Commitment Collection, page 18
part #1 of Commitment Series
“You OK?” I return from my thoughts.
He laughs, “I am more than OK. I love this place,” he says. “Who’d have thought it. Hidden in plain sight.”
“Come on, let’s take a breath of air.” I pull his hand and lead him off behind me to the chill out area toward the back.
The neon lights under the bar remain, but the volume of the music scales down as we shimmy from the purple lit room and plop on plump cushions.
“Elliott!”
Kyle
A glorious example of a man glides over. “I thought it was you.” He strokes his dark floppy hair from his swarthy features. “How the devil are you?” He bends to place an air kiss on his cheek. Elliott’s face is stone as this flamboyant character somehow manages to fawn over him. All of this is focused directly on Elliott. I may as well not be here even though I’m impossible to miss sitting sealed to Elliott’s side.
“What are you doing here?” Elliott’s voice is sharp, his words clipped.
“I’m great, thanks for asking.”
“I didn’t,” Elliott snarls, shifting his weight forward.
“Oh, now now, no need to be mean.”
“Hi, I’m Kyle.” I hold my hand out for him to shake. He glances down at it, gives it a cursory nod and a flicker, where in that moment he considers ignoring me passes behind the excitement in his eyes.
When he takes my outstretched palm, his handshake is limp. “Hi Kyle. Aren’t you going to tell him who I am?” He directs at Elliott.
“Kyle, this is someone you don’t need to know. He’s a no good piece of shit.”
Whoa. Now, that is not the Elliott I know and love, so this truly must be a genuine no-good-piece-of-shit. I choose not to respond. Instead, I stand, positioning my body to half cut off this person whose very presence is ruining our evening. I place my hand on Elliott’s arm.
“Well, aren’t you the lucky one.” The man winks at Elliott. “If you’re fancying a threesome, then all you have to do is let me know. You still have my number, right?”
Elliott stands, and faces up to this guy, prodding his finger into the middle of his chest, he spits, “I do not have your fucking number. Why the fuck do you think I’d keep your fucking number? Look at you, you’re a pathetic lard knob. The only place you can be yourself is within a celebrity hang out where you’re no one.”
I get a sense of who this guy is, but he’s not what I was expecting. I jump in anyway, not liking this guy purely because Elliott is upset by his presence.
“And we will not be having any kind of threesome with you or anyone else. Elliott is the only guy for me.” I sound possessive, but I don’t care as I angle my face in front of this stranger’s and let the meaning of my words sink in.
“Come on, let’s get back on the dance floor.” I urge Elliott, placing the slightest pressure in the crook of his back.
He looks at me, his eyes wide, like he’s been caught in the headlights and my heart melts. This fucker has hurt him. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” And then he rounds on our visitor. “We said goodbye a long time ago, Noah,” before stalking off ahead of me.
I follow on behind and as I grab hold of his shirt and pull him into me, I ask, “The Noah?”
He spins around. “Yes. My very-ex boyfriend.”
“What’s he doing in here?”
“I have no idea, and I don’t want to know.”
“He seemed very gay for someone pretending he’s not,” I muse to myself, but somehow over all the racket, Elliott still manages to hear me.
“I know. He’s a dick. Probably hiding out in here away.”
“Don’t you want to speak to him and put this whole thing behind you once and for all? We’re an item now. It might be easier.”
His eyebrows shift upwards. “I put him behind me long before you.”
I beg to differ. This Noah is the reason we had so many problems with Elliott’s insecurities early on, but I let it go.
“OK,” I say as I sidle past him onto the dance floor, adopting a flamboyant dance, struggling to lighten the mood. My hips sashay to the left and then the right, my hand pointing upwards above my head as I jiggle and jive every loose part of my anatomy in time to the music.
It has the desired effect. Looking like a complete twerp is well worth it. Because Elliott laughs.
Elliott
I don’t sleep well. I’m sure it’s the excess of alcohol, but I spend the few hours we have to sleep tossing and turning and when I do drift off, the rest is only temporary and then my eyes snap awake again, blind panic pounding in my heart.
Irrationally, I think Kyle has left me.
Or that I’m with Noah again.
More often than not, it’s that Noah is trying to ruin my relationship with Kyle. I’m not so sure that nightmare isn’t nearer to the truth than I’m comfortable with. The alarm of losing Kyle isn’t something I’ve contemplated, other than when he had his accident. I’ve never considered that some terrible incident may mean he chooses not to be with me anymore.
I sit up, the sweat dripping between my pecks like condensation on the window.
Kyle shifts, groaning as he turns over, stealing the covers. Cold flashes over my tacky skin also cooling my overactive nerves and I roll onto one side, matching his fetal position, resting the tips of my fingers against the contour of his back.
At least my head is only thick from lack of sleep rather than alcohol poisoning. But Noah put his very own brand of a dampener on an incredible evening. We didn’t stay late after he showed up, and even though we weren’t supposed to I’m willing to bet that if Noah hadn’t pitched up then we’d have danced the entirety of the early hours away and my lack of sleep this morning would be all the better for a much needed fun night out.
* * *
Kyle senses how disjointed I feel this morning and he treads carefully. His gorgeous face is drinking me in from his seat which faces mine, a hooded look of concern clouding those dark pools into his soul.
“Is that dick from last night still troubling you? Because if he is, please try and forget him. We’re flying off on vacation together. He just has a small and miserable life. We’re leaving him behind, Elliott.”
I nod. He’s right. I had left him behind. But I don’t trust him. I didn’t like his tone last night. There was something troublesome about his attitude. Nevertheless, Kyle is right. I need to try and get past this. I won’t allow him any control in my life. “You truly are the most wonderful person I’ve ever been around Kyle Beaumont; do you know that?”
He nods, a lopsided smile softening his concern. “I try!”
It makes me laugh. His simplicity is everything to me. I unbuckle my seatbelt and pass across the divide to sit next to him, shoving my arm under his on the rest and holding his hand. I pick it up and press his fingers to my lips. He lets it hang there, sliding his body closer toward mine and strokes my face.
“You know he can’t touch us don’t you? Whatever he says, whatever he does, we’re strong,” Kyle mutters.
I nod, fighting an immediate urge to cry. I force it back swallow down the lump in my throat and remain silent. He notices though, and he leans in, kisses the lids of my eyes as I close them, time stands still. His breath whispers against my skin as he moves from one to the other, the tenderness of his act breathing joy back into my heart. Freeing his hand from mine, he cradles my face in his, squeezes my cheeks together and kisses my puckered mouth. My lips part, and our tongues wrap together as I coil him into me as he sucks on my bottom lip.
I pull away, long enough to rasp, “I love you Elliott Judd. You remember that.”
I nod. I do remember it. I feel it with every ounce of my being. His devotion swims from his body and into mine, flooding my hurt with his love washing away negativity.
I pull from his embrace and draw the curtain that divides us from the rest of the empty plane, the signal to the crew to leave us alone.
Running my hand up the inside of his t-shirt, I feel his warm skin, soft to my touch over cut abs. The combination of soft and hard sends my head racing. Fueled with love, I bend, place my mouth on his stomach and kiss him, trailing my wanting lips over his body, unbuckling his belt in a desire to take him into me and be as close as two different people can be.
He’s solid already and he catches against his underwear as I free him. He lifts his hips allowing me to push his clothing down and in that moment I see him. I take in the throbbing cock that is begging for me, that has no respect for the past, but only love for us in this moment.
This isn’t a time for foreplay. I need him. I pull the condom out of my pocket and ready him to take me. Undressing quickly, I straddle him on the leather seat, slowly lowering on to him, the burn of being unprepared and stretched making the reality of this moment all the more poignant.
I bite my lip against the sting, Kyle doesn’t speak, but he locks his eyes into mine and as he moves in slow, gentle pulses, he takes me with with care and love and understanding. He moves against my weight, a gentle rocking in time with my motion. Our gaze doesn’t falter as he takes my hardened cock in his hand and slides it in slow, pronounced gestures.
The pain subsides as I loosen, transforming into an all-encompassing, electrifying fizz. I move more quickly. His hand also speeds up and the familiar throbbing starts. Pulses run from my balls up my shaft and I thicken in response to this man and everything we share. He pushes deeper, his glance now faltering as he dips in and out of closing his eyes.
“I’m close,” he whispers, asking if it’s OK, checking whether I’ve taken enough of him.
I don’t speak, answer him by quickening my pace, jousting him faster inside me, thrusting him harder into my core.
“We will be landing in twenty minutes. Please put your seat backs in the upright position and fasten your seat belts.” The light above our heads dings laboring the point.
We laugh together at the timing, “Guess the air hostess didn’t want to disturb us.” I laugh into Kyle’s ear, before expelling a flurry of energy to wind this up, and fast.
Kyle
I’ve never been to America. I’ve never really been anywhere exciting; that’s part of the reason I found the job on the racing team so attractive. It’d not only give me a chance to work on some of the most technically advanced cars on the planet, but at the same time, I’d get to see the world.
In reality, I was misguided in my expectation as the workload is so heavy that it’s impossible to see anything of the countries you visit during the season.
Landing on foreign soil to take a tour from Chicago to Albuquerque is unbelievable before you even start to factor in us landing on board my boyfriend’s private jet which is carrying our own motorcycles we’ll ride across the states. I never dreamed this could happen.
We’re staying at a swanky hotel for the night; we’ll begin our road trip tomorrow. Elliott says he wants to show me some of the real America, so we avoid the glitzy hotel bar and go to a local hideout around the corner. It’s not the type of place that stands out as being special. It’s a bit grimy if I’m being honest; the toilets could do with a good cleaning, and the paint on the walls is chipped with streaks of cue chalk. But hey, we’re here and I’m happy.
“Sorry, I’m not sure if this is a good representation of the real America,” Elliott apologizes, “But, the people are more authentic than any we’ll find in the hotel lobby.”
I agree. “This is anything but clinical. There’s a great vibe.” I have to shout over the loud music that’s playing.
By the time they roll out the karaoke we’re a few beers down and I have to say I’m liking this carefree version of Elliott. Maybe he’s trying to fit in all the fun his dedication to his profession prevents him enjoying the rest of the year, but he’s way more easy going. And he hasn’t even mentioned the dreaded Noah since last night. OK, so on the plane I felt his pain, but after we landed, it’s like he’d left it all behind in London.
“Have you seen what they’re doing?” Elliott motions to the other side of the bar.
“Uh oh.” I manage to get this out before the place erupts into one collective cheer.
“You gonna sing?” he asks me.
“What! Are you kidding me?” My eyebrows are almost hidden under my hairline they shoot up that high. “You’re not serious are you?”
He laughs. “Why not. Come on, I’ll sign you up.”
“You will not.” I grab his arm. “Elliott, what’s wrong with you? I can’t sing.” I am genuinely starting to sweat. I think his dry season means the alcohol is going to his head. He seems far more eager to perform than I’m comfortable with. “I thought you wanted to keep a low profile on this break?” I double check. A big part of us heading out on the bikes is so that no one can recognize him under his helmet.
“I do, but we’re not staying here. This is just a stopover, we can have a laugh one night. No one will be around tomorrow.”
I shake my head, “Well, it’s up to you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
That must have been his sign off, because he’s writing his name and song choice down on a piece of paper before I’ve finished speaking.
Of course, because he’s the first one to get his name down, he’s the first one to be called to sing. I haven’t even had time to ask which song he’s chosen.
He grins and struts to the front, like a proud Peacock, his chest puffed out.
The music starts and I don’t immediately recognize it, but everyone else in the room does. The crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers before Elliott even opens his mouth.
“Start spreading the news…” He’s OK. A bit shaky but he sounds like he has a good tone there.
“I am leaving today…” His voice trembles, but in a good way, and the note changes just right. I think, he can sing?
As he gets to the first “New York,” a small ripple of clapping fades in. The shouting has quietened and people are listening. Hell, I’m listening.
There’s a short verse about vagabond shoes where people join in before falling silent when Elliott starts to sing. He really is good. His voice is soft, but in tune until he gets to belting out, “New York, New York…” and trumpets join in as his voice strengthens. At the “I’m gonna make it anywhere,” part the background music crescendos and I hear, truly hear Elliott’s voice. It’s amazing.
How could I not know this? I’ve heard him singing to the dreadful rap he listens to around the house, but that’s not really music and it’s impossible to tell whether he can sing. This is better than Sinatra himself.
Does this man have any limit to his talents?
We’re nearing the end now and the crowd is not only all consumed, they’re swaying with their arms waving in the air as we approach the final “New York.” Elliott’s voice is warm and strong, resounding around the room to a final flurry of cheering.
He just can’t help himself. Ever the superstar, he bows and speaks into the microphone. “Thank you everyone! We landed from England just a few hours ago and I wanted to say thank you for welcoming us to your home for the next few weeks.”
I glare at him through my teary eyes. ‘Is he kidding? I thought we were supposed to be remaining anonymous?’
More cheering. A woman stands, rummages in her handbag and lobs something at him.
He ducks, stepping back to avoid the missile.
It catches him on his leg. His hand drops to the area instinctively retrieving a pair of lace panties.
He holds them up, screws his face up before pulling himself together and grins widely. That’s the PR smile I’ve now seen at least a million times.
He bows again, lapping up the attention, but he’s learned his lesson.
As he scurries back to me, he says, “Come on, get your coat. We’ll have drinks in our room.”
I shake my head at him, say nothing, don’t grab my jacket because I didn’t bring one, and follow him out of the bar.
Elliott
I forgot where I was. My security detail would have me on a stick if they knew I’d gone out to a bar they’d not first checked out. They only let me come away on the understanding that I’d go to only the places they’ve checked out in advance and while traveling I’d be incognito on a bike under a helmet.
“I didn’t know you could sing like that. You made quite the impression,” Kyle says the next morning when we’re getting ready.
I laugh. With less alcohol inside me, I’m embarrassed. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Sure, you were fabulous.” He tugs me into him. “You were stupid though; she could have thrown anything.” His breath whispers on my ear as he nuzzles into me.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
His lips chase across my jaw, resting on my mouth. “Keep a low profile. I want to keep you.” His hands rake through my hair, clasp a clump at the back of my head and pull. Our lips part. “Get it?”
I nod as the tips of our tongues meet, flicking against the other, my neck arcing back allowing his lips to grow firm against mine. He jabs his hard tongue deep into my mouth, owning me, before removing it, jabbing it back in, fucking my mouth with his. His pressure massages my tongue. Our mouths are wide, tongues rolling, bruising my lips. He sucks my tongue, stretching the underside, before clamping down his teeth on the tip.
He releases it, nibbling on my bottom lip.
“Ow.” He nips me.
“Now, let that be a lesson. Behave in the future.”
“Fucking hell. You’re hot even when you’re telling me off, Kyle.”
