Emery’s Riches

Book Two of
Synchronous Seductions

Havan Fellows

Breathless Press Calgary, Alberta www.breathlesspress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Emery’s Riches
Copyright© 2012 Havan Fellows

ISBN: 978-1-77101-087-0 Cover Artist: Victoria Miller Editor: Olivia Ventura

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Breathless Press
www.breathlesspress.com

Dedication
I appreciate my sis, my best friend and my muse… I adore my two kiddos…
I need my Story Orgy…
I thank my readers…
*smoochez*

Chapter One

Ritchie hunkered over his caramel latte and stared out the front window of the Starbucks. He didn’t know why he tried to see Ryder’s place from here. He couldn’t change anything. He’d just delivered his best friend and the love of his life, Harlan Mychels, straight into the arms of his arch nemesis, Ryder Halloway.

Harlan loved Ryder, and as much as it pained Ritchie to drive him the two hours to get here, he’d done the right thing. He never stood a chance with Har even before that pain in the ass came into the picture. He damn sure didn’t want a chance with Har after the pain in the ass got kicked to the curb seven years ago. He was nobody’s second choice.

He was fucking Ritchie Lymings, for Christ’s sake. He took a backseat to no one.
He “humphed” to himself and took another sip of coffee. Yeah, being Ritchie Lymings had really gotten him far in life. Sit- ting here at a coffee shop nursing his heartache over a frou-frou cup of joe. But damn did he hurt. When he received that call from Har last week, his heart had burst like an overinflated balloon. Honestly, what’s the PC thing to say when the one man you want calls you up to say that the love of his life was back in the picture? Despite the pain, he did the role of best friend justice and told Har the truth. Then he took the day off work to drive Har the two hour trip down here.
Now he sat and waited on the off chance that the two imbe- ciles fucked it up yet again. In all honesty, it should have never gotten this far. Harlan should have allowed the idiot a chance to explain seven years ago. Hell, Ryder had even graced Ritchie’s doorstep with his presence demanding answers about Harlan’s whereabouts a week after the break-up. Considering they hated each other, that was a ballsy move.
He mentally sighed and drained his cup. He hated self-pity, but he couldn’t help it. He knew that this was the end of an era with Har. He’d still have the title of best friend, of course, that would never change. But now he’d be the annoying single best friend sitting on the sidelines watching the happy couple frolick- ing in the meadow, smiling and waving at him. Yeah, over dramatization maybe, but visualizing them holding hands skipping about in a flowery meadow made him smirk.
“Oh wow, and here I feared the worst, that you would never break through that dark look and smile. Now that I’ve seen your smile, I’m pretty sure I never want to see you without it.”
Snapping out of his daydream, Ritchie turned to the intruding voice and set eyes on the sexiest man he’d seen in a long time. Short golden hair on the sides, longer in front, clear silver-blue eyes, high forehead, and pouty cupid’s bow lips. Hot damn, he’s a god.
After a few tense seconds, Ritchie finally found his voice and attempted to put it to good use. “Can I help you?” Okay, not good use, but use at least.
“Most definitely, in so many ways too.”
Ritchie’s brows drew together and he couldn’t hold back the growl. “Excuse me?”
The man smiled, wide and easy. “I wondered if I could share this table with you? This place gets busy in the blink of an eye. Plus I seem to have bought two coffees and two scones so I was thinking we could have breakfast together.” And with that, he placed two cups and the single plate with two cinnamon chip scones he had meticulously juggled onto the table. He then proceeded to make himself at home in the chair across from Ritchie.
Ritchie glanced around and noted at least three empty tables, and pointedly glared back at his interloper.
That easy breezy grin didn’t falter and the man didn’t miss a beat. “That table wobbles, almost spilled a whole cup of their hazelnut all over me the other morning.” He pointed to empty table number one. Then he directed his finger at empty table number two. “Sitting right next to that table you’ll find Mrs. Glein. She’s a widow and sweet as pie, but keeps insisting I meet with this mysterious grandson of hers named Stevie. Now considering she only has one grandchild, a beautiful woman named Stephanie, I figure she wants to convert me. I would rather skip that conver- sation this morning.” Ritchie glanced over at the old lady. She smiled widely at the stranger and he waved and nodded back in acknowledgment.
Then he turned his attention to the third table that now housed two students with their laptops. “And darn if I didn’t just miss that table by a millisecond. Good thing I got this seat when I did, huh?”
Ritchie took another sip of his coffee, trying to process how to lose this guy. He was obviously ill in some department no matter how hot he might be. Ritchie tilted his cup all the way back, then remembered it was empty. He set the mug back down a little too heavily causing a loud clacking noise that caused many of the patrons to look up with disapproving glares.
Then he looked back at his company, who held the extra steaming cup out to him. “Caramel latte, I believe?”
Begrudgingly, Ritchie took the cup and sipped some more. Damn near everything could be solved with the blessed combination of coffee and caramel. Staring into those clear silver-blue eyes from across the table, he stressed the damn near part.
“So, to what do I owe the great honor of your company?”
Grinning (of course, Ritchie mentally rolled his eyes) the man said, “You can owe the great honor to the fact that I didn’t want to eat breakfast alone. Usually I don’t mind, but when I noticed you so melancholy I decided today I minded.”
Ritchie nodded. “Ah, I get it now. You’re one of those dogooders that just has to stick his nose where it isn’t wanted. Come to turn my frown upside down, have you? Thanks, I appreciate the pity, but I’m doing just fine pitying myself. Don’t need your help.”
“But you did need my coffee and you do need to eat some- thing.” He placed one of the scones on a napkin in front of Ritchie.
“What are you, my mother?”
He winked at Ritchie. “Not exactly, I don’t have the proper equipment for that. Though now I think I should start pitying myself that you didn’t notice.” And for the first time throughout this whole weird interaction, the stranger’s smile turned into an exaggerated version of a pout.
Ritchie rolled his eyes for real this time, and against his will, he felt himself smirking in response to that pout.
“Ah ha!” Not surprisingly the pout disappeared. “I knew I would break down your defenses eventually. So who is he?”
“Excuse me?” Hadn’t he already said that during this conversation?
“Who’s the guy that’s got you all knotted up? Only way for someone to look that downcast is when love’s involved. Since you aren’t all pissy and mad, well, not any more than what I assume’s the norm for you,” the man chuckled at his own joke, “I have to deduce that it’s unrequited love. The guy obviously doesn’t understand what a joyful gem you are. So I repeat, who is he? Shall I hunt him down and explain the error of his ways?” He popped a bit of scone into his mouth and managed to smile through the closed-mouth chewing process.
“I’m sorry, am I putting off a vibe saying that I’m a people person or something? Because if so, I need to fix my vibe-o-meter. What makes you think it’s a guy anyway?”
The stranger held up his finger in a “wait a minute” gesture and washed down his scone with his black coffee. “Oh no, you’re all about the ‘stay the fuck away’ vibes. I would say your vibe-ometer’s working perfectly. You didn’t blink.”
“Then why’re you here? I didn’t blink?”
“Because your sad face called to me, screamed actually. I want you happy. When I mentioned Mrs. Glein and her ruthless plan to convert me, you didn’t blink. So where do you hail from, since you aren’t a resident of my town?”
Ritchie felt like he had to hold his head to keep up with this conversation. “Huh?”
“Well, you don’t appear local, so where do you reside? Where do you lay that pretty head of yours down at night? Where do you toss your shoes off as soon as you saunter through the front door?”
“So you just happen to know everyone who lives in this town?”
The faux shocked expression failed to impress Ritchie, though the hand to the heart added a nice personal touch. “But of course!”
“Really?”
“No not really, silly. Considering that you have a road map next to you with an FSU key ring sitting on top of it I’m assum- ing you’re from upstate. Either that or you’re one of those tourist people that collects key chains.” He leaned to his side and didn’t even attempt to hide the fact he perused Ritchie’s attire. “Nope, we get lots of tourists driving through here. You don’t fit the bill.”
“And you’re still sitting here, why?”
He popped the last piece of his scone in his mouth and chewed slowly while smiling at Ritchie. After washing it down with the rest of his coffee, he grabbed the map, making the keys jangle to the table. Then he borrowed a pen from a passing employee and proceeded to write on Ritchie’s property.
Before Ritchie could settle on an appropriately snarky com- ment, the folded paper landed on the table in front of him and the guy stood and collected his empty cup. “I’m not anymore. Enjoy your scone, catch you around.” A wink and he disappeared into the hustle that Starbucks became on a weekday morning.
Shell shocked, Ritchie picked up the paper and read the elegant cursive writing:

Keep smiling. It really looks good on you.
But if you have trouble finding your smile, call and I’ll help. Emery Hutchins

Underneath the note, a number that shared his area code awaited him. Ritchie took the first bite of his scone. And smiled.

Chapter Two

Emery removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. Damn, he hated the paperwork side of his job. He’d much rather be in the warehouse with the men, racing the clamp trucks and pretending to work. Yeah, he knew their play probably broke all kinds of OSHA violations. But they were good workers and they got the job done safely before they played. Anyway, Emery kept three bay doors in the back empty so they could have some safe fun. His willingness to allow them some downtime kept their productivity up and the turnover rate in his warehouse down. This give-and-take turned out to be an unspoken compromise between boss and employees that worked well for them.

He glanced up as someone entered his office and smiled at one of his two lead foremen and his close friend. “Hey! Who’s winning today?”

“Ha ha ha, I’ll tell you who’s not winning... Fuzzy Wuzzy ain’t winning.”

“You do realize he’ll kick your ass if he ever catches you calling him that?”
“Yeah, well, if he would shave that fur off his chest we wouldn’t call him that, now would we?”
“Who the hell do you think you’re kidding? You love the fuzz.” Emery chuckled. “So why isn’t he winning?”
“I ain’t fessing up to nothing.” Ryder Halloway laughed as he sat down in the chair in front of Emery’s desk. “He called saying he woke up hacking up a lung and his up and go was on a slow roll. I took the liberty of telling him to keep his ass home so I wouldn’t catch anything from him.”
Emery cocked his eyebrow up. “So you wouldn’t catch anything, huh? There’s a lot of calling in happening around here lately, don’t you agree? At least he didn’t have his girlfriend call in for him.”
“Hey! Technically Harlan wasn’t my boyfriend at the time, so lay off.”
Emery raised his eyebrow at Ryder and smirked. “And now?”
A silly grin crossed over his good friend’s face, Ryder’s eyes twinkling. “Oh yeah, he’s definitely my boyfriend now. We’ve only been together again for a week, but damn if it doesn’t seem like no time has passed. Plus, since he works from home, he’s planning to bring his crap to my apartment and spend a couple days here...”
Emery tuned out Ryder’s ramblings while he pretended to ponder the incoming load charts on his computer. In reality, his mind wandered to a delicious, smartass brunet who still hadn’t called him. Was he too forward with Ritchie last week? He understood he had an advantage over Ritchie. When he promoted Ryder to foreman four years ago and their friendship flourished, he’d listened to all Ryder’s stories of woe about the one who got away. He also benefitted from tales about the “little shithead” who had made Ryder question his own self-worth. The truth of the matter, simply stated—yes Ritchie could be to blame indirectly for Ryder’s actions, but if you searched hard enough scapegoats are a dime a dozen. Though true, Emery still at first did what a friend should do and despised him by association.
Then he stopped listening to Ryder’s repeated stories. Instead of hearing what Ryder had to say, he positioned himself in the Havan Fellows

memories. He began to understand all sides of the situation, not just Ryder’s.
That’s when it got interesting.
Ritchie might have been a cocky shit who annoyed Ryder, but Emery noted that also inside him resided a good best friend to Harlan. A trustworthy, reliable, and loyal friend. Oh, not to Ryder. But Ryder and Ritchie weren’t best friends. Ritchie owed Ryde nothing.
Also, in none of the tales that Ryder rehashed did Ritchie ever do anything truly against Ryder. No, Ritchie’s motivations veered pro Harlan, not anti Ryde. Emery had become intrigued by Ritchie—someone who lived through his unrequited love.
Then Emery visited Ryder’s apartment for a poker game one night and noticed a picture on the mantle. A picture of Ryder and a cute redhead, but in the background, almost lost in the scenery, stood a gorgeous brunet with striking, sad blue eyes. That clinched it. A mere picture had never aroused Emery before, but Ritchie’s image in that photograph did it for him.
From that moment on, Ritchie had Emery’s thoughts tied up in one big knot.
Fate waved her majestic hand and allowed Emery to run into Ritchie on his way to work that Thursday. He walked into that coffee shop and a buzzing in his ear caused him to swing his head to the left. His gaze automatically rested upon Ritchie sitting alone staring down the road in the direction of Ryder’s apartment building. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together and get four. It also didn’t take a genius to comprehend that Emery couldn’t let this possibility slip away.
His certainty that Ritchie would call was fading quickly. He could work with that though. He never started something without having alternative ways of ending it.
“Ryder, what’re your plans with Harlan this weekend?” He interrupted Ryde’s mumblings about who knew what this time.
“Well, I wanted us to just stay in and get reacquainted with each other. But Harlan’s worried about Ritchie and plans to spend Saturday with him. That little twerp…I swear to God he is the bane of my existence.”
Perfect. “I’m having a barbeque at my house Saturday. Why don’t you explain to Harlan proper etiquette about the boss’s functions? Oh, tell him that you got the okay to invite Ritchie, if that helps the situation. Just a suggestion.”
Ryder nodded excitedly. “Yeah, I can come off as the charm- ing good guy, attempting to bridge the gap between the twerp and me? I like it. Consider us there. Should we bring anything?”
Emery held back the grin that threatened to break through. “Just Ritchie. That’s all I require.”
Emery could tell by Ryde’s expression that he had suspicions, but oh well. Ryder had no say in who Emery paid attention to. He shooed Ryder away with the wave of his hand. “Go on and get those inbounds unloaded before lunch. We can grab a couple of subs if you want. Right now I have to get these numbers to play nicely together.”
As soon as Ryder stepped out of his office, Emery grabbed his pen and a pad and jotted down things he would need for this impromptu cookout of his. First thing on that list…a grill.

Chapter Three

“Remind me again why we have to stop here? Ryde will have coffee made for us.”
Ritchie parked the car in front of Starbucks and warily eyed his best friend. He could tell Har the truth, but since he wouldn’t even confess the truth to himself... “I want my caramel latte. We both know Ryder isn’t gay enough to pull that one off.”
Ritchie smiled at the eye roll he got from his long-time best friend, Harlan. He tried to get along with Ryder, honest he did. “By the way, there’s no reason to drag me along to some stupid picnic thing with some stupid prick throwing it. Why am I here again? You could have driven yourself to Ryder’s.” Ritchie took in the old college sweatshirt Har wore, and even though he wanted to make a snide comment about it, he refrained. Some subjects you just didn’t broach. Har wearing Ryder’s sweatshirt topped that list.
“Ryder’s boss isn’t a prick. I spoke to him that day I showed Ryde the error of his ways. He seemed nice to me on the phone and he has a wicked deadpan type of humor about him.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot all about how sissy boy Ryde had you call in sick for him.” Ritchie chuckled as they made their way into the coffee shop.
“Very funny, asshole. I did it without Ryde’s knowledge. His boss,” Har stopped for a second and scrunched his forehead as if his head was running laps. “Damn, I can’t remember his name. Something different but not weird.” He shrugged and continued to the line. “Anyway, he understood about me wanting some time with Ryder. Even made a joke about how a fuzzy bear was gonna eat this whole thing up, or something like that. Not sure what he meant, but it made me laugh. So I jumped at the chance to meet him in person after he graciously let Ryde off.”
“Wait a second, I assumed you got Ryde off, not the boss- man?”
Ritchie laughed as he dodged Har’s right hook. He held up two fingers to the barista. “Two venti caramel lattes, please.”
“You’re on a roll today. You’re here because we made plans and I wasn’t gonna let you weasel out of them just because of this. You’ll love it. Lots of food, alcohol, and I assume some good eye candy considering that Ryde works in a warehouse. That type of manual labor promises six-pack abs.”
Ritchie grabbed his coffee and pointed to Harlan when the barista held his hand out for the money. He turned and made his way to the same table he had occupied just over a week ago. Wow, talk about a Freudian slip if he’d ever experienced one. Ritch felt in his pocket and tapped his fingers on his phone. A phone which now had a hot guy named Emery Hutchins’s phone number programmed in it. He hadn’t used the number. Yet. But he had nearly called at least twice a night for the past week and a half. Maybe today would be the day. He was in town after all. What a great excuse to cop out of this ridiculous barbeque that no one really cared if he attended anyway.
“Why’re you sitting? We got the coffees to-go, so let’s go.”
He glanced up at his best friend’s face, all the while reminiscing about the duplicate act from his other time at this table. That time he gazed into the most beautiful silvery blue peepers ever. “Well I had an idea tha—”
“Oh no you don’t.” Har had a little bit of trouble hoisting Ritchie out of the chair one-handed, but he managed. “You’re not backing out on me. Move it, bucko. You’ll have fun and you and Ryder can interact together without actually having to interact.”
Ritchie reluctantly shuffled forward, guided by the firm hand planted squarely on his back. “Fine, I’ll attend this shindig. I’ll charm the pants off Ryder’s boss and coworkers and all they’ll talk about for weeks is Ryder’s perfect friend Ritchie. That will annoy the crap out of your worse half and avenge me for this torture all in one fell swoop!”
“Good, you charm those pants off his boss. At least then I can rest assured you’ll be on your best behavior. You realize if you just acted this fun and friendly around Ryde you two would have no problems.”
“I’m acting fun and friendly?” Ritchie shook his head sadly and mumbled, “Damn, I do need a new vibe-o-meter.” Ritchie remembered the banter he and Emery shared and another smile crossed his face. He didn’t miss the irony of the fact that Emery could make him smile even without being there. Yeah, maybe I will call him today sometime. He could always sneak out of the party for a few hours. He had a feeling Emery would make a great noontime quickie.

***

“You do realize you committed four traffic violations in the ten minute drive it took to get here?”
Ritchie clicked the fob on his keychain and listened to the beep of the lock as he faced Ryder dead on and rolled his eyes. He always hated to waste a good eye roll on the back of someone’s head. “Five. You forgot to count the rolling stop on that stop sign back there.”
“That was the eighth one, right?” Harlan chimed in.
“No, that’s the one he didn’t use his blinker on. Did you want the cops to hunt us down or something?”
“Tell me Ryder, how many stop signs does this fucking place need? A four-way stop at every freaking intersection? This is a subdivision, not a main road!” They proceeded, surprisingly enough stepping in unison, up the long dirt and grass drive that occupied half of the front yard.
“Which is a great segue to your speeding issue—” “Oh please, the cops don’t really expect you to drive twentyfive miles an hour. That’s a joke. Anyway I slowed down when I noticed the kids playing.” He stopped halfway between the front of the car and the base of the porch stairs, turning toward Ryder.
“Yeah you’re a real humanitarian there, Ritch!” Ryder faced off with him, so close in fact that they could Eskimo kiss. For once, Ritchie embraced his shorter stature. It prohibited any nose rubbing.
“Ryd—”
Ritchie completely ignored his best friend’s attempt to halt this discussion. “My name’s Ritchie. You haven’t earned the right to call me anything else. Why hasn’t someone neutered your ass yet anyway? I’m still wracking my brains to figure that one out.”
“Ritc—”
Ryder waved Harlan’s interruption off and continued, “Do me a favor Ritch, stop spending all your time worrying about my jewels and pay attention to the road. Half the drive you crossed over the yellow line.”
“Well your stupid little town has low gutters, you have to drive toward the center or bottom out!”
A voice from behind them managed to cut in. “I happen to believe this is quite a smart town, actually.”
“Like your opinion was asked for in...” On a roll and not willing to give an inch, Ritchie blasted at the intruder as he turned towards him. He trailed off as his eyes met with those damn mes- merizing silver-blue ones again. “Um... this... matter.” The timbre of his voice drastically lost all authority when those eyes zeroed in on him. He chose to blame it on his irked pride at being busted in the middle of a temper tantrum, instead of Emery’s presence.
Harlan stepped up then and pointedly glared at Ryder and him. “I attempted to tell you that your raised voices attracted an audience for this little discussion, but neither of you bothered to listen to me.” Then he turned and offered his hand. “Hello, I’m Harlan, Ryder’s boyfriend, and you—”
“Emery? What’re you doing here?” Ritchie managed to mumble out, inwardly wincing at his poor articulation.
“I happen to live here.” Emery took Harlan’s hand and shook it. “Such a pleasure to finally meet the man who knocked Ryde back a notch or two.”
“Now wait a minute,” Ryder protested.
“We can debate your ball and chain status later, Ryde. You forgot to fill out the responsibility charts yesterday. I brought them home with me. They’re due Monday morning so please fin- ish them now before the party gets too far underway. They’re on my desk.”
“Now?” Ritchie could tell from the grimace on Ryder’s face that the idea didn’t thrill him.
“Yes now, before you get too drunk to review the charts properly.” Emery patted Ryder on the back as he sulked by. Then he turned to Harlan. “In the refrigerator in the garage you’ll locate the containers of salad, potato and macaroni. Would you mind transferring them to the bowls on the kitchen counter and putting them out on the back patio table?”
Harlan glanced between Emery and Ritchie then nodded. “Sure, no problem.”
And then there were two...all alone in Emery’s front yard studying each other.
Ritchie stood motionless as he realized that in less than three minutes Emery had managed to isolate them from everyone else. When Emery stepped toward him, he retreated the same distance back. “Um... So you’re Ryder’s boss, I take it?”
“Yes, and you’re the thorn in his side, I take it?”
Ritchie shrugged nonchalantly. “Well I prefer noose around his neck, but they both work. Did you plan on my attendance to- day?”
“Does it matter?” Emery stepped into Ritchie’s personal space. “You never called me, and you’re not smiling. I do believe I gave you explicit instructions on what to do if you needed help with your little problem.”
Gulp.This Emery didn’t flirt and annoy like the coffee shop Emery did. That Emery Ritchie could handle. This one seriously controlled the situation. Ritchie realized his extreme disadvantage. He needed a few moments to regroup and get his game face on. He stepped back again, telling himself he stepped toward the house and not away from Emery. “Bathroom?”
Emery’s perceptive grin irked Ritch. “The guest bathroom’s overrun at this moment by teenage girls, no telling how long they’ll be. Use mine. Down the hall, second door on the left. You can’t miss it. It’s in the master bedroom.”
Ritchie nodded once and made his exit. He wouldn’t swear to it in court or anything, but felt fairly certain the warmth radiating up and down his backside came directly from Emery’s penetrating gaze.
Ritchie had no problem finding the bathroom. He sat on the closed toilet seat and pondered what the hell kind of spell Emery had on him. Ritchie didn’t get frustrated around men. He frustrated men. He had worked hard to classify that as his MO and it worked for him, damn it. So what about Emery threw him all off-kilter and made him start sputtering like an idiot?
His eyes wandered around the spacious bathroom and zeroed in on the freestanding cabinet across from the sink. Why not? No better way to find out about someone than snooping, right?
Ritchie studied the closed and locked bathroom door and then opened the cabinet. Towels and washcloths lined the bottom two shelves, the shelf above them held toiletries and paper goods, the next one up had the pain medicines and first aid supplies. Now, just like the top shelf at a bar…the top shelf of Emery’s cabinet was where the good stuff was stashed.
Up there sat one and a half boxes of condoms and all sorts of bottles and tubes of lotions, oils and lube. Obviously Emery was a scout and followed their motto. Ritchie chuckled to himself. He grabbed one of the bottles of oil and read the label: Honey Butter Kiss body oil. He noted the small writing underneath encouraging ingestion as part of the total experience. He unscrewed the lid and whiffed it, and the scent of maple drifted through his nostrils and put a smile on his face. Nice. Not being able to help himself and enjoying the reprieve from his immediate situation, Ritchie dabbed a small amount on his palm and tasted it, wondering if it lived up to its scent. His eyes glazed over as the flavor of maple syrup ran across his taste buds and trickled down his throat.
A noise from the adjoining bedroom scared the shit out of Ritchie and he nearly dropped the small bottle to the floor. He hurriedly capped the oil and returned it to its shelf. Then he stretched up and moved it to the same position he found it in. Ritchie gripped the cabinet doors tightly while he silently closed them then opened the bathroom door.
There, in all his glory, stood the owner of the intoxicating oil. Ritchie shoved his guilt for snooping to the back of his mind and straightened. “Sorry if I took too long. I’ll check if Harlan needs any help with those salads.”
A hand on each shoulder stopped him in his tracks. He jerked a bit at Emery’s nerve and raised his chin, preparing to give this man a piece of his mind. Emery’s lips slowly lowering to his own stopped him more successfully than the hands on his shoulders did. Ritchie watched them moving closer and closer to his, then contact erupted over all of his senses. He gasped in shock at the mere immensity of it, his mouth opening and allowing Emery the entrance that he evidently expected.
Ritchie warred with himself. His rational side wanted to shove Emery away and pummel him for having the gall to advance on Ritchie like that…but his body had absolutely no issue with this intrusion and enjoyed the taste and smell of Emery so close to him, actually wouldn’t mind being even closer. Problem was, his physical side seemed to overpower his rational side when these type of decisions where needed.
Before he could come to an agreeable conclusion with both sides, unfortunately, Emery halted the kiss. Ritchie floated in a fog of lust as Emery slowly lifted his head away and smirked. “I taste that you found my stash. So did you enjoy my body oil? Or more importantly, would you like to enjoy my body…” A quick nip at Ritchie’s lower lip then he finished his sentence, “oil?”

Chapter Four

Emery smiled to himself when he felt Ritchie shiver, hoping his touch caused it. He coasted his fingertips up and down both sides of Ritchie’s neck and pulled away from his mouth. “So, you up to the task?”

“Oil? Task?” Emery determined from Ritchie’s eyes that his focus was all skewed, and decided to credit his nibbling action for that. “Yeah, sure, I’m up for a quickie. Something to maybe rev up my appetite for this picnic thing you insisted on throwing.”

Ritchie’s attempt at nonchalance amused Emery, and also seeded a very interesting idea in his mind. Ritchie would no doubt hate it, but would also no doubt learn an important lesson. Because if they became something, anything, Ritchie would have to understand the rules now rather than later.

Emery ran his hands down the front of Ritchie’s collared Tshirt and tweaked his nipples through the material. “A quickie? That’s what you want from me? What happens if I fall in lust? What if I desire more from you? Am I to end up with unrequited feelings? Would that be karmic justice in your book?” All through his soliloquy, he kept massaging Ritchie’s chest and nubs, using the coarseness of the fabric to his benefit. He ran his lips and tongue along Ritchie’s hairline, over his forehead and down to his ear. “Payback for what you have endured for the past seven plus years?”

Ritchie’s breath hitched. “I...um...I don’t understand what you’re mumbling...” A squeal escaped his lips as Emery bathed his ear with a moist, hot tongue. “About! What else could I possibly want from you?”

“What else indeed.”

Ritchie backed away from him and Emery mirrored the movement by stepping forward. After another round of this, he had trapped Ritchie in the corner of the bedroom. “Satisfaction could be had from me many times over if you want that, my sweet Ritchie. In many ways also.”

He deduced Ritchie’s attempt to flee to the right and blocked his escape with a well-placed palm against the wall, “Undo your pants for me, Ritchie. Let me show you.”

Ritchie shook his head no even as his hands obeyed Emery’s soft spoken command. The button silently popped from its re- straint and Ritchie leaned his head against the wall to gaze up at Emery questioningly.

“Very good, now unzip them.”

Emery kissed Ritchie’s eyelids tenderly as soon as they closed, and he heard rather than saw the zipper moving down inch by agonizing inch. A quick shudder from his beautiful lover told him the zipper had finished its descent. “Don’t move until I give you permission, understand, Ritchie?”

Ritchie’s breathing took on a whole new rhythm. “Yeah, whatever, I’ll let you play this your way for now.”
Emery’s lips twisted into an amused smile. “Make sure that you do.”
He removed his hand from the wall, certain that he had his boy’s utmost cooperation, at least for the immediate moment. Ritchie’s show of bravado impressed him, but didn’t fool him. He trailed his hands across the wide expanse of shoulders, alternating between fluttery and deep massaging touches. He outlined the defined collarbone, changed course downwards and again paid those tight pointed nipples some homage. His fingers met in the middle and traveled along what he could outline through the shirt as a thick treasure trail, then abruptly halted at the elastic of Ritchie’s boxer briefs. All the while Emery stared into eyes that had never fully recovered their focus from the initial kiss.
“What could we do for this quickie you’re so interested in? What time limitations classify a true quickie? Should we expect ten minutes of pleasure? What if we prolonged it to a whole half an hour? Could that still carry the title of a quickie?”
Ritchie opened his mouth and at that precise moment Emery’s hands delved inside his waistband, grasped his balls and cock, and squeezed. Ritchie’s mouth closed quickly, just to open and close again. Emery stroked Ritchie’s cock slowly up and down, each upward motion emphasized with a thumbnail outlining his slit with the perfect amount of pressure, while he simultaneously tugged on Ritchie’s balls with his other hand. Ritchie finally found his voice. “It’s not really a...not really...um...not a perfect science. The definition of a quickie is probably different for each participant.” Ritchie stumbled on his words more than once, but finally completed his sentence.
“That so? Which participant should we listen to? Because, I must admit, I envision myself taking this magnificent piece of meat in my mouth. Laving it with my tongue; having the bulbous crown bump against the opening of my throat. Swallowing around it and massaging it with my constricting muscles. I believe that would carry you to orgasm rather quickly though, don’t you agree?
“So instead of racing for the gusto that way, so to speak, maybe I should draw out the oral pleasure. Sit on the floor at your feet, having your cock swing above my open mouth and...” Emery removed the hand that juggled Ritchie’s sac and stuck a finger in his mouth. He puckered his lips around it purposefully for Ritchie’s benefit and got it good and wet. When he removed it, saliva glis- tened from the digit and from his lips. Emery wrapped his arm around Ritchie and slid his hand down the back of his boxer briefs this time. He sought Ritchie’s clenched opening with his prepared finger.
He circled the delicate skin a few times and then pressed firm- ly until he slid in up to the second knuckle. A quick twist of his wrist and crook of his finger and he tapped the walnut shaped gland that he searched for, stroking it much like his other hand still stroked Ritchie’s dick. He was rewarded when precum coated his hand. He finally continued his pleasurable idea. “And with my fingers, I milk your cock. All of your precious juices dripping out and covering my tongue, swirling across my taste buds and gliding down my throat. My fingers continuing their ministrations until your testicles empty and my lips, tongue, mouth and throat are drenched in nothing but your flavor. But if I performed that properly, mind you, that would take so much more than a simple quickie entails. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Emery rubbed into Ritchie’s skin the copious amount of precum that his finger had enticed. He cocked an eyebrow when Ritchie didn’t answer immediately, but continued his movements. “Hmm Ritchie? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
Ritchie jerked his head and his half-lidded eyes focused on Emery. He dropped back against the wall with a slight thump. Emery noticed that Ritchie’s whole body vibrated slightly. “Yeah.” He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Yes, that would take a little longer, a lot longer. But we have time, right? I mean, who am I to rush the boss man, right?”
Emery sighed contentedly.
He leaned down and captured Ritchie’s trembling and slightly swollen lips. He demanded entrance that Ritchie eagerly supplied. Emery worked his finger and hand while his tongue danced across slightly crooked teeth and tangled with the maple taste still on Ritchie’s tongue. He grazed his bottom teeth along Ritchie’s lip while sucking that tasty treat into his own mouth.
Emery prolonged the kiss until Ritchie’s hips bucked against him, then tensed. He stopped everything immediately. He gently withdrew his finger from Ritchie’s ass and hands from his boxer briefs, and leaned back so he could study Ritchie’s flushed face.
“What? No!” Ritchie actually attempted to return Emery’s hands to where they’d just left, but Emery stepped back out of his range.
Emery shook his head and proceeded to lick the precum off his fingers and palm. “I want to do those things to you Ritchie. I do. And after I drain you, I want to toss you on the bed and sink into you so deep that where you end and I begin is the ultimate question. I want to pound into you until you scream for either more or mercy, or both. I want to fill you with a part of me and have you spill again on your stomach. Then I’ll lean over during my orgasm and lick you clean while I’m still shaking with my cock throbbing inside you. The perfect circle, my essence filling you while your essence fills me. Imagine us orchestrating that for our…” He smiled and whispered that much repeated word of the day. “Quickie.”
Ritchie’s breathing ratcheted again and Emery had to admit to himself that he loved how the verbal appeared to work on this man just as well as the physical did. “Okay...erm... I mean yes? We can do that.”
Emery finally finished cleaning his hand and shook his head sadly for Ritchie’s benefit. “But we can’t, my tasty friend. In order for us to experience all that and more, I would need all of your attention on me. I understand I have the southern head’s full at- tention.” He nodded to Ritchie’s exposed and still rock hard penis. “But I fear that your northern head is still wrapped around a cute red-haired and taken man. Until you can move past that particular pretty boy, you won’t give all of you to anyone else. And whether it’s a quickie, a one-night stand, or a relationship, when I bed a man I demand one hundred percent of his concentration. That’s exactly what I give. Anything less would sell me short. Do I appear the kind of man who does that?”
Emery could tell that Ritchie suddenly understood the game that played out in front of him and didn’t like it one bit. His eyebrows knitted together and he yanked his underwear and pants back up, grimacing at the rough treatment he gave himself in the process. “Fuck you Emery!”
“We just discussed how that wouldn’t happen…” He strolled to the door and opened it, glancing back over his shoulder. “Yet.” He closed the door and headed to the guest bathroom, finally va- cated, so he could adjust himself and wash up. He did have a house full of guests waiting for food.

Chapter Five

Ritchie stared at the door and adjusted his throbbing cock. Not just because it got teased and cast aside. But because, damn, he had to learn how to zip up pants with a hard-on. He attempted to tell himself that he usually used the hard-on before re-clothing. That, for some odd reason, didn’t appease his abused cock.

He rubbed his groin through his pants and winced one last time. He decided to use his energy for tearing that overbearingthinks-his-shit-don’t-stink Emery down to size. He thought he could get away with this? That Ritchie would just heel and beg? He obviously didn’t know Ritchie as well as his fucking huge head believed he did. Oooh, I bet his head is huge, and would rub against all the right places working its way in and out of my ass.

Ritchie turned to face the wall and banged his head against it a couple times. Maybe he could bang these mutinous ideas out of him. How did he expect to show Emery up if he kept imagining getting him up?

That required another thump against the wall. He had to bury these ideas deep down to succeed in his plans to best Emery. He couldn’t keep dreaming of Emery burying his cock deep down—

“That’s fucking it! Who’s he anyway? He’s no one to me.” Ritchie adjusted his once again raging hard-on and headed to the party.

He casually opened the sliding glass doors and sauntered through, glancing around. Ryder stood at the double grills, flip- ping burgers. Har leaned over the picnic table sorting the bowls of salads and dips. Across the lawn, some huge hairy guy flexed his muscles sans shirt for a whole slew of ladies who squealed like prepubescent girls.

Just one person he couldn’t locate of course. The idea that maybe Emery had to take care of himself before showing his face made Ritchie smile. That would be sweet, especially considering he could have had Ritchie take care of his little problem. But no. He decided to take the cock tease route to the party.

Ritchie obviously had more willpower then Emery. He didn’t need to take care of his problem right away. It could wait until he reached the sanctuary of his own home. He wouldn’t end up there alone either. He would drop Beavis and Butthead off and then go to his favorite watering hole. There he would decide who deserved a lucky day. Who would get to accompany him home? Yep, he didn’t need Emery to fulfill his needs.

A distinctive laugh from behind him and to the right caused him to whip his head around. Sure enough, there Emery resided behind the bar, surrounded by men and women while he did the shimmy shake with a glass and metal tumbler. Damn, Tom Cruise never made me this hard. Ritchie mentally V-8 slapped himself and curbed his drooling as Emery poured the fruity concoction in a specialty glass and topped it with a curled lime rind and a cherry.

It really irked Ritchie that the man beamed at his guests as if he didn’t just have his hands shoved down Ritchie’s pants. Not half an hour ago, he’d promised the most intense night of sex that Ritchie would ever encounter. How dare he act like that didn’t have some effect on him! Like he could just fuck with Ritchie one moment and join the gathering out here as Mr. Happy Host the next? Oh hell no, not with Ritchie, this shit didn’t happen. And damn it, he wouldn’t let it this time either.
He strolled over and nudged his way up against the bar, waiting patiently. When Emery didn’t acknowledge him after a couple of minutes, his patience flew right out the window. “Hello, standing here.” He waved his hand in the air for effect.

Emery winked at him. “Yes, I noticed. As soon as I’m done with Annie’s drink I will be right with you.”
Ritchie turned to the petite blonde woman who giggled at something. “Annie, why don’t you pop the top of a beer over there? Emery and I have some unfinished business to discuss.”
Emery gave him the evil eye and then handed an umbrellaed drink over the counter. “Don’t mind him honey, his parents spoiled him as a child. Here, enjoy.” Then he leaned over the bar and with his eyes on Ritchie, he pecked her cheek and sent her on her way.
“Spoiled child? You self-righteous asshole! You know nothing about my childhood, so don’t pretend you do!”
“Ritchie, this is neither the time nor audience for us to discuss your place with me. Why don’t you tell me what drink you would like and I’ll set you up?”
“I don’t want a fucking drink. I want an explanation from you about that shit you spewed in your bedroom. Who the hell do you think you are? News flash, the sun doesn’t shine on your ass any more than it does anyone else’s.” Ritchie seethed between clenched teeth.
Emery calmly moved around the bar and guided Ritchie by the elbow away from listening ears. “Ritchie, if I imagined for one moment that you couldn’t conduct yourself in a civilized manner I wouldn’t have engaged you in anything earlier. The fact that I did means that you can. Now I repeat, this isn’t the time or place for this conversation. If you would like to discuss your ire with me after the party I’d more than welcome—”
Ritchie couldn’t believe the gall of this man, dismissing him after he himself had initiated this crap. He yanked his elbow out of Emery’s grasp and turned to face him. “I repeat, who the hell do you think you are?”
Emery leaned into Ritchie’s ear, speaking only for Ritchie. “I’m the man who plans to rock your world. By your reaction, I’m off to a bang-up start.”
Ritchie stepped back just in time to witness the smirk on Emery’s handsome yet infuriating face. Something snapped in him. He lost it. He could picture the collision happening in his mind’s eye. Even with that, he couldn’t stop it to save his life, couldn’t keep his damn mouth closed.
“Rock. My. World. I figured you for older than me but seri- ously, how fucking old are you? You couldn’t even finish what you set in motion inside. It’s all clear to me now. I understand why you played verbally with me but didn’t want the physical part. You realized I’m too much of a man for you.” He noted Emery’s eyes narrowing and his mouth thinning into a tight line. Of course, those lips still made Ritchie tingle on sight. But he ignored all the warning signs because he was a man on a mission with a lack of oxygen to his brain.
“That’s right! You couldn’t handle what I have to give. I’d fucking geyser all over your uptight ass like Niagara Falls. You’d search for a fucking lifeguard to save your ass from drowning while I’d search and mark my next target. I completely understand your reluctance now. I’m a daunting specimen. Too bad, so sad. You lost your shot at this baby.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “I might have given you another chance, but obviously mixing drinks rises higher on your list then getting laid. So nope, no second chances for you.”
He stopped his tirade for a moment and fumed at Emery. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see on the man’s face, but a smile sure as hell shocked him.
Emery cocked an eyebrow at him. “You quite finished now? Or is your tirade just beginning and there’s something else you wanted to tell the party?”
Party? Oh shit!Ritchie had completely forgotten that he had stopped their forward motion and they still very much remained in earshot of all the guests. He slyly glanced around, not wanting to be too obvious. Harlan’s head nodded down and shook slowly from side to side and Ryder had a heinous shit-eating grin on his face. When he noticed Ritchie’s eyes on him, his jaw dropped in an even bigger grin and the asswipe had the nerve to wave with one hand and give a thumbs up sign with the other.
The big bear of a man clapped his big bear mitts together and laughed. “Well what’s a party until someone breaks out with the sex talk? Let’s get the music pumping and the lovely ladies wiggling out of their clothes!” And with that, the music blared and everyone, except for Ryder and Har of course, relaxed and proceeded on to the next round of activities.
Ritchie leaned towards Emery and hissed vehemently. “You could’ve stopped me from making a fool of myself!”
“That would have taught you what?” Emery leaned over and kissed him lightly on his mouth then returned to the bar, picking up a glass and smoothly transitioning back to his bartender role like nothing abnormal just took place.
A part of him wanted to stomp right over to Emery and demand something, anything. But thankfully the part in charge had learned a lesson today and cemented his feet to the ground, and his mouth shut.
“Hey, I believe it’s time for us to break on outta here, Mr. Falls. Oh shit! That’s a bad way to phrase it, I don’t wanna drown or anything!” Ryder’s laughter sounded like fingernails running down a chalkboard to Ritchie.
He mentally thanked his best friend when Har slapped Ryder on the back of his head, then took it back when Har piped in, “Really Ritchie, if you’re using the word ‘geyser’ the least you could have done was reference Old Faithful. It would’ve worked so much better in your favor. Oh, and way to charm Ryder’s boss right out of his pants.”
Ritchie took his lesson learned, kept his damn mouth shut and finally got to stomp…right through the house to the front door.

Chapter Six

“So you’re saying that Mr. Falls won’t visit my town ever again?” Screeching floated out of the cell phone Ryder held across the desk and erupted in Emery’s ears. Emery figured it safe to say that Harlan’s mood was feisty today.

Ryder held the phone away from his ear as if to protect it from that decibel of damage and made a face at Emery. Emery did optically the equivalent of what Har did verbally and Ryder quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, replacing the phone to his ear just in the nick of time to answer Har without any weird delay. “Yes, honey. Fine I won’t call him Mr. Falls that much anymore. But... Not even... Maybe when he... No, you don’t have to spend time back at your place. Okay fine. But you owe me.” Emery cocked his eyebrow at Ryder hoping he would wrap this up sooner rather than later.

Ryder lowered his voice then asked Har, “If I play the good boyfriend I wanna get rewarded like a good boyfriend... Okay tonight? You got it baby. Okay love you too, bye.”

Emery took the cell phone from Ryder and sat back. “He won’t visit your house or step foot in this town again, right?”
Ryder nodded. “Yeah. Har even has to drive back to that piddly-wink town to visit him, though there’s really nothing to do in that damn town.”
Emery nodded to himself and took out the charts for their routes tomorrow. “No problem. Don’t forget to load up the Waxwork Inc. load today. They’re having a huge charity event this weekend for the children to make their own candles. They’re donating all the proceeds to this organization to stop bullying in the school systems. I already sent a donation over to them on behalf of our Regional Distribution Center for Hutchins Hauls Logistics.”
Ryder nodded his head in the affirmative. “Already on it. Got Fuzzy prepping the area. We’re afraid of cracking or breaking the wax in this stage. Hand trucking them on instead of using the clamp trucks seems like the best solution.”
“That’s good. But don’t let Fuzzy use that damn hand truck, get another guy to do it. He may be great with the ladies, but he has all the grace of a ballet dancer with two left feet. This load deserves our special attention.”
Emery glanced at his watch and gathered the reports in front of him, slipping them plus his laptop into his bag. “I have an appointment at two with the Southeastern Regional Manager of the Mischell’s grocery store chain. If we can land this account it guarantees overtime for the boys throughout the summer.”
Ryder got up and glanced at his own watch. “It’s not even noon yet.”
Emery smirked. “I know, but the Southeastern Regional Manager works out of his hometown. It’s a two hour drive to Wildwood, right?”
Ryder jerked his head and stared at Emery. “Exactly who’s this manager you’re meeting with?”
“His name’s Ritchie Lymings.”
“Son of a bitch!”
Emery chuckled all the way to his car.

****

Ritchie glanced at his watch again. He had a good half an hour before this guy showed up to pitch the benefits of changing truck lines. He stood by his office window blindly staring out. This whole week he had buried himself into his work. He hid from the memories of that humiliating fiasco at Emery’s house, but here he had sanctuary. Here he was, without a doubt, in charge. Here Emery couldn’t make him question himself, drive him crazy with the colliding feelings of both wanting someone’s arms wrapped around him while also wanting to keep that someone at arm’s length.

The fact that he was so torn up about it to begin with rattled him to the bone. He wasn’t used to any man being able to unnerve him, and Emery definitely did that. He hated putting Harlan in such a hard position by saying he wouldn’t drive down there again to visit him, but he’d made the best decision for himself. He needed to keep his distance from the man who stirred his emotions into a frenzy.

Shock stopped Ritchie’s mental process for a moment or two. For the first time in his life, Harlan didn’t drive his emotions in a tailspin. Emery held that honor. When did this happen?

He shook his head and primed himself for this upcoming meeting. He’d spent all night preparing himself, but his nerves didn’t care about that. He hadn’t had this position all that long, only received his promotion four months ago, and he needed to nail this logistics company. Word on the street pegged them as one of the best in this area. They didn’t rely on computers to do everything, including and most importantly, their dispatching.

Ritchie understood the importance of computers, he had two on his desk that he used nonstop. But damn, if he had to listen to that stupid excuse one more time about the truck arriving hours late because the routing system miscalculated the drive time for a semi, he sure would stick that damn program somewhere the sun didn’t shine! Did these routing systems not calculate that most semis couldn’t travel over sixty miles an hour, no matter what type of road they traveled?

His stores scheduled their stock boys for certain hours. If the truck showed up four hours late, the store lost a substantial amount of money. Stock boys got sent home and management had to reassign others to do that work. One of the first tasks given him when he got this promotion was to narrow down the loss margins. He had attempted to skim everywhere else. But the sad truth in business was the quickest and simplest way to cut cost was labor. If this logistics company lived up to everyone’s claims, they could guarantee on time deliveries. Well, there he had it, and a bonus piece of the puzzle, his employees didn’t lose any time originally promised to them. It would just be routed back to what they were hired to do.

The door opened, interrupting his tedious musings. He turned from the window and spied his assistant’s head poking into the office. “Geoff? What’s up?”

“Mr. Lymings, your two o’clock appointment arrived.” “What? He’s half an hour early.” Ritchie really hated it when these overeager, just out of college wannabes showed up early for a meeting. It didn’t get them brownie points. Promptness got those brownie points, being too early, or God forbid late, lost those brownie points.
“Um...no he’s not. He’s only five minutes early, sir.”
Huh? Ritchie checked his watch again. Sure enough, it now just turned four minutes to two. Where the hell did the time disappear to?
He straightened his necktie and cleaned all the papers off his desk, shoving them into the bottom drawer for now. Taking a seat, he instructed Geoff to let the rep in.
Attempting to display a calm that he didn’t feel, he opened up the portfolio to the proposal that he had slaved over when Emery didn’t fill his daydreams up. The click of the door closing and footsteps approaching notified him that his appointment indeed had arrived. He gestured to the seat in front of him without raising his head.
“Please allow me a moment, Mr.—” Oh shit!He’d forgotten the guy’s name. He straightened his glasses and sorted quickly through the papers in the portfolio, positive it was there somewhere. Ah! Found it!Odd, no first name, only, “Mr. Hutchins? As in…Hutchins Hauls Logistics?” A meeting with the owner? And why did that name sound so damn familiar to Ritchie?
The chuckle that floated from the chair, over the desk, and ca- ressed his skin immediately engorged his cock. He slowly raised his face to stare Emery in the eyes. “Mr. Emery Hutchins.” He ground out each word through clenched teeth.
“At your service. Now, I’m here to fully explain to you how I can rock your world. I’ve been told recently that I tend to age myself with that phrase. But I like it and am good with that.”
Ritchie seethed. “This is my job. My livelihood. How dare you appear here and play with it like you don’t give a damn. Or is that it precisely, Emery? You just don’t give a damn. You played with me at the coffee shop knowing damn good and well who I was. You played with me at your house enjoying every single time I stuck my foot into my mouth. Now you want a piece of me on my turf? Will that prove that you’re bigger and badder than me? I get it, okay! I’m not all that, thank you for sharing that important tidbit of information with me. You succeeded in your job here. To put my career on the line for your antics, well, that’s low even for you.”
He fumed as Emery leaned back in the plush chair, crossed his legs, and steepled his hands under his chin. “That’s what you believe I’m doing here? Proving my alpha-ness to you? I’m here for a business meeting. After we conduct our logistics business appropriately, then we can address our personal business.” Emery winked at him then slid his hand into his briefcase and tossed a set of bound papers onto Ritchie’s desk.
Forty-five minutes later Ritchie removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I didn’t realize you wore glasses.”
“They’re reading glasses.” He tossed them on his desk and surveyed Emery. “So that’s it then. We’ll begin cross-docking at your warehouse the first of next quarter and you’ll supply to all our stores in this region?”
He halted as Emery shook his head slowly. “Nice try. We covered it all and your cute little assistant’s already typing up the papers. You know what that means?” He didn’t even pause long enough for Ritchie to form his answer. “It means business is done.”
Ritchie marveled at the fact that he could handle an almost hour long meeting with this man and not even bat an eye, but with the meeting over and Emery getting that gleam in his eye, Ritchie sensed the sweat bead at his hairline. “Yes, well, it seems like we’re in business together now. So, technically, our business just started. If you could give Geoff your info on your way out, he will courier the contracts to you for the needed signatures.” He schooled his breathing to match his formal tone.
Ritchie held his breath and said a quick prayer when Emery rose to leave. He hurried out from behind his desk to accompany Emery to the door and hopefully out of his life. No matter how much his body hated that idea, his mind controlled him within these walls. So the key—keep all their interaction from here on out within these confines and he would survive this fiasco. It was a sound plan.
“Actually, I supplied Geoff with all my information upon my arrival. So we’re completely set here.”
Ritchie stopped turning the doorknob and eyed him. “That sure we would sign an agreement, huh?”
Emery smirked. “I never tackle anything unless I’m ninetynine percent positive of the outcome. Have to leave a little room for error.” Emery shrugged those wide shoulders of his. “It’s a character flaw.”
“Yes well…” Ritchie opened the door for him. “I hope this ends up beneficial to both our companies.”
When Emery finally stepped through the door, Ritchie sighed with relief and to ensure the finality of the meeting, he attempted to close it. His forward momentum was jolted to a halt by a firm palm flat against the door.
“Just one more question, Mr. Lymings.”
Ritchie pointedly glared at Emery’s palm then turned to face him dead on. “Yes, Mr. Hutchins?”
“Exactly who occupied your mind this past week?”

Chapter Seven

Emery didn’t exactly take pleasure in the “deer in the headlights” expression he put on Ritchie’s face. But he did have his answer, the answer he hoped for.

The fact that he doubted Ritchie’s response unnerved him completely. He’d never considered himself an arrogant man, even though he understood the majority of his friends and colleagues viewed him as one. He just didn’t act on anything until certain of the outcome. His rational deduction of issues and his ability to contemplate all sides guided him and gave him the confidence that people mistook for arrogance.

Ritchie didn’t fit the mold though. When Emery first heard Ryder’s tales, Ritchie simply piqued Emery’s interest. But now with up close and personal knowledge of Ritchie, Emery feared a casual encounter wouldn’t quench his thirst anymore. Ritchie did it for Emery. His devil-may-care attitude swirled with his cocki- ness and blanketed his uncertainties, making a heady mixture for a man like Emery. It drew him to Ritchie like a moth to a flame. The issue Emery faced though—he despised uncontrollable factors, and Ritchie held the title “king of all wild cards.” He set off all of Emery’s warning signals. Emery didn’t like leaving things to fate or chance and with Ritchie in the mix his options were limited.

The sane part of Emery deemed the guilt in Ritchie’s eyes enough to placate him for now, wanting him to take his leave and consider this a win until next time.

Unfortunately, the not-so-sane part of Emery’s mind—the part that housed his libido and had stared at Ritchie’s perfect plush lips throughout the entire meeting—that part of his mind believed this the perfect time to advance his position and make another point.

Emery had no doubt which side would prevail.
So he stepped back into Ritchie’s office, this time fully en- joying Ritchie’s shocked expression and visible gulp. As soon as Ritchie stepped away from the door, Emery closed it and turned the lock.
“Wh...what’re you doing? This is my off—”
“Yes, you explained. Your office, your job, your livelihood. You and I both realize you’re hiding behind that sentence. Answer my question. Who occupied that handsome head of yours this past week?”
Emery bided his time while Ritchie glanced between him and the locked door. He observed as Ritchie mentally warred with himself, fascinated that he could actually see the emotions flash- ing in Ritchie’s beautiful eyes. He perched on the edge of the desk, crossing his ankles and his arms. “I’ve got time. You juggle your choice of answers and inform me when done.”
Oh, that evidently rubbed Ritchie wrong. He squared his shoulders as if for battle. “What do you want from me, Emery? Unlike you, obviously, I’m a busy man.”
Emery crooked his finger, beckoning Ritchie to step closer to him. He inwardly smiled when Ritchie begrudgingly moved forward while his head shook in the negative.
When he stood only a foot away, Emery straightened without actually lifting off of the desk. “Kiss me, Ritchie.”
“I don’t believe that’s a good idea.”
“Shh, don’t think, Ritchie, just do. Kiss me.”
Emery remained completely still so as not to spook Ritchie and waited. It seemed like hours before Ritchie finally leaned for- ward and very lightly touched his lips to Emery’s. No pressure, no rubbing, and definitely no tongue. But a delicious kiss none- theless.
“Again, Ritchie. Make me want it.”
Ritchie’s breath puffed against his face as he closed his eyes and leaned into Emery again. This time his lips made full contact. Emery in return closed his eyes and concentrated on the pressure that Ritchie finally applied.
Emery held back the urge to open his mouth and allow his tongue to take part in the action. He had to allow Ritchie this bit of control, something that Ritchie couldn’t deny later, couldn’t use as a shield against Emery when the time arrived for more.
He delighted when Ritchie’s lips brushed back and forth over his, and when the wet tip of Ritchie’s tongue traced the seam of his lips he finally opened just a hint, wondering how far Ritchie would take this exploration.
When Ritchie pulled back just a centimeter to whisper, “Kiss me back,” Emery couldn’t deny him. He finally took control, grabbed the hair at Ritchie’s nape and without a second to process it, he pushed his tongue into Ritchie’s waiting mouth. He explored the mouth that haunted his dreams, traced Ritchie’s teeth, rubbed the silkiness of his inner cheek, and finally rolled his tongue with Ritchie’s. He swallowed the groan that rose from Ritchie and in the blink of an eye swapped their positions so that Ritchie now used the desk as support.
Keeping their lips connected, he maneuvered Ritchie up on the desk all the way, working his hips between Ritchie’s legs, and pulling him closer so their twin bulges rubbed against each other. He stifled his need to cheer that Ritchie appeared excited by this turn of events.
Emery grabbed Ritchie’s hands and placed them over his belt buckle. “Take it out. I want your beautiful cock.”
Ritchie didn’t move his hands, just stared into Emery’s eyes. “Is this another lesson? You having a little bit of fun before you exit out the door on me again?”
“Everything in life’s a lesson, and of course I’ll exit out that door, it’s the only way out of this office. But I can say that when I do, your cum will coat my tongue.” Emery raised his eyebrow in challenge, wondering what Ritchie would say to that.
“Here? In my...um...in my office?”
Emery had to chuckle at that. “Unless there’s a motel room that will take us thirty seconds to get to then yes, here in your office. Your pants?”
Ritchie hastily unlatched his belt and opened the front of his pants, yanking his boxer briefs down, and tucking them under his balls so everything was in perfect view. Emery had to hold back a moan, it just looked so damn pretty.
He must have spent a couple moments too long staring at the perfect sight because Ritchie started to wiggle on the desk and whimper a bit. When he reached for his cock to stroke it though, Emery put a stop to his movements quickly.
“No.”
“You said...”
“I’m well aware of what I said, and I remember it having something to do with this...” He put his hands on the desk, one on either side of Ritchie’s hips, and then he leaned down and made his fantasy reality.
Emery pursed his lips and kissed the head of Ritchie’s penis. His tongue snaked out and probed the slit, fucking it quickly in and out. Then he pushed his head down a little more and popped the crown into his mouth, applying enough suction to make Ritchie literally sit up straight.
Emery dug his nails into the soft wood of the desk to ensure he didn’t use his hands, then he slowly worked his mouth down Ritchie’s shaft. He made sure his lips sealed around Ritchie’s cock tightly and continued the suction that hollowed out his cheeks. When the head bumped against his throat, Emery relaxed his jaw and his throat muscles and engulfed the extra length. He swallowed around Ritchie and enjoyed the sounds that Ritchie supplied freely.
He held that position, breathing through his nose and continuing to work his throat muscles around Ritchie’s crown. All the while, his tongue pressed up, massaging the sensitive vein underneath.
Ritchie wiggled his hips, as if he fought the urge to thrust. Emery took that as his cue to back off a bit. He repeated the whole process, in reverse this time.
He did it again, twice more, until Ritchie ground out between clenched teeth, “Damn it, Emery! Finish it or get the fuck off and let me! Please…oh shit please!” Ritchie lowered his voice on the second plea.
Emery finally allowed his hands to play as he bobbed up and down on Ritchie. He applied a firm hold around the base of Ritchie’s cock with one hand. The other hand tugged and juggled his balls. Ritchie surprised him when his leg managed to wedge between Emery’s and pressed hard against his own throbbing erection. Emery took it as an invitation and rubbed up and down on Ritchie’s leg as he continued feasting from his lover.
Ritchie grew thicker in his mouth, the precum that Emery sipped at getting more copious by the moment. Emery let loose and thrust against Ritchie’s leg as he worked double time on his cock. Ritchie’s hips snapped up the best they could at that angle, his pleas becoming only drawn out syllables of mumbled words.
Emery’s balls raised in close to his body and he realized that orgasming in his pants was imminent. The urgency he noted both in himself and oozing off Ritchie was easily the biggest aphrodi- siac he’d ever encountered. He continued his motions on Ritchie while he fumbled to undo his pants.
“Now Emery!”
He’d almost freed himself when he took that moan as a cue and jerked back just in time for Ritchie’s cum to land on his tongue. He savored the bitter sweetness as it slid down his throat. He never lost contact with Ritchie as he finally got his own cock out with only a second to spare before his release erupted and hit the front of Ritchie’s desk.
When Ritchie shoved at his shoulders, he finally released his new favorite thing, licking around the base to the helmet one last time to make sure he got it all clean. He leaned on the desk in the same position that he had started in and smiled at Ritchie, both of them gasping for breath and sweating.
Emery claimed his lips again, sharing the flavor that still coated his mouth. Their tongues dueled one more time before he leaned back and just gazed into Ritch’s eyes.
The shrilling ring of the phone broke their staring contest and Emery sidestepped out of the way as Ritchie knocked down half the items on his desk in his rush to swing his legs to the other side and hop down.
“Ritchie Lymings speaking.”
Emery winced as he observed for the second time Ritchie literally shove himself back into his pants and roughly zip them up. His lover really had to learn how to be gentler with himself. “Mr. Mischell! I was just about to call you and update you on my meeting with Mr. Hutchins.”
Emery put himself back to rights a lot more gently then Ritchie had and bent over to pick up a scrap of paper and pen from the floor.
“Yes, I would say that Mr. Hutchins and I came to an agreement.” Emery noted the snide sneer that Ritchie gave him before he added to his phone conversation, “No, I wasn’t aware that I would meet with the Mr. Hutchins… Oh, I would have absolutely made sure you were present also… Yes, I believe if you were present it would have made quite a different impression on Mr. Hutchins.”
Emery chuckled and jotted down the name of a local restau- rant with a date and time, folded his note once in half and set it on the desk in front of his lover. He walked around to Ritchie and planted a silent kiss on the unoccupied ear, withdrawing before Ritchie could shoo him away.
Grabbing his briefcase, he closed the door firmly behind him on his way out.
When he exited the building, he noticed Ritchie’s cute little twink assistant getting ready to sit on an antique-looking moped.
“Getting off early today?”
Geoff glanced up at Emery and smirked. “I could say the same thing to you, now couldn’t I?”
Emery gave Geoff his best intense face and just waited. He felt absolutely no shame in making Ritchie’s assistant squirm, his efforts rewarded when Geoff lowered his gaze first.
“What I meant is that I’m off to the post office to check the PO Box, no disrespect, honest.”
“Next time say what you mean then. This pile of metal hardly seems safe, and what if you have packages to retrieve?”
“Yeah, it’s a piece of shit—” He jerked his eyes up at Emery. When Emery didn’t chastise him for his tactlessness, he shrugged and continued, “Um, yeah...sorry...but my car’s in the shop so I’m stuck.”
Emery never turned down a golden opportunity. “Why don’t you let me drive you to the post office?” He turned towards his Lexus. He didn’t need to check back or wait for an acknowledgement.

Chapter Eight

Ritchie stepped away from the window and with a flick of his wrist, closed the vertical blinds so he didn’t have to watch anymore. He wasn’t in the least bit jealous that the man who just gave him the most mind-numbing blow job in his life drove off with his cute as a button young assistant. Nope, not in the least bit jealous at all.

Yeah, how come when someone lies to himself it never works? He squatted to clean up the mess on the floor, piling everything on the desk he would never be able to work at again without getting aroused. Twisting to get a page that fell in front of the desk, he noticed Emery’s deposit on the wood. Good thing he did no- tice. So not the kind of thing he wanted to advertise at work.

“Oh good fucking God, I must’ve been brain dead! Having sex in my office...with Geoff on the other side of the wall at his desk?” he mumbled as he hurried into his private bathroom to retrieve a wet towel.

No piece of ass was worth his job, and in his opinion that’s how Emery qualified—as an ass. How could he ever be more? He had absolutely no respect for Ritchie. He proved it not an hour ago when he advanced on Ritchie here at his job right after Ritchie had clearly explained what this position meant to him.

Ritchie admitted he held some blame also. Hell, Emery made sure to put Ritchie in a situation where he couldn’t call foul.
“Doesn’t mean I won’t call foul on your sorry ass, Mr. Hutchins.” Ritchie smiled to himself as he cleaned the remnants of Emery and his time together. Unfortunately, he had waited just a little too long and it had dried to the wood.
“Damn it all to hell!” Without standing, he fumbled on top of his desk for his silver letter opener. If he carefully scraped he could get off the stubborn parts without damaging the soft wood.
His hand made contact with a folded piece of paper and he paused, remembering vaguely that Emery had put it down on his desk before he patronizingly kissed Ritch on his way out. Conveniently without cleaning up his own mess.
He dropped the moist towel to the floor and stood, holding that paper in his hand. What could it possibly say? Thanks for the orgasm, perfect way to wrap up a deal? No, not even Emery was that shallow. Still, did he want to give Emery the last word again?
“What the hell,” Ritchie mumbled as he unfolded the paper. He read the “date” info three times, trying not to shout profanities to the empty room. If that…that…man assumed he could dictate to Ritchie, well yeah, not happening. He crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed it into the trashcan.
By the time Geoff entered the outer office, he had already cleaned up all evidence of his midday tryst and had just finished organizing the papers that had made it to the floor. A quick glance at the clock told him that Geoff left just about half an hour ago. Plenty of time for something to happen. Maybe not enough time for something good to happen, but enough time for something to happen nonetheless.
He wondered if Emery would use that technique on Geoff, taking him all the way down his throat and massaging Geoff with his muscles while he swallowed repeatedly. Would he assert himself with Geoff? Would he lovingly clean all remnants of their interaction like he did with Ritch? Would he tenderly kiss him afterwards, sharing the taste that still lingered on his tongue and in his mouth? Did he still have Ritchie’s flavor in his head when he enjoyed Geoff?
All of the sudden something wet oozed through his fingers and he jerked. “Son of a bitch!” he growled as he threw the pen he had inadvertently just broken into the trash. It didn’t escape his notice that he quickly developed a sailor’s mouth, just another item to blame on Emery. He rushed to the sink in his bathroom and started the scrubbing procedure, thankful it was a cheap red pen he broke so the ink would hopefully wash off completely.
While he washed his hands a second time, his office door opened and Geoff called out.
“In here, Geoff.”
Geoff peeked into the bathroom. “You okay Mr. Lymings?”
“Yeah, just broke a pen by accident. Make a note not to order those cheap ones anymore will you?”
“Sure, sir. But we didn’t order those, they came free with our regular order. I’ll make sure any more freebies like that get shipped to the stores as extras.”
“Good idea.” He glanced at his watch quickly has he dried his hands. “About time for you to head on out of here, yeah?”
“Just checking if you needed anything else, Mr. Lymings. Also to make you aware that the light in the lamppost outside blew. I’ve already put a call in to the electric company to get it fixed.”
Ritchie fought off the need to grill him on what he and Emery did while away. Not his business. Well, technically it might be his business since Geoff rode the clock at the time but no, he didn’t want to balance on that tightrope. So he dismissed Geoff for the day and settled back at his desk to sign the contracts that Geoff must have placed there before checking on him in the bathroom.
In the middle of the third signature, his office door opened again. His head popped up quickly to catch Geoff cautiously en- tering. He refused to accept the disappointment in the back of his mind.
Ritchie took in the embarrassment on his assistant’s face, how he shifted from one foot to the other, and set down the pen before he broke another one. He nodded to one of the chairs in front of his desk and braced himself for the conversation that Geoff evi- dently needed to have.
“I assumed you took off by now, Geoff. Don’t you have plans tonight?”
“Just meeting a few friends. I wanted to have a quick talk with you. I’m off the clock.” Geoff’s code words hinted this wasn’t a boss/employee type of conversation. True, Geoff and Ritchie weren’t best friends in any way, but friends, yeah. It helped their relationship to keep the boundaries clear. So, their little talk about Emery landed in the “friend” realm…good. In Ritch’s opinion, it probably should. Geoff had developed into a good employee and he honestly liked him. Anything said shouldn’t be held against either of them.
He sat back in his chair and motioned for Geoff to continue.
Geoff took his seat and mimicked Ritch by sitting back also, crossing his legs and suddenly smiling. Well, that shocked Ritchie, and immediately got his complete attention.
“Your boyfriend’s very interesting, Ritchie.”
Ritchie took a deep breath and let it out all yoga-like. It rankled badly enough that he continuously lost his cool with Emery, he would be damned if he lost his cool with Geoff. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I get that you believe that. But he definitely doesn’t. He’s got you tagged all up and down as his.”
“So you and he didn’t...” Well so much for not asking that question.
Without a shadow of a doubt, Geoff’s coughing fit hid laugh- ter. Geoff shook his head no. “You should know better. I have way too much respect for you to dabble with your boy—um, your friend. Not to mention there isn’t anything about Mr. Hutchins that does it for me.” Ritchie gave him a droll expression that spurred another laugh from him. “Yeah, he’s hot, I’ll give him that. But I like the big hairy sweep-me-up-in-one-arm and screw me against the wall types.” Ritchie cocked his brow at that description. Geoff’s cheeks reddened and he shrugged. “Yeah, sorry. But Mr. Hutchins, well, he’s too cerebral for my taste. He has to dissect everything before he acts. Weigh the pros and cons and not take any chance of failure. Where’s the fun in that?”
Ritchie contemplated this for a moment and realized he had to agree with Geoff. Emery even said he didn’t approach anything unless sure of the outcome. He nodded slowly to Geoff. “Okay. So what’s this conversation about then?” He gestured between him and Geoff.
“You’ve never met my family have you?”
Ritchie was getting either old or dumb, because he just didn’t seem to be able to keep up with conversations like he did before Emery entered into his life. “No, I don’t think you’ve ever brought them around.”
“Yeah, well, you’re welcome for that. I hail from a long line of shrinks, psychiatrists, psychologists, criminal psychoanalysts. Most of the adults—except for me and my Uncle Joe who’s an archeologist—talk about a dying profession. Thanksgiving dinner at my house is a hoot.”
“Your point, Geoff?”
“My point is, I’ve been trained since birth in how to read people. Like when Mr. Hutchins stared me down, my first instinct was to mouth off to him. What stopped me? Well, besides the fact that he just engaged in a,” Geoff paused long enough to smirk just a bit, “contract with my employer, I could tell that he’s not a man to reckon with. I could have acted the twink punk I’m sure he saw in me, but where would it have gotten me? Mr. Hutchins demands respect from everyone. It’s his gift, and abiding by that on my part proved wise.”
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, eyeing Ritchie as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Now we come down to the part that’s evading him, and you for that matter.”
Ritchie mimicked Geoff’s actions. He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. “Are you telling me you’re about to psychoanalyze your boss? That might not prove wise on your part.”
“Off the clock, remember?”
Ritchie eyed his assistant for a few moments. Geoff was a good guy, had been working for Ritchie for a couple years now. Hell, when Ritchie got promoted he made sure that Geoff followed right along with him. He would probably regret this, but maybe he did need some advice, and asking his best friend Harlan was not an option. “Fine, blow my mind and tell me my problems.”
“These aren’t completely your problems, Ritchie. But I do believe that Mr. Hutchins believes he’s wooing you.”
“That egotistical, bossy, self-serving, full of himself ass is trying to woo me? You don’t even know half of what he’s put me through! He has just one thing on his mind! And—”
“You. The one thing on his mind is you. You’re right, I don’t know the story behind you two. I do, however, know you. You’ve been miserable the past few weeks. That day you took off to take Harlan somewhere, you were downright pathetic looking when you swung by here. But the day after, a different man entered through that door. I had actually considered that you had finally gotten...um... Well, you bubbled. Talk about annoying. Then Har- lan dragged you to that party and once again, you were miserable. I couldn’t put two and two together, and I tried, trust me.
“I thought at first that maybe it was Harlan, you still want- ed him and seeing him with his boyfriend got to you, but that didn’t account for your up attitude the week before. Not to men- tion these past couple of weeks you haven’t once been snarky to anyone. Your mind just isn’t in it lately. I remained stumped until today when Mr. Hutchins stopped by and you...well you had a very successful meeting with him.”
Ritchie could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and forehead. Oh damn, how was he going to talk his way out of this one?
“Mr. Hutchins tried real hard to get the goods on you from me without being too obvious about it. He failed, but I don’t think he realizes how badly he failed.”
“Call him Emery, and what do you mean?”
“I gave him snippets about you here and there, nothing that isn’t common knowledge, mind you. What I got in return was a man who is tied in knots because you refuse to play his game by his rules.”
“Game? This isn’t a game!” Ritchie cringed by the slight trem- or in his voice.
“Ritchie, everything is a game to someone or other, whether they want to admit it or not. Mr...Emery has a yearning for you something fierce, and he thinks that he might have you. In his world, might isn’t good enough. It goes against his nature to not be one hundred percent sure of the outcome. Whether you realize it or not, you throw him for just as much a loop as he throws you.
“It’s his need to always have control that screws with you both. Because you have a need to feign control also, though if you dig deep down you might be surprised at what you truly find.”
Ritchie ran his hand over his face and digested all this babble. “So what now?” Could he sink any lower than asking his assistant for relationship advice?
“Here’s what you do...”

Chapter Nine

Ritchie ran the hairbrush through his still damp hair. What the hell was he thinking, listening to Geoff? This plan was idiotic and there was no way he could pull it off. If Geoff had told him to curse Emery out or annoy every living and a few dead relatives of his, well, that he could do in spades. But this? Ludicrous!

“Are you almost ready, honey?”

He glanced in the mirror over his shoulder. “Don’t make me fire you.”
“Not only off the clock, but out of the office. I’m completely safe and you know it. Now do you need help dressing?”
He growled at Geoff’s reflection. “Don’t push your luck, you little twink. Now out of my bedroom while I dress.”
“Humph, like I want anything you have to offer anyway. Sleeping with your boss is so passé.”
Ritchie almost beat his head against the mirror when Geoff literally skipped out of the bedroom. Really, no one who knew Geoff from work would ever dare to believe his true personality. But he made a damn good assistant. Ritchie had to give him that.
He glanced at the clothes that Geoff had scoured his closet for. “Geoff!” He held up a pair of skinny jeans from his younger years and cringed. Really? This is what he wanted to wear to knock Emery’s socks off? “Emery probably doesn’t even own jeans,” he mumbled as his soon to be ex-assistant made his way back into the bedroom.
“Of course he does. Every man owns jeans, his just cost as much as my rent, is all. Now dress or I will do it for you.”
“These don’t even fit me anymore!”
Geoff leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest, and cocked his eyebrow. “You own lube don’t you? Use it.”
“Are you crazy? That would seep right through the material!” Ritchie slapped his forehead. Was he even considering it? “That’s it!” He threw the jeans down and turned toward the door, but before he could take a step Geoff had slammed it and his grating laugh rang through Ritchie’s condo. “You aren’t getting a cost of living raise this year, buddy!” he shouted through the door as he turned back toward the discarded jeans and groaned.
This is what my life has turned into. Skinny jeans, a domineering boyfriend, and a mental assistant? What the fuck did I do to karma to deserve this shit? Shit! Boyfriend? He looked around the room as if he were afraid hidden spyware would pick up his wayward thought. “Yeah, and I’m calling Geoff mental?”
Twenty minutes of squeezing and wiggling later—minus the lube—and he was fully dressed in those black jeans and a charcoal long sleeve T-shirt that also happened to be a size or two too small. He splashed on some cologne and finally opened his bedroom door again.
“Oh baby, if you were a little more man I might take you for a spin.”
“Do I not inspire even a little fear from you out of the work- place?”
“Nope.”
Ritchie stood stoic when Geoff sidled around him perusing his getup. He held his tongue when Geoff hitched his jeans up a little more in the rear, but when Geoff arrived back around to the front and pinched his nipples harshly, Ritchie couldn’t keep silent anymore.
“What the fuck!” He literally jumped away from Geoff while swatting at his hands.
“Hey! If your headlights aren’t on how are you gonna see?”
“That’s it! This is all a joke to you! You do realize that I have absolutely no problem getting a man right? What do you get out of this anyway? Emery put you up to this shit, didn’t he?”
“I get the joy of working for a boss who’s getting some on a regular basis from the man he loves. Forty hours a week of bliss.” He clasped his hands to his right cheek and blinked repeatedly.
Ritchie rubbed his abused nipples and plopped down on the couch, grumbling to himself the whole way about how not in love he was.
“Oh man up, or do you like this cat and mouse game you and Emery have been playing? Now, do you know what you have to do?”
“I never had to plan to get laid before.”
“Yeah, well no offense, but your exes sure don’t stack up to Emery, now do they? Case in point, Emery is the only one you haven’t been able to railroad.”
“Fine. Tell me again why I’m taking you on a date that he set up for me?”
Geoff plopped down on the chair across from Ritchie and crossed his legs. “Think of it like this, have you ever topped from the bottom?”
“I am not discussing my sex life with my assistant. Period.”
“Holy shit you have, haven’t you!” Geoff started giggling then waved his hands in the air. “We aren’t technically talking sex. Just figuratively, so be quiet and listen.” Ritchie eyed him un- til he shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, yeah... Sorry and thank you, okay?”
Ritchie nodded, knowing that’s the best he would get. Topping from the bottom... Oh, he just couldn’t wait for this night to start.

Chapter Ten

“What’re we doing here, boss?”

Emery parked his car in front of the upscale steakhouse and looked over at Fuzzy. “Figured you’d like a nice steak for dinner.”
“You get I love you, man, but we passed two acceptable surf and turfs just to get here. What’s so special about this one?”
“Ambiance. Come on, you turning down a free porterhouse?”
Fuzzy shrugged his shoulders and unfolded himself from Emery’s sedan. Emery was still amazed that the barbarian could actually fit in his car to begin with. He was definitely a truck type of man.
He walked into the restaurant with Fuzzy on his heels. The hostess flirted with both of them as she showed them to their ta- ble. Emery thanked her while he searched the establishment for a delicious, smart-ass brunet.
His eyes halted the search before his mind caught up. There he sat near the rear wall with Geoff across from him. Perfect.
Fuzzy noticed him staring and glanced over also. “Hey! That dude…that’s Mr. Falls from your grill out, ain’t it?”
“Yes, Fuzzy Wuzzy, he’s from my barbeque the other week.”
“Don’t call me that!” Emery looked over at him pointedly for a moment. “I get it, so what do I call him? He’s the reason for our dinner road trip, ain’t he?”
“Yes he is, and as long as your name isn’t Ryder you may call him Ritch.”
Fuzzy snorted. “Yeah, I got that feeling from your impromptu get together. Hey, I’m gonna go to the little boy’s room.”
“Hey Fuzzy,” Emery stopped him before he could get away. “Meet me over there when you’re done.” He nodded to Ritch with his chin.
“Sure thing, you’ve got five minutes to wrap it up, then I’ll be there.”
Acceptable time frame. Emery maneuvered his way to where his prey sat. Time to stop this game and get down to business. He knew this would be the hardest thing for him, but the most important thing also.
He stood beside the empty chair between the two men and cleared his throat, holding back his smile when he noticed the effort that both of them exerted to not raise their heads.
Okay, Geoff really thought he had pulled one over on Emery, good for his ego but wrong in the real world.
Showtime.
“Thank you Geoff, for escorting Ritchie out here for me.”
Geoff’s head jerked up and his eyes widened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Emery helped himself to the empty seat and gave Ritchie his attention. “So how are you supposed to play this? Are you go- ing for the tough-as-nails executive that won’t put up with my bullshit or the yes-sir pansy who won’t put up with my bullshit? Either way, it’s all bullshit since all I want is the Ritchie that has a defective vibe-o-meter and a penchant for pissing people off.”
Emery took in Ritchie’s shocked face and mentally cursed himself for fucking up again. There was a learning curve to this and he hadn’t mastered it yet. Not that he would admit that little fact out loud or anything. He smiled softly at Ritchie to lessen the tension then turned to Geoff.
“I came out tonight with an employee of mine from the warehouse. Why don’t you head over to that table and share a good meal with him? Your boss and I have some talking to do.”
He had to give the kid credit. He had spunk, as he purposely sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. It would have been quicker just to say, “hell no” but he got his point across.
Unfortunately his bravado was completely wasted on Emery. Because while Geoff believed he profiled Emery on that short drive to and from the post office, Emery had returned the favor. He glanced at his watch. Yep, his ace in the hole should be showing up right about now.
He felt Fuzzy at the back of his chair and smiled. “Ritchie, I believe you met Fuzzy at my barbeque the other week. Fuzzy, this is Ritchie’s assistant Geoff. I wondered if you would mind dining with him tonight. There are a few things that need to be taken care of between Mr. Lymings and myself.”
Geoff opened his mouth to protest the order, but closed it im- mediately, just to once again open it and imitate a guppy. Hook, line, and sinker.
“Oh. My. God. You’re a bear! A real live bear! Fuzzy Wuzzy was—”
“Look, lil man, you don’t want to finish that sentence. First of all, I can snap you in half like a twig. Second it’s false, trust me. I have hair, a lot of hair.” Emery didn’t have to turn around to know that Fuzzy grinned like a loon. He happened to have one of the best senses of humor around.
Geoff cracked a smile as he looked up at Fuzzy. “It would be a horrible shame to allow you to eat your...um...steak alone.” Emery saw Ritchie cover his face with his palm and he smirked just a little bit, but Geoff quickly drew his attention back. “The question is, you up for it?”
“Yeah, sure. Come on, lil man, my table’s over here.”
Emery finally looked behind him just in time to see the back- side of Fuzzy as he made his way to their original table. Poor guy didn’t even realize he was being flirted with.
“You, be nice to my boss.” Then Geoff turned to Ritchie. “And you, if you need me, I’ll be over there, with that huge assed sexy as all get-out bear, eating dinner on his tab.” His thumb jerked in Emery’s direction.
Emery stopped Geoff with a hand on his arm. “You are way out of your league with me, kid.” He nodded his head in respect. “But give it a decade or so and I know you’ll give me a run for my money.”
Geoff acknowledged the compliment for just that and re- turned the head nod, then smiled as he made his way to Fuzzy.
“You knew exactly what Geoff would do, didn’t you?”
Emery sipped from Geoff’s untouched water glass and smiled across the table at Ritchie. “You doubted me, didn’t you?”
“I like you Emery, there’s no justifiable reason to even try to deny that. The problem is, I’m not a plaything for anyone. I won’t start now.”
Emery sighed and reached to grasp Ritchie’s hand in both of his. “I’m an ass who has handled this whole situation improperly, but that doesn’t change the fact that I know what the outcome is. It does mean, however, that I owe you an apology.”

****

Ritchie snatched his hand back immediately, not because he didn’t want Emery to hold it, because he didn’t want Emery to feel it shaking. A part of him wanted to cuss Emery out here and now in front of the whole restaurant and just walk the hell out. How dare he play with him and then think a simple apology—a lame ass attempt at a simple apology at that!—would make it all okay.

The problem with that scenario was that no matter how much it seemed that Ritchie allowed his mouth to do the thinking, his brain always stayed in control. And his brain really, really wanted to see where this conversation led.

“So apologize, because I know you don’t think that was it, do you?” Okay, his brain might be curious, but that didn’t change his nature, now did it?

Emery waved off the advancing waitress before she could in - terrupt them and leaned forward. “Let’s go back to your place and I can apologize to your heart’s content.”

Ritchie had to physically grip the arms on the chair to keep from standing. That was one hell of an invitation, except it sounded more like an order than a request. He knew that this pivotal moment defined a part of their relationship. This would dictate how the rest of it went. Even though he wanted to allow Emery some of the control he obviously needed, he wouldn’t do it blindly.

“Wow, that’s so Neanderthal of you. Do you plan to boink me over the head and drag me off to your cave also?”
“Funny, I always pictured myself more as the Tarzan type. You know, toss you over my shoulder and swing one-handed from vine to vine, carting you off to my tree house. Then the boinking would take place.”
They stared at each other. Ritchie determined not to crack a smile before Emery did, and Emery apparently had the same idea in mind.
Still staring at Emery, Ritchie signaled for the waitress to once again make her way back to their table. “We’ve had a change of plans tonight, Sera. We won’t be able to stay for dinner, but if you could do us a favor and package some of your famous dark chocolate raspberry brownies to go, I would appreciate that. Make sure there’s plenty of the raspberry sauce in a separate container, will you?”
“Not a problem, they should be ready in just a couple minutes. Anything else you gentlemen would like?”
Right when Ritchie decided to answer with the negative Emery piped in, “You see those two men over at the furthest table from us?”
Sera looked behind her and easily spotted Fuzzy and Geoff. “Oh yeah, that hunk and his little friend?” She turned back and blushed. “I’m sorry...um, yeah I see them.”
Emery chuckled. “Yeah, those two. After we leave, can you please bring these keys to the hunk? Make sure it is after we leave though. Will you do that for us, honey?”
She blushed again at the endearment and held her hand out for the keys. “Sure I will. I’ll make sure the door is closed behind you before I bring them to him.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much.” Ritchie watched as Emery smooth-talked the waitress then slipped her the keys and a couple of twenties. She looked at the bills, giggled, and hurried off to place their order for dessert.
“You still have to pay for my drink and the brownies, you know. Geoff’s dinner too.”
“Fuzzy will take care of their dinner. He’ll catch up with me later for it. This is turning out to be an expensive night for me.” Ritchie smiled this time. “Yeah, but I’m worth it.”

Chapter Eleven

Ritchie looked over at Emery sitting in the passenger seat grasping the “oh shit” handle for dear life and laughed.
“Hey! Eyes on the road not me! Jesus, Ryde wasn’t joking about your driving!”
“Humph! I’ll have you know I’ve never been in an accident or even gotten a ticket.” Ritchie took a turn about ten miles too fast and zipped through the yellow light.
“You are a living moving violation! Pull over, I’m driving.”
Ritchie rolled his eyes. They had this disagreement in the parking lot of the steak house. Ritchie didn’t win the argument because of the simple fact that he knew where he lived and Emery didn’t, or even because he owned the car they drove in. Nope, Ritchie had won because he possessed the keys and Emery was too high class to chase him around the car while he dangled them from his fingers. So what if Ritchie wasn’t that classy? He was the one driving, wasn’t he?
“Nope.”
“Richard Lymings, you pull this car over right this instant.”
“Yeah, that didn’t work for my parents...and honey I sure don’t think of you as a parental figure, so once again, no.”
The growl Emery let out sent chills up and down Ritchie’s spine. True his condo was only twenty minutes away, the reason why they agreed on his place, considering he would never drive ninety minutes for a steak dinner. But the noises Emery made kicked his libido into overdrive. His condo suddenly seemed too far away.
He only half-heartedly listened to Emery’s bitching while his mind went over scenarios. His car wouldn’t do. He was never big on car sex anyway. Then he noticed he had taken a wrong turn on Holden Avenue. Eureka, I’ve got it!
He whipped the car around, much to Emery’s dismay, and headed in the opposite direction. He saw the tall wrought iron fence come into view, his warning that the turn off would be a few hundred feet on his right-hand side. He slowed and took the turn onto the gravel road carefully.
“You live down a dirt road?”
“Nope, and it’s gravel, not dirt.”
“You really are a pain in my ass, you know that Ritchie?”
“Not tonight I’m not. If I remember correctly, you made some pretty heavy promises to me in your bedroom. Time for you to pay the piper, sweet cheeks.”
He felt Emery’s gaze on him, but refused to give in and look. Instead, he halted at the gate and punched in the access code.
“What’s changed? Why are you back to the Ritchie that matched me line for line at the coffee shop?”
Ritchie took a deep breath and drove the quarter mile to the parking lot. He turned around and looked at Emery square in the eyes.
“You don’t intimidate me anymore. I don’t know why, but now I feel like we are on equal footing...just like I felt when I first met you. I like it.” He pocketed the keys and jumped out of the car. “Don’t you like it?”
He leaned against his now closed door and waited. He may have asked if Emery liked it, but he had no doubt that Emery heard the real question Do you truly like me?
He heard the gravel shift beneath Emery’s feet as he made his way around the car. When Emery came into view, Ritchie noticed that he had brought the paper bag with the brownies and sauce with him. He placed it on the hood of the car. Then Emery situated himself right in front of Ritchie and smiled before claiming his lips.
Ritchie moaned into Emery’s mouth, tilting his head slightly, and allowing that warm wet tongue to enter. He couldn’t hold back the smile when Emery stroked over his own tongue then jabbed at it a little bit so he could sweep underneath it. Ritchie felt his heartbeat speed up when Emery continued exploring while simultaneously grazing his bottom lip with his teeth. What a tal- ented man his lover was.
Not nearly content with just being on the receiving end of this beautiful kiss, Ritchie pursed his lips and sucked. He moved up and down on that muscle like he planned to do on another one soon enough. His hands came up to cup the sides of Emery’s neck and massage, right before Emery pulled away.
He tried to follow Emery’s lips, but a firm palm placed against his chest held him back. He gave a small squeak of annoyance and blushed as he realized Emery heard it loud and clear.
“Soon baby. That was to tell you that I most definitely like it, loud mouth and all. I never meant to intimidate you.” He shrugged his shoulders at Ritchie. “Okay, maybe a little because that’s what I do, but never so much that you wouldn’t be comfortable around me. I just wanted to make sure it was me you wanted to be around.”
“I can be a real bastard. I’ve been known to piss Harlan off to where he won’t talk to me for weeks. And he is like the mellowest guy in the world...well, as long as we aren’t discussing Ryder.”
“I’ve been known to drive Fuzzy and Ryder to drink over my need to always plan everything out and end up on top. And they have to like me, I’m their boss. Well, they have to like me to my face, that is.”
“I made a college kid cry with words alone because he called me a fag, and he was the captain of the debate team.”
“I made an OSHA auditor reverse his decision on our company’s inspection without a shred of paperwork, just with my sly cunning.”
Ritchie laughed abruptly and shook his head. “We’re going to kill each other aren’t we, Emery?”
“Absolutely not. We will annoy each other, test each other, push each other. All those things and more, but we will also respect each other, trust each other, and enjoy each other. It’s a trade off I’m willing to make. You can be my teacher on how not to take everything so damn seriously. I’ll teach you how it feels like to be loved unconditionally.”
Ritchie’s eyes grew big. “Lo—” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Loved?”
“I love you Ritchie Lymings, and I’m sorry I put you through the gauntlet before admitting to it. I’d like the opportunity to prove it to you for good. But first...” Ritchie watched as Emery finally took in their surroundings. “Where the hell are we?”
Ritchie started giggling, no longer embarrassed. “It’s killing you being in the middle of God knows where without your car, isn’t it?”
Emery gave him one of those stares that make big men shrink and smart men dumb. “With the things I’m planning on doing to you, it would be wise for you not to tease me right now.”
Ritchie felt the goose bumps pop up all over his arms, and he groaned when that wasn’t the only thing to pop up because of Emery’s words and his tone. “Um...we are at Holden Groves Park. It’s a private park that my friend is the caretaker of. She lets me come here after hours sometimes whenever I need a place to clear my head. Follow me.”
He grabbed the bag off the hood, took Emery’s hand, and led him down the stone steps, through the playground with shredded tires instead of mulch to the picnic area. They climbed the steps to the oversized gazebo with the cushioned benches lining three-fourths of the inside. The one side without benches was set up so you could stand and gaze over Lake Grove. Ritchie walked over there and pointed out to the lake.
“This is where I learned to swim and fish. I hated the fishing, but loved the swimming.”
He felt Emery’s body flush against his back, and when Em- ery’s arms wrapped around his waist, he closed his own hands lightly over the man’s wrists.
Emery’s perfect lips caressed his ear then bit down on the meaty part, sucking it in to ease the sting. “I’m going to take you here, Ritchie. Tell me you’re okay with that.”
Ritchie shivered. “Okay with that. Damn! I don’t have anything on me.”
He felt Emery’s chuckle more than heard it. “Do you think I didn’t come prepared?”
Ritchie turned in Emery’s arms and smiled up at him. “I would say we have to work on this issue of yours. You’re lucky I’ll let it slide this time.”
“Yeah, I bet you will.”
Ritchie decided to forego his witty response and attack Em- ery’s pants instead. With Emery’s help, they were both naked and back in each other’s arms within minutes. He reached between them and grasped Emery’s cock, rubbing his thumb over the slit. He went to drop to his knees but was stopped by Emery shaking his head.
“I want to taste you.” Ritchie whimpered.
“You will, but not this time baby. Turn around.”
Ritchie only hesitated for a second before he nodded and turned around. A palm on his back pushed his chest down to the railing. A tap on his inside ankles had him spreading his legs farther. He stayed in this vulnerable position, waiting. He heard the crinkle of the paper bag with the brownies in it, and then felt the warmth of the raspberry sauce being drizzled down his spine. The heat stimulated his nerve endings.
He closed his eyes when Emery started lapping at the sauce, using the thick of his tongue in long slow strokes. Between Emery’s ministrations and the cool night air Ritchie was primed beyond compare. The noises he heard coming from his own mouth would have embarrassed him, but with Emery he was safe from that emotion.
He felt a firm fist wrap around his cock and his eyes rolled back in his head. Every slow succulent lick was emphasized by a stroke up and down his shaft. He started his hips pumping to the tempo Emery orchestrated. Emery’s quick stinging slap to his ass stopped him immediately.
“Emery!” he moaned loudly. He hadn’t realized that the throb from a spanking could make him want to come on the spot. “Please, I can’t hold on.”
Three more slaps spread out over his cheeks and crevice jolted lust through his veins.
“Don’t use the word ‘can’t’ with us, Ritchie. You will hold on, only for a little longer.” The stroking of his cock increased as the last bit of sticky sauce from his back was licked away. “Damn, that was delicious on your back. Wonder where else I can put it that will be tasty?”
Ritchie’s mind was going bonkers as the possibilities ran through it. He envisioned Emery dipping his cock in the container and thoroughly drenching it just to suck it completely clean and washing it down with his cum. Yes, yes he could see that happening.
What he didn’t envision was the hand releasing his dick and spreading his now throbbing ass cheeks as the warm, thick sauce drizzled down his crack. Damned if that raspberry sauce wasn’t the perfect consistency too. It obeyed gravity slowly, covering his inner cheeks, filling the wrinkles of his hole, trickling down the back of his sac to his thighs. The temperature of it felt even hotter on his most sensitive areas.
“Shit Emery! Yes! Eat it...eat me!”
Emery delved between his cheeks, holding them wide open for his venture. He used the same strokes Ritchie had felt on his back, but he switched it up every third or fourth swipe to stab his tongue into Ritchie.
Ritchie’s knees buckled and he had to lean more heavily on the railing for support. His breathing increased with each pass of that masterful tongue. He closed his eyes and started thinking of things that might halt his impending orgasm: the spreadsheets on his desk waiting for revision, his boss in a speedo, Ryder in general. Nothing worked. The surge inside him was building. When Emery nibbled and sucked the back of his sac Ritchie’s balls pulled up close to his body as if to say, “It’s time!”
Right as he opened his mouth in warning, Emery pulled away.
“Oh thank God.”
A chuckle and a few odd noises floated on the air right be- fore the head of Emery’s cock bumped against Ritchie’s entrance. Ritchie could tell Emery had the idea of being slow and sensuous, waiting a few seconds after the initial breaching. But when a few seconds dragged out a little too long, Ritchie backed up onto Emery.
It was Emery’s turn to shout out Ritchie’s name, which he did in mixture of shock and pleasure. Ritchie moved forward a bit to repeat his movement, but his hips were held firm and the lead was once again taken by his lover.
It only took a few more thrusts to push Ritchie over the edge as he screamed his release into the night air, his cum shooting between the rails and landing in the grass below. His body kept on shaking and he could feel his passage vibrating on Emery’s cock. He put the last of his strength into clenching down even harder and was rewarded by Emery grabbing his hair, pulling him upright, slamming into him four more times while taking Ritchie’s mouth and groaning out his own orgasm.
Ritchie reached back and held Emery close as they both regained control of their bodies.
Emery kissed him tenderly on his neck and slid out of him. Ritchie turned just in time to see him take the condom off and dispose of it in the paper sack.
“Think that will make the brownies taste better?” He laughed as he stumbled to the nearest bench and took a much needed seat.
“I believe I read about something like that somewhere, but excuse me if I’m not going to put that theory to the test.”
Ritchie reached out and grabbed Emery by the wrist, pulling him down next to him and holding him the best he could in this position. “At least you didn’t just toss it over the railing. My friend would have a fit! She would find out it was me too, don’t know how, but she would.”
“Well we can’t have that, can we?” He kissed Ritchie’s forehead and made him smile. Ritchie was always about the afterglow, and it looked like Emery would be okay with that.
“You know Emery, it hasn’t escaped my attention that you’re still in control. We really have to work on that.”
“Ritchie, haven’t you realized my little secret yet?”
Ritchie looked up at him, perturbed. “Secret? No, what is it?”
Emery ran his hand down the side of Ritchie’s face and smiled tenderly at him. “Ever since I interrupted your breakfast that wonderful morning weeks ago, I gave you control. It’s always been you: then, now and forever. You know I’m right too, because I never do anything unless I’m sure of the outcome.”

Biography

Something about me? Hmm…well I’m a mild mannered person with an imagination that makes me blush, and I’m itching to get under your skin as we speak. I thoroughly love getting lost in a book or two and pray for the day my kiddos or family won’t find me there. I write with the group Story Orgy and hope to con- tinue doing so for a long time and I follow my muse where ever he takes me … he hasn’t failed me yet! And just like every other red blooded human – I love hearing from people. So feel free to drop me a line – whether it’s a comment on my blog, an email, a tweet or you track me down on FaceBook or Google +…it’s easy to catch someone who wants to be caught.

I annoy, love, respect, scare, seduce, hurt, anger, infatuate, frustrate, flatter, envy, amuse and tolerate everyone. I just do it better in writing thanks to a little thing called...edits.

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Email: havan.fellows@ymail.com
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