The Telling Read online

  “Then why did you? As far as I know everyone thinks you’re straight. Why jeopardize that, especially if you plan on leaving?”

  In answer, Michael leaned in and locked their mouths together, pouring every bit of his desire and longing into the kiss. Slowly he pulled away and leaned back against the wall, saying with his eyes what he couldn’t say with words.

  “Me. You came out for me,” Jay said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes. I told you downstairs who I wanted.”

  They stood gazing at each other for a long moment before Jay replied, “I’ll accept that. But I have to ask you this, and you can tell me it’s none of my business if you want, but had you ever kissed a man before tonight?”

  “No.” It seemed he was doing okay with honesty, so Michael stuck with what worked.

  It stopped working. “That’s what I thought. Look, you’re obviously dealing with some pretty heavy shit tonight and I took advantage of that. I’m no better than Terry. I just hope I haven’t ruined our friendship by pushing.”

  “Don’t you dare go noble on me now.” Michael shut Jay up the best way he knew how. Heart hammering and his few remaining inhibitions screaming at him to run, he tilted his head and sealed their lips together, effectively crossing the point of no return.

  Kissing Jay was different from kissing a girl, the unfamiliar tickle of whiskers a reminder that Michael was, in fact, kissing a man. Kissing Jay. It was exciting beyond his wildest dreams. No girl had ever made him feel like this.

  If he were going to Hell the least he could do was enjoy the ride. When a low moan escaped he wondered who’d made it, then decided it didn’t matter. Jay’s rigid body gradually relaxed.

  Abruptly Jay stepped back, panting hard. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Two.”

  “Well, you’re not drunk.” A soft smile played across his lips. He studied Michael with a critical eye and then stretched out one hand. Expression solemn, he said, “If that’s how you truly feel, and you mean it when you say you want me, then allow me to escort you from your closet.”

  Michael placed his hand palm-down on Jay’s. Tugging gently, Jay forced him to take a step forward, then another, smile widening with each step. When they were finally pressed body to body, Michael drew a quick breath, only to exhale forcefully as teeth and lips descending on his sensitive throat. Jay pushed him back against the wall.

  “Oh, God!” Michael moaned, lost in indescribable feelings, cock pressed painfully hard against the front seam of his jeans. He’d only had one sexual experience with another man, but that had been enough for him to know what he’d been missing with girls. That experience, eye-opening as it was, paled in comparison to Jay.

  Uncertain of where to put his hands, he finally relaxed and did what came naturally, wrapping both arms around Jay and grasping the man’s firm ass. When it came down to it, Michael’s body knew what it wanted. He surrendered conscious thought to instinct, moaning and revisiting the wonderful rubbing that had started on the porch. Jay matched Michael’s height, muscles standing out on his arms. Michael could grab and squeeze and even bite without worrying about hurting him. And they were alone, no one would ever know what went on in this little room unless one of them told. The last of Michael’s resistance fell. Who knew the freedom letting go? Who cared about what might happen next week, tomorrow, or even in an hour?

  It felt good, it felt right, and Michael didn’t want the pleasure stop. So caught up in feeling, the words spoken softly against his skin nearly didn’t register. “Oh God. I’ve waited so long for this.” Other unintelligible encouragements were drowned out by moans as Jay introduced Michael to places that he didn’t know could excite him so.

  “Tell me you want me, tell me you’ll let me…” Michael froze, shocked back into reality. He wasn’t ready to be on the receiving end, and hadn’t even considered the possibility so early in the game.

  Pounding on the door shattered the moment. “Hey, man. You’ve been in there long enough. Others are waaaaiiiitttting!” shrilled a slightly slurred voice.

  Placing a fingertip against Michael’s lips, Jay called out, “Dude, trust me on this one. You don’t want to come into this room anytime in the near future. It was two for one burrito night at the Taco Palace.” He smiled and winked at Michael, still held captive in his embrace. “Try the downstairs bathroom.”

  Profanity and rude comments followed the sound of boots stomping down the stairs. How had Michael missed footsteps climbing up the uncarpeted wooded stairs? Jay remained motionless, listening at the door.

  Jay spoke again, words little more than a husky murmur, “I was going to say ‘Let me show you how good it can be.’”

  Michael suddenly couldn’t breathe.

  Jay saved him from his own misunderstanding. “No, Michael, I didn’t mean that. I’ve no intention of doing anything you’re uncomfortable with. This is all new to you. Let’s take it slow, there’s no hurry. I only want to do what you’re ready for.

  “What are you ready for, Michael?” Jay brushed his lips against Michael’s forehead. Incredibly aroused and unable to speak, Michael merely nodded, hoping Jay understood. White teeth flashed against dark skin. “Stop me if I push too far.” Words became unnecessary.

  Michael pushed down his reservations, trusting Jay to stop if asked. He opened his mouth, tasting beer and pizza on Jay’s tongue.

  Jay pulled back far enough to breathe against his lips, “Is this okay?” as his hands left Michael’s shoulders to wander downward. A shudder of anticipation rocked Michael, and he nodded again, oxygen-deprived brain lacking resources for a verbal response. Nimble fingers freed his shirt buttons, pushing the thin material open and off of his shoulders to pool on the floor at their feet.

  Those long fingers fluttered over his chest as Jay’s mouth sought his once again to deliver a nerve-searing, less frantic kiss. With the press of tongue to tongue, Michael found acceptance—acceptance that they would be lovers, it was no longer a question of ‘if.’

  Jay rubbed the dusky nubs of Michael’s nipples, causing them to stiffen. Michael moaned and arched his back, begging for more. When rubbing turned to gentle pinching, he nearly came.

  Together they made short work of the button and zipper of his jeans, and then Jay slipped a brown, long-fingered hand through the opening and into Michael’s boxers. A heated gaze met Michael’s own. Pulse pounding in his ears, he nodded his permission to continue.

  He dropped his head back and closed his eyes in bliss, giving himself over to his partner. Familiar with his own touch and with the smaller hands of females, Jay’s stroking was unlike anything he’d felt before, even that night with Ryan. Strong fingers wrapped expertly around his cock, applying just the right amount of pressure, worlds away from the awkward fumbling of Ruth Ann. Here was someone who knew what a hand job felt like, who understood firsthand how to give and receive pleasure.

  Oh shit, what and I doing? Michael stared down at his cock, firmly caught in another man’s hand, crossing a line that he couldn’t be re-crossed if things got difficult. That time with Ryan came totally out of the blue—this was no accident.

  “Shhh… Michael. Relax and enjoy. Let go, I’ve got you.”

  The murmured encouragements and sultry smile were his undoing. Damn, but Jay’s easy confidence was sexy. After so many years of trying to be strong, be a hero, and hold it all together, allowing someone else control came as a relief.

  Jay pulled him closer, urging his head onto a wide shoulder. Pressure building, Michael’s muscles trembled, the fluttery feeling in his belly and groin marking the beginnings of a climax. He couldn’t hold out much longer, though he fought to make it last.

  “Jay,” he pleaded, “please don’t stop.”

  Warm breath washed over his neck, sending cold chills racing along his body. A faint, “You sure?” came from a million miles away.

  He answered with a thrust of his hips, a silent plea for more. Jay answered, working him
faster and kissing him, muffling desperate moans.

  Michael broke the kiss, hissing, “Jay!” then smothered his cries against Jay’s chest.

  “That’s it, Michael,” Jay crooned. “Show me how good I’m making you feel. Come for me.”

  Michael lost control, filling Jay’s hand in rhythmic pulses. Being pressed to a muscular body was the only thing that kept him from falling to the floor. He clung to Jay, gasping for breath and coming down from the best orgasm of his life.

  “Was that good for you, Michael?”

  Michael lazily opened one eye to find Jay smiling down at him with the same look his dream lover often wore, but Jay held him now, patiently waiting for an answer, not some mystery man. Lost in the afterglow, the lines between the two blurred and the man who haunted Michael’s dreams grew Jay’s face, but he hesitated a moment too long and lost the chance to answer.

  “Dude, there’s a line for the other bathroom. You gotta come out. Just spray something, all right?” accompanied loud banging on the door.

  Jay rolled his eyes, giving Michael an apologetic shrug. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he whispered. “If I’d have known…” Jay hollered through the door, “Well, there’s a half bath off the back porch, use it.”

  Loud cursing followed the retreating footsteps down the stairs—too late, the mood was broken.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Jay turned toward the sink, the water taps screeching in protest at the twist of his hand.

  Michael leaned motionless against the wall, letting Jay gently clean him with a damp cloth, put his flaccid cock back into his boxers and redress him. A brief kiss swiped against his forehead before Jay unlocked and opened the door, peeking out through the crack before pulling it wider.

  “The coast is clear,” he said without turning around. “I think you’d better get back to the party.”

  What? Over so soon? “But what about you?”

  A half smile turned up one side of Jay’s mouth. “Do you think you’re really ready for that?”

  Good question. What could Michael possibly do for Jay except maybe a fumbling attempt at a hand job?

  “I thought not.” Standing aside and holding the door open, Jay motioned Michael to leave. “I’ll be down in a minute,” he said, closing the door.

  Michael and his guilt stood on the landing, disappointed in him. No matter what else he’d been in life, he’d never been selfish, taking his own pleasure and leaving someone else wanting. And shouldn’t he have at least said thanks, or let Jay know he wasn’t going to freak out now over what they’d done? Even now Jay was probably kicking himself, worried that Michael would regret what had happened. A million emotions fought for dominance, but regret wasn’t among them.

  He raised his hand to knock on the door when a relieved-sounding, “Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you’d gotten off to,” came from behind him. Angie’s firm grip on his arm steered him back to the party, when all he really wanted to do was make things right with Jay.

  Chapter Eight

  Jay lay draped across the rickety porch swing, nursing a beer while hanging one bare foot down to rub Shasta’s upturned belly. The back door eased open, music and laughter invading his sanctuary along with a slim figure silhouetted in the doorway. The door closed, banishing the noise and light but leaving the intruder. The scent of familiar perfume announced Angie’s presence.

  “I figured it was you,” Jay said.

  “We need to talk.”

  Yeah, he knew that, though he dreaded the conversation. He couldn’t outright lie to her, yet he wouldn’t betray her brother’s confidence either.

  The brief flash from a lighter illuminated the pale white skin and shiny copper hair of the woman he loved as a sister, but who could never be more to him.

  The tip of her cigarette glowed brighter and Angie exhaled a swirling cloud of blue-gray fog, barely visible in the glow from the street lamps outside. “I thought I’d find you here,” she murmured.

  Rather than join him on the swing as she normally did, she remained standing near the door where her brother had stood a few hours ago. Neither said a word, the thumpa, thumpa of the music from the living room and the soft protests of the porch swing the only sounds.

  “So, are you gonna tell me, or do I have to beat it out of you?” Angie took another hard drag from her cigarette.

  I’m not volunteering anything. You wanna know, you gotta ask. “Tell you what?” Jay took a deep breath, releasing it slowly and counting on music and darkness to hide his guilt.

  “Tell me what the hell went on in the kitchen that had Terry running out like a scalded dog.”

  “Oh, that,” he replied with casual wave of his hand. “A minor misunderstanding. No harm done.”

  In the semi-darkness he caught a brief glimpse of even, white teeth, more grimace than smile. Angie knew her housemates well enough to figure out the rest. “In other words, Terry put the moves on Michael and was disappointed.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Did you take care of it?”

  “Was there ever any doubt?”

  Angie leaned back against the doorframe, exhaling another mouthful of smoke. After a moment she whispered, “Gracias.”

  “De nada,” Jay replied.

  “Why are the blinds drawn?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject. “It makes it so stuffy out here.” She crossed the floor as she spoke, the ancient floorboards screeching under her feet.

  How ironic that Angie dreaded enclosed spaces as much as her brother feared open ones. “Michael was uncomfortable. I wanted to make him feel more at ease.”

  Raising the blinds her with back turned, a slight head nod served as Angie’s acknowledgement. “He’s in a bad way right now and doesn’t need any more shit.” She turned to face Jay then, slender arms wrapped around her thin body.

  “Are you saying you think I’d give him shit?”

  She released a breathy sigh. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to repeat it?”

  Over the years he’d learned that Angie always spoke her mind with little regard to the consequences. Asking permission wasn’t in character. “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”

  She smiled but it wasn’t happy. “I love my brother dearly but what I have to say could be considered betrayal.” She plopped down into a wooden rocking chair, facing the swing, her slow rocking at odds with the fast-paced music from the house.

  Never for a minute did Jay believe his dear friend capable of betrayal, especially not of the brother she adored. “Just tell me,” he said, in a voice normally reserved for reassuring upset younger sisters.

  “Jay, you know I love you with all my heart but, so help me God, if you breathe a word of this to anybody, they’ll never find your body.”

  “If I ever betray you, my greatest friend, then I deserve for my body to never be found.”

  Another pull from the cigarette sent her words out on a cloud of smoke. “Fair enough. Jay, there’s a reason I’ve told you so much about my brother over the years.”

  “Other than sisterly bragging, you mean?” It wasn’t like he hadn’t filled his friend’s ear with tales of sibling antics.

  With a sly smile she replied, “Yeah, other than sisterly bragging.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I remember back when he was in high school and, before that, in junior high down in Mississippi. I also remember when he was dating Ruth Ann Dunwoody.”

  Jay winced at the name, having heard it many times and knowing exactly who the young woman was—Michael’s high school sweetheart and the girl his grandmother had wanted him to marry.

  Angie continued, “I saw how he was with her, or rather how he wasn’t, and not only her but any other girl he was involved with.”

  “And?” Jay asked, curious even if the image of Michael with a girl made him cringe.

  “He never talked about any of them the way he talks about you, or looked at them the way he looks at you.”


  That was unexpected. “What are you trying to say, Angie?”

  “I’m saying that I believe that my brother might be gay.”

  He opened his mouth to defend Michael, but Angie cut him off. “That’s not the only reason. I’ve kinda felt it for a long time now. Several times I thought he was leading up to a big announcement, and I know for a fact that he snuck some of Mom’s gay romance novels into his room when he was younger. He’s not nearly as good at hiding things as he thought he was.”

  At Jay’s narrowed-eyed scrutiny she splayed her palm in a defensive gesture. “What? I’m his big sister, I’m supposed to snoop—it’s in my job description.” Apparently, she chose to ignore his condemning glare. “That asshole Mom married was such a homophobe that the poor kid didn’t dare say anything.” She gave a snort. “As if I’d repeat a confidence to that moron.”

  Absentmindedly stroking Shasta’s head, Jay hung on to Angie’s words. He knew all about Crawford Shiller from previous stories, appalled at what she and Michael had suffered at his hands. Having been brought up in a big, loving home where children were considered precious, he couldn’t imagine having to slink around in an effort to avoid attention. It hadn’t helped Angie’s trust issues in the least, and having suffered through six more years of such exposure, there was no telling how the jerk had affected her brother.

  “What do you want me to say?” he asked. He drained his beer and set the empty bottle on the floor.

  Angie dropped her cigarette butt into the empty flower pot that served as an ashtray, then moved so quickly that he heard the groaning of the chains before he felt her body crowding against him on the swing. Shasta sighed and moved to the far side of the porch, noisily flopping down, surrendering her claim.

  “Jay, I need to know something. What were you doing with my brother tonight?” Perfectly arched eyebrows curved high over her eyes as Angie pinned him with a suspicious glare.