Blitzed (Rules of Possession Book 3), page 23
“I do try. Now. Where do we stand on the fucking?”
“The host in me says I should show you around and offer you a drink.” He looked conflicted and it was adorable. “The horny bastard in me wants to bend you over my couch.”
You gotta love a man with a good fucking plan.
“I’ll make you a deal.” I offered him my hand and he accepted. “Whatever we see on the way to my bedroom is the tour. Anything else will just have to wait.”
He bobbed his head eagerly as he started walking deeper into the house, towing me behind him. I saw a sprawling white kitchen, a living room with a comfy-looking couch and a ginormous TV, and a lovely staircase. That was about it before he led me—speed walked me—into his darkened room. The ridiculously large bed was unmade, the navy-blue sheets and comforter mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed that morning. A pair of boxers and a towel were on the floor, marking a path to the bathroom.
I suddenly understood his urge to examine every inch of my place, and I didn’t bother to hide my curiosity. I loved the little lived-in touches on the nightstand like the half-empty water bottles and spare change. He had so many chargers hanging out of the top drawer that it looked like a USB octopus.
The space was nice but not fussy. And comfortable. There was a loveseat and a matching overstuffed chair in the corner near the windows…if you could even call them that. The wall was mostly glass, revealing a spectacular view. I drifted over to the bank of windows to get a better look and didn’t stop until my nose touched the glass. I stared at the tall trees and pitch-black lake, glittering like a black diamond, only lit by the watchful eye of the moon.
“It’s so beautiful,” I said quietly.
When he didn’t respond, I looked at his reflection. I was almost taken aback. That amber-colored gaze was almost wolf-like in its intensity and completely focused…on me.
“Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming about you in my bed?” At his words, I blinked. It couldn’t possibly be longer than I’d wanted to be there. “Clothes off, Jesse.”
“The windows don’t have curtains.”
“There are curtains,” he said. “But we’re not going to pull them. It’s too dark to see in.”
Then the horny bastard pushed his pants down and off, and there was no more time to refute his logic. I swallowed as his dick bobbed free, hard and thick and, let’s face it, so very rideable. He gave it a few slow strokes. My tongue got jealous. If he wanted to fuck me on the fifty-yard line, I only hoped I’d be able to manage a token objection for my reputation’s sake before I hiked up my knees and pointed my toes for the sky.
“The neighbors—”
“Do you see any neighbors?”
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t see gravity, either, but I know it exists.”
His laugh was mostly air. “Okay, you’ve got me there. But we’re separated by a lot of land and trees and a nice tall fence.”
“Still….”
“Anything you want to keep, I’d have off by the time I get naked,” he said conversationally as he reached for his shirt. “Clothes off, Jesse. I don’t like repeating myself.”
His voice and that uncompromising tone made me shiver. I knew he was about as gentle as a teddy bear with a heart to match. But that voice combined with our size difference alluded to something different. That voice said it didn’t matter what I wanted because I was going to get fucked. From the gleam in his eye, it was clear he knew exactly what his words did to me.
Then I realized he was pulling his shirt over his head and I was still fully dressed. He raised an eyebrow as he advanced on me, and I yelped. These were my favorite jeans and I didn’t plan on them being ripped asunder by those big paws he called hands. I practically beat the sound barrier getting them off, much to his amusement. By the time he reached me, all that was left was my shirt. So I stripped it off and threw it in his smug face.
My laughter faded as he pushed me up against the glass. When he dipped his head to kiss me again, I jerked my head away. Kissing was all nice and good, but he’d already ramped me up too far. I needed something more.
When I reached for him, he circled my wrists with one hand, pushed them up above my head…and held them there. I met his gaze, his warm, teasing gaze. I made a sound of frustration because he might as well have written a sign. I wasn’t going anywhere until he said so. He kissed me again, slower this time. But two could play that game.
The next time he dipped that tongue in my mouth leisurely, I sucked on it, hard. He bucked against me with a helpless little groan, and I took control of the kiss and fucked his mouth with my tongue. By the time he pulled back, his breathing was a little unsteady.
He laughed breathlessly at my little smile of victory, even though he didn’t let go of my wrists. Instead, he started torturing my nipples—licking and nibbling and playing with them. I started to reconsider my previous bold claims that they weren’t that sensitive.
“Andrew,” I finally said a little desperately. “I need—”
“I know what you need,” was all he said before he let go of my hands and sank to his knees. My straining, weeping cock was at the perfect level for him to take in his mouth…which he did not do.
He flicked out his tongue, tasting me, teasing me one little lick at a time. I sank my hands in his hair, trying to force him where I wanted. He wouldn’t give me more than tongue flicks, and sneaky little sucks that only lasted a few seconds.
I growled as those amber eyes danced up at me. “Something funny?”
“That you’re practically about to scalp me?” He said with a little grin. “I love your enthusiasm, but my follicles think you’re a dick.”
“Are you going to make me beg—” was all I managed before he sucked me into his mouth. Then it was all gasping and groaning and a few “oh my Gods” thrown in the mix.
I moved a few times experimentally, testing if he was done with the torture and we could get on to the throat fucking. At his slight nod, I sighed with relief and fisted his hair. I stroked into that hot, wet cavern until I nudged his throat, letting out a litany of curses at the perfection that was his mouth.
My thighs tensed as my thrusting became a little frantic. Just as the train was about to pull out of the station, his hand locked around my balls—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to ease things back.
He pulled back, letting me go with a slick pop. He shook his head at my whine, chuckling when I let him know he was a sadist. I forgave him immediately when he turned me around and applied that miraculous tongue to my sensitive hole. He was thorough, relentless, licking and tasting and driving me out of my mind. When he stiffened his tongue and dipped it inside, I spasmed around the intrusion and moaned.
“I’m not going to survive it,” I mumbled, my face pressed against the cold glass.
“I have faith in you.”
“Just make up a good lie for me,” I begged as he fucked my hole with that clever, persistent tongue. “Don’t tell…ahh…my loved ones that I…oh fuck…died during a killer rim job.”
He laughed and slapped my ass. “Get your ass on the bed, Fox. You’re not the only one whose control is being tested right about now.”
He had a lot of nerve, I thought grumpily even as I climbed on his oversized bed, pushing covers out of the way. His control? He’d nearly blown and rimmed me into a fucking coma.
I fell back into a downy cloud and did a starfish in the middle, marveling. “This mattress wasn’t made by mere mortals.”
“It’s a Kluft.”
“Is that German for shitload of money?”
“You take a hit from a three-hundred-pound linebacker and then tell me what you’re willing to sleep on.” He raised a brow, daring me to disagree. “When I finally walk through that door, comfort has been elevated from a want to a fucking must.”
“Princess and the pea logic,” I said, much to his amusement. “How perfectly expected.”
He joined me up on the bed, climbing between my legs and pushing them up and apart. Well, I guess that answered the question of who was bottoming.
I didn’t mind. I shivered a little as I eyed his cock, aimed like a missile at my hole. I really didn’t mind. It made me curious though, enough that I blurted out, “Do you ever bottom?”
“What?” He leaned over me and yanked open the nightstand drawer. “I know I have it in here somewhere.”
“I wanted to know if you ever bottom. It’s not a deal breaker, I just—”
“Fuck yeah, I do. But every time I get near your ass, I want inside,” he said crossly. “It’s annoying really.”
I laughed. “Sorry. My ass and I will try to be less alluring.”
“You can start by throwing away those jeans, and don’t give me that face like you don’t know which fucking jeans I’m talking about,” he muttered. “The ones with the rips on the thigh…ah-ha!”
He pulled out a bottle of lube and tossed it on the bed. He rifled through the drawer some more, ignoring the flotsam and jetsam that fell on the floor, as I examined the near-empty bottle. Horny bastard.
“This is all but empty,” I accused with a little grin.
He didn’t look repentant at all. “You want me to beat off to my Jesse fantasies lube-less? What kind of animal do you take me for?”
“Some questions don’t have good answers, McAdams.”
“Fuck. There are too many steps to getting inside you,” he grumbled, tossing a couple condoms on the bed. “You ever think about going bare?”
As I blinked at him in surprise, he ripped open one of the condom packets with his teeth. I was so surprised I didn’t even fight him to do the honors. I still didn’t have an answer by the time he rolled it on and added a couple of swipes of lube.
“I get bloodwork done all the time so if you want to get tested….” He faltered at my expression. “Well, it’s just a thought.”
“Yeah,” I said a little too quickly. “Of course.”
I rested my feet on his thighs as he prepped me carefully—way more than I needed, even to take his considerable girth. I didn’t hurry him. There would never be a day when I complained about those thick fingers in my ass. Before long, he was working me open with his cock, and I was gripping his arms and revising my opinion. I did need the prep and thank God he’d been conscientious.
“Fuck that’s good,” he groaned as he bottomed out.
There was no need to repeat the obvious. It was like I could feel him everywhere. “Fuck me,” I managed, my voice sounding strange and slurred.
His eyes gleamed as he braced himself above me. “As usual, your ideas are on point.”
He worked me over. No other term for it. And in the end, I met him thrust for thrust to the point where I wasn’t sure who was fucking whom. God, he’s going to be insufferable when I come, I thought grouchily. I could already tell that my eyes were going to roll back and I was going to make weird noises and shit. There was nothing I could do about it. I already felt the orgasm building clear down to my toes.
I gripped his arm and muttered that I was close. In his world, that meant “lift my thighs over your forearms and start nailing my prostate with every thrust.” At least he didn’t try that come for me now business. I came when I damn well pleased, and certainly not on command.
He buried his face in my neck, his mouth open against my overheated skin. “Jesse. Baby.” His voice was just a husky rasp as he shuttled his hand over my dick. “I need you to come first. Fuck, I wanna see you lose it.”
And that was all it took.
That motherfucker. My back bowed as I came all over my stomach. He wasn’t far behind, groaning as if he was gut-shot as he pounded into me relentlessly. I thought back to his stupid request of going bare and I was glad he’d asked me before instead of during because yes, I absolutely wanted to feel him shooting inside of me. Wanted to feel it leaking out of my ass and dripping down my thighs.
He slowed. Stopped. Relaxed with one last shiver. And transformed, right before my very eyes, into a weighted blanket that restricted my breathing.
I didn’t ask him to move, and he didn’t offer. Instead, I rubbed a hand down the sweaty musculature of his back, wishing he could stay inside me forever. I didn’t want to think. Or process. Or label anything that just happened. I just wanted to feel.
I only let go of him long enough to dispose of the condom before I pulled him back down. He came willingly enough, but I could tell he was concerned he was too heavy. Inwardly amused, I waited for him to make his move.
He lasted longer than I thought he would—a good five minutes and some change—before he flipped us so I was on top. At my chuckle, he said defensively, “This just makes more sense.”
“I was using you like a human blankie.”
“Yeah, well. I’d rather not smother you to death.”
“That’s comforting, especially from someone I’m about to sleep next to.”
“On top of,” he corrected with a yawn. “And you’d better be here in the morning, Fox.”
I decided not to tell him that I didn’t have much of a choice. My poor Plymouth cut off right in his driveway. I hoped he didn’t need to use that sweet Lexus in the driveway—I’d blocked it in pretty good.
I smiled, causing him to look at me suspiciously. “You can count on it.”
24
ANDREW
I woke up alone.
I knew that without even opening my eyes, but I checked anyway. I peered around the room blearily before fumbling for my phone on the nightstand. I turned it a bit until the screen lit up. 4:30 a.m.
I scrubbed a hand down my face as I flopped back down on the pillow. I wondered what time Jesse had gotten up, but I didn’t need to wonder why he’d felt the urge to scram. Things had gotten deep as shit last night, and being vulnerable might as well be his kryptonite.
I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom but halfway there, something caught my eye. I stumbled to a stop, staring at the shirt and jeans that were folded neatly on the upholstered bench. I certainly hadn’t done it—I was more of a “clothes wherever they land” kind of guy. So either Jesse had been so freaked out that he’d run out of here without clothes or….
“Hey, you’re up.”
I blinked at the Jesse apparition in my doorway for a few seconds before a smile tugged at my lips, and not just because I was glad he was still here. He’d filched a pair of my boxers, and they were way too large. They were baggy enough on him to look like your grandpa’s knee-length, “day at the beach but can’t show too much leg” culottes.
“I thought you’d left.”
He shuffled his feet, looking a little hesitant. “Did…you want me to?”
“Of course not,” I said loudly. Too loudly, judging by how his eyes widened. I tried to dial back the unhinged vibe just a bit. “I was hoping we could have breakfast together. I was aiming for after the sun came up, but this is good, too.”
He smiled. “Sorry, I needed to get a head start. I have a meeting at nine and God knows how long it’s going to take them to get the Plymouth towed out of your driveway. You live in the boonies, you know.”
“It’s ten minutes from the highway, Fox,” I said, scratching my stomach. “And when are you getting rid of that thing?”
“You want me to drive a dependable car? How pedestrian of you.” He sent me a grin. “Do you like pancakes? Eggs? I could probably whip something up.”
“Excuse me, but I’m making breakfast. That’s part of my master plan to get you to let me fuck you again.”
Oh, and to make you love me forever. He didn’t need to know that part just yet.
“That so?”
“Indeed.”
“Fair warning, I’m not going to take much convincing,” he said, his cheeks a little pink.
Fuck yes. I was about to say forget the pancakes when my stomach let out a god-awful rumble. “Man,” I said, my shoulders slumping as I gave it a poke. “Way to ruin the mood.”
He laughed. “You’re a bottomless pit. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“No one still living,” I threatened as we headed down the stairs.
Once in the kitchen, I started pulling out ingredients as Jesse tried to help/got in the way. I shooed him off several times because the phrase I got it means nothing in Jesse-speak. When he started washing the blueberries I’d already washed, I took him by the shoulders and steered him over to the barstools.
“Sit,” I said, and he did with a huff.
“I was just trying to help.”
“My kitchen, my rules.” Without his backseat cooking, I was able to get the batter going in no time. “What time does the tow truck get here?”
“Five minutes before you woke up,” he said with a chuckle. “Will you drop me off at the center?”
“Yes, yes, as soon as the fucking sun comes up,” I said testily. “Good Lord, Fox.”
“Just checking.”
“Why don’t you just borrow one of my cars? And don’t,” I said not bothering to look up as I folded the extra-clean blueberries into the batter. “I’m not in the mood for arguing you down today.”
“Holy fuck, you’re grouchy in the mornings,” he said with a little grin.
“Not sure this counts as morning other than the clock insisting that it is. I only get up this early for flights and if the house is on fire.”
“How about a burglar?”
“Well, I’m not going to help him lift my TV off the wall,” I said reasonably. “Take the shit and don’t make a mess. Oh, and don’t shoot me. Everything is insured and I didn’t see your face.”
He laughed. “If only all robberies could go so smoothly.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from suggesting he buy a new car. Instead, I went over to the stove and started pouring the batter into the hot skillet, making circles that I knew would look like shit. I needed about four pancakes before they started looking IHOP worthy.
I was rewarded for my patience when he started speaking again, unprompted. “My father had a car just like the Plymouth,” he said quietly. “When I’m in that car, it just takes me back, you know?”
