17. Jake
Chapter 17
Jake
D inner damn near killed me. I could barely stay in my seat when Whitney started groping Dylan’s thigh. I knew she was bold, but stupidly, I hadn’t anticipated that move and the jealousy that flowed through me was palpable. It was a living thing begging to be released.
I probably shouldn’t have been so sharp with her, but the need to make her stop overwhelmed my rational brain.
When Cora suggested we invite Dylan to dinner, she didn’t mention Whitney was coming too until she showed up. Cora knows I hate being involved in any kind of match-making and I know she can’t rest until everyone’s happily paired up. Having a single best friend kills Cora, but if she has a mind to set Dylan and Whitney up, she’s going to be sorely disappointed.
“Are you guys up for a movie?” Cora calls from the living room. “I don’t have it in me to play a game or anything, but falling asleep on the couch to a movie sounds nice.”
The voice that speaks in my head is irritated. If you want to sleep, go home. Or hell, go lay down in my bed, just please give me the time I crave with the man in front of me.
I feel like shit immediately. She doesn’t deserve that kind of attitude, especially considering I’m the one stepping out. Over and over I’ve thought to myself that I need to end this before it gets any more out of control. Only, I’m not sure which this I’m supposed to end. My choices feel impossible.
I soften my voice. “Yeah, sweetheart, put on whatever you want. We’ll be done in a few minutes.” The sound of Cora’s and Whitney’s chatter resumes and the low volume makes it sound heated. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but knowing they’re occupied for another minute or two has me rounding on Dylan, my hands flying to cup his face.
I’m completely at war with myself, half of me hating what this unchecked desire is making me do, and half of me reveling in the freedom of being myself. Honest words tumble from my lips. “I can’t stay away from you. Please don’t make me stop.”
I’m terrified he’s going to push me away and I hold my breath in preparation for the blow until he says, “How much do you want me?” He narrows his eyes and a furrow forms between his brows, making him almost look in pain.
“ So fucking much. I’m desperate. Please, ” I rasp. “Let me get on my knees for you.”
I’m panting against his mouth and my kiss is growing wetter and louder by the second as our lips and tongues suck on each other hidden behind the small section of wall that cuts off the view to the living room. If we step out from this corner, the girls will be able to see us.
“Shhh.” Dylan tugs on my hair to put space between us as he blows his whisper across my mouth.
I nod, diving back in for more, but he leads me to the sink, which is in the part of the counter facing the living room. We’re not hidden at all here.
“Stay,” he whispers again, planting my hands on the edge of the sink. “Anyone need a refill?” he asks the girls on the couch.
“Yes, please!” Whitney holds her glass over the back of the couch and Dylan pulls the bottle from the fridge to top her off and then holds the bottle up toward Cora. “You want any more?”
“I’m good, thank you,” Cora says, smiling up at Dylan. “I’m having enough trouble staying awake as it is.”
Concern pinches my brow. “Cor, maybe you should just plan on staying here tonight,” I suggest. I don’t want her to risk falling asleep at the wheel.
“Let’s see how the movie goes.” The opening credits finally disappear and the movie starts. “Oh, Dylan,” Cora calls as he makes his way back toward the kitchen. “Would you mind cutting the lights? I don’t think you’re supposed to watch The Exorcist with the lights on.”
“You chose The Exorcist ?” Dylan asks in disbelief, making me chuckle.
Cora is full of surprises.
“Sure did,” she smiles happily and turns around, settling in to watch her favorite movie.
“Not what I would’ve guessed,” he says quietly, flicking off the lights bathing us in total darkness except for the ambient glow from the T.V. Moving behind me, he places his hands on the front of my hips and slides them forward, rubbing up and down at a torturous pace. The high bar top is concealing his hand placement from the living room. “Can you stay quiet?”
“What?” I ask, turning to face him. He’s grinning wickedly as he moves his hands to my shoulders and pushes me to my knees. “ Here ?” I whisper, mildly panicked.
He looks down at me and licks his lips. Even though he’s been the one saying we can’t do this, the desire in his eyes and the bulge in the front of his pants tells me his resolve is long gone.
Oh, fuck yes.
He places his finger over his mouth in a final reminder to tell me to be quiet and goes to work, unbuttoning his jeans. I’m cramped on my knees, stuffed between him and the cabinets behind me, but all that discomfort disappears as soon as he pulls his cock out.
With the living embodiment of temptation directly in front of my face and the desire to please and utterly wreck the man in front of me, I throw caution to the wind.
Not wasting another second of this precious gift, I wrap my lips around his thick head and run my tongue along his slit, desperate to taste the pre-cum already beading for me.
“ Ung— ” I start to groan, but his fingers tighten painfully in my hair as a warning to stay quiet.
“Everyth—” I hear Whitney start before Cora interrupts her.
“Shhh! Whit, this is one of your favorite parts!”
I’ve reached a low…a whole new level of shame…over having my girlfriend save me from getting caught with my mouth around a man’s dick. A respectable man would stand up, send everyone home except Cora, and come clean. But with Dylan’s warm cock pulsing in my mouth, I’m not a respectable man. What’s worse, the danger of almost getting caught has me at the edge of my orgasm faster than ever and no one’s even touching my dick right now.
Who am I?
Above me, Dylan reaches forward and turns the faucet, moving the roasting pan into the sink nonchalantly as I continue to bob along his shaft before taking him down my throat until I’m flush with his pubic bone. Using my other hand, I tug on his balls. Because of the running water, one of the girls turns the volume up on the T.V., unknowingly masking Dylan’s heavy breathing and the slap his hand makes on the granite before white-knuckling the counter.
Needing a breath, I begin sliding his cock back out of my mouth and his hand flies back to my hair. His fingers dig into my scalp and I smile, knowing he’s having just as hard of a time staying quiet as I am. I tilt my head sideways and run my open lips along his length before dragging my tongue from root to tip.
His fingers tighten again and his hips jerk.
He likes that.
I go back to his base and repeat the movement.
In order to get the right angle, I’m looking up as my head is tilted so I can reach the underside of his cock from my position on the floor. When I move to start the line again, he looks down at me and with his jaw clenched, he whispers, “ More, ” on a growl.
I lick him up and down, all the while, tugging on his balls. I feel them start to draw into him, telling me he’s close, so I pull him into my mouth and suck him down my throat. His hand wastes no time pulling me flush against him again and his hips drive forward.
He’s so deep in my throat I can’t breathe, but I feel his head thicken and I know his release is imminent. Less than three seconds later, it feels like he’s depositing his cum directly into my stomach.
My body fights, needing air, and drool spills out the side of my mouth as ten seconds turn to fifteen and his hand is still holding me to him.
I tap his thigh, letting him know I need to breathe and finally, he releases the pressure on the back of my head. I’m gasping for breath on my kitchen floor, a string of saliva still connecting my mouth to his cock when he leans down and says, “I don’t know where the hell you learned how to do that, but we’re going to pretend it started with this blowjob.”
I wipe my mouth with my hand and nod. I don’t know what it says about me, but I like that Dylan’s just a little jealous.
He nods his head toward the corner, reminding me I need to make sure I stand up behind the wall, out of sight of the living room.
“Guess I can’t stop touching you either,” he whispers once I join him at the sink, grabbing the already clean pan from his hand, and begin drying it.
Goodbye heart.
Dylan and I finish pretending to do the dishes and join the girls about fifteen minutes into the movie. Cora’s got her legs tucked under her and she’s leaning on the arm of the couch, fingers furiously flying across her phone screen, typing out an email. I pat her foot and sit down next to her. She throws me a smile before turning her attention to the T.V., and making her phone screen dark.
Meanwhile, when Dylan sits down on the opposite end of the couch from Whitney, she immediately moves closer. It isn’t long before the blanket covering her legs begins to creep across his lap too.
Overall, it takes about thirty minutes for it to get there, but eventually, her hand must land in his lap because he springs off the couch.
“I need to use the restroom. I’ll be right back. Does anyone need anything?”
“All good,” I reply, deciding it’s best not to comment on how badly I need to get off.
“Same,” Whitney says, although if I’m not mistaken, there’s a bit of a huff in her tone.
Dylan pads down the hallway and I want to tell Whitney to back off, but I don’t think outing Dylan will solve my problems. When Dylan returns a few minutes later, he makes an excuse to get out of staying for the rest of the movie and says goodbye.
“Do you want us to pause it while you walk him out?” Cora asks, ever aware of her manners.
“No, you guys go ahead. I won’t be long.”
I grab Dylan’s biceps and turn him toward the penthouse elevator when I hear Whitney pout. “I just don’t think it’s going to work out, Cor.”
I guess I know what they were whispering about so vehemently. Cora hates failing and I can imagine her encouraging Whitney to try harder with Dylan.
A week later, I’m in the middle of my meeting with Cora’s father, going over his financial portfolio and discussing the not-great reality of his proposed business venture, when Peggy’s voice buzzes through the intercom on my office phone.
“Mr. Ellington?”
“I’m with Governor Cosey at the moment, Peggy, can it wait?”
“You tell me, sir. A Mr. Dylan Ryder is here. Says he has your car keys.”
I chew on my lip and look back at Martin who’s quirking a brow at me.
“I apologize, this will only take a second.” No way am I turning down a chance to see Dylan today. Between the fire station, preparing for this meeting, and staying on track with all my other clients, not to mention Dylan’s crazy schedule, I haven’t seen him since dinner. Although we’ve texted every day, it’s not the same. “Send him in, please.”
I rise to greet Dylan and work to slow my heart rate as the door to my office opens. When I see him, I can’t tell if knowing what his cum tastes like makes this easier or harder and although I know I would never send him away, maybe seeing him for the first time after a week-long absence in the presence of an audience wasn’t the smartest move.
His eyes rake over me and I watch the blue I love turn to black as he takes in the custom cut of my light denim colored suit. The top button of the white shirt beneath my jacket is level with my nipples, but the cut of the shirt is such that not much more than a sliver of my chest is exposed. His eyes snag on it anyway, fanning the flames of my own desire.
I only get to keep his heated gaze on me for a second because he quickly realizes we aren’t alone in the room.
Much to my dismay.
“I’m sorry for interrupting.” He nods his head toward the governor and then looks back at me. He’s in a plain black t-shirt and jeans with rips on his thighs and I love that he felt comfortable enough to roll into my office exactly as he is. “I thought you might want these. I’ve had her a long time.” He tosses me the keys and I find my voice.
“Thank you. Dylan, this is Governor Martin Cosey. Governor, this is Dylan Ryder.”
Martin stands and reaches his hand toward Dylan who returns the shake.
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise, Dylan.” Martin eyes the white bag with a logo of a “P” made out of pastries in Dylan’s hand. I hadn’t noticed it until just now. “Any chance those are churros from Panaderia?
“You know Panaderia?” Dylan asks, unable to hide his shock.
“I don’t just know it; I love that place.”
Dylan holds out the bag. “Help yourself. My father and I’s autobody shop is two doors down. I think they’re the only place left on the block that hasn’t had their windows broken or graffiti painted across the front.”
I watch as the governor takes a churro from the bag before waving it at me, indicating he’d like for me to have one. How nice of him since I’m assuming Dylan brought them for me in the first place . “I’ve heard reports of growing crime in that area,” Martin says.
“There was a shooting down the street from us a few days ago,” Dylan says.
Martin’s head snaps up from the churro bag to look at Dylan. “A shooting?” he asks alarmed. “My God, I hadn’t realized it had gotten so bad. Have they caught the person responsible?”
“No, sir. Not yet at least.”
“Well, I certainly hope they come through. Was it fatal?” Martin may be a politician, but his concern is sincere.
“No, thankfully she’s still alive.” Dylan keeps his answers short.
Another knock on my office door draws all of our attention.
“Come in,” Martin calls at the door.
“Have you forgotten whose office we’re in Governor?” I ask, chuckling to mask my annoyance at both his forwardness in my space as well the additional visitor. Like usual, now that Dylan is here, I want everyone else to go away.
“Of course not, but I think your visitor’s actually here to see me, considering I called her.”
On cue, Cora walks through the door. She looks beautiful in three-inch heels, a red pencil skirt, and a white blouse. Around her neck is the gold pendent her father bought her for her eighteenth birthday. It’s a star with diamonds at the points. Ribbons of gold intertwine to make up the middle and an onyx square sits at the center. It’s always looked slightly demonic to me, but of course, I’ve kept that opinion to myself, seeing as it’s something Cora treasures and never takes off.
Interestingly, my girlfriend surveys the three of us and chooses to greet Dylan first.
“Dylan! I didn’t expect to see you here!” She walks right to him, places a kiss on his cheek and wraps him in a hug.
“You two know each other?” her father asks as Dylan’s arms slide around Cora’s back in a warm embrace.
“Of course. We had dinner together last week at Jacob’s. They’re good friends,” she explains as she dutifully places a peck on her father’s cheek. When she gets to me, she offers me her cheek instead of kissing mine like she did the others.
Perhaps it’s a sign of possession. She’s allowing me to claim her in front of them. I’ve never really thought about it before. The gesture makes me wildly uncomfortable since Dylan’s eyes watch the action without blinking.
She turns to look at him while leaning into my side. “Whitney said she hopes you’ll save her a dance at the gala.”
“The charity gala? At the club?” Martin stammers, looking at Dylan’s current ensemble and five o’clock shadow.
“Yes, Daddy,” Cora giggles. “The charity gala at our club. It’s going to be fantastic. Wait until you taste the menu.” Cora claps her hands before holding them out to her dad. “I’m assuming the gala is why you told me to meet you here? Do you have the item you’re placing in the silent auction?”
We all watch as Martin plucks a ring box from his pocket and pulls it open, revealing a four-carat amethyst in a sparkling gold band of diamond accents.
Dylan’s eyes grow wide. Hell, if I hadn’t already seen it, my eyes would be huge too.
More knuckles rap on my door and I fight the urge to throw something. Who can it be now?
To my absolute dismay, my father strolls in looking as annoyed at the conglomeration of people in my office as I feel…until his eyes land on Cora and they soften immediately. My father adores her.
Well, he adores the connections she provides.
“Cora, sweetheart, you look as radiant as ever,” he says, wrapping her in a hug and kissing her cheek. “Come to take Jacob to lunch?”
“I wish I had the time. I just stopped by because Daddy said he’d be here today and I needed to grab the auction item from him. Which reminds me…any chance you have your item here as well?
My dad looks sheepish. “I don’t. I waited until the last minute to have it appraised and it’s currently still with them. Any chance you could swing by for it later this week? I’ll let you know once I have it back.”
I’m about to interject that he shouldn’t make her come to him since it’s his fault the item isn’t ready, when Cora smiles brightly.
“No problem!” She looks at her watch. “I have another meeting across town. I’d better run so I’m not late.”
This time she kisses my cheek before waving to the others over her shoulder.
While everyone watches her leave, I watch them. Her father is wearing a prideful smile. My father is smirking. And by the time I get to Dylan, his eyes are already on mine.
Like usual, my father pipes up and pops our bubble. “Who do we have here?”
Dylan separates his feet a little wider, and raises his chin slightly. If I didn’t love him before he squared up to my father, I sure as shit do now.
“Dad, this is Dylan Ryder. Dylan, my father, Steve Ellington.”
Dylan gives a curt nod. “Mr. Ellington. Nice to meet you.”
Before my dad can respond, Martin pipes up. “Dylan here says his shop is a couple doors down from Panaderia and there was a shooting not far from them. You hear anything about it?”
My dad shakes his head. “A shooting? No, can’t say that I have. But you know crime’s been picking up down there recently. What kind of shop do you own, Dylan?”
“Auto body repair.”
My dad’s eyes slide to mine. “The Maserati.” It’s a statement, not a question, and there is no mistaking his displeasure at the fact that Dylan is in my office.
I smile wide and sling a friendly arm around Dylan’s shoulders, telling my dad which side I’m on here. “Yep.”
My father’s eyes zero in on where Dylan and I are now touching and he responds exactly like I’d expect him to.
“Business must be slow if you can afford to step away from your shop in the middle of the day.”
Without missing a beat, Dylan smiles. “Even the Help get a lunch break these days, sir.”
“And yet, instead of eating, here you are, keeping my son from his own job.”
“Who said I wasn’t here to eat?” Dylan holds up the bag of churros as he challenges my father. Based on the look of fury that flashes in my father’s eyes, I know he’s putting two and two together.
Steve Ellington is a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them.
He narrows his eyes and looks between Dylan and I before settling back on Dylan. “I suggest you watch your tone and learn your place very quickly,” he seethes.
I never know what to call the man in front of me. Dad feels to intimate for what he is. Father is too pretentious. And Steve just pisses him off even though it’s his name. So, I don’t call him anything as I move to stand slightly in front of Dylan.
“You will not come into my office and disrespect my guests. I think we’re done here.”
“Don’t forget whose name is on the front of this building, Jacob.”
I should reign it in. I should really reign it in. But he’s going after Dylan and I’ll be goddamned if I stand by and say nothing.
“The building says Ellington Wealth Management . In case you’ve forgotten, we share that last name.”
My father glances between Dylan and I once more, grinding his molars before threatening, “And it better fucking stay that way.”
Oddly enough, the person in the room who looks the most uncomfortable by the whole exchange is Martin. Naturally a peacekeeper, he shifts his weight and releases a breath.
“Well, as lovely as this has become, perhaps we’d better run along, Steve. You told me our tee-time was for one-fifteen. I’m sure they can accommodate us if we’re a little early.” He looks at me next. “Jacob, always a pleasure. Let’s continue this meeting sometime in the near future. I have some questions after our discussion today.” I nod and Martin quickly turns to Dylan, holding out his hand like he wants to make sure he and Dylan are good, despite his friendship with my father. “Dylan, a pleasure to meet you, sir. Do let us know if the victim from your neighborhood pulls through, yeah?”
Dylan, being a good sport, shakes Martin’s hand, but he only offers my father a cold stare as a parting gift.
One I’m confident will bite us in the ass at some point, but right now feels fucking amazing.