Chapter 11
I don’t come to earth even after we reach the marina.
If any angels keep watch over its darkest corner, I bet they’d smile at Calum trying to get me below deck in a hurry.
I don’t know why he thinks he can’t compare with his older brother—he’s easily as determined as Reece.
Those angels might also blush at what is pressed up against my arse to confirm we’re on the same page.
Physically we’re completely in tune; I’ve been half hard too all the way here.
“Get out of the cold,” he urges from behind me, then the temperature below decks hits him. “How the fuck can it be even colder down here?”
His breath plumes over my shoulder. That’s all the more reason for getting us under the covers in a hurry, and I guess he comes to the same conclusion. At least, I assume so until he slams on the brakes out of nowhere the moment I unknot my scarf and drop it.
Glaciers move faster than Calum then. He’s still behind me, hands still gripping my hips, only now his lips find what my scarf had covered.
His mouth on my neck is scorching. Torture in slow motion.
Hell, all while angels might be watching.
It’s also heaven on earth when his mouth finds a pulse.
It throbs to prove I’m not as heartless as he once called me right here in this cabin.
My heart beats even faster at each kiss feeling like another thank-you when I’m the one who should thank him for making me feel like my work wasn’t wasted.
“What did you say?” He doesn’t wait for me to translate.
Or for me to award a score for his neck-kissing efforts.
I couldn’t grade it as mediocre. I’m not that good a liar.
Besides, Calum unfastens my jacket and tugs at my jumpsuit collar to suck even harder right where my neck joins my shoulder, and I ignite.
It’s that plain and simple.
He struck a match in a SoHo exhibition. Lit a fire in a gallery that still warms me. Now his teeth graze skin and tendons, and I stop thinking about anything apart from his mouth on me and his dick grinding against my arse like he can’t help it.
At least, I assume that’s what prods me. Another potential reason registers, and I can’t help repeating something else he once ordered.
“Careful.”
Calum freezes, then confirms we share a wavelength. We must do for him to rummage in his coat pocket. A gift-wrapped box lands on the galley counter, and yeah, the only hardness left when he crowds closer behind me again is all him.
For me.
Calum confirms that. He plasters his chest against my back the same way now as when he watched a rescue with me on a TV flatscreen. I’d felt his every flinch then. This time, I feel him pull and tug at my clothes, and I’m more than happy if he wants nothing left between us.
I’d help make that happen quicker if him sucking on my neck again didn’t affect my coordination.
His teeth worry at sensitive skin with the same dedication, the same focus, as when he couldn’t look away from a disaster about to happen.
There’s a similar desperate edge to his teeth anchoring on the lobe of my ear.
It’s sharp. So intensely sexual that I have to work even harder to get my clothes off.
Each breath across my ear reduces me to a melting puddle, a reaction he must have remembered from a first time together that was meant to be spite-filled but wasn’t.
This isn’t spite-filled either.
I’ve never felt this much from so little, and I get naked in a hurry.
It’s a ten-out-of-ten performance that I turn around for more of. A perfect score proving that he’s a quick learner. Everything he does is just right for me, including the display of grace and athleticism he gives in my galley.
First, he drops his coat and promptly slips on its silky lining.
Then he kicks away a tangle of discarded clothing that hits me square in the face.
I can’t lie, him being clumsy with want makes me weak at the knees. So does him hopping to get his shoes off and losing his balance. Calum takes us both down onto my creaking mattress, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
He’s heavy, and I love it. He’s hot too, which translates into goosebumps.
My nipples tighten the way Lito Dixon will never witness outside of my YouTube channel.
Calum lifts up to study what a photographer last mentioned.
There’s nothing sleazy about his thumb brushing a dark tip illuminated by an incubator, and yes, this cabin is cold, but his touch is the cause of my shiver.
He gives a rough order.
“Get under the covers.”
I’m tempted to issue a make-me challenge, but he isn’t done talking.
“Can’t stop thinking about you at the wheel of that boat. Keeping it right where Reece needed. I know the strength that takes. You hauling him back too? Fucking epic.”
So is getting to do this again after what his busy calendar had made me think might end up being a one-off. Nothing feels one-and-done about us. Nothing. Not the way he cups my face to tilt it nor his head lowering to kiss my lips for the first time since a video played on a loop behind him.
I could kiss him back forever.
I want to.
That’s wild. None of my past boat-show encounters were like this. They meant getting off quick and moving on even faster.
That was before him.
Calum settles his weight on me, and a missing piece clicks into place. This slow grind coupled with never-ending kissing is a first for me. So is my body being mapped like he needs to lock away the shape of someone far less muscular than he is. “So fucking strong.”
His mouth presses that contrary opinion into my chest, my belly, the hollow of my hip. He works his way down my body, and I have no idea where my camera landed, but if it caught that praise, I’ll never delete it. Fuck it. Going forward, Calum will be my good-sex benchmark.
Maybe I say so.
“Yeah?” His head rises. Just enough light filters through gaps in my tented blankets to show me a whole lot of reputation-ruining sweetness. “I’m doing okay?”
“What?” I can’t think clearly. He rocks against me, and there’s no blood left in my brain.
It’s all pooled in my pelvis. In my dick, which has never been harder.
I’m too slow to process that I’m sharing my bed with an overachiever whose breath now stutters, hot and damp, and so close to my hard-on, which is where he pauses.
I pull back the blanket to let in more light and, just like that, I see him for what he might be—a same-sex beginner.
“Hey. You don’t have to go all in right away.”
“I want to.” He gets up on his hands and knees above me and wets his lips. “I do.”
I will delete what he says next so, so quietly. I’ll wipe this footage, then hunt down whoever made his jaw clench like it does now.
“This shouldn’t be hard. You did it to me. Fuck knows I’ve been called a cocksucker enough times before a puck drop.”
“Hey.”
He looks up.
“Fuck those losers.”
He grins, and that’s better. So is the intense way he watches me wet a fingertip. I rub that slickness over the head of my own dick, which he copies all while haloed with incubator gold.
My belly pulls taut at the slow circling he mimics, and tonight’s cold has nothing to do with a tremble that won’t stop once he lifts his finger to lick it, maybe assessing how I taste. My chest seizes like the pull-out mechanism of this bed used to until he comes to a decision.
Calum does what Dad and I stood shoulder to shoulder once to witness in a sales booth. He commits.
Goes all in.
Shoots his shot and almost kills me.
He engulfs the head of my dick in warmth and wetness, and I send up a prayer to every single Christmas angel lighting up this city.
That prayer is silent, yet Calum pays such close attention it’s like he hears each don’t stop and just like that I’m thinking.
I know it when his eyes close and his head bobs for what feels like forever.
I’m close.
Close? I’m holding on for grim death. Fighting, like he does on ice, only I battle an urge to fuck deeper into all that first-time wetness.
Into his throat. I could shoot so hard and choke him.
Holding back is almost impossible until his head lifts, a strand of saliva the last connection left between his mouth and where I need it.
“Good?”
He’s hoarse and husky, and I can’t tease him for that. Can’t do anything at all but nod.
“How about this?”
A spit-slick finger circles again. Not around my crown.
He trails it down my shaft, my balls, then lower, with one of my legs hefted over a broad shoulder.
He shoves away the blankets. Shoves my other leg out of the way too.
Calum creates space, bullying my body exactly where he wants it, and I could cheer like an entire stadium of fans to see it.
He’s hoarse again, his gaze rising from where he holds me wide open. “How . . . ?”
I find my voice again to coach him. “Slowly. That’s how.
” I also find lube and condoms, almost knocking the incubator off the bench beside my bed in the process.
Thank fuck for Calum’s lightning-fast reactions.
For a second time, he saves that egg. He also does something to the incubator’s light setting—its warm glow brightens.
“Want to see you.”
He can look at me as much as he likes. And he does. Calum gets all kinds of up close and personal while taking instruction like a champ.
“Wet your finger again.”
“One?
“To start.”
He does, and I was wrong about him being hoarse already. His voice turns gritty in contrast to the slick slide of his touch.
“Fuck. Fuck. Valentin. You’re . . .”
His breathing shudders, eyes fixed on where I’m giving way to pressure. His gaze flicks up again to where I’m propped up on my elbows, and he drops a surprisingly sweet kiss to the inside of my thigh. “I won’t hurt you?”
I can’t speak. All I can do is shake my head, then gasp, “There.”
“There?” I guess my held breath gives him all the feedback he needs.
“There,” he repeats, and he doesn’t just kiss my thigh again.
He makes the cabin glitter around me by sucking my dick, pushing himself to take more, all while rubbing just right inside me, and there’s nothing amateur about that multitasking.
I’m locked in on dual sensations.
On him inside me and me inside him. His mouth is so warm. So wet. I barely notice the click of the lid on the lube or the touch of another finger. It registers on a delay. So does him stopping his first ever BJ.
My wet cock glistens, straining for more while he gets busy.
Calum shifts me so light can shine exactly where he wants it, and I know that plenty of people have watched me get wet on YouTube.
Three hundred thousand of them, Lito included.
I’ve never been this closely studied. Calum pays so much attention to getting a second finger inside me.
And to my reaction. My cock dripping precome onto my belly surely answers his next question.
“Still good?”
I can’t reply with any coherence. My breath catches, hitching with each knuckle, and not only because I usually take a while to warm up to this and just as often swerve away from it in boat-show bathrooms.
Tonight, I groan.
“Yeah,” he groans right back, and I always thought a marine apex predator would be the reason for me dying early. Turns out a hockey player is way more deadly. His head dips, and I add watching Calum lick up that shiny puddle from my treasure trail to a list of firsts this evening.
I fight again then, this time for English vocab. All I need are two words.
Fuck me.
That struggle is real and is just as well. It gives me the time to register what Calum shows me plain as day in a cabin lit by an incubator. His gaze lands on the strip of condoms, then skitters away in a reminder that yes, he’s a quick study, but he’s having a first of his own here.
“Trust me?”
Calum must do—he lets me take the wheel and steer by rolling over. I get busy with the lube and look over my shoulder to see him watching what I slick up.
“Get right up close behind me.”
He does, and we’re back where we started, only kneeling now instead of standing.
His chest is to my back, his mouth finding the spot on the side of my neck that I hope to fuck my jumpsuit will cover tomorrow morning.
He sucks, and I grind back on his dick in the crease of my arse.
His breath stutters when I shift, and his cock slips down to where I clamp my slick thighs tight.
This isn’t exactly what I’d say yes to in a heartbeat, but I can feel his heart race wherever we’re connected. His arms band my chest, mooring himself to me, holding fast like I once did for another Trelawney.
I can be as steady for him, as strong, and I am until he finds my dick and wraps his fist around it.
I’m not complaining about him getting me off. I’m just saying that he makes it hard to focus on keeping my legs tight together.
He thrusts between them in sync with his hold on my dick, and there’s nothing wrong with his lower body.
Not a single thing. No groin strain stops him from setting a pounding rhythm that I bet makes my boat rock in the water.
He’s a hot and sweaty storm of motion who finally shoves so hard against me that I lurch forward.
I’m braced on my hands and knees, and the cabin lights up even brighter. At least, that’s how it seems even without fireworks popping off outside the portholes. Calum is the reason, a thick finger or thumb back inside me all while fisting my dick, and I shoot with no warning.
I wish I got to see him do the same.
I collapse instead, and wet heat spattering my back tells me that I missed it. Before I can roll over, he lands on top to cover me for what feels like forever.
Don’t ask me when the cabin gets darker.
I’m vaguely aware that the bed creaks when Calum’s weight lifts off me.
He rolls onto his back, and I never imagined crawling over a hockey player to take a turn to crush him, but here I am, cheek mashed against his chest, his heart thudding beneath it much slower than mine.
I almost drift off to the rise and fall of his breathing until he rumbles a quiet promise.
“I won’t let you lose.”
I ask, “Lose what?” Which is proof that I just came my brains out.
“Your mum’s cup. After what you did for Reece, I’m gonna make sure you’re the next Juno to win it.”
His lips brush my temple before I can remind him that I’m the one who is meant to be scoring him a ticket to freedom.
I drift instead, but that’s okay.
He’ll be in the UK for at least two more weeks. There’s still time for me to work even harder for him.