Eye Candy and Achy Hearts Read online

  Love and romance have eluded Jeffrey all his life. He still lives in his mother’s house, he hates his job as an accountant, and he’s never been in love. In desperation, he signs up as AchyHeart1945 for an online dating site. For three months, he enjoys late-night exchanges with a man using the screen name EyeCandy2933. What began as a way to ease Jeffrey’s aching, lonely heart erupts into a real-life sexual encounter when, on a whim, he invites his younger friend to join him in a one-night-only, no-string-attached, steamy hook-up. And EyeCandy2933 accepts.

  But online fantasies can easily devolve into disappointment when confronted with reality. Will that be the case on this Valentine’s Day? Jeffrey has finally reached a point when he has to take a chance or go out of his mind. But when AchyHeart1945 finally meets EyeCandy2933, everything changes. For good or for bad is yet to be determined. Jeffrey may discover that love and romance at any age can be an amazing thing.

  This story is a work of original fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  This book remains the copyrighted property of the author.

  Copyright 2016 by Adrianna Dane

  Cover Art Designs by T. A. Gallup

  This story was originally released in February 2013 by Amber Quill Press/Amber Allure

  CAUTION: This story contains explicit sexual situations and strong language. You must be over the age of 18 years of age to read this story.

  Eye Candy

  and

  Achy Hearts

  By Adrianna Dane

  Dream Romantic Unlimited, LLC

  Table of Contents

  EYE CANDY AND ACHY HEARTS

  AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

  NETWORKING LINKS

  Eye Candy and Achy Hearts

  Friday night. It had been a long, exhausting week of not-so-happy surprises. I was desperate. I did this, perhaps selfishly, just for me.

  I guess the devil had me by the balls when I sent off that message asking if he wanted to hook up in RL. That’s real life for those not in the know. I went full-out and revealed, in what felt like anonymous fashion, ’cause it was online and one can hide so easily behind a computer screen, my deepest, sexiest wet-dream fantasy. An online relationship can give you that kind of freedom. Makes you feel like you can just throw your fantasy out there, be someone you’re not. Be someone you want to be. I took my chances.

  An email response from EyeCandy2933 told me I could have that fantasy. He wanted to give it to me. Sure, we’d been corresponding for several months now. Little flirtations, some pretty hot and sexy. Other times, late at night, we’d chat into the wee hours of the morning about anything and everything. The story of my life with relationships, I guess. I could ignore the email response he’d just sent me. I could ignore my yearnings. After all, I wasn’t the type to adventure out. I was a simple nerdy accountant who worked in a dusty little corner office with no windows. I was someone who didn’t have steamy, hot love affairs.

  I thought about it for several days. There was something between us—EyeCandy2933 and me. We hadn’t just exchanged one-handed steamy explicit messages. We had actually “talked” about stuff that seemed to matter. So I took a chance, and almost gave myself a heart attack in the process.

  I’ll be there.

  I sent the message off, my heart pounding. What had I just done?

  But just the thought of what awaited kept me hard and hurting for the last few days as I tried to steel myself for the mounting pressure of tax season as credits, debits, and deadlines pummeled at my brain. I needed to breathe, I needed space, I needed a fantasy even more than I needed oxygen.

  I knew from our exchanges over the last three months—and I don’t mean explicit photos of his cock or mine—I knew EyeCandy2933 was literate, he knew how to spell, he could string his thoughts together in intelligent fashion. I knew his photo likely wasn’t a real image of himself, but it didn’t matter. I was certainly no prize. Online relationships weren’t always known for being truthful. But the way he represented himself in his emails, I found him very sexy. Word-sexy. My kind of guy sexy.

  We exchanged thoughts on the most recent bestseller, on financial matters—cliffs and crises. We argued in friendly fashion. We agreed that the latest hot action flick left us lukewarm. We both liked yoga and hiking. He liked Spanish food; I liked American. He had his own apartment; I still lived with my elderly mother. He was finishing up a doctorate in Latin American studies; I was established in a job as a CPA and well into a somewhat mundane career that no longer satisfied in the way it once had. He liked dark chocolate; I like butterscotch.

  In my bedroom at my mother’s house, late at night, when I was feeling my loneliest, I’d lock the door, stretch out on the twin-sized bed in my plaid boxers, a cold bottle of beer on the nightstand, and I’d flip open my laptop. Eyecandy2933 would be there waiting. I’d envision him sitting there on his bed—a big one. Tight bikini underwear that left nothing to the imagination, ripped bod—fuck it made me so hard thinking about what he might be like in RL. Even though I was a coward, he never failed me.

  I couldn’t believe we were finally going to meet. Would he be disappointed? We’d never gone live cam—too real, I guess. I think we both wanted the fantasy of what might be waiting on the other side. Would I be disappointed, when we finally met in person?

  Since Valentine’s Day to be exact—three days ago—the anticipation about meeting EyeCandy2933 was more stressful than knowing that my boss had just slimmed down his staff and informed us at a staff meeting that those of us left behind would have to pull our weight plus some. Translated, that meant stuffing forty-eight hours of work into twenty-four. This job was going to be the death of me. I hated it.

  As my midnight hour drew closer, I kept thinking I should cancel. I glanced at the pile of paperwork on my desk that needed to be translated and transformed into tax advantages for our clients. I knew I wasn’t going to cancel. I definitely needed the fantasy.

  John Smith and Douglas Jones. That’s the name the room was registered in. It was the type of hotel where the desk attendant didn’t ask questions. Not too sleazy, let’s just call them discreet. As long as the money wasn’t counterfeit, they could have cared less whose name was on the register.

  On the night in question, my hand trembled as I slipped the key card into the door slot on the sixth floor of the Remington Hotel on West Main Street. Fuck! Red light. Try it again. Bzzzt! The story of my life. One more time. Three’s the charm, right? Green light meant go. Bells ringing. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Open Sesame. Stupid kid’s tale, as I entered my own Aladdin’s cave filled with what I hoped would be my personal jewel of exotic delight.

  Opening the door to the hotel room, I couldn’t believe my luck. Brave soul was he. Far too trusting, I think. But he was young, not so jaded as I. At least he looked quite young. Maybe when I got closer I’d find the age lines that didn’t show up at a distance in a darkened room. He sat there, his back to me—his sexy, naked back, a slight curve to his deliciously long spine. Adonis or Cupid, I couldn’t decide. He was everything I’d fantasized he would be.

  Resting next to him on the king-sized bed was a heart-shaped box. Looked like white satin, with a big red bow. But it wasn’t the candy box that caught my attention, it was the cute eye candy in the lacy white satin bikini undies—panties that matched the pattern of white satin on the candy box.

  His online photo didn’t do him justice. No way, no how. I was salivating as I gazed at
him. EyeCandy2933 certainly knew how to set up a sexy scene. I had to give him that. To the side, on the table, sat a bottle of cabernet, nicely chilling.

  They were a set—he and the candy box. Small red bows decorated each side of his hips. Sitting there, on the bed like that, he held my rapt attention and my week of painful casualties slipped away. Casualties. Frustrated fantasies that never came to fruition.

  Still, they hurt.

  Of particular note was when Harvey Smith, the investment counselor who worked several floors above me, who’d given me some great advice, and for whom I’d had my romantic eye on for some time, announced at Willborn Pub, that he was getting married. And it wasn’t to me. I hadn’t even known he was involved with someone. I’d always thought someday maybe I’d get up the nerve to ask him out. Now it was too late. I always seemed to wait just a beat too long. But not this time I hoped.

  The hotel door swung shut behind me with a solid latching sound of a small bank vault, shutting out the outside world. I forgot about Harvey.

  Happy distraction. Happy Belated Valentine’s Day to me.

  EyeCandy2933’s head was tipped to the side in demure fashion. Neatly trimmed thick wavy ink-black hair. Long, long black eyelashes swept downward in flirtatious shyness. A Persian harem boy, sweetly poised. At least a good fifteen years younger than me. Twenty maybe? No more than twenty-five, I’d say. At least that’s what he appeared from my less-than-astute assumptions on age. Minutia. Age, as long as he was legal, didn’t matter. And legal he was. He had golden tanned skin that spoke of long days spent in the sun. No tan marks that I could discern. He made me think of warm, Mediterranean, sapphire-blue, sparkling waters. Maybe he was Greek. Perhaps Italian. Maybe even Persian. His profile had been sketchy about his background. It didn’t really matter. He was perfect.

  Then he craned his neck around to look at me and I caught my breath. Eyes of the Mediterranean, vivid and bright. Slowly he smiled, his teeth so white against his golden skin. Really nice smile.

  “AchyHeart1945?” he asked, in a voice not too high, not too low. A tone that hinted at promises from between full lips that likely were fashioned to follow through on the invitation.

  Though I couldn’t help blushing at the name—it was the first one that came to mind when I’d signed up for the dating site. I was frustrated with myself. Interesting that there were 1,944 other achy hearts before me. Once signed up I couldn’t take it back.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  He chuckled softly. “First time you’ve done something like this?” he gently asked.

  I rubbed my sweaty palm against my trousers. “Yeah.” It was the only word that seemed to fully form inside my head.

  I watched him unfold from the bed. Compact, hard in all the right places. The outline of his cock appeared stallion-proportioned beneath the flimsy lacy panties. God, but I loved those panties and what they hinted at. A swath of dark curly hair covered his well-constructed chest. More hair curled over the edges of the panties. Manly, I’d say. I liked that he wasn’t shaved. Pretty. Gorgeous. A mix of so many perfect things. Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, white lace-wrapped packages, and dark eyes that spoke volumes. These are a few of my favorite things. Okay, maybe those aren’t quite the right lyrics. But mom’s favorite movie, The Sound of Music, kept that tune spiraling inside my head. We’d just come off a marathon of holiday viewing, so no wonder it kept replaying in my mind. But the lyrics, those I’d made my own. Too bad. I’m not a kid anymore and with age I’ve learned to adapt. So should a classic song, right?

  He padded toward me. “You’re just as I imagined. Have you another name? You can call me Noelle. Online is one thing, but here, in person, it should be something more intimate, don’t you think?”

  “Noelle?” That surprised me. It made me think of Christmas. It made me think of snowy nights wrapped up before the fireplace with someone special. But I didn’t have someone special. I’d had fleeting somethings. I’d had fantasies. But not much more. Nothing ever seemed to turn into forevers, only here-and-nows. Gone tomorrows. Just as this would, too. I had no doubt. Noelle was way out of my league. I’m surprised he agreed to the night of hot sex we planned. But at least this time it would be at my choosing, not someone else’s. It was me who had suggested the just-sex angle. It could be fun, I’d said.

  Noelle shrugged. “If you don’t like the name, you can call me whatever you like.”

  I couldn’t read him. He was perfect, but I sensed something beneath the surface. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He glanced down—down at my cock. Hard beneath my trousers.

  “N-Noelle is fine. I like it,” I said. I loved it. But I couldn’t tell him that. I did wonder if the name was real or made-up. “Y-you can call me…” I took a deep breath, “Jeffrey.” There, I’d done it. I’d given him my real name. Well, my middle name actually. It was still better than AchyHeart1945.

  His lashes fluttered upward as he looked up at me. “Can I touch you, Jeffrey?” he asked in a steamy, flirtatious, sort of coyish manner. I sensed he’d done this before.

  Oh, God, if my cock could get any harder—impossible. “Yes. Please.”

  From his lips against mine, open-mouthed, tongue searching, to the feel of his strong, warm hands inside my pants, gripping my cock, time spun out of control.

  “Mmm, hard already,” Noelle said. “I like that. Let’s get you undressed. I’m thinking you need to put that somewhere tight and warm. Do you want to fuck me, Jeffrey?”

  Tonight was all about the fantasy. I kissed him again. Hungry for more of what he offered. “Oh, yeah. I have to fuck you.”

  My cock bobbed free when he unzipped my pants, reached inside and pulled out my dick. He gripped me with one hand as he undid my belt and slid it from the loops with the other. Multitasking with rare, good form. One more stroke to my cock before he unhooked my pants and then they dropped to the floor, twisting around my feet. I toed off my loafers. When he took his hand away from my cock, I almost cried. He slid down my solid navy blue boxers—new ones, I’d just bought the other day at Macy’s. He knelt at my feet and gazed up at me. Fuck, I wanted his lips wrapped around my cock in the worst way. Gratuitous sex—it didn’t get better than this, did it? Noelle licked his lips as though he knew exactly what I was thinking. I inhaled, and then exhaled on a long shuddering breath.

  “Take liberties, you don’t have to ask,” I said, rather short of breath in anticipation of his follow-through.

  Divested of my pants, my boxers, my socks, he stood. “Do you like me to take control? Do you like to be told what to do and how to do it?”

  For a moment I paused. I didn’t know the answer. I’d never been with anyone long enough to figure it out. It seemed I’d been taking orders all my life. My father, my mother, my boss.

  “I don’t know.” It was the best I could do. I’d never been offered the option before.

  “But you knew exactly what type of man you wanted in your fantasy profile. You seemed very…assertive about that.”

  Assertive. That word pleased me. It felt like I grew by a few inches. I don’t think that word had ever been attached to me before. But Noelle was right. I had known exactly what I wanted when I filled in the deepest fantasy part of the profile. No second thoughts there.

  I looked into his eyes, and for the first time I felt a jolt of power pass through me. “I did.” I knew exactly what I wanted. Suddenly, I wasn’t a poorly paid CPA at a mismanaged tax firm. I wasn’t the nerd of the class who could hardly get a word out without stuttering. I wasn’t the coward who didn’t dare acknowledge he was gay in fear of giving his mother a heart attack. In this room, with this guy, I was Jeffrey, here for some hot sex. It didn’t matter what I did outside this room, what my whole life had been about up until this moment. Who I was inside this room didn’t have to have anything to do with what went on outside of it.

  Noelle undid my blue and gold striped tie, but he didn’t toss it away. He l
ooped it around his neck. It looked good draped down across his bare chest. He reached up to unbutton my pale blue dress shirt. I admired the dark hairs pelted along his forearms. Very nice. My shirt fell to the floor. Now I was more bare than him.

  “You work out,” he said. “Nice bod. You didn’t post a bare-chested photo on your profile. Nice surprise.” Well, that made two of us because he didn’t either. Seeing him like this had been a pleasant surprise for me as well.

  “Mostly I run. I like the path along the river. Early mornings when the sun is just coming up. H-helps to clear my head before I have to sit in front of a computer screen all day.”

  He fastened his mouth to my nipple and tugged. I couldn’t help groaning. He swirled his tongue around the bead and then released it.

  He arched a dark brow. “The bed? The floor? The chair? How do you want to do it?”

  Decisions, decisions.

  I was feeling raunchy. I grabbed the tie from around his neck.

  “On the floor and I want to tie you up.” Good God, was that me that just said that?

  It seemed I took him by surprise. He quickly recovered and dropped to his knees. “It’s your fantasy, Jeffrey. Whatever you want.”

  It was my fantasy, wasn’t it? I went behind him, pulled his arms back and tied his wrists together. Loosely, with a bow. Not particularly assertive, but it would have to do. I wanted the illusion, but I wanted him to feel safe. After all, this wasn’t something I did every day. Maybe it could make it more fun that way for both of us.

  I circled him. I liked what I saw. I stood in front of him, my cock close to his mouth. He glanced up at me.

  “In the candy box. You’ll find what you need,” he said.

  I went to the candy box and lifted the pretty white lace lid. Inside was a tube of lube and an assortment of condoms. An odd assortment of chocolates and wrapped peppermint candies dotted the inside of the box as well. I glanced back at him as he knelt on the floor, patiently waiting for me to rejoin him.