XO, Blake

  “Don’t stop.” Diego leaned in and kissed me. “I want to see you swallow him. Take that load.”

  Dirty. Hot. Fuck.

  I got back on Miguel’s dick. Thick. Hard. Swelling in my mouth. I loved it. This was only the third dick I’d had. Thor and I had messed around once at Avon Porter. It was horrible. Then later with Vive’s boyfriend. They were on a break. Don’t ever tell her that. No one knows. That’s a big secret.

  Holy Banana! Miguel was by far bigger than theirs.

  I could taste the salty pre-cum coming off him as he kept pumping and thrusting his body into my face.

  “Get rough with him.” Diego got behind me and held my head. “That’s it. Fuck his pretty face.”

  Oh. God. This is hot. So hot.

  “I’m going to come,” Miguel cried out and pulled himself from my hot mouth. “Open wide.”

  I dropped my jaw and stuck my tongue out like a chick in a porn flick.

  “That’s it, Blake.” And just like that he shot white, warm cream all over my face. On the last squirt, he jetted it all over my tongue. Lowering his lips to mine, he kissed me. Just as I went to kiss him back, he shoved himself in my mouth and muttered, “Clean me. Nice and good. Lick it.”

  And so I did. I licked. I sucked. I drained him till my belly felt…full.

  I woke up from my dream. That was really hot.

  Ughhh, my tummy was doing somersaults. I waved my hand over my mouth, crying for help, realizing I could move.

  Thank God!

  On that revelation, I pulled myself to the edge of the bed as Diego lay sound-asleep. I fell onto the floor. My muscles screamed from the strain but I didn’t mutter a sound. Last thing I needed was for the guys to see me at my worst of the worst, upchucking my brains out.

  The bathroom! I had to get to the toilet. I was going to barf. Putting one knee before the other, I crawled to their private bathroom. I hugged the cold bowl, my chin resting on the seat as I hurled.

  Damn. If you ever saw The Exorcist, that was me. Sick as the devil. Lucifer was inside me. Like fire, through my nose, it came out from the back of my throat. The only place it wasn’t coming was out my ears. Backsplash misted my face.

  Jesus. This is nasty.

  Two vomit episodes later, it was over. I didn’t have anything left in me to throw up. My body rested on the floor and I began to cry.

  Somewhere, somehow between my cries, Diego—appearing tough and sinewy—came into the bathroom and scooped me into his muscular arms. I became acutely aware of his athletic physique.

  His hands felt rough and gave me a sense of protection. He removed my underwear, put me in the white porcelain tub, and then filled it with warm water and a musky-scented bath gel.

  The white bubbles gave some privacy between my naked body and his ogling eyes.

  “You know where you are?” he asked, leaning his body against the tub. Even in the middle of the night, he appeared devilishly handsome.

  I nodded and took hold of a nearby washcloth.

  “You know my name?” he asked as he handed me the soap.

  “Diego Oalo. You’re in my English class. I’ve had a crush on you and Miguel since the first day of school,” I said freely as if I were still drunk or high or both. I didn’t care. After how the night had gone so far, nothing could get much worse. Could it? Fuck it!

  “Bueno,” he said, chuckling. There was an inherent strength in his face. “You gonna tell me what you and the girls took tonight?”

  Gritting my teeth, I gave no reply.

  “LSD? Acid?” he asked, his lips puckered with annoyance. With another washcloth, he washed my back. The scratchy, wet fabric eased my body’s tension.

  I covered my face, and replied through my soapy fingers, “No.”

  The feeling of being judged was almost as bad as the time we’d all stood trial. I hated this. I knew in my heart of hearts that I did nothing wrong. Yet all the outstanding evidence stated otherwise.

  “Ecstasy?” He ran his hands over my chest and smiled at me. There was something alpha about Diego. Something that I’d never experienced with another gay guy before. Maybe it was the Latin thing, I wasn’t sure, but this dude was different.

  Staring blankly, I shook my head.

  “Cocaine? Guapo?” His eyes, black and beautiful, narrowed. “Tell me what you took.”

  “Just wine...”

  He dipped his chin at me as if I were lying.

  “Are my friends okay?” I started to cry.

  “They should be. They were taken to Manhattan General. We can go see them tomorrow. Don’t get upset, por favor.”

  Inhaling deeply as if I was taking in all the oxygen in the room, I felt another wave of nausea come over me. He told me to breathe. For a few minutes, I just sat there in the water and focused on not throwing up.

  He washed my face and admitted, “When Miguel and I dragged you out of the club, and the police had shown up, they arrested a bunch of people. More than just your friends were passing out.”

  I tried to remember. There were a ton of us on the dance floor. Falling like dominos, we’d piled on top of each other.

  “Do you believe me?” I asked as sheer nervous energy swept through my body. I don’t know why I cared what he or Miguel thought. Maybe I’d wanted their approval all along. Regardless, if these two strangers didn’t believe me, how on Earth would my family feel if they heard what had happened? Probably the same.

  “I’m not calling you a liar. But something you took—maybe by accident—made you sick.”

  “Agreed.” I pulled my legs up into my chest.

  He reached under the sink, took out a new toothbrush, unwrapped it, and handed it to me. I brushed my teeth as he washed my legs.

  A few minutes later, he pulled me out of the tub, dried me off, dressed me in a gray sweat suit, and then put me back into bed with him.

  Naked. Warm. Oddly aroused. I wasn’t afraid of Diego. Something horrible had brought us together and I only wanted good things to come from it.

  Before falling asleep, he pulled my body into his. Leaning in my ear, he spoke from behind me. “Blake. Tell me whatever you like. I won’t judge you. Sí, I’ve had a crush on you since the first day of class, too. Just trust me, okay?”

  Nodding, I didn’t turn around to face him. I couldn’t. Miguel, who lay shirtless in the bed across the room from us, was glaring at me.

  Awake, he didn’t appear too friendly. In fact, he seemed rather…angry. His mouth, perfectly sexy with full lips, opened as he muttered in my direction, “You. Are. Trouble.”

  A chill surged through me.

  Charlie Brown’s Mother

  “Whah Whah Whah.” Diego and Miguel sounded like Charlie Brown’s mother. It was hard to make out exactly what they were saying. My head felt heavy as if someone had taken a baseball bat and whacked me with it. Eyes dry, the skin on my arms seemed sensitive and itchy, too.

  I must’ve slept for what felt to be eternity. During that time, I had many dreams. One was about pink ballerinas dancing with Lhaso Apsos. I overheard Diego and Miguel talk more about me. Miguel on the offense, Diego on the defense. They also discussed the classes they were taking that semester and had made a few comments about my besties.

  Empty. Drained. Utterly exhausted.

  Rolling over, shivered with fatigue, I stared up at the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. In running pants and a jersey hoodie, Diego appeared to have just come back from the gym. His muscles seemed extra pumped as the veins on his forearms popped, and the cheeks on his handsome face flushed with adrenaline.

  “Buena noches,” he said, flashing his pearly whites.

  “What time is it?” I asked, feeling as hollow as my voice sounded. I sat up, wanting to put all the pieces together. My head spun. Not as spin-like as before, but still rather dizzy.

  “Around eight o’clock” he replied and crawled next to me in bed. His long, sturdy legs brushed against mine. That very touch made every fiber of my body come alive.
>
  “You let me sleep all day?” My back ached between the shoulder blades.

  “Sí, you needed your rest, guapo,” he said huskily.

  His accent turned me one. And that nickname he kept calling me made my insides ache with needs I didn’t even know existed. Just the mere sound of his voice caused my g-spot—the swath of skin between my testicles and anus—to become acutely hungry for his touch.

  I felt my face color fiercely. Glancing around the room, I searched for his roommate and asked, “Where’s Miguel?”

  “He took the train to see his folks in D.C. He’ll back in a few days.”

  “I see…” Unable to figure out for the life of me why I liked that man, I tried to hide my disappointment. Clearly, Miguel despised me.

  “Everyone always likes Mig. He’s mysterious,” Diego spoke as if he’d read my mind.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth. I think he’s actually kind of a dick,” I totally bluffed. I guess my face was pretty transparent.

  He threw back his head and let out a deep laugh as if sincerely amused. It was marvelous and catching. “That’s funny, guapo. He said the same thing about you.”

  I rolled my eyes as my empty tummy rumbled. Starving, I asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “No. Do you want me to order you something? I can get us a pizza.”

  I shook my head. “I should get going. Check in on my friends.”

  The smile on his face faded. “You don’t want to stay the night tonight?”

  I did. Totally. But I had to get back to my besties. Scanning the room in hopes of finding my cell phone, my eyes froze at something on his nightstand….

  A pile of rope.

  Eh? My brain jogged a few ideas as to why anyone would have a rope next to their bed. Hang-gliding? Bungee jumping, perhaps? Maybe exercise? I pointed and asked, “Why do you have that?”

  Silent. A mischievous grin graced his face as he leaned forward. His lips closed in on mine. “None of your business.”

  “It is my—”

  Shutting me up, he kissed me.

  Hard. Fast. Deep. His tongue slid into my mouth, working his way through me, rocking my world. Oh. Fuck. My dick got hard, harder.

  The mere touch of him, and now the kiss, was enough to send me to Mars. In his arms, I felt a homecoming. One I didn’t realize I was actually looking for, ‘til I’d found it. A place where everyone was like me. A place where everything just felt so damn good. And then I realized that up ‘til that point, I’d wasted my entire life not having anything as wonderful as kissing Diego Oalo.

  When our lips parted, I curled my toes and muttered from a wide smile, “You’re pretty good at that.”

  “Have you kissed many boys?”

  Let’s see. There was Thor when we were like twelve years old. Then Sanderloo when we were in the tenth grade. And then Diego. On that, I shook my head and replied, “You’re number…three.”

  “Have you had sex before?”

  “With a guy?” I asked.

  “Uh, yeah. Unless you’ve had sex with a girl?”

  “I did. Only once. It was with Vive in tenth grade.”

  “Mierda…” He appeared stunned for a few seconds.

  Feeling the need to elaborate, I added, “I knew I was gay much earlier than that, but I really fell for Vive. She’s beautiful, special. I wanted to try being with a girl. Just once. And Vive had asked me, so I did.”

  “What was sex with a woman like?” he asked.

  “Soft, sensual, sweet.”

  “You hated it, didn’t you?” His black eyes narrowed.

  “Totally.” I laughed.

  “What about sex with a man?”

  “Define sex. Do you mean anal?”

  Gays typically say sex when it could merely be a blow job. I had to be certain of his question before offering up the facts.

  “Sí, penetration,” he replied.

  “Uh-uh,” I admitted. “But I have watched a ton of gay porn.” I knew what to do. I just hadn’t done it yet.

  Clearly my reply got his attention.

  Brown eyes widening into saucers, he sat straight up in bed and clarified, “You haven’t topped or bottomed a dude yet?”

  “Nooo. But I want to. I want to top you,” I confessed, thinking it would be fun for someone like me who is not as masculine to assume the alpha position and top a guy like Diego. There was an allure with role reversal.

  He kissed me again and muttered into the well of my mouth, “I want to feel you…inside of me. I want you…inside me. Tonight.”

  Holy fuck. He stirred nerves inside me which had been cold and dormant up ‘til then.

  After the heady sensation from the kiss and his words subsided, my attention went back to the rope. For several reasons, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

  One: It wasn’t the kind you get at the hardware store which was tensile strength and pure manila. Two: The rope was shockingly bright blue and had a sexiness to it. This was no jump rope, people. Three: It was right next to his frickin’ bed. Reaching over, I grabbed it. Four: The texture was soft and supple in my hands.

  “Do you use this for rock-climbing?” I asked, noticing there weren’t the usual hooks or closures one would often see on those types of harnesses and suspension cables.

  “Not exactly...” He grabbed it from my hands, jumped to his feet, and tossed it into the nearby closet. Turning the TV on, he said, “Forget you ever saw it. Let’s watch a movie.”

  “Diego Oalo!” I gaped at him. He was good at trying to change the subject, but I was better at staying on task. With my besties being as cray-cray as they were, I must. Hello!

  “Blake Morgan,” he mocked me, crossing his arms in defiance.

  I knew what it was. I’d heard the rumors that Diego was oversexed and naughty as hell. “Admit it…you’re kinky.”

  He came back over to the bed, pressing his body down over mine and replied, “Sí, very.” He traced his tongue over my lower lip. Everything about the man excited me.

  As I made myself comfortable in his arms, I heard the reporter on the TV mention, “Patrons got more than their admission into the posh Glamorama nightclub last night. Medical staff from Manhattan General Hospital report they were roofied.”

  Saaay what?

  Frozen in each other’s arms, my spine shot straight toward the popcorn ceiling. Our eyes were glued to the screen.

  Images of Glamorama flashed as my jaw dropped.

  The headline read, “Entire Nightclub Drugged,” as the reporter stated, “victims are being treated at Manhattan General.”

  Victims? Oh. My. God.

  Panic started to fill my empty stomach. Then the reality of my besties hit me like a Mac truck as I recalled Miguel saying everyone had been taken to the hospital. “Fuck. How could I not remember?” I got to my feet, searching for my pants, and asked, “Where’s my cell?”

  He handed me my clothes, shoes, and then unplugged my phone from the wall. “I charged it for you. It was dead.”

  “Thank you.” Stepping out of his sweats and into my jeans, I got dressed as fast as I could.

  He came up to me with my scarf, the one Taddy had given me the year before for Christmas, and wrapped it around my neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you earlier.” He tied the front of it tightly under my neck, pressing into my Adam’s apple.

  “I gotta go…” I replied, loosening the fabric, evaluating how he’d tied my scarf around my neck with such precision. Unsure why, but my mind went back to that rope.

  “I’ll come with you.” He grabbed his jacket, gloves, and went for the door.

  We hailed a cab on Broadway and headed across town to the Upper East Side.

  Manhattan General was the city’s largest, oldest, and most prestigious hospital. It took up almost an entire city block. They had several satellite clinics spread all over town. Lex and Taddy had been born there, and Birdie had been taken here a few months ago when her penthouse had exploded. When we stepped out of the yellow car, I he
aded straight for the emergency room.

  The second I walked into the lobby, my nose caught the lingering odor of aesthetic gases and baby powder. I made my way to the large front desk.

  A woman with wide hips and big hair threw a phone over her shoulder, as if putting the caller on hold, and greeted me.

  I gave her my name and told her I’d been at the club. Her face lit up as I said, “My friends got sick and were taken here.”

  “Yes, honey, we’ve got a bunch of you here for observation. You feeling ill?” She didn’t wait for me to reply as she handed me a clipboard. “Here fill this out.”

  “No. I’m fine. I’m here to see my friends. They were admitted. I think…”

  “Name?” Her voice sounded tired.

  “Taddy Brill and Vive Farnworth.”

  Her eyes narrowed on the paper she was referring to. “We released Farnworth about an hour ago. Taddy is in ICU.”

  “What?” Icy fear twisted around my tongue. Holding my raw emotion in check, I asked, “Why? How?”

  “Are you family?” She quirked her painted brows questioningly.

  “Yes,” I spurted out a lie. “I’m her brother.”

  Taddy doesn’t have any family. Just Lex, Vive and me.

  A tense silence between us increased with frightening uncertainty that the nurse might not believe me and I wouldn’t get to see my BFF.

  “Take a seat in the waiting room. I’ll see if I can get a doctor to come out and tell you what’s going on.” She turned, leaving her station before saying over her shoulder, “Honey, it may take a while.”

  Turning to face Diego, I put my head on his shoulder. “I’ll die if anything happens to her.”

  He squeezed me tight in his arms. Having him with me took some of the craziness down a notch.

  “Go sit in the waiting room. I’m going to get you a sandwich and some soda.”

  “Not now. I can’t eat.”

  “Blake. You must.”

  Nodding, I thanked him and watched him leave out the hospital doors before I turned into the waiting room.

  Then I saw them…

  Lex sobbing. Birdie, her mother, sat next to her. Curled into a ball on the floor, Vive was at Lex’s feet wearing her usual oversized acrylic Chanel sunglasses. Hedda was at her side.