17. The Best Laid Plans
17
THE BEST LAID PLANS
Jason
I don’t think about what a bad idea this is. At this moment, getting my rival off is the only idea. The guy is sprinting up my stairs, but I take my time since I’m swinging in the breeze.
“Last door on the left,” I call out, and he turns into the main bedroom.
“Damn.” He whistles.
I smile, picturing him admiring my bed. “It’s an Alaskan King,” I say as I turn into my bedroom and see him, as expected, standing a foot from my supersize mattress.
“You like space,” he says as I come up behind him. I steal the chance to clasp his shoulders and press a kiss to the back of his neck. He shudders.
“I like big beds, and I like sleep, and I like a lot of room for fucking. And right now, I want you naked on my bed.” I grab a loop of his jeans and spin him around, so he’s facing me.
His brown eyes are hazy and soft, but his dick is nice and hard, tenting his jeans.
Like a beacon for my hand.
I kiss his cheek as I slowly fiddle with the zipper. His neck, as I carefully slide it down. His jaw, as I work the jeans over his hips.
Then he pushes them off the rest of the way, the eager fucker.
Once he kicks them off and his socks too, I push his chest so he falls on the bed. “Was that a quarterback sack?” he asks.
I dig this playful side of him. I always have. I like this side of him even more when we’re naked. He doesn’t trust easily. But I like that he trusts me.
“Yes, and I’m about to give your dick some deep coverage,” I say as I crawl onto the bed, stopping at his thighs so I can slide off his boxer briefs.
I groan as his dick pops free, saluting me.
I climb over him, bracing myself on my palms by his chest. “How do you like blow jobs, Beck?”
“However you want to give me one,” he says, breath shuddering.
“Nope. Tell me what you like. I told you,” I say.
He closes his eyes like he’s embarrassed, then he opens them and shrugs. “I don’t know.”
I blink. “You don’t?”
“I mean, I’ve had blow jobs. They’ve been good. But I’ve only been with one person.”
“Ohhh,” I say, connecting the dots. All his experiences are limited. But it’s a privilege to be the man to introduce him to how good a blow job can be. I’m so damn lucky he came to me tonight, and I want him to feel incredible for trusting me with his firsts. “You want me to take the lead, Beck, and you can just tell me what feels good and what doesn’t?”
“Yes, please,” he says with obvious relief.
Easy enough. I love giving head, so this should be a fiesta. But first, I want to lavish attention on his body. Lick him all over. I dip my face to his chest, kiss the illustrations on his pecs, then flick my tongue over a nipple.
In seconds, he’s trembling and panting. Lifting his hips eagerly.
Hmm. Maybe I should take pity on his dick sooner rather than later. “How about I suck you deep right?—”
“Yes, please. I’m so fucking turned on.” His hands fly to my head, shoving me down between his thighs.
I’m going to give him the blow job of his life. I cup his balls, then lick my way up the shaft, and the second my tongue touches him, he trembles everywhere.
This is going to be fun. I inhale the salty, musky scent of him, then groan as I draw him into my mouth. His hands curl through my hair, and he’s panting, thrusting. Moaning.
A few seconds later, he stills, shudders, and then I’m tasting his release.
Well, then.
That didn’t take long at all.
With a smile, I swallow his orgasm, then pop off. I flop to my back, laughing. “I’d say I’m the king of blow jobs, but I think a stiff breeze would have gotten you off, Beck.”
He grabs a pillow and hurls it at me. It hits my noggin with a soft thud, and I crack up. Grabbing it, I scoot up the bed and flop onto the pillow, parking my hands behind my head.
The mattress dips, and I see Taco has joined us and is curling up next to Beck.
Then?
The little asshole purrs and rubs his face against Beck’s chest. “Are you kidding me, CockBlocker?”
Beck smiles. “I told you cats like me.”
“No shit,” I say, then I stare at the ceiling, wondering what’s next. My brain’s hazy, though, and I’m still a little woozy, a lot spent.
I’m not sure how long we’ll stay here, naked in my bed, post-sex. “I mean, maybe you were right about his name,” I grumble, just because I want to talk.
“Finally, he admits it,” Beck says as he strokes my cat. The creature rumbles like there’s an earthquake moving through his little body.
“Seriously? Do you have catnip planted in your armpit?”
“I don’t know. Do I?” he taunts, clearly enjoying my cat’s preferences.
“Maybe you do,” I say, then I reach out a hand and attempt to get a pet in. I bump Beck’s hand, though, and our gazes snag, a little awkward, as if we’re both wondering are we holding hands now ?
I pull mine back and fold both on my stomach. Is he going to want to take off now that he got off? I frown, hating that possibility.
Oh, shit. I want him to stay.
No clue if he wants to, though, so I don’t ask.
Beck breaks the silence, patting my bed. “So, you really like a big bed?”
Ah, that’s an easy diversion. “Once you go Alaskan King, you can’t go back.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” he says.
Ah, so he’s not angling for an invite to stay over. Why do I even want him to spend the night?
Because you like him, dumbass.
But I’ll get over it. I always do. I start to swing my legs out of bed so I can get dressed, but then a sliver of guilt lodges in my chest. This was his first time with a man. I should make sure he’s all good.
I settle back on top of the sheets. Then I clear my throat, unsure what to say. Finally, I pull a Beck, blurting, “What did you think?”
He smirks. “You mean—did I like it?”
Color heats my cheeks. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking.”
His expression turns thoughtful as he looks at me. “I did. A lot, Jason. Like, an insane amount.”
Ah hell.
My heart goes a little wild. And so does my stomach, rumbling.
Beck laughs. “Are you hungry?”
“Maybe? I sort of nibbled earlier.”
“You nibbled? You’re a football player! How do you nibble on dinner?”
“I figured I’d make something. Or order something,” I counter. “But you came over.”
“So I ruined your dinner plans by blowing you?”
“Evidently,” I tease.
He pushes up higher in bed. “You have that beautiful kitchen, and you were going to DoorDash.”
“How do you know I was going to DoorDash?” I’m a little offended he can read me so easily.
“I can tell. You’re a DoorDasher.”
“Fine, I was going to get delivery,” I admit. “But I use Ding and Dine. It’s woman-owned and has good bennies for its employees.”
“Like I said, you’re a nice guy. But, do you want something homemade instead?” he asks, sitting up in bed.
I roll to my side and prop my head in my hand. “You’re going to cook for me?”
“If you want me to, I will,” he says, and the tentative offer is so sweet, so endearing.
But the if stands out to me. Beck’s telling me he wants to stay. He needs to know he’s welcome here, though. It’s my house. I’m the older one. I’m the more experienced one. I need to reassure him.
I also need to make it crystal clear. I sit up and run my knuckles down his jaw. “I do want you to stay awhile.”
He dips his face to hide his smile.