside of this building.”

Eric stood beside Wilson, looking out the windows, admiring the view. It was close to six-o-clock in the evening. The sun was starting to set over the blue, serene waters of the Bay. The sky was a gorgeous fusion of cranberry and lemon-colored hues. The grids of the cities of Oakland and San Francisco were all lit up.

“The Lower Bottoms is very up-and-coming. In five years, maybe fewer than that, this whole neighborhood will be completely revamped. But look at the view…it’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Eric asked. “You wouldn’t get this kind of view, across the bay. You’d be spending a lot more, to look out your window and see other high-rises and listen to cars honking, all day and night.”

Wilson seemed to consider Eric’s comment, momentarily. He shrugged. “You might be right, Dennis. The view is stunning...and it is a lot quieter, I’ll give you that.” Wilson turned and began to saunter in another direction, hands deeps in the pockets of his khaki slacks. He gazed upward, at the high ceiling, with its numerous wooden beams. “But I need something more than a good view, Dennis. You know that. My house in the Berkeley hills has a better view than this. I need something livelier…something fun, something—”

“Sexy,” Mathew interrupted. “You want something that excites you…that turns you on.”

Wilson appeared perplexed by Mathew’s statement.

Shit, Eric thought. Why the hell did he just say that?

“What Mathew meant was—” Eric started.

Wilson raised his hand to cut Eric off. “Let Mr. Campbell finish. This should be good.”

“You like to play hard to get,” Mathew said. “I would too, if I were you. You could live anywhere in the world, basically. And I know you’re wondering: why here? You said it yourself: the space is perfect, for you. It’s modern. It’s chic. It’s sexy. The neighborhood is a dump; I’ll give you that. But give it a couple of years, five at the most, and this area is going to be booming. This area needs someone like you, Carter. It needs a trendsetter with a vision. You’re lively, you’re exciting, you’re…”

“Sexy?” Wilson asked, with an obnoxious grin.

Mathew laughed. “You said it, not me.”

Wilson laughed, in return.

Jesus, Eric thought. This is a nightmare.

“Your main office is in San Francisco,” Mathew continued. “You spend about seventy-five percent of your time in the city, when you’re working. It’s a bit overkill, to work and live in the city. And mind you, I love San Francisco, but the city is starting to become a bit cliché, don’t you think?”

Wilson shrugged. “Maybe… I was born in the City, so it has a special place in my heart. But you may be right, Mr. Campbell. The city is becoming over-flooded, with obnoxious techie hipsters that think they’re too cool for school.”

And you’re one of them, Eric thought, doing his best, to hide his annoyance.

“Oakland is the West Coast’s equivalent to Brooklyn,” Mathew stated. “Not quite as prestigious as its sister-city, Frisco, but it just needs a little more inspiration. Someone like you can really change things around here.”

Wilson smiled. “You’ve definitely given me something to think about, Mr. Campbell.”

Don’t think too hard, asshole, Eric thought.

Wilson turned to Eric, “I think I’m about done here, today, Dennis. I’ll give you a call soon, to see where we go from here.”

“Just remember,” Eric said, “if this place isn’t exactly what you’re looking for, we can always keep looking for you, somewhere else. We want to make sure that you’re satisfied.”

Wilson smiled, smugly. He playfully punched Eric on the shoulder. “I know you do, Dennis. Don’t worry. We’ll get everything straightened out soon.” He headed for the door. Before leaving, Wilson turned and looked at Mathew. “And as always, Mr. Campbell, good to see you. I’m looking forward to seeing you again, soon.”

Eric’s skin grew hot.

“Likewise, Carter. Do you need help finding the exit?”

Eric’s anger was rapidly approaching a peak. He needed Carter Wilson to leave, now.

“I remember how we came in,” Wilson replied, as he opened the door. “I’m a smarter guy than I look.”

You sure about that? Eric wondered. “Have a good night, Mr. Wilson,” Eric said.

Wilson completely dismissed Eric and winked at Mathew, instead. “Good night.”

Eric waited, until the sound of Wilson’s footsteps faded into the distance, before speaking. “Well, that went fucking well.”

Mathew laughed. “It went better than the other two places,” he responded. “He seemed more interested, this time.”

“The only thing that man is interested in is you,” Eric fussed. “Other than that, he’s just wasting my time and he knows it.”

Mathew sauntered over to where Eric stood. He reached out and carefully adjusted the knot of Eric’s silk tie and made sure that the collar of Eric’s snow-white shirt was folded down perfectly. “Look at you…being all jealous…it’s cute.”

“Jealous?” Eric asked. He wanted to be angry, but it was challenging to remain angry with Mathew for too long, especially when looking at Mathew’s cocoa-colored eyes and perfect smile. “That guy was ready to pounce on you, at any moment, with or without me being around. To me, it looks like you wouldn’t have minded.”

“Carter Wilson just wants his ego stroked, every now and again,” Mathew answered. “You’ve been a real estate agent for a while, Eric. You know the game.”

“Yeah, well, it’s more than his ego that Wilson wants you to stroke,” Eric said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mathew replied. “You’re the only one that gets all of my strokes.”

Mathew wrapped his arms around Eric’s waist, rising on the front tips of his black Cole Haan loafers, to give Eric a quick kiss. After, Mathew reached down and gently cupped Eric’s balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. It only took moments, for Eric’s cock to become erect and snake the down the length of his grey slacks.

In the year that Eric and Mathew had been dating, the power of Mathew’s kisses and touches never lost their potency for Eric. Eric’s skin warmed with every one of Mathew’s caresses; his balls tingled with every kiss.

“Someone’s ready to go,” Mathew whispered, squeezing Eric’s dick.

Eric gripped Mathew’s firm, round ass, as they kissed longer, deeper, with increasing passion. “We should leave,” Eric said, once he was out of breath, “before this gets out of hand.”

“Come on,” Mathew tempted, slowly pulling down Eric’s zipper. “Just a little bit longer…we have the whole place to ourselves. Let’s enjoy it, for a little bit longer.”

The early evening was quickly fading into a bluish-violet night. The last remnants of sunlight, filtered through the luxury loft’s large windows and spilled beautifully, on the lavish wooden floors.

“Let’s take this back home,” Eric said, doing his best to resist Mathew. He took a step backward and adjusted his cock in his pants. “I don’t want us to get in trouble.”

Mathew laughed. “Nobody’s here but us, Eric. How can we get in trouble?”

“With you, Mathew, there’s always a way to get in trouble.”

Mathew continued to smile. He turned and ambled toward the windows. Eric admired Mathew’s ass as he walked away, relishing the idea of getting Mathew naked, in his bed, by the end of the night. “It would be hot though…” Mathew started. He pressed his hands against the window panes “If you were to pull off all of my clothes, right now…and fuck me against this window.”

Eric would have been lying, if he said the same thought had not run through his mind, earlier. In fact, the erotic thought had run fifty laps around Eric’s mind, more than a few times. It made his cock twitch wildly, in his snug-fitted underwear briefs. Eric took a few steps toward Mathew. “Yeah, but someone might see us.”

“We’re on the top floor,” Mathew said, still gazing out of the window. “And it’s sunset. Nobody could see us now.”

“Tempting,” Eric replied, as he stepped up being Mathew, gently wrapping his arms around Mathew’s slender waist, and pressing his crotch against Mathew’s perfectly tight ass. “But I’d rather take your clothes off at home, in my bed.”

Mathew arched his lower back, grinding his ass harder against Eric’s erection. “You think that maybe one day, we can afford a place like this?”

Eric softly bit Mathew’s left earlobe. “You mean, together?”

“Well…you know, that’s pretty much what I meant, when I said ‘we’.”

Honestly, in their year-long courtship, Eric had not seriously considered the idea of full-time cohabitation with Mathew. They both had their separate apartments, not too far from each other. Primarily, Mathew spent nearly all his weekends, at Eric’s swanky apartment, in Downtown Oakland, while Eric occasionally spent some time at Mathew’s small, but very cute and cozy, bohemian-art-chic apartment, in Berkeley.

“Little steps, Mathew. Little steps. Not everything has to happen in such a rush.”

“Everything is ‘little steps’ with you, Eric.”

“Sometimes little steps can lead to big places,” Eric countered.

Mathew pushed away from Eric’s embrace. “Or, they can lead to dead ends.”

Damn, Eric thought. Don’t make this into something bigger than it is.

There were times, when Eric tended to speak too soon or too abruptly, without thinking, causing unnecessary tension between he and Mathew.

“It means that it’s a bit too soon to be talking about living arrangements,” Eric replied. “That’s all.”

Eric had hoped that his explanation would soften Mathew’s attitude. It only seemed to make it worse.

“We’ve been seeing each other for almost a year, Eric. How is that ‘too soon’?”

“Mat, let’s not turn this into something that it doesn’t need to be.”

Mathew rolled his eyes and headed for the door. “I think we’re done here, right? We should get going.”

“Five minutes ago, you wanted me to fuck you against this window,” Eric said. “Now you’re ready to leave?”

“A lot of things can change in five minutes,” Mathew said sharply.

“Calm down, Mathew,” Eric said. By now, his erection had deflated to its usual flaccid state.

“Trust me, Eric. This is calm.”

Dealing with Mathew’s rapid mood changes could be a headache for Eric, at times. He thought that being in a relationship with a man, would be a lot less strenuous, emotionally, than being with a woman. Clearly, Eric had been wrong.

Eric sauntered over to where Mathew stood. “Don’t be upset with me, Mathew.”

There was something, in Mathew’s brown eyes that he wanted to express, but chose not to communicate. “I’m not mad, Eric, just a bit disappointed.”

Eric took Mathew’s hand. “’Disappointed’ is a big word.”

“You’re right: let’s not make this into a bigger thing, than it needs to be,” Mathew said. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night.”

Eric nodded. “We can do that.”

He wanted to kiss Mathew again, just to know that everything was alright. Eric could still see the hurt and disappointment in Mathew’s beautiful, brown eyes. He knew a kiss would not fix everything, but he did not know how Mathew would react.

“You don’t always have to overthink everything, Eric,” Mathew said. “Let’s go.”

The moment was over. Eric’s chance to kiss Mathew and make everything better, had slipped by. Mathew unlocked the front door and opened. He turned back, to Eric. “Are you coming?”

Eric gazed toward the opposite end of the massive living room space, out the windows. The sun was almost completely gone now, and the light was vanishing fast.

“Yes,” Eric responded, heading for the door. “I guess so.”



2











“Eric, can we change the channel?” Mathew questioned. “I’m tired of watching CNN.”

Four days had passed, and Carter Wilson still had not called. He had promised Eric that he would call, regarding his decision about the loft. It was Monday evening and Eric had not heard anything from the man. Eric had spent all Monday morning and afternoon, at his office, trying to contact Wilson or one of his assistants, through telephone and email, to no avail. Even after returning home, Eric had his laptop running and his cell phone by his side, just in case Wilson contacted him. It was well past eight o’clock in the evening, and still, no response.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Mathew asked.

Eric continued to hit the ‘refresh’ button, on his internet browser, hoping that an email from Wilson or one of his associates would come through. “Yeah,” Eric responded. “Go ahead. I don’t care.”

Mathew, who was sitting next to Eric on the couch, sighed and grabbed the remote control. He randomly flipped through the channels, before stopping on Vh1, which was currently airing Hip-Hop Divas of Atlanta.

Eric glanced up from his computer monitor, briefly, to look at the television. Two women, with ridiculously outrageous, colorful wigs, were screaming at each other, from across a room. One of the women picked up a wine glass and threw it at the other woman.

“OH NO YOU DIDN’T THROW MY GLASS!” one of the women screamed at the other. “I’MMA BEAT YOUR ASS, BITCH!”

“For the love of God, Mathew, turn this off now. I can’t watch this.”

“It’s not like you’re paying attention, anyway,” Mathew said. However, he obliged Eric’s request and changed the channel. “Carter isn’t going to let you know his plans, tonight, Eric. Put the laptop away and watch a movie with me.”

“Just give me thirty more minutes,” Eric said. He checked his cell phone, to see if he had gotten any texts, from his high-valued client…nothing.

“You told me ‘thirty minutes’ an hour ago,” Mathew said. “You take being a workaholic to a new extreme, Eric.”

“This man is restless,” Eric countered. “If I don’t stay on top of this, he’ll get bored and go through another agency.”

“You’ve literally refreshed your email, sixty times, in the last hour. That’s insane, Eric. I’m sure he’ll call the office tomorrow with a response. Stressing about it isn’t going to make the situation better.”

Eric knew that Mathew was right, yet he had trouble admitting it.

“I’ll just send him one more email…” Eric started.

Mathew reached toward the coffee table, where Eric had positioned his laptop and folded the screen down. “It can wait until tomorrow, Eric.”

“This is important, Mathew.” Eric reached over to flip his screen back open.

“More important than me?” Mathew asked.

“This has nothing to do with you, Mathew.”

“That’s exactly my point. I know work is important to you, but it shouldn’t be the only thing that’s important to you.”

“Mathew, if I lose this client, it won’t be good. I don’t want to look incompetent, to my boss. I need to be able to close this deal.”

“Nothing about you is incompetent, Eric,” Mathew said, taking Eric’s hand gazing into his eyes. “Trust me. I know how important your work is to you. You’re good at what you do. Yeah, Carter Wilson is a mega-sexy, multi-millionaire-playboy, and I’m sure that having him as a client is a dream come true—”

Eric raised his eyebrows. “You really think that Wilson is sexy?”

Mathew chuckled. “I mean, yeah, in an Armie Hammer-ish kind of way. But that really wasn’t the focus of my speech, Eric.”

“Well, you brought it up.”

“Yes, the man is clearly sexy, I’m not going to deny that,” Mathew said. He moved in closer to Eric. “But he’s not you. You’re the sexiest guy I know.”

“You’re just saying that…”

“No,” Mathew answered, “I say it, because I mean it. I’ve met a lot of guys, Eric, but I’ve never met a man like you, before.”

“Is that a good thing or…?”

Mathew closed the short distance between the two of them and kissed Eric. Eric’s heart fluttered. He needed Mathew to validate him and Eric was glad that Mathew had lifted his spirits. Mathew was right: Eric had always buried his life, in his work, barely allowing for time for anything or anyone, other than his career. In the past, Eric had three, long-term romantic relationships…all with women—well, perhaps “romantic” was not the best word to describe those former relationships. “Functional” would have been a better term—and yet none of those women were Eric’s number-one priority. It was not as if Eric did not care or respect these women, they were all important to him. They had been an important part of his life. Even presently, Eric had been able to maintain a good friendship, with his most recent ex-girlfriend, Kimberly Price, who of all of Eric’s romantic partners, understood him more than anyone in his life.

“It’s a good thing,” Mathew replied.

Eric continued to kiss Mathew, surrendering to the moment. Mathew Campbell had been the very first man that Eric had chosen to bet truly romantically and sexually involved with; Eric recalled the night they had met, nearly a year ago, when Eric had gone to The Male Room, his first gay bar. Eric remembered how frightened he had been, at the idea of going into a gay bar and being seen there. He had only intended to have a couple of drinks and then leave, but fifteen minutes after Eric’s arrival, Mathew entered the bar—as well, as Eric’s life—and nothing had been the same for Eric, since.

The evolution of their relationship had not occurred smoothly or quickly. It had taken Eric months, to call Mathew for a date. Mathew, in his own words, was a “gold star” gay man, one who had never had had a relationship with women—or even sexual intercourse, with a woman, once. Mathew, according to him, had been confident about his sexuality, since he was sixteen-years-old, whereas Eric, at the age of twenty-six, had just begun to explore his “newfound” sexuality.

To make matters more complicated, their relationship started, after Mathew started to work for Eric, as his assistant. Dealing with Mathew, both at home and in the office, was a challenge. Eric made sure he kept things professional, during work hours, but after hours was a different story. Eric knew that having an intimate relationship with an employee—particularly a male employee—was the not the best decision he had ever made in his life. However, hiring Mathew, as well as entering a relationship with him had created some of the best experiences of Eric’s life.

“What are you thinking about?” Mathew asked. “I know when you’re trapped in your head.”

“I’m thinking about you.”

Mathew slid his hand up the length of Eric’s inner thigh. He found Eric’s zipper and slowly pulled it down. Of course, that was all it took, for Eric’s cock to harden. Eric closed his eyes and arched his back against the couch. Mathew slipped his warm fingers inside the opening of Eric’s fly. He caressed the cotton fabric of Eric’s underwear briefs, before reaching inside the waistband of Eric’s Calvin Klein’s, softly grazing Eric’s trimmed pubes, before taking hold of Eric’s brick-hard, throbbing dick, and slowly began to stroke it. Eric moaned and lifted his hips off the couch.

“You like that, don’t you?” Mathew purred into Eric’s ear.

“You know I do,” Eric responded, with a smile on his face and his eyes still closed.

Mathew’s grip on Eric’s cock tightened. He ran his thumb over the head of Eric’s dick, where a bead of pre-cum had already begun to slip out of the slit of Eric’s cock. “Tell me what else you want,” Mathew whispered. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

This was part of Mathew’s fantasy: he enjoyed being dominated. He loved it, when Eric gave him orders, the kinkier, the better. Of course, Eric was always turned on by Mathew’s sexual candor, particularly when they were alone, but at times, Mathew’s overconfidence about his sexuality was intimidating. Even though he and Mathew had been sexually intimate for close to a year now, Eric still had not “caught up”, to Mathew’s speed.

In his previous relationships, Eric would have sex with his girlfriends, no more than two times a week—which usually, was one time too many times, in Eric’s opinion. Mathew, on the other hand, possessed a voracious sexual appetite and wanted sex no fewer than six days a week and at least once a day. With women, Eric had been used to just performing the missionary position—plain ‘ole vanilla sex, as Mathew called it—averaging between ten to fifteen minutes. Sex with Mathew averaged anywhere, from forty minutes to an hour, and was anything but ‘vanilla’.

“Get out of your head,” Mathew said. He nibbled Eric’s earlobe. “Talk to me. Tell me what you want.” Mathew reached down lower, cradling Eric’s smooth ball-sac. Eric’s dick continued to throb.

“I like what you’re doing,” Eric said. He opened his eyes. “Keep doing it.”

Mathew smiled. He unfastened Eric’s slacks, allowing for more freedom, to explore Eric’s eager body. Eric’s eyes were fixated on Mathew’s seductive, pink lips. He marveled at the beauty of Mathew’s smooth skin, his cute, button-nose, his playful, but sexy brown eyes. Mathew was still dressed in his work attire: a form-fitting dressed shirt, minus a tie, tucked neatly into his charcoal-grey slacks.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” Mathew asked, licking the underside of Eric’s squarely defined jawline. “You want to fuck me? Tell me…”

Eric’s dick throbbed at the thought of each sexual act.

It was hard, not to be turned on by Mathew’s vulgarity. “Yes,” Eric replied, nearly out of breath. “I do. I want you to suck me and then I want to fuck you.”

Mathew unbuttoned Eric’s collar and loosened his tie. “Here or in your room?”

“It’s up to you.”

Mathew began to unbutton his own shirt. Eric reached over and helped Mathew unbutton the rest of his shirt. He slipped off Mathew’s dress shirt and quickly removed Mathew’s undershirt, revealing his taut chest. Eric always marveled at Mathew’s lithe, smooth, runner’s build. Mathew’s six-pack was firmly defined, and his chest and arms were firmly toned, without being too muscular. Mathew returned the favor, by gently removing Eric’s silk tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Mathew removed his dress shoes and slowly pushed the small, lightweight coffee table aside, so that he could comfortably stand in front of Eric.

Still admiring Mathew’s beautiful body, Eric grabbed Mathew, by his slender waist, and drew him closer. Eric unbuckled and removed Mathew’s belt and unfastening his slacks. Like Eric, Mathew’s erection tented his pants. Eric kissed Mathew’s stomach and gently licked around the contours of Mathew’s navel. He gripped Mathew’s strong thigh muscles, inhaling Mathew’s sweet, but and slightly musky masculine scent, while Mathew gently caressed the back of Eric’s head. Carefully, like unwrapping a Christmas present that he had been waiting for all year, Eric tugged down Mathew’s slacks, leaving him only in his almost-too-small underwear briefs.

Eric ran his hands up and down the length of Mathew’s slightly hairy hamstrings, before grabbing Mathew’s perfect bubble butt. Every physical aspect of Mathew’s body was amazing, but his ass, in particular, always made Eric weak. Eric tugged down the waistband of Mathew’s briefs and pulled them down past Mathew’s knees and let them drop around his ankles, so that he was standing in front of Eric, only dressed in a pair of black dress socks, with his hard cock pointing at Eric’s mouth.

“Let’s go to the room,” Mathew decided.

“Sure,” Eric replied, still hypnotized by the beauty of Mathew’s form.

Eric pulled off his shirt and slipped out of his dress shirt and his slacks, so that he was dressed only in underclothes. He stroked himself, as he watched Mathew walk away, his ass cheeks gorgeously shifting left and right, as he hurried toward the bedroom. Eric got up from the couch and quickly went after him.

The large bedroom was dark, upon Eric and Mathew’s entrance. In the darkness, Eric heard Mathew jump on Eric’s king-sized bed, while Eric turned on the dimmer switch, setting the mood, to low and ambient lighting. Eric adjusted the setting so that there was enough darkness to create intimacy, but enough light for Eric to be able to appreciate the fine planes and curves of Mathew’s body.

Mathew lay on the center of Eric’s bed, on his stomach, his beautiful ass arched high in the air.

“Take everything off,” Mathew requested.

Eric eagerly obliged. He yanked off his tank-top and freed himself from his underwear briefs. Afterwards, Eric went over to the bed, took Mathew by his ankles, spreading Mathew’s legs apart. Mathew arched his back and rose to all fours, on the bed. Once again, Eric could not help it, but to be astonished by how fucking perfect Mathew was and how lucky Eric was to be with him.

“Hurry up and get inside me,” Mathew said.

Even though Mathew was always the “bottom”, during sex, he usually ended up being the one controlling everything. Eric did not mind. Eric still had a lot of walls built up, around his sexuality, and Mathew was gradually breaking each and every one of them down.

Eric joined Mathew on the bed, getting behind him. He placed his open palm on the small of Mathew’s smooth back, pressing Mathew’s chest onto the mattress, while using his other hand to gently message Mathew’s hard dick. Mathew’s ass was still arched high in the air, waiting for Eric’s response. Eric rushed in, wasting no time, with rimming Mathew’s crack. Mathew moaned, softly at first and then increasingly louder and louder, as Eric slowly dragged his moist tongue, from the bottom of Mathew’s tight scrotum, to his tight asshole. Eric grabbed Mathew’s firm cheeks, spreading them apart, as far, as he could, savoring the taste and the familiar musky scent of Mathew’s body, as he continued to ravage Mathew’s sweet hole with his tongue.

“Fuck me,” Mathew whispered. “Now, Boss.”

Eric’s cock twitched at the sound of Mathew’s request.

If Eric wanted, he could have slipped his dick into Mathew’s hole, right then and there completely raw. He had never fucked Mathew bareback, although it had been something that Mathew had been begging for, since the fourth or fifth time that he and Eric had sex. For Eric, the fantasy of fucking Mathew without a condom, of owning Mathew’s ass and filling Mathew’s hole with hot cum, was amazing and stimulating…but actually doing it, in real life, frightened Eric. He trusted Mathew—or at least Eric wanted to believe that he trusted Mathew. Since the first month that they had become sexually active together, they had regularly screened together for sexually transmitted diseases and both men had been clear, on that level.

Once again, Eric believed that Mathew was only intimate with him, but occasionally, Eric could not help but to fear that Eric was not the only man in Mathew’s life and not the only man that shared Mathew’s bed and his body. It was one inhibition that Eric could not get rid of, and one inhibition, amongst others, that was softly and slowly creating a rift, in their already fledgling relationship.

“Give me a second,” Eric said.

Eric quickly hopped off of the bed, his hard cock swinging from side to side, as he dashed over to his nightstand, pulling out a couple of magnum condoms and a small vial of lube.

“Do we really need those?” Mathew asked.

“Lube helps, right?”

“You know what I mean, Eric…I’m talking about the condoms.”

Eric tore the aluminum wrapper and rolled the condom onto his erection. He figured that if he went straight to fucking Mathew, without answering his question that Mathew would forget that he even asked. Eric squeezed a liberal amount of lube onto his dick, and hurried back around to his original position on the bed, behind Mathew.

“Start slow,” Mathew said.

“I know,” Eric replied, as he poured lube onto his fingers and then onto Mathew’s crack, slipping his ring finger, into Mathew’s tight hole. Mathew’s body quivered, and he tightened himself around Eric’s finger. “I always do.”

Eric mounted Mathew, not entering him yet, but pinning his body over Mathew’s, gyrating his hips and sliding his cock up and down the length of Mathew’s crack. He liked teasing Mathew this way, exciting him, and prepping him for the main course. Eric kissed the back of Mathew’s neck and bit his earlobe, while Mathew squirmed with ecstasy, underneath him.

“Put it in,” Mathew whispered.

Eric positioned his erection toward Mathew’s tight hole and slowly pushed forward. They both moaned, simultaneously, as Mathew yielded to Eric’s thick, eight-inch cock. Eric pushed himself in, all the way to the hilt. He waited a few moments, before retracting and entering Mathew again. Eric always enjoyed the initial thrusts, of being inside of Mathew.

Mathew muffled his moans by mashing his face into a pillow. He tended to be loud during sex, something that Eric found both arousing and nerve-racking. It turned Eric on, knowing that he turned Mathew on, but sometimes Mathew got a little carried away. Eric’s neighbors did not ‘officially’ know that he was gay, and he did not want to embarrass himself, by having the moans of his male sex partner, disturbing his neighbors’ sleep. Eric knew shared a bedroom wall, with his neighbors, a married heterosexual couple, in their mid-thirties. Although knew practically very little about Eric (and vice-versa), he did not want them to hear Mathew’s dirty sex talk.

“Harder,” Mathew gasped. “Fuck me harder, Eric.”

That’s exactly what I mean, Eric thought.

However, Eric followed Mathew’s command. He grabbed Mathew’s slightly smaller hands, interlocking his fingers with Mathew’s and began to plow Mathew’s hole. Every thrust was rougher and harder than the last. Mathew bucked wildly, underneath Eric’s weight and his moans grew louder and louder. If the neighbors could hear what was going on in Eric’s bedroom, then Eric could care less, at this point. Once he was in motion, once he lost himself in the moment, Eric felt unstoppable. A year ago, Eric would not have believed that he could actually have sex with another man, let alone thoroughly enjoying it.

“Are you ready to shoot?” Mathew asked, almost out of breath.

“I am,” Eric replied, similarly gasping for air.

Mathew was always in-tune with Eric’s body. He knew Eric’s routine, always aware of when Eric was approaching orgasm. It was a good thing, because Mathew was typically able to time his own orgasm, around the same time.

Eric pressed his fingers, deeply onto Mathew’s shoulders, thrusting harder and deeper, faster and faster, each second feeling like a blissful, passionate version of eternity, until finally, sweaty, and nearly out of energy, Eric shot his load, filling the condom with cum. He continued to pump away, as the power of his orgasm continued to stretch from the top of his head, to his toes. Moments later, Mathew released a rumbling moan and lifted his body, as he too, shot his hot load, into his open hand.

“That was fucking amazing,” Mathew whimpered.

“Definitely.”

Eric slowly pulled out of Mathew and rolled over, onto an empty spot on the bed. He rolled the condom off of his deflating dick and scurried to his bedroom bathroom, to flush the used condom down the toilet.

“Can you get me a towel?” Mathew asked.

“Sure.”

“One of these days, I’m going to fuck you,” Mathew said, as he watched Eric walk toward the bathroom, still naked. “You have such a great muscle butt.”

“Yeah…right,” Eric said, smiling a bit as he entered the bathroom. “Not going to happen, Mathew.” He grabbed a fresh washcloth, from one of the towel racks and doused it with hot water. Eric flushed the condom and returned to the bedroom, tossing Mathew the warm towel.

Eric had always stayed in peak physical shape, by running two miles, at least three miles a week, and working out, at the gym at least four days a week. Other than working, exercising was one of Eric’s devoted passions. He knew he had a great body and a great ass, but the idea of getting fucked, was too bizarre, for Eric to be able to take seriously.

“You can’t be a ‘total top’ your entire life, Eric,” Mathew stated, as he washed himself off with the towel.

Eric rejoined Mathew on the bed. “Weren’t you the one that said that there aren’t enough ‘total tops’ in the world? Now you’re complaining that I don’t want to be a bottom?”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Mathew replied, rolling over to his side, facing Eric. He ran his fingers down the length and width of Eric’s broad, muscular chest. “I’ve known guys who have claimed to be total tops, only to be fucked once, and never look back…well, they might be looking back if they’re getting fucked, but that’s not my point...what I mean is that they were always bottoms to begin with and just couldn’t admit it to themselves. Being versatile is different. I mean, one of the perks of being a gay man, is being able to give and receive ‘The D’. I think every gay or bi dude should be fucked, at least once. If you don’t like it, fine. I doubt, of all people, that you’ll turn into a total bottom, after I fuck you.”

“I still don’t think I see that happening, anytime soon,” Eric said.

“Why?” Mathew wondered. “Do you think it’s ‘emasculating’ or something like that?”

“That’s a big part of it, honestly. You know, all of this is still new to me, Mathew.”

“We’ve been together for about a year now, Eric. It’s not that new, anymore.”

Eric turned on his side so that he was face-to-face with Mathew. “I’m twenty-six years old and you’re the only man I’ve had sex with…ever. You can’t expect me to just suddenly want to get fucked in slings, all day.”

Mathew rolled his eyes. “Nobody said anything about fucking you, in a sling, Eric…even though that would be pretty hot, now that you mention it…”

“You know what I’m saying, Mathew. I’m a pretty basic guy. I’m what you would probably call conservative or whatever. I’m not a big sex freak.”

“I know what kind of guy you are,” Mathew responded. “I like the kind of guy you are—”

“Do you?” Eric interrupted.

Mathew looked puzzled. “Of course, I like who you are, Eric. Why else would I be here? Why else would I have put all this energy into this relationship…I mean, if you can even call this a relationship.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m not sure how to label us,” Mathew said. “We’ve known each other, for a while now. I call you my boyfriend, but I’m not sure if you have the courage, to call me your boyfriend. I’m just not always sure about our relationship status.”

Eric rolled over onto his back, sighing, as he stared at the ceiling. “Mat, like I’ve said to you many times before, you’re the only man that I’ve been with. I don’t focus on other men. I’m a private person. I’ve always been that way, even when I was with women. I’m not the type of person to go bragging to people that I have a boyfriend.”

“You can’t even say ‘boyfriend’, without cringing, Eric.”

“Bullshit.”

“You know I’m telling the truth.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now, Mathew. We just had a good time, let’s not ruin it.”

“Talking about our issues is how we keep from ‘ruining it’, Eric.”

“Whatever,” Eric muttered.

Mathew sat upward, on the bed, in a cross-legged position. From the intensity, in his brown eyes, he was clearly becoming more and more frustrated. “You’re starting to sound like a petulant, teenaged boy.”

“Don’t insult me, Mathew,” Eric countered. “Drop it now, before you say something you’re going to regret.”

“You should know me by now, Eric,” Mathew fumed. “I don’t hold things in. If I have something to say, then I say it.”

“Not everything needs to be said, Mathew.”

Eric hopped off of the bed, rushed over to where he had left his slacks, pulled on his underwear, and went over to the dimmer switch, to turn the lights off. “Good night, Mathew.”

“We’re not done talking, Eric.”

“Maybe,” Eric said, returning to the bed, pulling back the covers and sheets and crawling into bed. “But I’m done with listening, tonight. Sleep well.”

Mathew replied with cold silence. After a few minutes, Mathew got underneath the warm covers with Eric, but made sure that kept a noticeable distance away from Eric. Clearly, there would not be any after-sex cuddling that night.

Eric knew that he had just made a bad move, but at this point, he knew he had to commit to his stance. Mathew would be livid, for the next couple of days. Eric would face consequences of his actions…or lack of actions, in the morning, at work…as well as at home.



3











Oddly, Mathew was awake before Eric.

Eric was routinely awake, by six-thirty in the morning, even on Saturdays and Sundays. Since Mathew had trouble sleeping, the previous night, he decided to get up, earlier than usual, at five-thirty in the morning. The bedroom was still draped in darkness, but Mathew was able to maneuver around, without light. He got out of bed, quietly as he could, without waking Eric.

I shouldn’t have even stayed the night, Mathew thought. After what happened, I should be waking up in my bed.

Their conversation, the night before, had turned ugly and still remained disgustingly unresolved. Mathew hated waking up angry. He hated to be upset with Eric, and since they worked together, in the same office, with Eric being his manager, Mathew was forced to deal with Eric, not just at home, but at work, too. Mathew had no reprieve, from his resentful emotions, toward the man.

Mathew scurried to the bathroom, peed, and started the shower. As he waited for the water to get warm, he thought about his argument with Eric, the night before.

Well, it really wasn’t an ‘argument’, Mathew thought. But it was definitely on its way, to becoming an argument.

Since he rarely slept in clothes, Mathew hopped in the shower, already naked. The hot water was an immediate relief, on his cool skin. He could still smell Eric all over him. Normally, that would have been a good thing, but given Mathew’s intense irritation towards the man, at the moment, he wanted all traces of Eric’s scent off of him.

Maybe I’m being a bit overdramatic, Mathew thought. I should go a little bit easier on the guy.

Mathew felt conflicted. On one hand, he definitely understood a lot of Eric’s emotional reticence: up until a year ago, Eric had kept his sexuality locked away, in a metaphorical basement, before Mathew had shown up and turned his world, upside down. Mathew sympathized with Eric’s need to take their relationship slow. In fact, Mathew welcomed it. To date, Mathew’s relationship with Eric was the longest and most importantly, the healthiest, relationship that he ever had in his life. If Mathew were being honest about the situation, the fact that Eric was so conservative, as well being so low-key, were key factors, in the longevity of their relationship.

The main problem is that he doesn’t want to call this a relationship, Mathew lamented, as he slathered liquid soap all over his body. Being conservative is one thing, but being secretive and ashamed of us being together, is a whole other thing.

In the past, Mathew had his fair share, of dating men, who were in the closet. It certainly was not a new event, in his life. However, at the age of twenty-four, Mathew was tired of men (closeted men in particular) who used him for sex, but refused to acknowledge and respect Mathew, in public. The San Francisco Bay Area was perhaps one of the “best” and socially acceptable places, not only in America, but in the world, period, to be openly gay, and yet, since Mathew was a teenager, he seemed only able to attract men, who, although very physically attractive, always seemed to resent their own sexuality, as resent Mathew’s openness, about his own sexuality.

Sometimes, Mathew blamed himself. He used to think that he expected too much from these men. Perhaps he did not expect enough from himself. Nowadays, particularly when it came to Eric, Mathew was no longer willing to blame himself, for wanting to be treated with all the respect and validation that he deserved. Mathew was smart enough, to know that any romantic relationship came with a set of challenges and problems, but for once, Mathew would have liked to be in a relationship with a man, who treated him properly and not like a dirty secret.

Mathew cared for Eric Dennis immensely. In fact, Mathew cared for the man, even more than he ever thought he would care. Mathew had not predicted, when they first met, at the Male Room, ten months ago, that not only would he still be working for Eric, but that he would still be trying to build a life, together, with Eric. In a lot of ways, both personally and professionally, meeting Eric Dennis had changed Mathew’s life, for the good, but along with the good, came a lot of emotional stagnation. Mathew was not ready to call it quits with Eric, but he was definitely going to have to find a way, to communicate with Eric and assert his needs, in a way that Eric would both respect and understand.

After a few more minutes of contemplation, under the hot water, Mathew shut off the water valves and dried himself off. He estimated that it had to be close to six o’ clock, in the morning, now. Eric would be getting up soon. If Mathew had it his way, he would be dressed and out of the apartment, by the time that Eric was fully awake. They would be spending, awkward eight hours together, at the office. For now, Mathew needed a reprieve, from their drama.

Mathew reentered Eric’s bedroom. Thankfully, Eric was still asleep, even though Mathew did take a moment or two, to admire how ridiculously angelic and sexy, Eric looked, while he was resting. If Mathew were not so angry with the Eric, he would have removed the bath towel that he had wrapped around his waist, and jumped back into bed, alongside Eric and used a variety of methods, to make sure that Eric had a “good morning”.

Ugh, Mathew thought. Why the hell does he have to be so hot?

Mathew entered Eric’s spacious, walk in closet, and grabbed his work attire. Since he spent at least a couple of days at Eric’s place, a week, Mathew usually kept a couple of dress shirts and slacks, as well as few pairs of shoes, in Eric’s closet, for convenience. He grabbed a pre-assembled outfit, from a clothes hanger, as a sleek, shiny pair of black Calvin Klein dress shoes. As he closed the closet door behind him, Mathew heard Eric shuffling around, in bed.

“Good morning, Mathew.”

Shit, Mathew thought. He’s awake.

“Morning,” Mathew replied, dully.

Eric pulled back the sheets and stepped out of bed, dressed only in his tighty-whities. As many times as Mathew had seen Eric, out of his clothes, he was still astonished, by Eric’s sheer, masculine beauty. He watched as Eric ambled over to the curtains, pulling them apart, to allow the fresh sunlight, into the bedroom.

“You’re up early,” Eric commented.

Mathew shrugged. “I didn’t get as much sleep, as I wanted.”

Eric sat on the edge of his bed. He looked contrite. “Because of me?”

I really don’t want to talk about this, right now, Mathew wanted to say. “I don’t know.”

“You do know, Mathew.”

“I’m fine, Eric.”

Mathew went over to Eric’s clothes bureau. Mathew opened the top drawer, grabbing a pair of Eric’s dress socks and a silk green tie. “I’m going to wear these today, if you don’t mind.” He pulled open the second drawer, where Eric kept his underwear. In addition to keeping a few shirts and slacks, at Eric’s apartment, Mathew kept a few pairs of underwear, next to Eric’s…just in case.

“I don’t mind,” Eric said. “Look, Mathew…about last night…”

“You sure are chatty, this morning,” Mathew replied. “Last night, you didn’t have anything to say.”

“You were attacking me,” Eric said. “I got defensive. Besides, sleep has a way of changing a person’s perspective.”

Mathew peeled off his towel and stepped into his underwear. “Does it?”

Eric stood. He walked toward Mathew. “Are you really still mad at me?”

Yes…no…I don’t know… Mathew thought. “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

Eric placed his hands onto Mathew’s waist, drawing him closer. Mathew could feel the heat, radiating from Eric’s hard, muscular body. Fuck, it made Mathew instantly weaken his resolve.

“How can I fix that?” Eric asked, gently kissing Mathew’s neck.

Mathew’s knees buckled. His balls tingled, and his nipples perked up. He wanted to be angry with Eric but found himself unable to maintain his composure.

“I need to get ready for work,” Mathew said, his eyes closed.

Eric ran his fingers, up and down the length of Mathew’s back. He slid a hand down the back of Mathew’s underwear, squeezing Mathew’s firm ass. “Are you sure?”

No, I’m not sure at all, Mathew thought. “Let’s take this up, later,” Mathew said.

Eric pulled away from Mathew, staring him straight in the eye. “If you want to talk, Mathew, let’s talk. I don’t want to start the day off, like this. We have time, before we have to go to the office.”

“I’m not a morning talker, Eric. We’ll discuss this later.”

“When is ‘later’?” Eric asked. “After work?”

“I don’t,” Mathew said. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Eric returned to the bed and sat. “Mathew don’t be ridiculous. What do you want from me? I’m trying to fix things with you. Don’t make this into something bigger, than it needs to be.”

Mathew was starting to get annoyed. This was typical of Eric: everything had to be on his terms. If Eric had spent time, the night before, talking to Mathew about their issues, things would have been resolved this morning. However, that was not the case. Eric only wanted to resolve things, at his leisure and only when he felt comfortable. It may have been immature, as well as petty, for Mathew to avoid talking to Eric, but it was important for Eric to understand, that the status of their relationship was not solely dependent, on Eric’s mood swings. Mathew needed to be clear and consistent about that.

“It’s better, if we talk about this later, Eric. I want us to both have a good, peaceful day. You’re right: let’s not turn this into something bigger than it needs to be.”

“What is it that you want me to say, Mathew?” Eric asked. “Do you want me to say, ‘I’m sorry’?”

Mathew grew more and more frustrated. This was the reason he had hoped to be up, dressed, and out of Eric’s apartment, before Eric was even awake. Their conversation was becoming more and more juvenile and useless, by the moment.

“At this point, Eric, I don’t want you to say anything that you don’t mean. Just let me get dressed, so I can get to the office.”

“I care about you, Mathew,” Eric said. “You’re important to me. I hope you know that.”

Mathew’s heart skipped. It was not the same as “I Love You”, but it was damned close and sounded very sincere. The vast majority of Mathew’s anger dissipated, instantly.

“You’re important to me, too Eric.”

It was true: Eric may have had a lot of faults and a lot of personal trepidation, with his sexuality, but he was easily one of the best men that Mathew had ever known.

“Come here,” Eric said. He beckoned to Mathew, with his index finger and a smile stretching across his face. Eric knew that he had Mathew, right where he wanted him.

Mathew’s skin tingled and his dick hardened, as he made his way over to Eric. He climbed on Eric’s lap. By the feel of things, Eric was fully erect, himself.

“Let’s get these off,” Eric said, as he slowly removed Mathew’s underwear briefs. Eric squeezed Mathew’s ass, with both hands, as he closed his lips around one of Mathew’s pert nipples.

Mathew was putty, in Eric’s hand. He loved and hated the effect that the man had over him. All it had taken was a few words and a few touches, and all of Mathew’s resolve had vanished. Eric kissed him, and Mathew could barely remember why he had been upset with Eric.

Without letting Mathew go, Eric maneuvered himself so that Mathew was lying on the bed and Eric was on top of him. Mathew grabbed tugged down Eric’s underwear, mid-thigh, releasing his hard cock. Eric reached for one of the condoms that he had left on the nightstand, the night before, and eagerly tore off the wrapper.

Morning sex doesn’t fix everything, Mathew thought, right before losing himself in Eric’s rapture. But right now, it fixes this.



***



“Mathew, where is Eric now? Isn’t he supposed to be in the office?”

Mathew sighed. He had been speaking—actually ‘appeasing’ would have been a better word—on the phone, with one of Eric’s prominent customers, Judith Bernstein, for the last thirty minutes. She had been working with Eric and Mathew, for the past couple of months, to sell her pricy, two million dollar, located in the opulent Lafayette Hills. According to Mrs. Bernstein, her goal was to sell the gorgeous, sprawling, four- bedroom, forty-five hundred square feet, mini-mansion, and return to Southern California, specifically Santa Barbara, where she had spent a bulk of her youth and early adult life. She and her husband, Hal Bernstein, had been well-respected, prominent attorneys, who had decided to live Bay Area, after retirement.

“Mrs. Bernstein, Eric’s out of the office right now,” Mathew responded. “He had an urgent appointment with a client, to attend.”

“Urgent?” Mrs. Bernstein asked, almost incredulous. “Am I not urgent? I had an appointment with Eric, for today. Why would he just leave the office?”

Mathew tried to be as gentle as possible, with the delivery of his next statement. “You’re correct Mrs. Bernstein, your appointment was at ten thirty, this morning. Eric and I left several voicemails, when you were unable to meet—”

“I wasn’t unable, Mathew,” Mrs. Bernstein, jutted in. “I’m never ‘unable’, Mathew.”

Mathew rolled his eyes. It was a good thing that he was talking to the woman, over the phone and not in person. “You’re right, Mrs. Bernstein, wrong choice of words. I apologize—”

“Don’t apologize, Mathew, just do better.”

Bitch, how about YOU do better! Mathew thought.

“And just to let you know,” Mrs. Bernstein continued, “I was attending my weekly yoga class…”

Like I give a fuck, Mathew thought.

“…and afterwards, traffic getting from the class, to your location, was horrendous.”

Your voice is horrendous.

“And yes, Mathew, I did receive those voicemails, about thirty minutes ago,” Mrs. Bernstein added, “and yet, I don’t understand why Eric would just up and leave, without letting me know.”

Mathew was becoming more and more impatient with the woman, by the second. “Like I said, Mrs. Bernstein, Eric had an urgent meeting with a client that he needed to see. I expect him to be at the office, no longer than an hour, from now. If you’re available this afternoon and still would like to come into the office—”

“Do you think I just have time to sit around and wait all day, for Eric to decide when he wants to see me?” Mrs. Bernstein asked, sharply. “I have a busy schedule. I’m starting to see that Eric isn’t as invested in this process or as capable of handling this affair, as he claimed he would be.”

“Mrs. Bernstein, Eric is definitely invested, in making sure that you’re satisfied with the sale of your home,” Mathew responded, in the most friendly and patient voice that he could muster. “In fact, he has close to a dozen serious prospects, who are anxious to buy your home. I know your time is very valuable and you’re excited about moving back to Santa Barbara. Both Eric and I are both very committed, to making sure that this process is as convenient and effective, as possible.”

“Are you reading from a script?” Mrs. Bernstein asked.

It was the first time that Mathew smiled, during their lengthy conversation. “No, that’s all me.”

“Well, that was pretty good I admit,” Mrs. Bernstein said. “A little over-the-top and kiss-assy, but good. Tell Eric to call me, within the next thirty minutes, Mathew.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Mathew. As usual, you’re a doll.”

“So are you,” Mathew responded. More like a Voo-Doo doll. “Have a good day, Mrs. Bernstein, talk to you soon.”

Mathew sighed in relief, moments later, as he ended the call. Before putting the phone back on its dock, Mathew called Eric.

“Where are you?” Mathew asked, after Eric answered, on the third ring.

“On the freeway,” Eric replied, “just came from meeting with Wilson. I can’t speak for too long.”

“I know. Just get back, so you can call Judith Bernstein. How did things with Carter go? Is he buying the loft?”

Eric sighed. “He’s still ambivalent. He’s mostly just wasting my time. I doubt he’s going to buy. Let me get off the phone now. Traffic is terrible. May be fifteen minutes, before I get back there.”

“Cool,” Mathew said. “See you soon.”

Mathew replaced the phone, back on its charging dock. He unlocked his computer session and checked to see if he had gotten any new emails, during his conversation with Judith Bernstein. He immediately focused, on an email that Carter Wilson had sent him, no more than five minutes ago. The thing that Mathew found unusual, about the email, was that the email had been addressed to Mathew, only. Usually, Wilson never sent his own emails, his assistant, Annie Wong, handled his correspondence; also, Mathew was usually CC’d on correspondence that had been sent to Eric. Mathew was never the primary or sole recipient, for any information, sent by Carter Wilson.

“What kind of fuckery is this?” Mathew asked himself.

Mathew clicked the link: The email was very brief and to the point:

Mr. Campbell call me. On my personal line, not at the office.

Carter had left his personal number. The email had been sent, directly from his iPhone, which was atypical, since most of his correspondence came through his company email.

What does he want from me? Mathew thought. He re-read the short email, a few times. There was nothing business related, in Wilson’s message. It sounded very personal.

Mathew kept his cell phone, in the first drawer, of his desk. He pulled the drawer open, his eyes still glued to his computer monitor, baffled, as to why Wilson needed to speak to Mathew, after having just met with Eric. Mathew’s first considered that Wilson wanted to buy the loft. Yet, that really did not make sense. Wilson would have emailed Eric directly and not Mathew. His second theory, as to why Carter Wilson had contacted him privately, was more salacious:

He wants to fuck, Mathew thought.

From the moment that Mathew had initially encountered Carter Wilson, the sexual spark between them, was immediate and mutual. Mathew pictured Carter’s rugged, but refined face: the glistening green eyes, the perfect five o’ clock shadow, the smooth, tanned skin, the sharply defined jawline, and the full, carnation-pink lips. Wilson was tall, too, six-three or six-four, a couple of inches taller than Eric.

Don’t compare him to Eric, Mathew scolded himself. And stop thinking about fucking this man. Don’t jump to conclusions. He probably isn’t even gay…

“But he’s definitely attracted to me,” Mathew whispered, to himself.

And I’m definitely attracted to him, Mathew thought.

Guilt came quickly. Mathew kept staring at Carter Wilson’s email, allowing his mind to fantasize, about the sexual acts that he would have liked to perform, on Wilson, and all the acts that he wanted Wilson to perform on him. Of course, Mathew shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind and replaced them with images of Eric. Mathew thought about how Eric had fucked him, the night before, as well as earlier that morning. That helped wash away some of the guilt.


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