Blitzed (Rules of Possession Book 3), page 19
Jesse seemed to be of the same mind as he demanded, “Now.”
Not a problem. I lined myself up with that pink, glistening hole, muttering to myself. “I just wish we had more lube. You’re really tight.”
Always the romantic, he demanded, “Just do it.”
I huffed out a laugh as I did as he requested. We both groaned as I breached him, sinking into him slowly. I didn’t stop until I was balls deep, and only then because I couldn’t go any farther. I worked a hand under his shirt, rubbing his back—then thought better of it and pushed it up under his armpits. I wanted to see everything, every single inch of his creamy skin.
He made something suspiciously close to a whimper as he struggled to adjust around the intrusion. I gave him a few seconds and then tried a shallow stroke that made him curse. I stilled immediately, beads of sweat collecting at my temple as I waited, watching him for a signal. He hit the desk with his fist. Not yet, then. I kissed a path down the back of his neck, almost in a wordless apology. I wasn’t exactly small and I could tell he was riding that razor’s edge of gimme more and dear God, that’s fucking enough.
He finally sighed and worked his hips experimentally. “Oh.”
Fuck, I really liked that oh. That oh meant I could stop holding still and reciting football stats in my head and start fucking. I snapped my hips forward, sliding in and out slowly. Just enjoying the smooth glide and the unbelievable heat that was Jesse’s ass. The sounds he made. The smell of our combined arousal. It was all turning my crank, big-time. I pinched his nipples as I fucked him, and he cursed and hit the desk again.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I murmured.
A cup full of pens fell off the desk with a clatter and pens started rolling everywhere. He didn’t even notice. “Fuck, that’s good.” Done with my pace, he started slamming his hips back against me. “Harder. I need it harder.”
I could already feel myself losing control. I tried to hold back, to last at least a couple dozen strokes, but it was a losing battle. I knew that. My dick knew that. Jesse’s ass knew that. I started fucking him in earnest.
I reached around and took him in hand, jerking him off to the rhythm of my thrusts. Finesse went out the window. So did any thoughts of being quiet and careful, so I hoped Hamish had really left when he said he did. A moment later, I didn’t give a fuck as I came, hard, a jumble of nonsense tumbling from my lips. Jesse was close behind, crying out as his release filled my hand and splattered his desk. I gripped his hips as he jerked and gasped, grinding on my dick like a wild thing.
He finally stilled, slumped against the desk, his cheek pressed to his desktop calendar. I couldn’t see his face, and that just wouldn’t do. I’d earned that fucking orgasm. I wanted to see every moment played out on his face. I slid my hand into his hair and gripped it, pulling his head back. He was flushed, his eyes still bleary and unfocused.
He was so beautiful when he finally let go of his reservations, even if it was only for a few seconds. He rested his head on my shoulder, blinking up at me and looking adorably spent. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for that armor to stay off.
But it didn’t last long. He looked slightly embarrassed when he came back to himself, as if even that little glimpse into what made Jesse…well, Jesse was too much. Predictably, he pulled away, trying to put space between us. His body wasn’t ready to come down from the high yet, though. As he staggered, I grabbed him around the waist. Steadied him.
“My knees don’t seem to be working,” he muttered, and his adorable factor went up a few notches.
“Give it a sec.”
“I wanna smell a cigarette,” he muttered.
“No.” I said, enjoying the weight of him against me for just a few more seconds. “Also, you’re weird.”
“You’re the one who’s fucking me. What does that make you?”
“Scared.”
He laughed.
I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss him senseless. Hold him in my arms and bury my face in his neck. I wasn’t sure if any of that was on the table, though. He started pulling up his pants, and I knew the moment was gone.
“What’re you doing on Sunday?” I asked casually as I tossed the condom and righted my clothing.
“Not much. Why?”
“I thought we could have dinner.” As he nodded agreeably, I lowered the boom. “At my mother’s house. With my brother’s family and her new boyfriend.”
Those green eyes widened a tad. “Um—”
“It’s going to be a rough one,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’d really like it if you were there.”
“AJ—”
“You can say no.”
“If I could say no, I wouldn’t have let you bend me over my desk,” he said anxiously, surveying the files and pens on the floor. “Look at this mess. I had a system, you know.”
I huffed out a laugh because his obsessive organizing skills should not be so fucking cute. Man, I had it bad. “I’m sure.”
“So who’s the new guy?”
“My father’s best friend.” Maybe one day I’d be able to say those words without grimacing. “He’s been in the family as long as I can remember. Family vacations, holidays, graduations…the whole nine.”
His eyes bulged. “Holy fuck.”
“That…pretty much covers it in a nutshell.” I sighed. “So you’ll come?”
“Let me think about it, okay?”
I’d been around the block enough to know that meant no…which was okay. And maybe if I told myself that enough, I’d actually start to believe it. “Sure. I’ll text you the address and stuff just in case.”
I only stayed long enough to help him restore order to his office. By the time we finished picking up all the files and papers, I was itching for some Jesse-free time, just so I could get my thoughts in order. Despite my mood, a smile tugged at my lips as I watched him refilling his pen cup neatly.
“I should go,” I said.
He paused, brow furrowed as he looked at me, a handful of pens still clutched in his hand. “Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re still coming over to my place?”
Fuck, my mind was in such a scramble that I’d forgotten. “Rain check?” My smile felt brittle and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Are you coming in tomorrow?” He persisted.
“Tomorrow isn’t Tuesday,” I said, which didn’t answer the question at all.
“Like that’s ever stopped you.” He bit his lip. “Maybe we should talk about—”
“It’s all good,” I said waving a hand. “No need to make things weird. Just fun and casual, right?”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded. I could feel his gaze on my back as I left. I even managed a casual wave. As I walked down the darkened hallway, my mother’s bullshit description of love ran through my head—tandem free fall with no rip cord. I’d told her then that it sounded terrifying. Turned out there was something even scarier than falling in love.
A solo jump.
20
JESSE
The last time I’d gone to a family dinner, it had been for one of the regulars at the center, Jodie Callahan. His mother had been so grateful that I’d stayed late to help him with his science project that she insisted on feeding me. I showed up, nervous and carrying a bottle of wine and some flowers. The entire close-knit Callahan crew had been in attendance, from a suspicious grandmother who kept making everyone uncomfortable with comments about my sexuality, right down to the littlest Callahan who wouldn’t stop climbing me like a jungle gym. I spent the entire time watching the clock.
The arrival of the after-dinner tray of drinks signaled my escape. I thanked the mother profusely as I swore coffee wasn’t my thing. In reality, I drank so much of the stuff I was surprised I didn’t shit French Vanilla creamer. Afterward, I told Joshua to spread the word that I should only be thanked in cookie basket form.
So yeah, family dinners weren’t my thing. But come Saturday, some imposter that looked a lot like me made a pecan pie, put on some slacks and a nice button-down, and loaded up in the Plymouth to make a thirty-minute drive to Buena Vista Shores.
The roads were busier than I expected on a Sunday. Guess the after-church crowd were absolved, prayed up, and ready to hit a buffet.
You’ve lost the plot completely, I told myself grimly as I navigated traffic. Meeting the family and having dinner was a boyfriend kind of thing. Not a hookup thing. Not a Jesse kind of thing. And yet, I continued to let my GPS lead the way.
I’d never been to Buena Vista Shores before, but it was clearly a posh neighborhood. The farther I drove, the bigger and more spaced out the houses became. I finally pulled up in front of a large, two-story, sprawling farmhouse and slowed to a stop. I knew I was in the right place because I could see Andrew’s truck. Several other cars were parked along the long driveway, and I coasted to a stop next to the mailbox so I wouldn’t block anyone in. Then I just sat there. Thinking.
I didn’t know what I was afraid of, exactly. Maybe it was just that I’d been systematically taught that I wasn’t good enough. That I couldn’t measure up. And there were plenty of people along the way who didn’t hesitate to add a suitcase or two to my baggage. My mother. My grandfather. The johns. Trace….
When his grandmother had passed, it was devastating for the both of us. She’d been the only family member of his that had known about me. He hadn’t introduced us—never that. She’d stopped by his place unexpectedly, saw us together, and drew her own conclusions. When he denied it, she rolled her eyes and sat next to me on the couch.
“You’re a pretty little thing,” she said, brushing my hair out of my eyes.
I huffed out a laugh because for this five-foot nothin’ woman to call me little was nothing short of hilarious. But I guess everyone was little next to her son.
“What’s your name?” She wanted to know.
“Jesse.”
“Pretty name for a pretty man.” She patted my thigh. “Now let’s give you a look under the hood. What do you do, sugar?”
“I work at a non-profit for kids.”
She nodded, a little smile playing on her wrinkled mouth. “You enjoy it?”
“Of course,” I said simply. “It’s rewarding.”
“You have any family?”
I shook my head no, my throat a little too tight to speak. She reminded me of my grandmother—sweet, soft-spoken, and nosy as the day is long. She was one hell of a baker and always made her oatmeal cookies with golden raisins and cranberries. And when my father complained that he hated raisins, she just patted his cheek and said, “That’s what Jesse likes.” She’d sided with my mother when she kicked me out. I wasn’t sure if I missed her or hated her because I missed her.
As usual, I’d said more by saying nothing at all. Trace’s grandmother patted my knee. “Well, now you do.”
Trace bit his lip as he sat on the coffee table in front of her. She’d had a hand in raising him so that her daughter could finish medical school and he credited her with so much of the man he’d turned out to be. “Grammy G, you can’t—”
“I ain’t tellin’ no one, boy. You’ll do that when you’re ready. And I hope it’s before Jesse wises up and buys himself a mirror.” She peered at me and then back at Trace. “Are his eyes that green or am I making that up? I left my glasses in the car.”
Trace huffed out a laugh as my cheeks went up in flames. “Your eyes don’t fool you.”
“Good.” She patted my knee and then started ordering us around. “You, go get me a plate of whatever smells so good.”
“I made chicken and rice,” I said.
“My favorite. And you,” she said pointing at Trace. “Get me a drink.”
“I only have scotch,” he said begrudgingly.
“My favorite,” she said with a sigh.
She checked in on me often…even invited me over for dinner a few times. She always told me not to be too patient with her grandson. I’d thought that was odd advice from someone who loved him so much, but she just patted me on the cheek and said she loved me, too.
When she died, there was no way I was missing that funeral, even though Trace said evasively that I didn’t have to come. I was annoyed when the day came and he still hadn’t sent me the address and time, but I found it online. Then I put on a Hugo Boss suit I’d spent way too much on and made the two-hour trip—his grandmother had been very specific about where she wanted to be buried and who she wanted to conduct the service. Trace looked positively ashen when he saw me. But I just slipped into the back row of the full church.
He ignored me the entire time. Not even another look after that initial glance. And at the gravesite, I went up to shake his hand and he murmured that I should go home. It was only after a gorgeous blond woman in a short black dress and skyscraper heels came over and slipped her arm in his that I got the picture.
She looked at me curiously. “I thought I’d met all of Trace’s friends. Don’t hold it against me if we’ve met before, but who are you?”
“No one,” I said, my gaze dropping to the fat rock on her finger. “No one at all.”
Fuckin’ Trace King. It wasn’t fair to put all my insecurities on his shoulders because he certainly hadn’t been the first to shake my confidence. But he’d been the last, which made his voice the loudest. I wasn’t about to let him keep talking.
I turned off the car, got out, and headed up the walk.
The wide sprawling porch had lots of seating and an honest-to-goodness porch swing. A cat was curled up on one of the cushions but darted off as I approached. I pushed the doorbell and waited as I heard someone yell, “I got it.”
“No, I got it!” Another little voice countered.
The sound of scuffling ensued and then the door finally opened. I found myself face to face with two little boys who both had big brown eyes and a mop of curly hair that clearly couldn’t decide if it wanted to be blond or brown. The human bookends looked sweet as sugar.
They were probably demons, I determined quickly, especially seeing how their Sunday finest was already ripped and torn.
“Hi,” they said simultaneously.
“Hi,” I said cautiously.
“Make sure you ask who it is first,” someone shouted from farther in the house.
“Oh!” The one on the left covered his mouth as the one on the right slammed the door in my face. “Who is it?”
“Jesse,” I said, chuckling. “Jesse Fox.”
They reopened the door again even though my name couldn’t possibly mean anything to either of them. One of them skipped off repeating fox, fox, fox for no reason I could discern, while the other urchin grabbed my hand. “I’m Liam. Come on in, we’re about to set the table.”
Who lets you near breakable dishes?
I let him tow me into the house. I closed and locked the door behind me. “Do you like brussels sprouts?” He asked.
“Sometimes.”
“I think they’re gross.”
“Good to know.”
“How ’bout squash?”
I shrugged. “Squash is alright.”
“That’s gross, too,” he said, frowning at me. As a new friend, I wasn’t working out too well. “What about—”
“Can you go get your Uncle AJ for me?” I asked before we could go down the list of all vegetables and rank them from gross to grossest.
Liam shrugged and skipped off, clearly unconcerned that he could’ve let in a serial killer about to ply his trade. I heard a rumble of voices farther in the house, which I hoped meant he’d done as I asked.
The McAdams family home wasn’t what I expected. Even though I didn’t move from the welcome mat, I looked my fill at the living room that managed to be both elegant and homey. No designer had gotten their mitts on this place. The overstuffed couches were cream and adorned with cream and teal pillows that matched the cozy-looking rug, and nautical accents were just about everywhere you looked. All the picture windows made the room bright and airy and welcoming.
Despite my resolve to stay put, I drifted over to the mantel full of pictures in white driftwood frames. A lot of them seemed to feature Andrew’s father, which was to be expected. I picked up a picture of him on a boat, smiling, one arm around each of his grinning boys. The pictures told a story of a life well-lived. Well-loved. And really, could we ask for much more than that?
“That was when he took us to Key West.” I turned at the voice behind me to find Andrew standing there, his gaze trained on the picture. “Grant swears he caught the most fish, but we both know it was me.”
I put the picture back down, carefully nudging it exactly how it had been. “Sorry.”
“What are you sorry about?”
He looked fancier than usual in gray slacks and a snug charcoal button-down, a big-faced watch at his wrist. His ash brown hair was tamed with product, and he smelled rather delicious. I wasn’t sure what the scent was, but it was expensive and subtle, and he’d used it just right…just enough to tantalize, not enough to make you wish you’d brought portable oxygen.
“Huh?” I asked stupidly.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, those honey eyes intent on mine.
I fought the urge to fidget. We both knew how big of a deal this was. “I was in the neighborhood,” I said. “Thought I’d drop by.”
“That so?”
He moved closer, looping his thumbs through my belt loops and tugging me closer until we were just about touching. He pressed his forehead against mine and breathed me in. Guess that answered the question of if he was glad to see me.
“You know you’re playing with fire, right?” He murmured.
Was his mother’s couch off-limits for fucking? Probably. “How so?”
“The more of you I have, the more I want.”
No one had ever looked at me that way. Not in all the years I’d been on this Earth. None of the men I’d dated and hoped could be something more. I swallowed. Turns out it was worth the wait. “Trust me when I say the feeling is entirely mutual.”
