12. Dylan
Chapter 12
Dylan
I ’m having trouble processing what the hell is happening. My traitorous dick damn near ruined this whole day for me, but Jake’s response wasn’t what I expected. Then again, I know some straight guys take being hit on by a gay guy as a compliment. Except, Jake doesn’t look complimented. He looks turned on as fuck .
And earlier, when I tried to figure out if his anger was friendly protectiveness or jealous desire, his deer-in-the-headlights look gave me my answer. But it also seemed pretty evident that Jake hasn’t come to terms with that part of his sexuality, so I didn’t push it. I’ve been someone’s coming out experiment before and I can’t say I’m interested in doing it again.
At this point though, Jake’s seen all my cards and instead of running, he’s asking for more. Sure, it’s just dinner, but it’s dinner after he saw the obvious result of my attraction to his barely clothed body. My reaction to the way his lips felt against my skin. My reaction to him.
Back at the dock, we slip our shirts on, gather our stuff, get the boat refilled with gas, and discard the trash. Everyone pitches in and it isn’t long before we’re saying our goodbyes. I manage to get out of my head long enough to clasp all the guys’ hands and pull them in for a quick pat on the back, but I feel Jake’s eyes on me every time my chest hits one of theirs.
“Thanks for letting me come out with you guys today. I hadn’t realized how much I needed a break.” I aim my words at Knox since it’s his boat, but everyone responds.
“Yeah, man, any time.” Knox.
“We’ll have Jakey give you a call next time we go out. We’ll get you up on the board. It’s a blast.” Hudson.
“Next time bring your sister though.” Phoenix.
I laugh as I turn and head for my car with Jake hot on my heels.
Once we’re inside, with all the external noise shut out, the silence feels deafening. Is Jake regretting giving me an invitation to dinner now that we’re alone?
“If uh, if you’re tired from being out, I can drop you off and go get in a couple hours of work.” I offer, giving him an out to avoid hearing the rejection fall from his lips.
“I was actually thinking we could grab dinner at my place? I need a shower and I don’t have a change of clothes with me so going out doesn’t sound appealing, but I’m still up for dinner if you are.” He won’t make eye contact with me and I’m having a hard time reading the tone of his voice.
I should say no. I should be the stronger one. I know I don’t want a relationship with a guy learning what he likes. As soon as he finds out he won’t be topping me or be on the receiving end of any blowjobs, it’ll be over before it starts and fuck, I like hanging out with him too much for it to end like that.
But instead, I hear myself say, “Umm…yeah…if you’re sure. Just tell me how to get there.”
“I’m sure,” he whispers before closing his eyes briefly as he gives me directions toward uptown. The most expensive place possible. I pull into the underground garage and am stopped by a gate that’s being manned by an attendant currently giving me the stink eye.
When I roll down my window, my engine rumbles loudly, the sound echoing off the concrete walls, causing the guard to have to yell.
“When you enter the gate, go right. You can loop around and exit on this side,” the man says.
“I’m sorry?” I say, asking for clarification because I don’t understand.
“You don’t live here, my man,” he explains, as if I don’t know where my own home is. His eyes rake over my car before flitting back to my face and I know what he sees. Hispanic features set against dark skin. Of course I couldn’t afford to live here.
I huff a humorless laugh of disbelief as Jake leans across my center console, bracing himself on his elbow as he shows his face to the guard.
“He doesn’t, but I do.”
The guard’s eyes go wide with mortification. “Mr. Ellington. I didn’t see you there.”
“Obviously,” Jake answers unamused. “Memorize this car, this man’s face, and his license plate. Anytime he shows up, you direct him to any of my spaces immediately. If mine are full, have another car towed in order to find him a space. Is that clear?”
The guard nods. “Yes, sir.” Looking at me, he offers a quick apology. “Sorry, sir.”
I nod back, unsure of what to say. No one except Cassie has ever stood up for me like that.
“People can be such assholes,” Jake mutters as we make our way into the underground lot. “My spaces are PH1-PH5. You’ll see the Range Rover and the Maserati. My motorcycle and the Ferrari are also down here. My guest spaces are marked PHG. There are three of them. Choose any one you’d like out of the eight that belong to me.”
I roll this information around in my brain and the lightbulb goes off. “They’re labeled PH because you live in the penthouse, don’t you?”
He doesn’t bat an eyelash as he nods. And why would he? It’s just a fact of life for him.
“I’ve never been to a place this fancy,” I admit. “Your furniture isn’t all white, is it? Because those places freak me out. I’m immediately going to fuck something up.”
I expect him to laugh, but his voice is deep and he still sounds pissed.
“No, I prefer dark colors.”
“Hey, you okay?” I ask, sliding into one of his guest spaces and killing the engine.
“Yeah.”
I’m not convinced.
Knowing I should apologize for the position I put him in out on that raft, I add. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It was an asshole thing to ask and honestly, I don’t know what came over me. I blame the liquor. I don’t really think, you know…that you think I’m hot or anything.”
“It’s fine.”
There he goes again, saying it’s fine when it so obviously is not, but I’ve given him enough shit today and I don’t want to press my luck so I stay quiet.
We grab our bags and head for the elevator. He enters a code and the doors slide open.
“Code’s 1112 if you ever need it.”
“That should be easy to remember. It’s my birthday.”
“No shit?” He finally chuckles, relieving some of my tension.
When we step onto the elevator, Jake hits his button and reenters his code then squeezes himself into the corner farthest from me. We ride in silence for what feels like ten minutes and finally the elevator dings, announcing our arrival on the top floor.
When the doors open, I’m stunned. “Is this your actual place? Like, the elevator drops you off right in your apartment?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t that a security issue?”
“Maybe, but that’s what the code is for. It’s the only thing that will get the elevator up here.”
“What if there’s a fire?” I ask, suddenly concerned for his safety.
“There are stairs. And I stashed a foldable ladder on the third floor so if access to the ground floor is blocked, I only have to go down six flights of stairs and then I can break the window and climb down the ladder outside. You don’t work at the fire station and not have multiple contingency plans.”
“Wait, you work at the fire station with the other guys?”
Jake was quiet during most of the conversation today and maybe the guys just assumed I knew what they knew, so no one really explained the set up.
“I do, that’s where I met them, but I’d appreciate it if you kept that little gem of knowledge to yourself.”
“Sure, but…why?”
Jake picks up a remote and a second later, soft lighting illuminates his kitchen and living room. “Because it’s the only thing in my life that I have just for me and if my father finds out, I’ll be forced to give it up…just like everything else.”
Well, if that isn’t a statement I’d like to unpack, I don’t know what is.
“What else have you had to give up?” I ask, wanting to know what’s missing from his life. They say money can’t buy happiness and for the first time, I’m starting to think “they” are right. Jake’s dark eyes match his sad smile.
I hate it.
“Let’s save that for another day, shall we? You want to go first in the shower?”
“Oh, uh, I didn’t bring a change of clothes.” I’d planned for a day on the lake and then an evening at home. My home.
“No problem, I’ve got a pair of sweats that should fit. Come on.” He turns to walk down a hallway and the first thing I notice are the sconces on his walls. Dude has actual sconces in his penthouse. Whose life am I living right now?
And then I’m in his bedroom and I can’t quite stifle the groan that escapes. It smells like cologne and laundry detergent. It’s warm and heavy and I want to sink into it and let it wrap around me like an embrace.
My resolve falters.
Perhaps I could be someone’s experiment just one more time.
Jake’s king-sized bed has a tufted leather headboard, the kind with silver studs, giving it an almost gothic feel. The bed is neatly made and a fluffy, hunter green comforter rests on top, concealing his sheets beneath. His dresser and nightstands are mahogany wood with black knobs and his lamps are black iron with shades that match his comforter.
Dark colors indeed.
He pulls a pair of heather gray sweatpants from a dresser drawer and holds them up. “These should do.” Then he disappears into the walk-in closet and reemerges carrying a Yale t-shirt. “I’m smaller than you, but this is big on me. Give it a try.”
I have to fight everything in me not to slam my body into his and taste his mouth. His white t-shirt is almost see-through since his body was wet when he put it back on and my self-control is hanging by a thread.
A thread of a thread actually.
“Jesus.” I cough when it comes out as a whisper.
“What?”
“Did you go to Yale?”
“Yeah, why?”
I can’t hide my smile or my flirty answer. “Looks like Phoenix wasn’t the only nerdy firefighter on that boat today.”
Jake swallows hard, but ignores my statement. An apology rests on the tip of my tongue, but fuck it, I’m not going to dance around the elephant in the room. I’ve been honest and still, he invited me here.
“Shower’s through there. Feel free to use whatever you find. Towels and washcloths are in the cabinet to the right. I’m gonna go start dinner.”
He still won’t meet my eyes and although his tone isn’t rude, it’s more clipped than it was all day. He turns around and practically runs out of the room.
Stepping into the stream of water, it only takes two seconds to know this is the best shower I’ve ever had. The water temperature and pressure are both perfect and when I pop the lid on his body wash, I’m overcome with desire so strong, it damn near sends me to my knees. I should feel a little guilty for jerking off in his shower, but it’s either in here or at the kitchen table because I’m wound so tightly, I have to do something .
Wrapping my fist around my cock, I let the sensation pull me under. I brace myself by throwing one hand on the tiled wall and close my eyes. I see Jake in the water on the board. The way his arms move and flex.
I see him wipe the water from his eyes. I see his face, less than an inch from mine as the boat threw him into me. But it’s when I remember the feel of his hard body under my hands as I tried to keep him upright that I finally lose it, painting the stone floor of his shower with ropes of my cum.
The relief is short lived though, because when I get out and dry off, I imagine him slipping into this same pair of sweats with no boxers, his tip pressed into the fabric the same place mine is and my dick is fucking hard again.
Just like a swimsuit, trying to hide an erection in sweatpants is a no-go.
After five minutes, it’s still there so I have no choice but to own it. Maybe if I pretend it isn’t there it’ll give up? Although the way this day has gone, that seems unlikely. I slip the borrowed t-shirt on and head back to the kitchen.
“Hey,” Jake says when I step into view. “You mind watching this rice while I grab my shower really quick? It should be fine, but in case it starts to bubble over or something, just turn the burner off.”
He still won’t look at me and that’s how I know I took it too far. I should never have compared him to Phoenix after admitting the whole nerdy firefighter thing made me hot. Especially since I was already unable to hide my erection from him.
There are a thousand things I could say or do, but I really can’t read him right now so until I know if he’s pissed, tired, or just uncomfortable, I settle with, “Yeah. No problem.”
While Jake’s in the shower I check in with Cassie.
Dylan 5:33pm
At Jake’s. Making dinner. Be home after a bit.
Cassie 5:34pm
He took you back to his place?
Dylan 5:34pm
Yep. And let me borrow his sweatpants. But I fucked up already.
Cassie 5:37pm
He definitely wants to do you. You’re literally IN HIS PANTS.
Fucked it up how?
Dylan 5:37pm
I can’t read him. I think I took a joke too far and made him uncomfortable.
And that was after I practically forced him to admit he thinks I’m hot.
Cassie 5:39pm
Still salvageable. Let him set the pace. Maybe he’s scared?
Dylan 5:40pm
I thought the same thing.
But I also said I wouldn’t do this to myself again.
WTF am I thinking?
Cassie 5:40pm
Try to relax. You’re amazing Dyl. He’ll either see it or he won’t.
And if he doesn’t, then we move on.
I smile and slide my phone into the pocket of Jake’s sweatpants. I appreciate how Cassie always talks about my relationships like they’re something we do together. Not in a weird way, just in an I’ve always got your back kind of way. It makes me wonder how people go through life without a twin.
“Someone’s got you all smiley.” Jake’s upbeat voice startles me as he comes back into the kitchen. He sounds revitalized and full of new energy. Maybe his shower really is magical.
When I look up, he’s in thin black joggers…and nothing else. Shirtless and barefoot, with wet hair, he moves past me into the kitchen.
Honestly, I want to play it cool and let him set the tone like Cassie suggested, but he’s making this damn near impossible for me.
“Uh, Jake?” I start, rubbing the back of my neck just to give my hand something to do.
“Yeah?” he asks innocently, moving over to take the rice off the burner and turn off the stove.
I laugh, trying to ease the tension. I have to say something or else my dick is going to do it for me.
“I’m not sure if you remember our earlier conversation, but um, for me, your current outfit is the equivalent of your girlfriend prancing around in just a thong and telling you not to look…or touch.”
He looks down at his bare chest and then back up to me. “Oh, fuck. My bad. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I laugh again. “Trust me, I’m a lot of things right now, but uncomfortable isn’t one of them. It’s just…I can’t hide my reaction in these sweatpants and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Again.”
“Again?” he asks, quizzically.
“Yeah, after my bad joke about the nerdy firefighter thing you kind of went all robot on me and I figured I’d crossed another line since earlier I joked that I was turned on by that.”
“Are you suggesting you find me attractive?” he asks playfully, appearing unfazed as he opens the oven and pulls out a baking dish containing two seasoned chicken breasts.
I need to stop this right now.
I’m tired of having my hopes crushed. Maybe this is why so many gay guys have girls as best friends. It’s hard to stay neutral around people you’re attracted to and shit gets messy fast. I’ll give it one shot over the bow just so I can tell Cassie I did, but after that, I’m done.
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Jake. I’ve been trying like hell to play it cool all afternoon, but I know you’re not blind. I’m gay. You’re not. I’ve been fighting an erection all fucking day and you got pissed when you’re friends got too close. Now, you’re shirtless and cooking me dinner in your penthouse. So, tell me…what are we actually doing here?”
He sets the dish on a potholder, closes the oven door, and plants his hands on the counter, keeping his back to me. His head falls forward and I know I’m pushing him, but damn it, he’s been pushing me all fucking afternoon.
“I don’t know,” he answers quietly.
“Come on, man. You have to know something. Is this really just an attempt to befriend me because you think I work too much? If it is, that’s cool, but can you at least do it with all your clothes on?” I go silent waiting for him to answer and am rewarded when he starts talking again. His back his still to me so I can’t read his facial expressions.
“What I know is that I enjoyed hanging out with you today. I enjoy every time I get to talk to you. Hell, I’ve been trying to invent reasons to talk to you since the day I saw you.” He exhales harshly. “And on days we don’t talk, my world feels darker.”
My sister’s words fill my mind. If Jacob is straight, I’ll eat my shoe.
Needing answers, I press forward, knowing it might cause him to shut down instead of open up, but I need more. “Do you feel that way about people often?” I take a step closer to his back.
“No.”
I hear his ragged breath and I move in another step, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his bare skin.
“Why do you feel that way about me?” I desperately want to hear him admit he’s attracted to me, but when he doesn’t answer, I switch gears and point to a framed picture on his counter of him and the woman I saw in the Audi. “Who is she?”
Finally, he spins around to face me without even looking at the picture to see who I’m talking about. He jolts slightly when he sees how close I’ve gotten. His eyes waste no time trailing the lines of my tattoo over my chest and shoulder. As if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing, he reaches his index finger forward to trace the ink on my side and I feel my abs contract in anticipation.
“Her name is Cora.” Oddly, he winces as he says her name while my skin burns under his featherlight touch.
“Your girlfriend.”
He blows out a sigh and pulls his hand back to run it through his wet hair. “It’s complicated.”
In the picture, his arms are around her waist and he’s kissing her under Christmas lights. Her hand rests over his heart and despite being in the middle of an open-mouthed French kiss, I can tell she’s smiling. At best, he might be bi, but either way, he’s still in a relationship.
“How complicated can it be, Jake?” I don’t mean to sound angry, but my emotions are all over the place. The more I realize I want this man, the more I realize I can’t have him and he’s pushing all my fucking buttons.
Without warning, Jake pushes off the counter, forcing me back with his body until I hit the wall separating the kitchen from the foyer. Our bodies are now connected from our chests to our toes and his thigh wedges between mine as he growls, “ Really fucking complicated, Dylan.” Then he’s kissing me like his soul is on fire and I’m the only thing that can put it out.
I don’t think, I just react. My hesitation, and anger from a second ago, vanishes as his tongue fights its way inside my mouth. I kiss him back, hard , fighting for dominance as I grind my hips against his thigh, my body already begging for release again. His hand skates across my abs under the t-shirt I’m wearing, causing me to shudder under his touch for the second time today.
“Holy shit, you feel so fucking good. I’ve wanted to do this all goddamned day,” he mumbles against my lips.
My brain goes fuzzy. This doesn’t feel like the touch of a man who’s making out with someone from the same sex for the first time. This doesn’t feel like curiosity. It feels like need , desire, sexual deprivation. This man is starved for the affection he craves.
He moves his mouth to my neck, literally biting me and inhaling my skin. Breathing hard as his tongue lashes against my flesh, I drop my head back against the wall I’m still pinned to and tilt it to the side to give him the access he wants as he fights with my shirt.
“Get it off. Please. ”
How far is he wanting to take this tonight? And what about Cora?
He’s already pushing my shirt up to my chest so I oblige and help get it off the rest of the way.
Before it even lands on the floor, his chest hits mine and his hand comes down to rub the steel rod in my sweatpants — his sweatpants — and I pull a hiss through my clenched teeth.
“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” I warn him, the familiar tingle already spreading through my balls.
“God, yes.” He stops rubbing only to dip his fingers in the waistband of the sweats and trail them back and forth along my stomach. “Please, can I touch more?”
Say no, Dylan. You’re going to get your heart broken.
“Yes.”
His hands dive into the sweatpants. His right hand grabs my shaft while his left hand cups my balls, squeezing gently and rendering me speechless. Looking down, I see the tent in his own pants. Holy fuck, the guys weren’t kidding about his size. Without asking, I start untying the strings on his pants. I figure if he doesn’t want me to touch his dick, he’ll let me know soon enough, but he remains quiet as I force the material down past his erection.
As soon as I put my hands on him, you’d think I’d hooked him up to a car battery. He thrusts into my hands and lets go of my balls to use his now-free hand to wrap pressure over mine, telling me to grip him harder.
And here we stand like two horny adolescents, jerking each other off in his kitchen.
Fuck if it isn’t hot.
“Dylan,” he pants. “I’m gonna come.”
“You’re damn right you are,” I respond, my assertive nature taking over.
“Your hand,” he says as if just now noticing it’s what’s bringing him to the edge. “You should…move it…if you don’t want—”
“I’ll paint yours if you paint mine.”
For the love of God, I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’m jumping into this moment with everything I have. The consequences be damned. I jerk him harder, almost punishing him for making me lose control like this, but then he’s coming.
His hand on my own shaft faltering as he spills his release. His free hand digs into my waist to steady himself and the act of using me to ground himself sends me flying over the edge after him.