A Portrait of Emily Read online

  His tongue swirled around Jeff’s cockhead, scooping up the copious precum, swallowing it down, greedily taking the whole throbbing length as far as he could into his mouth and throat. He gulped and his body spasmed as Jeff slid a finger inside him, each pass over his prostate sending fire and ice zinging straight to his balls.

  “Uh…” Now it was his turn to protest that he was coming too soon. He released Jeff and pulled himself up into Jeff’s arms. “Want you to fuck me…”

  “Want that too…” Jeff reached for the lube then warmed the gel in his hand before inserting one, then two fingers into Peter’s opening. Peter sat astride Jeff’s thighs then lowered himself slowly, impaling himself on the hard flesh, gasping as his opening was stretched, and each glorious inch of Jeff’s cock slid deep inside him.

  “Oh…yeah…” Peter’s head fell back in ecstasy and his hips moved up and down, meeting every one of Jeff’s thrusts in a mutually created rhythm that took both of them closer and closer to the brink of orgasm.

  Jeff raised himself up then eased Peter onto his back. Without breaking their rhythm he drove his cock even deeper inside his lover, thrusting harder, faster, his breath quickening in his chest. He gazed down at Peter’s face, transformed by his ecstasy, his eyes dark with desire, his lips parted in expectation of Jeff’s kiss. Their mouths met and Peter wrapped his arms around Jeff’s neck, locking them together in one long, rapturous kiss. Jeff squeezed a hand between their tightly pressed torsos and grasped Peter’s rock hard erection, pumping it, urging it rapidly toward release.

  Peter shuddered and gasped into Jeff’s mouth and Jeff groaned, unable to control the rush of his orgasm. “Ah, babe…I’m coming.”

  “Yes…” Peter arched under him, and the sensation of his lover’s semen surging between their bodies and spilling through his fingers took Jeff over the edge. One last thrust, his body stiffened, hard and taut as a strung bow as he climaxed. Spasm after spasm wracked his body and a thousand lights sparkled behind his closed eyelids as he filled his lover with his hot seed.

  He collapsed over Peter, burying his face in the hollow between Peter’s neck and shoulder.

  “Beautiful,” Peter murmured.

  And if Jeff could have found his voice at that moment, he would have agreed.

  Later, as they lay in each other’s arms, watching the lengthening shadows reach across the bedroom wall, Peter remembered the strange phone call. “Oh, I almost forgot, you had a phone call earlier. Some guy with an accent. Wouldn’t leave a message, but he knew my name.” His fingers strayed over Jeff’s left nipple, teasing gently.

  “What kind of accent?” Jeff gripped Peter’s hand to stop the sweet torture.

  “I’m not sure. It was faint…maybe Hispanic?”

  A flicker of wariness crossed Jeff’s face for just a moment. “Obviously he didn’t leave a name?”

  “Uh-uh,” Peter smiled at him. “Are you hiding a secret life from me? Should I be worried, hire a private investigator?”

  “No.” Jeff stretched his long powerful body against Peter’s and held him tightly. “I’ve told you all there is to know about my past, believe me. Joey is the only one I knew who had any kind of accent. It couldn’t have been him. I haven’t heard from him in years.”

  “Kind of strange though that whoever it was knew who I was.”

  “Not really. Think of all the press coverage we had after the Frank Meeks fiasco. Our names were linked in several articles.”

  “Yeah, that’s true.” Peter unwrapped himself from Jeff’s embrace. “Come on, I’m famished. I set the table outside, but I think we missed the sunset.” Pulling on a pair of shorts, he left the bedroom and ran downstairs to the kitchen to prepare their meal.

  Jeff sat up in bed, his eyes fixed on the open door. He frowned as he mulled over the information Peter had just given him. Could it possibly have been…? No, surely not after all this time. He sat a while deep in thought until he heard Peter call him from downstairs.

  “Hey lazybones, did you fall asleep?”

  “No. I’ll be right down.” He headed for the bathroom to clean up before dinner, deciding he’d think about this later.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Emily Hastings pulled her white polo shirt down over her head, and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. At twenty-two she still looked like a teenager. She turned sideways for another look and wished that her breasts were bigger like her cousin Gloria’s. Gloria was stacked. She’d overheard a couple of guys say just that when she and Gloria had been out shopping together the other day; and Emily had to agree. Gloria was stacked—and beautiful. She and Johnny, her handsome husband, made quite a stunning couple.

  Emily wasn’t envious exactly. She just wished she had more to offer her boyfriend, Jerry. He was waiting for her downstairs while she changed into her tennis whites. Last night he had asked her to marry him and she had said yes. She hadn’t told her parents yet knowing her father would react unfavorably.

  Most other fathers would look on Jerry as a great catch. He had a great job and wealthy parents. He was tall, attractive, and athletic. All the right ingredients for a Hastings girl to latch onto. More importantly, Emily loved him. She had not believed that possible. Not after years of trying to hold men at bay, never wanting to get close enough to be intimate. Every time she’d met some eager beau wanting to get to know her better, she had panicked at the thought of what might happen if he tried to kiss her or fondle her breasts. The idea of it had made her want to throw up.

  With Jerry, it had been different. He was so kind and gentle, as if he understood her fear. The first time he kissed her, she had frozen in his arms, her lips remaining stiff and unyielding against his. He hadn’t pushed her away calling her frigid or tried to force her mouth open like some of the other guys had. He had smiled into her eyes, kissed the tip of her nose, and, taking her hand in his, had suggested they go for a little stroll together. He had told her of his childhood, of feeling he couldn’t compete with his older brother, of his struggle for recognition in his father’s eyes, until one day he’d suddenly realized he didn’t have to care what others thought of him—he was his own person—and he was damned proud of it. He had good grades, he was a champion swimmer, and, he was suddenly aware, girls liked him.

  “I get the feeling you don’t know just how beautiful you really are,” he’d told her that night. “And you’re funny and amusing. It feels great just being with you.”

  Emily had looked up at him in amazement. No one had ever told her that before—especially the beautiful part. She wondered if he was saying this just so he could take advantage of her.

  “Don’t let anyone ever put you down Emily. You’re bright and beautiful—and it’s time you realized it.” His goodnight kiss had been a feather light touch of his lips on her cheek.

  They had seen a lot of each other over the next few weeks and, gradually, Emily fell in love. Despite the feeling of warmth and safety Jerry instilled in her, she wondered how he would react if she ever told him what her father had done to her and Paula, her sister. She was terrified that he might be disgusted and end their relationship. She couldn’t bear the thought of that. Sometimes, when she looked at his strong but gentle face and clear blue eyes, she felt he might just understand. Jerry was a good person, but he was not naive. He knew there was evil in the world and he knew it could touch anyone regardless of who they were. Often, because of whom they were. Still, the words would not come and she was ashamed that she could love him so much, but not trust him with this secret.

  She had asked her sister Paula if she told her husband about what had happened and Paula had looked at her in horror. “What are you talking about? Nothing like that ever happened to us, Emily.”

  Her sister’s reaction caused Emily total bewilderment. How could she not remember those nights of terror? Later, she realized that Paula was in complete denial. It was never to be brought up again. She had considered asking her brother Anthony’s advice. He had returned from military sc
hool a tall, leanly muscular young man; a far cry from the shy and timid little boy he had once been. But he was aloof and distant, spending as little time at home as he possibly could, at odds with the father who resented the time Anthony spent away from home.

  No one would have guessed the emotions Emily harbored, unseen by everyone she met. Despite everything she’d suffered, or perhaps because of it, she had learned to smile quickly and often, to mask her true feelings. No one knew the depth of those feelings, except her father. When in one another’s company, they circled each other like wary animals, never quite sure of the other’s next move. He would goad her sometimes, with an unpleasant remark, but she would never rise to the bait. Never would she show, in front of others, just how much she despised him. But she knew he knew from the looks of loathing she would cast his way when no one was around to see—and at such times, it gave her satisfaction to think she might just cause an icy shiver to run down his spine.

  He had long ago stopped coming to her room in the night. When she became a young woman she no longer interested him. Jerry had no idea how much Emily hated her father. He had sensed a tension between them, but when he’d asked what the problem was she had changed the subject immediately. If he wondered why she was reticent in replying, he didn’t pursue it.

  He was waiting for her at the foot of the staircase. His smile, as always, made her heart race and she ran into his arms, kissing his warm lips and snuggling into the strong, protective shelter of his embrace. There had been a time when Emily could not have imagined wanting, needing, to be this close to any man, to have his lips thrill her and desire to rage in her blood, but Jerry wasn’t any man, he was hers, and she reveled in the love she knew he had for her.

  “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured against her lips. “Gloria and Johnny are here already waiting for you on the patio.”

  “Sorry…” She kissed him again. “Did they get something to drink out there?”

  “Orange juice and coffee. They’re fine. Come on; let’s beat the pants off them.” They picked up their tennis gear and walked, hand in hand, out to the patio.

  Emily ran over to hug Gloria and Johnny. “Gee, I’m glad you could make it today. Haven’t seen you guys in ages.”

  “Jerry has been keeping you way too much to himself these days,” Gloria teased. “It was good of him to include us in your busy schedule today.”

  “Oh, right, like you’re sitting around, twiddling your thumbs waiting for an invitation.”

  “And we get to see you twice this week,” Gloria reminded her. “You are coming to my birthday party on Saturday, aren’t you?”

  “It’s the grand portrait unveiling.” Johnny slipped an arm around his wife. “She’d be crushed if you weren’t there to ‘Ooh and Ah’ over it—it’s a Peter Brandon you know.”

  Gloria gave her husband a playful dig in the ribs. “Ignore him, babies. Just wait ‘til you see it though. Peter’s made me look even more fabulous than I am.”

  They all laughed together and Gloria took Emily’s arm as they walked over to the tennis court. “Where’s your father?” she whispered as they walked ahead of the men.

  “Away, thank goodness. He won’t be back ‘til Friday.”

  Gloria was the one to whom Emily had turned when her mother had denied her support. She had been horrified by what Emily told her, but had believed every word. Even as a little girl, Gloria had never cared for her Uncle Charlie. There was always something there, beneath the surface that she found intolerably creepy. Gloria had been revolted at an early age by her uncle’s roving hands and always managed to distance herself from him at any family gathering.

  Johnny had noticed her obvious dislike of her uncle after he met the Hasting family for the first time, but she didn’t dare share Emily’s secret with him, much as she hated keeping anything from him. So she had made up some silly story about how he’d embarrassed her once in front of the entire family about her lack of tennis prowess. Johnny had seemed to buy it and she had reminded herself not to look too good on the tennis court the first two or three times they played together.

  She grinned at her cousin. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself Emily.”

  “Jerry asked me to marry him last night.”

  “How wonderful…Of course you said yes.”

  “Uh huh, but we haven’t told anyone else yet.”

  “I am so happy for you Emily.” Gloria turned to the two men walking behind them. “Emily just gave me the good news. Congratulations Jerry.”

  Johnny raised an eyebrow. “What’s this—a job promotion or something?”

  Jerry smiled happily. “I asked Emily to marry me and she said yes.”

  “Hey, congratulations.”

  Gloria steered Emily toward the tennis courts. “How do you think your dad will take the news?”

  “With his usual bile I expect. He’s already shown he doesn’t like Jerry; but he likes the pedigree well enough.”

  “He always was a snob. Well, I for one am thrilled for you. Jerry seems like a great guy—not to mention hot.”

  Emily chuckled. “I’ll tell him you think he’s hot…and you’re right. He’s also unpretentious. You’d never know he came from all that money.”

  “Well, he’s not exactly marrying a pauper. As much as I don’t care for your father, I have to admit he’ll leave you very well set up when he finally kicks the bucket.” Emily was silent for a moment and Gloria added, “Sorry. I’m being crass. Don’t pay any attention to me.”

  She quickly changed the subject to remind Emily again of her impending birthday party. “You’ll get to meet Peter. You know, the artist I told you about who was in a coma for years—and his partner, Jeff. Jeff’s a private detective. They are the most divine looking men you will ever see.”

  “Gloria, why are you even looking at other men when you have Johnny?”

  “No harm in looking, Emily. When I stop looking, I’ll be dead.” She laughed then added, “But I have to admit there’s not much point—he’s gay. Jeff is his lover, sweetie—and they are devoted to one another.”

  “Oh, what a waste,” Emily said.

  “Isn’t it though? Except I don’t think either one of them would agree with us on that!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Jeff?” Monica, Jeff’s receptionist, called over his intercom.

  “Yes, Monica?”

  “There’s an Alfonso Gutierrez here to see you. I don’t have him down for an appointment, but he says he only needs a few minutes of your time.”

  “Okay, send him in.”

  Jeff frowned and looked at his appointment schedule. Nothing for an hour. Most of his clients didn’t care for early morning appointments so he usually used the time to catch up on paperwork and billing. He got up from his desk as the door opened then froze, recognizing the man who appeared in the doorway.

  “Joey.”

  “Hey, amigo.”

  Jeff’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed across the room at the man he had thought he would never see again. In six years he had hardly changed at all. Still tall and slender, still the honey colored skin glowing with health and vitality, the thick black hair combed back from his brow, emphasizing the sleek planes of his face and the green of his eyes. He closed the door behind him and, with a dancer’s easy grace, walked slowly toward Jeff and into his arms.

  “I’ve missed you, amigo mio,” he whispered, then took Jeff’s lips in a long and passionate kiss. Several moments ticked by as Jeff gave into the sensation that coursed through his blood. This beautiful body he’d thought he would never hold again was pressed against his, bringing alive every fiber and nerve ending in a tumultuous sensation of desire. His arms tightened around Joey’s slim and supple body and he could feel the man’s erection pressing against his own burgeoning cock.

  Jesus, what am I doing?

  Realization of the full measure of just what had happened hit Jeff like a slap in the face and he pulled away from Joey’s embr
ace holding him by the shoulders at arms’ length. Joey smiled sweetly and reached out to fondle Jeff’s crotch, but Jeff moved away to the comparative safety of his desk.

  Joey smirked. “You are obviously very pleased to see me.”

  Once again in control, Jeff’s gray eyes glittered with anger. “You walk in here after six years using a false name and expect me to just fall into your arms like nothing happened?”

  “Well, you didn’t resist my kiss…and you got a hard on. Don’t deny it—I felt it.”

  “I won’t deny it. You always did have the power to turn me on instantly. It was always about the sex with you and me. But things have changed now…”

  “Oh yeah, I know all about that. ‘The gifted artist, Peter Brandon…’ I read all about you two in the magazines. Well, you certainly landed yourself a big fish! He’s loaded, I understand.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This Peter is wealthy, no? Well, I could use some of that wealth. I’m in a bit of a mess financially. I owe to some people who are getting impatient. What about talking to your wealthy boyfriend and—”

  “Stop right there,” Jeff cut in. “Whatever you have in mind you can forget. Jesus, you think I’m with Peter because of his money?”

  Joey laughed. “Oh, come on. It doesn’t hurt that the guy is loaded. Makes things a lot easier for you, eh?”

  Jeff sat down behind his desk and stared at Joey, the first traces of dislike on his face. “This is why you’re here? To see if I could get Peter to float you a loan?”

  “No, not a loan, amigo. I have a loan. I want to be free of that loan.”

  Jeff fought back the angry retort that trembled on his lips. “Why don’t you tell me what kind of trouble you’re in? Maybe I can figure out a way to help.”