Icing on the Cake (The Barracudas #1)

Chapter 29

29

GERARD

L earning that my hometown isn’t as kind, considerate, and welcoming as I always believed has thrown me for a loop. I’ve always taken great pride in where I grew up. But now, I don’t know what to think or believe.

Well, no. That’s not entirely true. I believe Elliot and what he’s telling me. I know I don’t see skin color when I look at him. It’s never been a factor in my feelings for the grumpy librarian. But I can’t dwell on my neighbors right now because Elliot is currently freaking out about stepping foot on the frozen lake behind my childhood home.

My parents are already at the hotel in Denver for Lily’s cheer competition tomorrow. We have the whole house to ourselves. When I gave Elliot a tour, he spotted the lake in the backyard and casually mentioned he didn’t know how to ice skate.

Immediately, I bolted for the garage like I was racing for the puck in overtime. I grabbed a pair of my dad’s old hockey skates for me— yep, he has big feet, too —and found a pair of figure skates that belonged to my mom. She has tiny feet, so they should fit Elliot’s like they’re Cinderella’s glass slippers.

I can’t stop the huge grin from spreading across my face as I lace up my skates on the bench beside the lake. Elliot is nervously eyeing the frozen surface as if it might swallow him whole at any second. He’s a cutie, bundled up in my old Elk Valley Elks letterman jacket, with his glasses slightly fogged and cheeks rosy from the cold.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he asks skeptically after I make him sit on the bench so I can tie his laces for him. “What if the ice cracks, and we fall through into the freezing water, get hypothermia, and die?”

I stand up and hold my gloved hands out to him. “Elliot, I promise you the ice is plenty thick. I’ve been skating on this lake since I was old enough to walk. Trust me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Elliot stares up at me, worry swirling in his captivating brown eyes. But after a moment, he nods and places his mitten-clad hands in mine, letting me pull him to his feet. He wobbles like a newborn deer, so I wrap an arm securely around his waist to steady him.

“I’ve got you.” I hold him against my side and shuffle to the edge of the lake. “We’ll take it nice and slow. Just keep holding onto me.”

Elliot grips my arm as I guide us onto the ice. His legs tremble and nearly slip out from under him with every tiny movement, but I maintain a firm hold on his slim hips.

“See? Not too bad, right?” I press my cheek to Elliot’s wool beanie.

“Okay, it’s not quite as terrifying as I imagined,” Elliot admits begrudgingly. “Although that might be because I have a giant hockey player to cling to, so I don’t fall and crack my head open.”

“Glad to be of service.” I kiss Elliot’s cold-reddened nose before spinning us in a slow circle. “Just wait until I have you doing twirls and jumps. You’ll be a regular Michelle Kwan in no time!”

Elliot gawks at me. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Gretzky. Baby steps.”

I beam with pride as Elliot takes his first few wobbly strides on the ice without my help. His face is a blend of intense concentration and barely contained terror, but he’s doing it. He’s skating on his own.

“That’s it, babe! You’ve got this.”

Elliot gives a shaky smile, but it quickly turns into panic when one of his skates slides out from under him. He flails his arms, trying to regain his balance, but gravity wins out, and he lands hard on his butt with a surprised “oof!”

I quickly skate over to him and drop to my knees beside him on the ice. I check him over for signs of injury. “Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?”

He winces as he shifts into a sitting position. “Only my pride. And maybe my tailbone.”

I chuckle at his adorably disgruntled expression. “Sorry, sorry. I know it’s not funny.” I school my features into something more sympathetic. “Here, let me help you up.”

Carefully, I pull Elliot to his feet. He sways and grabs my arms to steady himself. “I think I’m done for the day. Ice skating is clearly your thing, not mine.”

“Hey, none of that,” I chide gently, ducking my head to meet his eyes. “You were doing great! Falling is all part of the learning process. When I started, I spent more time sprawled on the ice like a goofy-looking penguin than standing upright.”

“Somehow, I doubt that, Mr. NHL prospect.”

“Okay, you got me,” I admit with a grin. “I’m a natural. But seriously, Elliot, don’t give up now. I promise it gets easier the more you practice. We’ll go a little longer, okay? Please? For me?”

I give him my best puppy-dog eyes and stick out my lower lip. After a moment, Elliot sighs. “Fine. But if I end up with a bruised coccyx, you’re waiting on me hand and foot until it heals. ”

“Deal.” I’d happily play nurse for Elliot any day.

Over the next hour, I guide him around the lake at a snail’s pace, never letting go of his hand. He falls a few more times, but instead of throwing in the towel, he dusts himself off and tries again.

After tiring ourselves out on the lake, Elliot and I head inside to warm up. I make us each a mug of hot chocolate, loaded with a mountain of mini marshmallows, while he grabs the soft fleece blanket from my bed.

We settle onto the couch in the living room, with the familiar sounds of a football game playing on the TV. It’s the Broncos versus the Saints. The Broncos won the coin toss and will get the ball first, much to my delight.

Elliot snuggles into my side, and I wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He fits perfectly against me, as if he was always meant to be there. I nuzzle my nose into his dark curls and inhale the sweet scent of his shampoo mixed with the wintery air still lingering on him.

“Warmer?” I ask, my lips brushing his temple.

Elliot hums contentedly. “Much. But that might be more from the human furnace I’m currently attached to than the hot chocolate or blanket.”

I grin into his hair. “You’re welcome.”

The Broncos-Saints game is nearing the end of the second quarter, and I’m on the edge of my seat. Elliot has burrowed deeper into the blanket, his head resting against my arm. The Broncos are driving down the field, and with each play, my heart rate ticks up a notch.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter under my breath as the Broncos’ quarterback drops back and fakes a pass. He launches a rocket toward the end zone, and the receiver hauls it in with a diving catch. The stadium erupts on the screen, and I shoot up from the couch, nearly knocking Elliot to the floor.

“Yes! Touchdown!” I pump my fist in the air like an overexcited toddler who just won his first prize at a carnival.

Elliot yawns, stretching his tiny arms out to the side. “Does that mean they’re winning now? I haven’t been paying much attention. If it’s not Jackson, I don’t have it in me to care.”

Cute. “Yeah, they’ll be up by three going into halftime.” I’m practically bouncing as I watch the Broncos’ players celebrate in the end zone. “This is huge. They didn’t do so hot last season.”

Just then, one of the refs throws a yellow flag into the air. The crowd noise on the broadcast dips into a collective groan, and my stomach sinks.

“No. No way.” I stare at the screen in disbelief as the refs huddle together and speak into their microphones. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Elliot’s eyes flick from me to the TV and back again. “What’s going on?”

I run a hand through my hair, mussing it up even more than usual. “Looks like they’re calling offensive PI. If that’s true, it’ll wipe out the touchdown.”

The ref steps forward and makes an announcement. “Offensive pass interference. Number eighty-eight. Ten-yard penalty. Replay third down.”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Are you freaking serious? That’s boo-hockey! These refs are blind.”

Elliot’s lips curl into an amused smile. “Wow, you’re really into this, huh?”

I plop back down on the couch with a huff, crossing my arms over my chest like a sulking child. “Of course I am. It’s football. ”

“You do realize you’re a hockey player, right?” Elliot pokes me in the side, trying to tickle me through my thick sweater.

“I can like more than one sport,” I say defensively. But I soften when I see Elliot’s playful expression. “My dad and I used to watch every Broncos game together. It’s kind of our thing.”

Elliot nods slowly, taking that in. “That makes sense.” He pauses, then adds, “I like seeing this side of you.”

“What side?”

“The rabid sports fan side.” He shrugs out of the blanket and leans against me. “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m yelling at the TV and pouting like a five-year-old who lost his favorite toy.”

Elliot tilts his head up to look at me, his brown eyes sparkling with affection. “Exactly.”

I smile down at him. Sharing such a cozy, domestic moment with Elliot in my childhood home feels unbelievably right. But as halftime begins and the marching band takes the field, the air in the room shifts, and Elliot tenses beside me.

“Hey, what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours?” I ask, smoothing the crease between his brows with my thumb.

Elliot stares down at his cooling hot chocolate cradled in his hands and sighs. “I’m…I’m nervous about meeting your family tomorrow. I mean, I know they’re awesome people because they raised you, but I can’t help worrying that they won’t like me. Or that I’ll say or do something to embarrass myself. Or that they’ll take one look at me and wonder what the hell their son is doing with a nerdy librarian. Or?—”

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” I gently take the mug from his hands and set it next to mine before he accidentally sloshes it all over the couch in his anxiety-filled state. “Elliot, babe, listen to me. My family will find you amazing, okay? Because I find you amazing. And they’ll see what I see in you—an incredibly smart, caring, and wonderful person.”

“I…I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Gerard. You’re kind and patient. Even when I’m an anxious mess. ”

I cup his face with my hands. “I could say the same about you. I’m the lucky one here. I still can’t believe that you want to be with me .”

Elliot leans in and captures my lips in a tender kiss that quickly turns heated. I slide my hands into his hair and tilt his head to deepen the kiss as his arms wind around my neck. He playfully nips at my bottom lip, then soothes the sting with a swipe of his tongue, and I groan into his mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, Elliot shifts until he’s straddling my lap, and the blanket falls to the floor. I grip his hips and pull him flush against me as we continue to explore each other’s mouths.

He rolls his hips, grinding his growing erection against mine, and we both moan at the delicious friction. My toes curl in my socks when he does it again.

“Gerard.” Elliot pants against my lips, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Can I—I want to make you feel good.”

“You already are, babe.” My hands slip under his sweater to caress the warm skin of his lower back. “Seeing you like this? It’s incredible.”

Elliot shivers and presses closer to me. “I know, but I mean with my mouth. Can I suck you, Gerard? Please?”

A jolt of pure molten desire shoots straight to my cock at his request. “God, yes. I want that so badly.”

“You sure?” He stops kissing me long enough to look me in the eye. “If you want to stick with hand jobs, that’s fine with me.”

“I’m more sure than I’ve ever been, Elliot. Suck me. Now .”

Elliot grins, entirely too pleased with himself as he slides off my lap and kneels on the floor between my spread legs. His nimble fingers quickly tug my sweats and boxers down to my ankles, freeing my aching erection.

He wraps one hand around the base of my cock and gives it a few slow pumps. Precome quickly beads at the tip, and Elliot leans in, swiping his tongue over the slit to gather the salty liquid. I let out a strangled moan at the first hot, wet touch of his tongue on me.

It’s funny. I always figured that having someone’s mouth on my cock would be incredible, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of Elliot’s tongue running all over my shaft. It’s pure bliss and sends sparks of pleasure radiating through my entire body.

He takes his time, licking from the base to the tip, and swirls his tongue around the sensitive crown. He’s determined to explore every ridge and vein, focusing intently on the spots that make my breath hitch and my thighs tremble.

My mouth hangs open as Elliot’s pretty pink lips part to take the head of my cock into his hot mouth. His tongue waggles over my slit, lapping up the steady flow of precome.

I groan his name as my fingers itch to bury themselves in his dark curls. “Your mouth…God, it feels incredible .”

He hums around me, and the vibrations make my balls tighten. I lean back against the couch cushions as he starts to bob shallowly, taking in more of my cock head. He can’t take me further because I’m too big and thick, but that’s okay. His right hand more than makes up for it.

The dual stimulation is exquisite, and I moan louder as my hips twitch with the effort to keep still. I don’t want to choke him. Could you imagine what I’d have to tell the ER? “Yeah, my boyfriend was giving me my first blow job, and I impaled him with my penis.”

Elliot does something with his tongue—a clever swirl-and-press right under the head of my cock—and my eyes roll back. A broken gasp punches out of my lungs, and my cock throbs between Elliot’s stretched lips.

“Oh my God, do that again,” I plead breathlessly, gazing down at him through hooded eyes.

He obliges, repeating the move and hollowing his cheeks to suck hard at the same time. The pleasure is so intense that I see Jesus .

“Elliot, I’m close.” My abdominal muscles flutter, and my balls draw up even tighter to my body. “Gonna come…pull off…”

He doubles his efforts, sucking my cock head harder. His finger tickles the spot below my balls, and that’s all it takes to send me hurdling over the edge into ecstasy.

I clutch the couch cushions in a white-knuckled grip as the most intense pleasure I’ve ever had the joy of experiencing crashes over me in unrelenting waves. My feet lift off the ground, toes curling even more, while my back arches and drives my cock head deeper into the heavenly wet heat of Elliot’s mouth.

Broken, squeaky gasps spill from my lips, the only sounds I can make as I pulse repeatedly, releasing what must be an endless stream of come onto Elliot’s eager tongue. He greedily swallows it all, his satisfied hums prolonging my high.

I’m vaguely aware that I’m shaking like a leaf as Elliot continues to suckle gently at my softening cock, making sure he gets every last drop of pleasure out of me.

When he releases me from his mouth with a loud pop, I’m nothing more than a limp noodle— literally and figuratively. He peers up at me with glazed, lust-drunk eyes, and his lips are shiny and swollen. A few pearly drops of my come cling to the corner of his mouth, and he swipes at it with his thumb before licking it clean.

The sight makes me whimper. How can he make something so filthy look so dang hot?

He hums giddily, a blissed-out grin spreading across his face. “You taste amazing, Gerard. I could happily live on just your come for the rest of my life.”

A breathless, slightly delirious laugh bubbles up from my chest. “I’m pretty sure that’s not advisable from a nutritional standpoint, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

I haul Elliot onto the couch using the last bit of strength left in me and kiss him hard. I can taste myself on him. It’s salty and slightly bitter but also oddly erotic.

When we finally break apart for air, Elliot buries his face in the crook of my neck and nuzzles my sweaty skin. “That was incredible. Watching you fall apart like that, knowing it was because of me…it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I wrap my arms around him, holding him close as I kiss the top of his head. “You’re the incredible one, Elliot. That was…gosh, I don’t even have words. Just…gosh.”