Unsaid

  His friend held on to him until he was able to speak again. He swallowed the knot in his throat, tucked the Kleenex between his fingers, and sat back, staring at him. “In college, we took Intro to Psychology together.”

  “Sí. Professor Litchfield was quite the quiz giver. Why?”

  “Remember a Sigmund Freud exam which you aced and I failed?” He wiped his eyes.

  “MLD has the Madonna-whore complex?”

  “Bingo. Who knew gays could get such a thing?” Poor Diego.

  “Wow. So, you represented his dad after you married.”

  “Or his mother. I never figured out which. His scars run deep. He couldn’t let anyone in for intimacy once he loved them.” Here comes the dreaded part. “When Diego realized he loved me, he couldn’t make love to me anymore.”

  “What about having another boyfriend?” Miguel reached for his hand.

  “Jury’s out on having romance.” Blake frowned at his friend’s hand, palm up and fingers out. He didn’t take it. “A husband isn’t in my cards. I don’t think I can do it again.” He debated if he’d ever be in another relationship. The marriage had almost ruined him. Almost.

  “It’s getting late. We better get to sleep.” Miguel moved his body alongside his. He then lay next to him and pulled the sheet over them, pulling him close.

  He noticed the time on the alarm clock and heard the garbage trucks rattling down the alleyway. “We’ve chatted the night away.”

  “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

  Miguel exhaled a soft breath down his nape, sending an erotic charge over his entire body.

  “Me, too,” Blake confirmed. He hadn’t spooned with anyone like that in forever. Even cuddling was far more intimate than what he’d ever shared with Diego after they’d married.

  Slowly, Miguel pressed his hard cock between his ass-cheeks.

  After a few minutes, his friend was asleep. He snored a little in his ear. It was cute, but kept him awake. He lifted his friend’s heavy arm from around his waist and tried to roll him over to his other side. He was too big to move. While they were both the same in height, Miguel had muscle mass—dense, thick, delicious muscle mass.

  Miguel was finally on his back, breathing softly. Blake sat up in bed and studied him. God, he’s so beautiful. He laughed to himself. He couldn’t believe he might do the Seven Desires with his best friend, Mig.

  Any guy in New York would jump at the chance to have the sexiest man agree to do it with him. He knew he was lucky, but he was also scared of Miguel. He kept reminding himself the week would be a non-thinking, non-feeling fuck fest. He couldn’t think or feel; he had to turn his brain and heart off. Just let his body do its thing. But would he get hurt?

  There was no one better to do this with. From the stories he’d heard over the years, Miguel was a talented sex machine who could top and not feel a thing for the bottoms. His track record proved that. But fucking and not thinking was what got Diego in trouble. Blake put so much thought into everything he did. He knew his actions had reactions and those lead to repercussions. Sick ones. Deadly ones.

  With his hand, he grazed Miguel’s arms, admiring them. They had to be the size of his legs.

  Miguel had that kind of skin which gave off a cinnamon-bronzy hue. If that wasn’t enough, every inch of his body always had that ‘Yo, dude, I just lifted’ look. Juiced? Nope. He was a natural body builder by design, and the universe had done an amazing job.

  As he sat taller, taking in the view, he noticed his cell phone was glowing on the counter in the kitchen. The area illuminated, causing Brutus’ eyes to open.

  Lord, he didn’t want that dog to wake up. He was nervous about getting out of bed and walking over and turn his phone off. What if Brutus attacked him? He’d heard of pits that’d behave one way in front of their master and acted the complete opposite when they weren’t around.

  He looked back at Miguel who was sound asleep. The corners of his lips were curled up. Whatever he was dreaming about made him smile.

  “Aww,” Blake muttered and quietly slipped out of bed. The glossy cement floors were cold against his feet. He wasn’t used to that. Grabbing his phone, he glanced at the screen to turn it off.

  Diego. Damn. His message read, Where R U?

  A deep sigh in frustration came from his lungs. His ex must’ve come by his apartment. He’d told the doorman not to let Diego up anymore. It was too painful to hear his voice or see his face. The locks may have yet to be changed, but he no longer had a key to Blake’s heart.

  He texted back, Mig’s loft.

  NYPD is asking questions.

  Good, he hoped they’d arrest him, and get this over and done with. He typed, Confess.

  Never, his ex-husband shot back.

  He prayed his ex would burn in Hell. In fact, he knew he would one day. Ur cell might be traced. Stop texting!!! Diego was so paranoid. Suggesting his messages were being read by the authorities would certainly make him stop. He hoped.

  U tell Mig?

  God, did he want to. He felt horrible for not telling Miguel the whole story. He’d only shared part of it, the safe part. But it was the same reason why his parents, and Thor and Vive, weren’t being told either. Some things were too fucked-up for people to put their heads around; this being one of them.

  T & L know. That’s it. He’d only told Taddy and Lex because they were the two who had seen what Diego’s actions had done to Blake. It was Taddy’s private investigator who’d told them. Ironically, the investigator tailed celebrities for Vive’s articles at Debauchery, but the P.I. was a professional and wouldn’t tell a soul.

  Keep ur trap shut.

  Fuck u! We R divorced!

  Ur still mine.

  No…I’m not.

  Ur dead if u tell.

  Christ. He was going to have to power down his phone. He didn’t respond well to threats, especially not from Diego. He knew in the morning he’d have to go to the NYPD and file a restraining order. My, how everything had started off so well: drinks with Thor and Vive, and the wonderful surprise of Miguel and his offering. But his week had just been turned to shit. Diego had that way about him; he ruined everything he touched.

  Well, no more. If the divorce wasn’t enough to get that douchebag out of his life, he’d tell the authorities what he’d done and they’d lock him up for good.

  Right before he shut off his phone, he texted Taddy. Please bring Fendi to work. Then he cleared the phone of all messages and tried to sleep.

  Upper East Side

  In the middle of the night, Lex had awoken to M2 screaming at the top of his lungs. He’d been hungry, again. Massimo had been up with her and she could see he was stressed, too. Her son could always pick up on her moods. He shared her sentiments with gas.

  Little belly full, M2 rested in her arms. Together they rocked, back and forth. She enjoyed nighttime with him.

  “Hush little baby, don’t say a word…” Softly, she sang, hoping the baby couldn’t detect the turmoil going on in her own mind.

  She thought about the baby growing inside of her, M2’s brother or sister. What would it be like for her son to grow up not knowing he’d had a sibling? How could her parents not have told her that she and Taddy could be sisters? Why did they keep this from them?

  “Sì?” Her fiancé dimmed the lights above M2’s crib. Made of mahogany, the furniture was used in Massimo’s own nursery when he was a child, and his late father’s, King Umberto, before that. The royal Tittoni family crest was painted on the arm of the chair. “Have you heard from your mom?”

  “No. She’s probably sulked herself to sleep. I wasn’t hard on her, Masi. I just asked. That’s all I did was ask.” Then why did she feel as though she’d shot Birdie in cold blood?

  “You did good, bella. I cannot help but feel bad for your madre.”

  Birdie had fled in hysterics. She wasn’t able to speak about that paternity test. She offered no insights or excuses other than Eddie had never been retested and she’d prom
ised Irma they’d never speak of the matter again. If Lex wanted the truth, it would be up to her to ask Taddy to get tested with her.

  A noise came from the hallway.

  “Could you please ask Jemma to keep it down? She’s going to keep M2 up,” Lex asked. Clearly, their house guest wasn’t familiar with newborn rules. Jemma lived life in the glamour lane of Russian caviar and French champagne, not Lex’s breast milk or cloth diapers. Yes, Massimo refused to allow his son to wear disposable Pampers.

  Jemma hadn’t adjusted to the time change yet and obviously couldn’t sleep, either. She was chatting on her cell phone at the end of the hall to someone in Los Angeles or possibly Tokyo. Lex could hear her say, “My darling this,” and “My darling that.”

  Loud and dramatic, the photographer was starting to get on her nerves. Her two boyfriends, Luigi Bova, who ran the European division of Girasoli Garments, and Rocco Cazzo, who managed Massimo’s Milan estate, were scheduled to fly in the day before the wedding. Tempted to put them up at The Plaza, Massimo said they’d be offended if they didn’t get to room at their penthouse and spend time with the baby. Again, he’d accused her of being too American when she’d offered a second time to get them a hotel room.

  More guests would be trickling in over the next few days. She hoped she could keep her cool until then.

  Massimo knotted his robe and left the room.

  Next to the chair, her cell phone vibrated. The screen glowed soft blue, causing the room to light up eerily.

  A text from Vive. Busy today. Sorry. C U @ 9 w/ Taddy xo.

  It was the middle of the night…was Vive drunk?

  Days before, her friend had agreed to come over with Taddy to help style her hair and make-up for the Poppy White Sunday Morning Special Edition Show taping. The program would air live. Usually Vive’s role played with her as a journalist, while Taddy coached her along, as well.

  Poppy didn’t throw tabloid-style punches at Lex, because she knew better. But she hadn’t even thought about what she’d say about the wedding. There was no theme other than love. The guest list included everyone from Beyoncé to Gaga. All of Birdie’s rocker friends, too. Most importantly, her group: Taddy, Vive, Blake, Miguel, and Thor. They were joined by Massimo’s sister, Paloma, and Jemma, who’d been a part of his life since they were kids.

  Lex texted back, Come @ 8…alone. Time with Vive, if only for a few minutes, would clear up whether or not Taddy knew and had ever said anything to her in the past.

  Sure. U…OK?

  She thought about what she should say. If she replied no, Vive would be in a limo on her way over. That was how their friendship rolled. If she texted yes, then the woman would strut in whenever she felt like it. With that understanding, she stood her ground and typed, Yup c u @ 8.

  “Mi scusi, mi scusi,” Jemma chanted outside the door. “Buonanotte.”

  Suddenly, her guest was quiet. Thank God. Clack! Clack! Her heels went to the guest room and the door closed.

  The penthouse shifted into that quiet state where Lex could hear Massimo walking around on the hardwood floors. He shuffled his feet when he wore his slippers. She could always tell where he was, and right then he was in the kitchen, most likely getting cookies.

  Again, Vive texted. Why so early? Need to sleep in. Will be there w/ Taddy.

  “Jesus, Vive. Work with me here,” Lex mumbled. She adjusted M2 on her chest and thumbed the keys, pressing hard. Come alone at 8. Need to talk privately. Thanx, Viveca.

  That should do it.

  The nursery door opened. “Are the boys picking M2 up in the morning?” Massimo asked as he came in with a plate full of pastries.

  It wasn’t fair that his body wouldn’t be changing like hers over the next few months. His stomach would remain flat, his legs and arms would stay strong.

  “We’re all set.” She took a bite of the dessert as he put a piece in her mouth. Careful not to get a crumb on M2, she covered him, lowered her voice and said, “Thank you for agreeing to do the taping with me.”

  “You know I’d do anything for you. Even TV.”

  Previously, she had always hated the press, but in the last year, the media worked more and more to her advantage. Between the fashion covers, latest reviews of her collection, and the pre-wedding releases, the publicity had overall been positive.

  “Blake has not watched M2 before, has he?”

  “This will be his first day babysitting. You nervous?”

  Massimo shrugged. “Miguel will be with him, so he’ll be fine. If anything should happen, they can call my sorella.”

  Having Massimo’s sister, Paloma, offer to help was great, but Blake had to take to M2 if he ever wanted to be a dad one day. It bothered her that Blake hadn’t spent much time with her son. He might as well start tomorrow. If he stepped it up just a bit, she’d ask him to be the godfather of the next baby. Even with all the drama going on, her escape was thinking about their second child. She was getting excited.

  Her cell phone vibrated again. Massimo picked it up and looked at the screen. “Hmm.”

  “Tell Vive to fuck off.” Lex laughed from exhaustion. She rocked the chair faster. “Come on, baby. Go to sleep.”

  “Bella, it isn’t from Vive.”

  “My mom?” Maybe Birdie had some long confession she wanted to get off her chest and had decided to use text messaging to do it.

  “No. It’s Taddy.” He held up the screen for her to read as she nibbled on another cookie.

  What’s wrong? Vive said something is up w/ u.

  “I swear, nothing is private around here.”

  Lex didn’t know what to do.

  Morning Woody

  Lower East Side

  Restless, hot, and aroused, Blake slowly opened his eyes. He was in Miguel’s bed, being watched by his friend who lay next to him.

  Miguel’s black eyes focused on his body where his hand was stroking his cock, tugging at his balls.

  His breath caught in his throat. He licked his lips. Miguel lowered the sheet which separated them. Thick and beautiful, his erection grew. Blake watched in awe as he scooted closer beside him.

  This was just a dream, he told himself. But it felt real.

  “Don’t worry. I’m here now. I’ll protect you. I won’t ever let anything bad happen to you,” Miguel said confidently, his voice rough and low.

  He tried to say, “Yes…Mig,” but could only manage a whimper. Unable to answer, he wasn’t sure what safe felt like. He tried to speak again, but his friend’s lips met with his, kissing him passionately.

  “Give yourself to me.”

  “I…can’t.”

  “Submit to me, to us. I know you want to.”

  “Mig, I’m nervous,” Blake murmured in Miguel’s ear, knowing his friend was right. He wanted to give himself, all of him, to this man. He wished he was as free as Thor and Vive were about sex. But he wasn’t. “I can’t do my Seven Desires. We shouldn’t have agreed to them. They’re wrong for me.”

  “They are perfect for you. Let me have you. I won’t hurt you.”

  The safety of being in his arms caused every nerve in his entire body to prickle. Maybe he could trust him.

  He brought his hand over to Miguel’s cock and slowly stroked him, up then down, up then down. “You’re so sexy, Mig.”

  “And you’re handsome,” Miguel complimented.

  Blake became intoxicated by those words, as he’d never heard him speak that way about his appearance before. Instinctively, he brought his hand up over his face, the scar, and his ugliness. Miguel pulled his hand away and kissed his face, kissed along his imperfections.

  “I hate that you hide behind your hair. Let me see you.”

  Blake kissed him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come for you sooner. I didn’t know how bad things were for you.”

  Miguel played with his nipples, possibly to make him smile.

  He felt a tear. He’d cried so much he couldn’t remember what laughter felt like anymore.
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  “I can’t talk about it. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  Blake started to pull away, but Miguel brought his body down on top of him. “You’ll talk when you’re ready. I won’t rush you. I want you to trust me.” His big hands slid under him and massaged his ass.

  God, his friend worked his body in all the right places.

  Miguel lowered himself down to Blake’s cock. The heat from his open mouth warmed the head of his dick as he licked and sucked. All of his fears started to melt away. Was he desperate to be topped by Miguel?

  His face came up as he asked, “Do you trust me?”

  “I want to, Mig.” It would take time. He realized this, but in order to take the next step, he had to let Miguel in. “Fuck me now. Mig, do it now,” he urged, rolling over onto his stomach, acting as if he’d done it a million times and wasn’t an anal virgin. After all, this was his dream.

  “You want it doggie style?” Miguel joked, climbing on top of him and the back of his neck. “This is going to feel so good, for us both. My cock inside of you is where it belongs.”

  He arched his backside into Miguel’s erection. “I want to be a part of you. I want to share myself with you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Put a condom on!”

  The deep, hot penetration of Miguel’s cock suddenly burned as it found its way inside him. His hands wrapped tight around Blake’s neck as he sunk his flesh in.

  “I said, put a—”

  Everything became black. He could no longer see the morning sunshine as his face smashed into the pillows and dark.

  “You want my gift?”

  That voice.

  “Mig, I changed my mind.” His cries choked his throat. “We can’t. I don’t wanna bare back.”

  “Shut the fuck up, you bug chaser.”

  The nightmare returned. “Stop!” Blake screamed.

  “I should’ve bred you a long time ago.”

  It wasn’t Miguel. Those weren’t the words of love he’d been hearing from his friend.

  “You little bitch.” Diego, his ex-husband, his demon.

  The dream came crashing around him. It was over...