“I’m close,” I gasped.
“I’m right there with you, baby.”
I felt Sean’s cock swell, and his next thrust hit my prostate just right. I cried out as my orgasm exploded over me and went on and on, spreading throughout my whole body. I heard Sean breathe my name and felt the warmth of his release inside me.
We lay there for a long time with our sweaty limbs tangled until Sean’s softening cock slipped out of my body. He moved to my side, his arms still around me. “I never knew it could be like that,” he said softly.
I snuggled closer to him. “Neither did I.”
As I drifted to sleep in Sean’s arms, I sent my gratitude to the universe that my best friend was an interfering mother hen.
THIRTY-FIVE
SEAN
One Month Later
“Are you ready, Mr. O’Neil?”
I released a slow breath and looked at the woman sitting across from me. Jessica Monroe was a daytime talk show host whose show was based in New York City. Her producers had decided they wanted to do a series on small hotels “down the shore” in New Jersey.
They had already walked through Moonlight with cameras, showing the viewers some of the nicer guest rooms and, of course, the dining room. So now she was here in the lobby interviewing me.
A year ago, I doubted Moonlight would have made it onto their radar. However, so much had happened in the last two months that now we had a lot of attention. Jeremy’s fundraiser concert started it, but the protest at Evan and Raphael’s wedding sealed the deal.
My gaze swept over the lights and cameras set up around us one more time, and then I nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Don’t forget, we’re live,” she reminded me. “Be careful about language.”
I smirked. Yeah, my usual expletive-filled descriptions weren’t going to cut it on live TV.
A crew member faced us and did a silent countdown. At one, he pointed his index finger at Jessica, who smiled at the camera. “Hello, everyone, and welcome back. Today, as part of our Down the Shore series, I’m here with Sean O’Neil, owner of Moonlight Inn in Spring Lake, New Jersey.” She turned in her seat to face me directly. “Thank you for joining us, Sean.”
“Thanks for having me, Jessica,” I said.
She turned back to the camera. “Just to give a little history, the building has been a hotel for about fifty years. It was built in the early 1900s by the Lawrence family of New York, who used it as their summer home until the 1970s when the last heir sold it. Fifteen years ago, Samuel Whitaker, then owner and CEO of Whitaker enterprises, bought the hotel and hired Sean’s father, Tomas O’Neil, to head the renovations and restoration.” She paused before adding, “And that’s when you met Samuel Whitaker.”
I nodded. “Yes. I worked with my dad after school and during the summer. We spent almost a year renovating this place and restoring the Victorian features.” I smiled. “For whatever reason, he and I hit it off right away. I was kinda surprised because I was out and proud even back then. I figured an old guy like that wouldn’t be too happy about someone like me being around.”
“But that wasn’t the case,” she guessed.
“No. It turns out his younger brother was gay, and their parents disowned him. Mr. Whitaker never forgave them for that. So me being gay wasn’t an issue for him.”
“Do you think that’s why he left you the hotel?”
I shook my head. “Nah. Mr. Whitaker was a good man, but he was also practical. He wouldn’t have left it to me if he didn’t think I could run it. He was the one who encouraged me to get my MBA.”
Jessica smiled brightly. “Which you got from Columbia University.”
I felt my face heat. I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Mr. Whitaker insisted I apply there in addition to the other universities I applied to. I was pretty surprised when I got accepted.”
“So,” she continued, “Fast forward to a year and a half ago. I understand that Mr. Whitaker’s grandson, Brian Whitaker, challenged the terms of the will that left you the hotel.”
“He did,” I replied. “It didn’t go anywhere because Mr. Whitaker’s lawyer made sure everything was tight.”
She leaned forward with an eager look, and I knew what was coming. “On Memorial Day weekend, a video popped up on Twitter that suggested Brian Whitaker was trying to get you to sell Moonlight or get it to fail so he could buy it.”
Raphael and I talked about this, and he forbade me from saying anything negative about Brian publicly. I took a moment to formulate my response. “Brian never contacted me about selling Moonlight and has never said anything to me about wanting it to fail.” I shrugged. “I don’t really know him all that well. When he and his parents visited, it was always family time, you know?”
