Ten Thousand Words (49 page)

“Yes, Mama,” he replied, pulling gently on my hand.

Mama’s eyes lit up, and her smile was huge. The woman dragged me into her arms and squeezed tightly. “Thank you for making him the happiest he’s ever been!”

“Oh, well…he makes me quite happy, too.” I laughed nervously.

Mama pulled back to better study me, starting from the top of my head and ending down at my feet. Her smile never wavered, but she turned to look at her son, saying something in Portuguese. Whatever she’d said made Oliver beam through his facial bush.

“I’ve already thought the same thing,” he told her.

Mama gasped and clapped her hands to her face. Then, she reached up and grabbed his face again, kissing each of his cheeks several times.

“Go in! Go in!” she told us, turning to my father and holding out her hands.

“What did she say to you?” I whispered as Oliver pulled me into the house.

“I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

“What?” I demanded.

His smile was so wonderful that my heart palpitated. “She said you’d give me beautiful babies.”

“Seriously?”
I seethed, my heart palpitating for a completely different reason now.

“Yeah, but in a few years,” he joked, earning a whack on his chest from the back of my hand.

In turn, he grabbed me and lifted me into his arms, giving me a much more erotic kiss than was necessary. It was so good though that I forgot where we were, and the sound of a throat clearing penetrated my mind like sandpaper over skin.

Oliver broke the kiss, still grinning like an idiot, and turned toward the noise. “Hey, Papa.”

My face went up in flames.

“Put me down!” I hissed.

He let me slide down the front of his body until my feet touched the floor.

“Is it your intention to make me as uncomfortable as possible?” I asked him, mortified. I couldn’t look at his father just yet.

“Of course not,” he admonished. “Papa, this is Xanthe.”

Papa was as tall as Oliver and British-looking with clear gray eyes and dark brown hair with some silver at the temples. He was handsome. When he smiled at me, I could see Oliver in there. He held out his hand, and I shook it.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” he stated.

“Likewise, Mr. Fairfax.”

“Please, call me Henry.”

With all the introductions made, Mama—whose name was Mariela—showed my dad and Aunt Ellen to their rooms while Oliver dragged me off to his.

Holy shit!

His childhood bedroom was fit for a prince. In this family, I guessed he was. Everything was huge, clean, and warm. The massive bed was a bloody sleigh-style.

“Good Lord, Oliver!” I whispered, my eyes bugging.

“What?” he asked, steering me toward the bed.

“This is where you grew up?”

“Among other places. This is our England home.”

“Huh.”

Oliver shoved me onto the bed and crawled on top of me, grinding his hard-on between my legs, the friction of my jeans rubbing just the right spot. His mouth captured mine, his tongue sliding around with my own in a sensuous rhythm, mimicking the rubbing of our groins. Sneaking a hand under my sweater, he squeezed a breast.

He groaned, and I melted. My crotch went liquid and hot. Just as I started grinding back, there came a knock at the door.

“Go away!” he called out, continuing to dry-hump me.

“You don’t tell your mama to go away!” came Mariela’s voice through the heavy wooden door.

Faster and stronger than I thought possible, I shoved him off me and bolted for what I thought was the en suite bathroom, only to find myself in a mega walk-in closet. Spinning on my heel, I dashed to the other door in the room, ignoring Oliver, who was shaking with his laughter, sprawled on his back on the bed. His mother came in just as I slammed the correct door behind me.

“Is she all right?” asked Mama.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed at me,” he told her.

“Why? What did you do?”

Ignoring the rest of their conversation, I was instead awed by the bathroom. A double sink—
because a young man needs two, right?
If I packed them in, nine Olivers could fit into the shower. The tub was a sunk-in pool that would be waist-high on me if I stood up in it. Stunned, I had to check it out. There were steps that led to the bottom, which I walked down.

Feeling overwhelmed, I copped a squat at the deep end. A few minutes later, I heard the soft click of the door and Oliver’s footsteps approaching the tub.

“Love?”

“Yeah?” I replied, staring at the steps.

“What are you doing in the tub?”

“Is that what this is?” I joked. “I thought it was an escape hatch. I was just waiting to see if it would beam me back to Amsterdam.”

He hopped down and sat next to me. “What’s going on in your head now?”

“That the money I spent on your Christmas present is going to be secretly laughed at.”

“Why would you say that?”

I sighed and dropped my head to his shoulder, looking out the windows at the treetops beyond. “And, now, I’m wondering, what’s the point of floor-to-ceiling windows in a bathroom?”

“There’s a switch that makes them reflective to the outside when turned on.”

“Of course there is.”

“Are you upset?”

“No. I’m just not comfortable with your family yet. We’ve been here for less than thirty minutes, and we have been busted being inappropriate and told to have pretty babies. That’s twice today that I’ve been told to get knocked up,” I grumped.

“I can’t help it if they want me to breed, love.”

“Or the fact that you’re seriously contemplating the idea?”

“With
you
. Only you.”

“Yeah, which makes me incredibly nervous.”

He pulled me onto his lap, nuzzling my neck. Reaching up, I cradled his face in my hands and closed my eyes.

This is my life now.
I could hardly believe it.

The truth was, I was so incredibly happy, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I never wanted it to end.

“They’re making food for us. It’ll be ready in about an hour,” he told me.

“Okay.”

His arms tightened around me. “I love you.”

Warm fuzzies sparked in my chest and spread to my fingers and toes. “I love you, too.”

Ollie

Once we left the bathroom behind, the rest of the evening went quite smoothly. Xanthe put on her brave face, and with her father, Aunt Ellen, and Rex, they kept my family in stitches well into the late hours. David and Papa got along really well, and the two of them found a lot to talk about.

Tessa made moon eyes at Rex for half of the evening before I pulled her aside and assured her that Rex was indeed gay and very much into Trey.

“Are you sure? He’s nothing like Trey.”

“Of course I’m sure!” I snapped. “They don’t fall into a stereotype! Why would you want your brother’s boyfriend?”

“Because he looks like a walking god,” she countered.

Trey finally eased up around David, who didn’t call him Pound Cake in front of my parents. Aunt Ellen, however, could not be bothered with using his real name. My parents had at first been taken aback, but she ended up charming them completely before supper had ended.

How could she not?
Ellen was epic.

It was close to midnight before Xanthe and I made it back to our room. Xanthe was happy even if she did look exhausted. I followed her into the bathroom where she brushed her teeth and washed her face. I did the same before I helped her strip out of her clothes, leaving her wearing only her black panties as she crawled into bed.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked her, flicking off the lights and crawling in next to her.

I pulled her into my arms, and she settled her head on my shoulder as she slipped her arm around my waist. I loved that we always fell asleep like this.

“No,” she replied.

“You looking forward to tomorrow?”

“Not really. I hate shopping.”

I hugged her tight. “Do you want to come with me instead?”

Rex and I had an interview for a men’s clothing line along with a short photo shoot. FairFawkes was really starting to pick up steam.

“No, I’d rather be shopping,” she replied dryly.

“Yeah. My mother would be crushed if I stole you away from her. Just have to suck it up, I guess.”

“Mmm…”

“Night, love.”

“Night.”

Me: I miss you. What are you doing?

Xanthe: I miss you, too. Trying on clothes.

Me: What sort of clothes?

Xanthe: All sorts.

Me: That narrows it down.

Xanthe: I wish.

Me: Are you having fun?

Xanthe: Good company. :D

Me: Will you buy some lingerie?

Me: Something black. Lacy. With ribbons.

Me: Cupless bra. Oh God. Crotchless panties.

Me: Fuck.

Xanthe: I AM WITH YOUR MOTHER!

Me: Thank you. That helped ;)

The interviews and photo shoot went well. Urban Legend Men’s Apparel wanted Rex and me to model their newest clothing line, and we set up a schedule with them and signed some contracts. Then, Rex, Trey, and I headed out for some food.

“We need more models with beards,” said Trey, staring at Rex’s jawline as Rex chewed a mouthful of chips. “It’s a huge thing now. Would you consider growing one?”

Rex stopped chewing and looked at Trey. “Really?” he asked around his mouthful.

“Yeah. Why not?”

Rex shrugged.

“You’d look hot,” Trey offhandedly told him.

I pulled out my phone, not wanting to get in the middle of this one.

Me: What are you doing now?

Xanthe: Having coffee. You?

Me: Listening to Trey beg Rex to grow a beard.

Xanthe: They are quite nice. Especially when they’re between my legs.

Me: Did you buy crotchless panties?

Me: I want you to sit on my face, wearing a pair.

Me: And a cupless bra, so I can play with your piercings at the same time.

Shit, I was sitting with two gay men while getting uncomfortably hard.

Me: Help me. I’ve got a boner.

Xanthe: Serves you right, perv.

Me: Me? What about you?

Me: But seriously. Crotchless panties. Yeah?

Me: Love?

Me: I’m DYING to have you sit on my face now.

Me: You can suck me off at the same time.

Xanthe: I’m turning off my phone.

Me: Don’t do that. You’re the only one keeping me sane with these two.

Xanthe: I’m with your damn mother! Quit turning me on!

I grinned and got busted by the queens sitting with me.

“I need to pick up some lingerie,” I told them.

“What for?” asked Trey.

“To make you feel pretty, Pound Cake,” I retorted. “The fuck you think?” I finished my fish and chips, allowing Trey to pick a flake out of my beard and toss it to the floor. “Do you want to meet up later or just see each other at home?”

“We’ll see you at home,” said Trey.

“Sounds good.”

Grabbing an espresso on the way out of the pub, I headed to the shop I had in mind. About six months ago, I had done a shoot for the designer, Lydia. She had contacted FairFawkes after seeing my other shots with lingerie.

Pulling out my phone before heading inside, I texted Xanthe again. She was going to be so annoyed with me. For some reason, that made me smile.

Me: What’s your size? And don’t give me shit for asking.

Xanthe: What for?

Me: I just told you not to give me shit.

Xanthe. 10–12.

Me: Thanks.

Me: Boobs?

Xanthe: -_-

Me: BOOBS.

Xanthe: 36C.

Me: Fuck yeah.

Ducking inside and glancing around, I saw that Lydia wasn’t here. However, a tiny blonde woman was staring at me, wide-eyed, from behind the register. I headed for her.

“Hi,” I said, pitching my voice low, “I’m looking for something specific.”

“Okay,” she replied. “How can I help?”

I told her what I was looking for and the sizes I needed, and she led me to the back end of the shop.

“These are our plus sizes,” she said softly.

My eyes narrowed on her. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything. These are the sizes that fit me,” she said.

Looking at her, I saw she was short and very curvy.