RUIN: A M/M Romance Novel Page 10

  “I could never picture myself doing something like this, Griffon.” I sit back on the bench.

  He laughs. “Yeah, I figured that.”

  I laugh too. “We have maids at home who do this sort of thing,” I say, referring to the cleaning. “The butlers take out the trash. I think just now…” I thumb over my shoulder toward the door. “Is the first time in my entire life that I’ve ever taken out the garbage.”

  Griffon continues to tidy up. “I believe that.

  “I have to work and not just to pass the time but for the cash.”

  I nod.

  “We struggle to pay the rent sometimes, always have. So now that I’m older, I do what I can to help Babbo.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I used to have a job at a pizzeria joint too, but they fired me when I was caught snorting in the bathroom.” He laughs. “I heard that building burned down to the ground like a week later. So, oh well.” He laughs. “So now I work here. It looks like gross work, but Baby pays me by the hour well. And I don’t have to talk to people or socialize, so technically, it’s my dream job.”

  I laugh a bit, realizing that I find just watching him peaceful.

  Standing, I pull off the long-sleeve T-shirt I’m wearing since it’s gotten so warm in here. When I manage to get it over my head, I find Griffon staring at me.

  I remain still just breathing, attempting to figure out what’s swimming in his breathtaking eyes.

  He swallows.

  “I think the air-conditioning in here is off.” I look around. “It appears Baby shuts everything down when he leaves.”

  Griffon is frozen. “Yeah, it’s hot. It’s very hot in here.”

  I smirk.

  I allow him to stare.

  Slowly, he places the filthy rag in his hands down and stalks toward me.

  I don’t move, only wait to see what he’ll do.

  My eyes drift down to the grease stains on his white T-shirt. They do nothing to make him look any less gorgeous beneath the dim overhead lighting.

  He comes closer almost pressing his lips to mine, forcing me to breathe in the bleach and the sweat and the musty scent all over him. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” His warm breaths puff against my lips.

  “Oh, but I thought I already was?”

  Griffon smiles and waits.

  I narrow my eyes examining the gray hue of his own. “You already own me.”

  “Do I?” His fingers curl into the waistband of my jeans.

  “Yes,” I whisper, snapping my teeth softly, searching for his top lip, sucking it into mine. Then my mouth takes his in a soft kiss that only grows more desperate as he undoes my belt, the clank of the buckle loud in the silence of this gym.

  It all falls down around my knees.

  Warm air whispers over my ass cheeks and thighs when I’m exposed, and my cock bounces out hard and angry, soaked at the tip. The direct result of this stupid fucking game we’ve been playing all goddamn day.

  Griffon disappears from my view and sinks down to his knees. His hand palms my ass cheek, squeezing. The sensation shoots straight to my balls and makes my cock twitch.

  I thread my fingers into his hair, loving the sight of his mouth open wide, certain it can go wider. It’ll have to. I smear my fingers over his red, wet lips and the two days’ worth of stubble that’s formed around his mouth.

  Gentler than soft, I stroke his skin, reveling in how beautiful he is in front of me on his knees like a slave ready to worship the boy who isn’t worth a fuck.

  My chest rattles when his big gray eyes open to look me right in the eye.

  The head of my dick which drips with precum pokes at his open mouth, painting his lips shiny beneath the light. I thrust, allowing his hot breaths to skate over the head. It causes every nerve ending to scream for more, more, more.

  Stroking his hair, I do it one more time, then two more, teasing myself for what I know I’m about to have. Griffon doesn’t move, only keeps his eyes on everything I do, allowing me to control him.

  I still completely for a moment, then let go of his hair.

  When I do, he wraps his hand around my cock and smiles.

  His lips slide over the head and slowly, so fucking slowly, his mouth opens wide and he takes me deep down his throat, slicking the entire length of me in his saliva, swallowing me whole.

  I growl like a beast and take everything he has to offer.

  GRIFFON

  BOYS WILL BE BOYS…

  Messy. Dirty. Fuck.

  His cock snakes down the length of my throat. I open wider and wider as he ruts his hips into my mouth.

  A moan leaves him followed by a hiss when he slows then pushes past my lips, forcing me to take his cock deep, making sure my lips reach all the way to the base where he’s shaved clean.

  Beautiful.

  I back away gagging, choking, spitting up saliva, loving the salty hot taste of precum on my lips. Ryker’s fingers twist in my hair and with a groan, he shoves his dick back in my mouth, fucking it slow and deliberate, hissing, grunting, making me a mess!

  With a gasp for air, I pull away and use the time to jerk him off. I work the length of him fast and hard and suck each one of his balls into my mouth, inhaling the unique scent of his skin that’s mouthwatering.

  His stomach muscles bunch and clench and his balls tighten, pink and pretty.

  “Fuck, Griffon,” he whispers.

  I shake my inner maracas and put my mouth on him again, loving the way his big cock stretches out my jaw and turns my lips tingly and red.

  His grip in my hair tightens.

  Up and down, I bob on the length of him, using my hand simultaneously to jerk him off. The movement becomes crazed. Wet and loud and messy.

  I choke on his cock like a good boy.

  He growls.

  I chance a glance at him to find his mouth open wide like he’s attempting to get as much air as he can. His blues are at half-mast. Sweat drips from his forehead and his dark hair is wild around his face.

  He’s looking in my direction, but he isn’t focused.

  He fucks and he fucks and he fucks.

  The thick vein that runs along the length of his swollen cock is in danger of breaking right through the fucking skin. I suck him off with a face covered in saliva and precum. It slicks my cheeks and my neck and my hand.

  Ryker moans.

  I groan.

  With force, he cups the back of my head, pulling me to him, making me take all nine inches of his fat yummy dick.

  I gag. I choke. But, I don’t stop. I keep going, taking it and taking it and taking it.

  I let him have his way with my mouth.

  A growl leaves him just as his lower back becomes rigid and I know it’s on its way. He holds me close, peering right into my eyes with his blue ones. His cock pulses. It jumps. It pumps cum into my mouth with every grunt that leaves his mouth.

  I open wide, taking it all, swallowing down every single drop, tasting him, savoring him, allowing him to claim me for his own.

  He doesn’t move, only thrusts a few more times slowly, making sure he’s emptied every last drop. Tears of asphyxiation leave my eyes and dribble down my temples and into my ears.

  I remain on my knees, staring up at him.

  His semi-hard cock remains in my mouth, the head of it still near my tonsils.

  And I swear I could stay like this forever…

  In supplication, on my knees, at his mercy.

  Ryker runs his thumb across my cheek lovingly and smiles.

  I expect him to say something, but he doesn’t utter a word.

  Then, he pulls out, slowly, watching his own dick retreat from the depths of me, allowing my tongue reprieve when the monster makes its escape and he tucks it back into his jeans, stealing it from me.

  I wipe my mouth with my hand.

  He stares at me blankly, still breathing hard. “I guess you have to be up early tomorrow?”

  I nod just once.

  He smil
es. “I suppose I do too.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “Let’s go for a short walk and after that short walk, I’m going to go home.” He shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them allowing me to see how haunted they are. Everything he just said about what he’s planning to do when he leaves here sounds like a strategy he’s going to try his best not to deviate from. “And then tomorrow morning, we’re going to skip classes and I want you to meet me somewhere.”

  Of course, I don’t protest or say I can’t. “Where?”

  “Frank’s favorite place.”

  Who?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  RYKER

  THE FUNNY THING ABOUT birthdays when you’re a recovering addict, is that you have no clue how to celebrate them or even where. Most people will go out to a fancy restaurant or they’ll have a grand slam of a party at one of this city’s finest locations. But, as we know, parties lead to drinking and drinking for dudes like me eventually leads to the use of illegal narcotics.

  This year, I think I’ll celebrate my birthday a little differently…

  The sun is high this morning and the air is fresh and clean.

  I woke early this morning, decided not to smoke the cigarette I always have before I leave the house, texted Griffon, and then I came here.

  He’s already fifteen minutes late.

  And for just a second I wonder if he’s going to show until I look up from where I’m leaning against the wall and find him jogging toward me.

  He stops, breathless, bends forward and puts his hands on his knees.

  Walking over to him, I pat him on the back. “Why in the fuck did you run here?”

  He stands straight, still breathing heavily. “I woke up late.”

  I smile when he grimaces, sucking in more oxygen.

  He works hard to catch his breath. He glances up to the building just behind us, still heaving like an overworked racehorse, his face smashed up into some exercise-induced expression. “You want to come here?” He tosses me a look as if the thought of wanting to visit The Guggenheim seems just ridiculous. “I thought maybe you wanted to go to the park or something.”

  “No,” I say simply.

  “Frank’s favorite place.” He looks up at the massive, white cylindrical building that’s wider at the top than it is at the bottom behind us.

  “Yeah.”

  “As in Frank Lloyd Wright—the man who built this place…”

  “Yes.” I chuckle.

  Griffon squeezes his eyes shut, then looks at me once more, still huffing. “You didn’t invite anyone else here with us?”

  My eyes narrow. “Of course not.”

  “Okay, then.” Griffon stands straight.

  I yank him into my side and press a kiss to his temple. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

  GRIFFON

  WE STAND IN FRONT of Jackson Pollock’s Alchemy. A piece Pollock had painted in 1947. It’s an explosion of color—yellow, red, blue, pink against the backdrop of a dark canvas.

  Tilting my head from left to right, I absorb the sight of it unsure if I see exactly what Ryker sees. To me it just looks like someone had an epileptic fit and decided to throw a bucket of paint on a canvas.

  But Ryker seems enthralled by the painting, so I keep my sentiments to myself…

  He rubs his jaw.

  His dark hair is everywhere this morning making him look wilder than ever and he’s wearing his usual laid-back attire—a simple T-shirt, jeans, and boots. He looks perfect and fresh and today he doesn’t smell like Marlboros.

  Weird, but, good.

  It’s quiet in here this time of the morning.

  I spin around to find the patrons in here more or less admiring the interior architecture of this building rather than viewing the art on the walls.

  I glance back at Ryker.

  He points at the painting. “This painting reminds me of my thoughts sometimes.”

  I give him a blank look.

  He sucks in a breath. “You know…chaotic, jumbled up, confusing.”

  “I see.” I stand closer to him.

  “But, I like what it represents.”

  “And what is that?” I arch a brow, knowing that I’m not qualified enough to give much of an opinion on that. I am far from being an art aficionado.

  “Well, the meaning of ‘alchemy,’ Griffon…” His eyes land on me.

  “The magical process of transformation, creation or combination.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  My brows crash together.

  He drags his fingers through his hair and smiles. “So, even though this painting is chaotic, there is transformation here and meaning. Some purpose in this chaos that will one day transform itself into something much greater. It will be greater.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Ryker chuckles. “You don’t get it?”

  “No, no, no, I do.” I make a face. “I just wonder about the things you say.” I give him a long look. “They feel like they hold some alternate meaning all the time, Ryker. Something you aren’t sharing with me.”

  He blinks. “That’s just who I am, Griffon.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” I laugh. “But…”

  We walk through the large gallery, examining each piece we pass.

  “I used to come here a lot as a kid with Bella, when she was better.” Ryker smiles. “It was fun. Then we’d go and get ice cream and walk around the park. She was fun to be around then, and she liked kids. She liked me a lot. She always said she’d have more children and we’d have a bigger family, but it never happened.”

  We take the spiral walkway to the next floor.

  Ryker smirks. “I think she feels trapped, like I do, living with my father.”

  It had certainly confused me that with all the money the Benedict family has, and all the freedom Ryker clearly has, that he doesn’t have his own place, regardless of his age. New York City rich kids who were children of the elite always had their own fancy penthouse apartments somewhere in the city.

  But Ryker continues to live with his parents, just as I do.

  We walk some more and stop when we are standing in front of a golden sculpture of a mermaid. It’s a scary-looking thing with sharp teeth, claws, and wild eyes.

  “Francis Barnaby Benedict has never seen me as anything more than his gay, druggie son who probably won’t ever become much of anything in this life.” Sadness swims around in his irises. “But I am going to be great, believe me.” He inhales. “Do you believe me, Griffon?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He smiles and tosses his arm around my shoulder.

  I swing my arm around his side, pulling him close, wondering exactly how I ended up here, with this guy, feeling all sorts of things I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.

  “I love you,” I whisper, feeling as crazy as I did the first time I’d told him the words, when I barely knew him. Now, nothing but truth and depth linger in every syllable. I mean them and that makes me terrified for the future.

  “I know.” He smiles. “I love you more, Griffon.”

  “Do you think we are the same?” I toss him a look.

  We stop, immediately.

  Ryker faces me. “You don’t want to be like me, Griffon.” His lip curls up into a snarl. “You might not have the best life and your mother is gone but you’re nothing like me.”

  I jerk my head back at the disgust he throws in his own face.

  He shakes his head vigorously. “You’re nothing like me, Griffon.”

  “Okay, fuck. I’m not then. Jesus Christ.” I search his eyes and find pain there.

  But before I can ask the meaning of it, or to understand it, the look that had been sketched across his beautiful features is gone in a flash like lightning.

  So, we set off walking, sinking back into comfortable silence.

  The whispers of the patrons’ crawl into my ears. Ryker’s breathing sets in sync with mine and we move to the next collection of work.

 
; “Can I meet your mother?”

  Ryker gives me a weird gaze. “Um, yeah, sure, I suppose.”

  I know it’s a strange request but being that I’d lost mine so long ago, I’m curious about someone else’s, especially Ryker’s.

  “We have dinner almost every night together. But Francis is away on business for a few weeks, so he won’t be there. It’s probably the best time.” His smile is weak.

  “Okay, so you’re inviting me to dinner with your mother?”

  “Yes.” He grins.

  “Okay, sounds cool, Ryker, really cool.”

  We stop.

  I kiss his lips softly. “Thank you.”

  His blue eyes burn into mine. “I know this probably sounds crazy, Griffon, but no one has ever looked at me the way you do, like I could be someone better.”

  My smile is brittle.

  Yeah, me either.

  “I’m just a fuckup. A guy who can’t stop snorting blow, who’ll be dead soon.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  He makes his hair messy. “It’s what they all think about me…I just know it’s exactly what Doctor Azad thinks, Bella thinks, and most certainly my father. Even Baby and Pierce.” His voice lowers to a shameful whisper. “And maybe they’re right.”

  “They aren’t,” I say firmly.

  He gazes out through the glass to all the traffic which moves along Fifth Avenue.

  “But the truth is, Griffon, since I’ve met you, I haven’t wanted to touch anything. No booze. No drugs. I’ve even avoided most of my bastard friends like Paris, who do nothing but push the shit on me because they do it themselves.” He smiles. “I’ve even stopped smoking cigarettes.”

  Yeah, me too.

  It’s the biggest compliment anyone’s ever given me in my whole life.

  My eyes narrow and confusion skates over my features.

  With a laugh, he steps closer, getting in my space, dusting me with the spicy, crisp scent of his skin. “Griffon, I think you are my new addiction.”

  RYKER

  “I CAN’T TAKE THIS.” Griffon folds up the tiny piece of paper and shoves it back into my chest.