James

I lean against the wall. His office is too small for this, so we're in the conference room. He sits at the head of the table, waiting with the folder of papers Agatha left for him when she last visited, and a pen. A pair of "lawyers" flank him and two more are seated at the table.

Agatha strides in with her own attorneys, looking triumphant in a crimson skirt suit and pumps, hair up, the femme fatale at the height of her powers. Phoenix doesn't stand up.

"I take it you're ready to see reason," she says. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, Phoenix. Hopefully I can help put a stop to this. Get you some real security, for one."

"I have real security," he says.

I nod.

She gives me an appraising look, as if noticing me for the first time.

"That's cute, but your boy toy here isn't getting the job done, is he."

The hair rises on the back of my neck.

"Are you ready to sign the paperwork?" she asks, stepping closer.

Everyone in the room tenses but she doesn't seem to notice.

"I know what you did," he says.

"What's that?"

"The girl that stalked me when I was in college. You destroyed her life."

She shrugs. "What was I supposed to do? I was protecting you."

"You went too far. She died."

"Not much loss."

Phoenix snaps his head around to stare into her eyes.

"Is that what you told her sister?"

Agatha laughs nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Phoenix sits there for a moment, then says, "Amanda is back at my house and she told me everything."

Agatha nods, once.

Then she kicks off her high heels and bolts for the door. I just barely catch her, lunging to hook an arm around her waist. It's like catching an angry ferret. She almost hooks her fingers into my eyes before two of the cops grab her wrists and drag her off of me.

Her lawyers stand there awkwardly, shuffling on their feet.

"We made an agreement," Phoenix says. "No perp walk."

I don't know why he's so merciful towards her, after what she did. All her poised beauty is gone, and she looks like she'd bite his throat out with her teeth if she could get to him.

"You little asshole," she snarls, "I was saving you from yourself."

"Yeah, right. You had a funny way of doing that."

"I'm not saying anything else," she snaps, glaring at her lawyers. "What are you idiots doing? You're my lawyers. Do some lawyering!"

"Um," one of them says, "we're in mergers and acquisitions. You need a criminal defense attorney."

She snarls, and it turns into a scream as she's cuffed and dragged out the door. Phoenix gathers her shoes in one hand and passes them to one of the detectives.

"She might want these," he says.

The man nods and shakes his hand after taking them. They may have agreed to take her in discretely, but they're still reading her the Miranda rights in the office, outside the conference room door. Phoenix leans against the door jamb and watches while I stand behind him.

She sends one last furious look his way, and they half-drag her off, stopping at the door to let her put her shoes back on. It looks like she has to stop herself from kneeing one of the detectives in the face.

After they've manhandled her into the elevator, I ask, "So what happens now?"

"To her, or generally?"

"She goes to jail to await trial. I mean generally."

He sighs. "Generally, news of this will drop this afternoon. There may not be a panic buy before the end of the market day, but the investors will be expecting it. The company was desperate to bring me back and acquire all this anyway. I'll probably get an offer to return, but since I'm in an excellent negotiating position, it'll be on my own terms. Agatha doesn't own a controlling interest, she can just form one with the institutional investors. That's over now. She's not going to be running the company from prison."

"She'll probably end up selling everything off," I say.

"I didn't do this before because I felt it was petty," he says, "but I hired some probate attorneys to look into my father's will. It's been a long time and I doubt anything can be fixed, but if it is, I'll make a donation out of it."

"So what should we do now? Just go back to work?"

"Well," he says, "I don't really need a bodyguard anymore."

My heart sinks to my knees.

"So, you're fired. You're just my boyfriend now." He pats my chest. "I had some ideas. I want you to quit the private security thing. The next anorexic heiress can save herself from her nutso stalker."

"Dealing with two of them in one lifetime is enough, thanks. I'm ready to retire."

"I was thinking a vacation," he says. "Where's a place you've always wanted to go but never could?"

I chew on that for a moment.

"Italy," I throw out, almost at random.

"Done. I'll have to book it myself, seeing as my assistant has been arrested."

"Were you serious about helping her out with her legal fees and all that?"

He looks at me hard.

"How many times are you going to ask?"

"Until I can believe you're so perfect," I say smoothly.

He laughs. "Oh, that's a very good line. Nice recovery."

"Thanks," I say.

A warm Mediterranean breeze sweeps in from the water, rushing through the open doors from the balcony through the master suite of the villa.

Yeah, really.

I'm still adjusting to the time difference. We're only staying a weekend. That's the thing about Phoenix's life. For him, going to Italy is like going to the grocery store. It's no big deal. He could stay permanently if he felt like, or near enough, but he can come back any time, so there's no real reason to. It'll take me a while to get used to it. I think it'll take me longer to get used to the idea of being a kept man.

"What do you think?" he asks, stepping up next to me.

"It's beautiful," I say, looking out over the sea.

"It really is. I've never been here."

"Here, here, or Italy here?"

"Europe here," he says. "I was so busy with being busy that I never stopped to actually enjoy all this money. I guess I should change that."

"How can you? You're even more the boss than you were before."

"Maybe I can take my hand off the wheel a little. We'll see. I don't want to worry about it now."

"What do you want to worry about now?"

Grinning, he presses something into my hand. A condom.

"Lean against the railing and relax."

I look at him for a second, still shocked sometimes when he's this forward. Turning, I lean back as he kneels in front of me, deftly undoes my pants, and draws me out into his hands. A few hot wet strokes of his lips and light sucks on the head and my cock springs to full hardness so fast it's painful, almost making me dizzy.

If there was any awkwardness in him before, it's gone now. I rest my hand on the back of his head and savor the sight of my dick disappearing into his mouth, fighting the urge to come already as my balls tighten. With each stroke, my muscles tighten, and my breaths grow shorter.

Still holding me in his hand, he stands and approaches the railing, discarding his pants in one smooth motion. He puts his hands on the balcony and stares back at me over his shoulder.

"Do you seriously want me to fuck you like this?"

"Of course I do," he says, "except for one thing."

"What?"

"Are we going to be exclusive? Just you and me?"

"Of course," I say.

"You did what I asked?"

"I did," I say.

"I trust you."

He takes the wrapped condom and tosses it on a nearby chair and hands me the lube. I've been thinking about this since he first asked me to get tested. Nothing between us. I want to savor it.

It's all but a proposal.

I can't ask him to marry me this fast, can I?

Why not?

All thought disappears as the head of my cock nestles between his warm cheeks and he arches his back. I draw my hips away slightly, answering his hip-thrust with a coy retreat, so the head of my cock just touches his entrance. He tries again, and I grab his hips, controlling him.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Savoring it."

Squaring up, I swing forward, just enough to pop the head inside him. He winces as his body swallows me, hungrily ready to draw me in deeper, but I hold back. The sensation is exquisite. The pressure, the heat, slick smoothness. Slowly, I work deeper, and deeper still, spreading him open. He leans on the railing and shakes as I take him all the way, his cock hard between his legs as my balls tickle his. I run my hands up his back and grip his neck lightly and begin to thrust.

He lets out a guttural moan that will carry out over the water. When I quicken my pace, so does he, gasping and panting, rolling his hips in time with my thrusts. I want to hold back, to stretch out the moment, but I lose myself in him. Soon I'm gripping the railing to thrust into him so hard our bodies slap as he moves in time with me, his face red from exertion.

His scent fills my lungs like stoking a fire and he presses back, pushing against my chest, burying me in him to the root.

"Oh God, I can't take it," he moans.

I start to pull back, but he reaches back to grab my hips and force my cock into him deeper than it's ever gone before.

"Don't stop, faster!"

He does something, pivots himself, changes the angle. I lose myself in wild thrusts, afraid I'm hurting him but too intoxicated by his moans and shudders and sweaty flushed skin to stop. Then he cries out, his body clenching on me like a vice.

Phoenix comes, his cock quivering between his legs, untouched. At the very same moment, the heat and pressure is too much and I explode inside him and he moans, legs buckling, collapsing against the railing. I draw out of him slowly and crouch behind him, pulling his cock and balls between his legs to taste them. He winces slightly at the stroke of my tongue.

That night, we devour each other. I take him from behind on the bed, on his back, he rides me, I ride him, I use him. After hours of this we're sweaty sticky messes, clinging to each other in the suddenly cool air.

"I think we should get married," he pants.

"I think so too," I say.

"Good, let's do it."

"When we get back to the States, we'll make it legal first thing."

Soon after, he's snoring in my arms, and I let myself sleep.

Two days later, exhausted from a transatlantic flight, I have only a few hours to slump into sleep before we're at the courthouse filling out paperwork for the marriage license.

"Don't you want a ceremony?" I ask.

"I'm not big on that sort of thing. Maybe one day. Not now."

I put my arms around his shoulders.

"That's fine. I can't believe this."

"Me either," he says. "We have so much to do. It's time to get your sister moved. We should go see her."

"It's going to be basically impossible to explain our relationship to her," I say, sighing.

"That's alright. I'm sure we'll get along."

Before we do any of that, though, we walk through the city, two lovers now joined. No stalkers, no mergers, no more haunting pasts. Happy and free.