19. Jake
Chapter 19
Jake
“ I cannot believe you brought your mechanic to a function put on by your fiancée at our country club! Do you even realize what a slap in the face that is to Cora?”
“Father, I’m a thirty-year-old man, a graduate of Yale. Please stop treating me like a child who isn’t capable of making good decisions.”
“Then start acting like an adult who can. ”
“For your information, I discussed this with Cora before I invited Dylan. And how dare you speak about him like he’s beneath you.”
“Is he not? The man fixes cars for a living, son. Why don’t you invite your plumber next time too? Does Dylan have an investment account? A retirement account? Hell, does he even have a savings account?”
“Why does that matter? People are more than just the sum of their bank accounts,” I snap.
“Can you honestly say he sees past yours?”
Technically, he doesn’t know what’s in mine.
The ice in my father’s voice matches the color of Dylan’s eyes, but instead of warming me like those eyes do, his words chill me to the bone.
My father has no idea that I’m the one who pursued Dylan. Not the other way around. Dylan doesn’t look at me with dollar signs in his eyes unlike everyone else at this club and the office, who kiss my ass because of my wealth and my last name.
“Yes. I can. He’s become a close friend of mine and he’s here as my guest. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go ensure he understands that not all of us are like you.”
My father catches my arm as I start to move past him. “Watch it, son. Your future depends on you being exactly like me.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from releasing the harsh words I want to throw at him, and yank my arm free from his grasp. Controlling my steps, I walk with purpose, scanning the hallways for Dylan’s familiar frame, but start to panic when I can’t find him.
Jake 6:37pm
Where are you?
Dylan 6:38pm
Grabbing some air.
I burst through a side door, wanting to avoid the people still pouring in through the front doors, and whisper his name. I’d rather not draw more attention to myself if I can help it. Seems like my father is paying enough attention for all of the attendees tonight.
“Dylan?”
“Over here.”
My shoulders sag with relief when I see him leaning against the brick building, one foot kicked up on the wall. The way his foot is bouncing makes me feel like he’s about to bolt.
Not that I blame him.
“My dad is an asshole. I’m so sorry about that.”
“He might be an asshole, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”
“ What ? Of course he’s wrong, Dylan. Fuck him .”
I’m overcome with the need to touch the man in front of me. I inch closer, losing what little self-control I had to begin with, when he puts a hand on my chest to stop me.
I could sob with the pain and frustration billowing inside me.
“Goddammit!” I rear back to punch the brick wall, welcoming the pain. But Dylan’s faster than I am. Knowing what’s about to happen, he catches my fist in his palm, kisses my knuckles, and rests my hand over his heart. I let out a wail, no longer caring who hears or sees us. A broken hand would’ve distracted me from the pain I feel everywhere else over the mess my life has become.
With my hand on his chest, I let my head fall forward to rest on his shoulder.
“Jake, I need to tell you—“ he starts, but is abruptly cut off by someone else calling our names.
“Jacob? Dylan? Is everything okay?”
Cora . Her feminine voice reaches us before she comes around the corner. Reluctantly, I slide my hand from Dylan’s chest, but it’s too late. She saw it.
“Uh, y-yeah,” I stutter, trying to stuff my emotions back inside this life that no longer fits me.
“Your dad asked me to come check on you.” She cocks her head to the side and takes in my untucked shirt and my hair, which, no doubt is a mess after running my hands through it. “You don’t sound okay,” she hedges. “You don’t really look okay, either.” She places the back of her hand on my forehead. “You’re not feverish though.”
“I’m not sick,” I reply. “Just angry.”
“Ah,” Cora rocks back on one of her heels, folding her arms beneath her chest, a look of understanding on her face. She never succumbs to her emotions. I usually don’t either which is probably why we’ve never had explosive arguments. Even still, Cora is much better at processing in the face of anger, excitement, or jealousy than I’ll ever be. “This has Steve Ellington written all over it,” she says, calmly hitting the nail on the head. “It would be just like him to play the concerned father and send me out here to clean up whatever mess he’s made.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “He seems to be making quite a few of those recently.”
At the mention of my father, Dylan pushes off the wall. “I’ll give you two a minute.” Cora stops him from leaving.
“No, please stay with him. I need to get back inside.” She stares at Dylan a second longer before adding, “Actually, Dylan, can you take him home? I believe he’s come down with something. Now that I think about it, he did feel a little warm and I’ll be here late and I have an early meeting across town in the morning that I can’t miss. I’d feel better knowing he isn’t alone tonight.”
“Cora, this is your big event. I’m supposed to—” I try to argue, but she cuts me off.
“Aren’t you tired of doing what you’re supposed to, Jacob? You guys should go before your fever gets worse.”
“Are you sure?” I reach for her easily, the hug meant as a thank you , but there’s an unexpected look of sadness on her face.
She hugs me back, gripping me hard, her breath against my ear. “You want him.” She pulls back to look me in the eye. “Am I right?”
Thank God it’s dark out so she can’t see the color rising in my cheeks.
Is she calling me out? Right here? Right now? With no warning?
When I fail to answer, she places a gentle kiss square on my lips and backs up, putting my hand in Dylan’s.
“We’ll talk about it later. I really have to get back inside and you two should get going.”
“Cora!” I call after her. “What am I supposed to do?”
Her face is completely devoid of emotion when she answers.
“Whatever you’ve needed to do ever since Dylan came into your life.”
“What about you?” It doesn’t feel right to just leave her here on this important night, in the middle of a breakup, left to clean up the carnage caused by my lustful heart.
“Jacob, I’ll be fine. This is my element.”
“ Thank you .” My shocked whisper is full of the emotions humming under my skin.
She nods to me and turns to go back the way she came. Before rounding the corner, she looks at Dylan over her shoulder. “I’m trusting, after our few interactions, that you’re the man he thinks you are and that you’ll take care of him in whatever capacity he needs?”
Dylan swallows audibly. “Yes.”
“Good. I love you, Jacob. I always will,” she says with a straight face, disappearing back inside the clubhouse.
“I love you too, Cora,” I whisper to the closed door, meaning it more in this moment than ever before.
I slump against the wall, my knees having given out, and look down at my hand still in Dylan’s. My knuckles are white, silently begging him not to let go.
“If we’re leaving, we should go before someone else finds us.” He doesn’t say like your father , but we both know that’s what he means. “Are you okay to drive?” he asks me, the words barely registering.
“I…really don’t think so.”
He laughs and squeezes my hand before dropping it. “Well, I can’t get the car from the valet because your dad will probably have me arrested for trying to steal it. You get the car and I’ll drive us back to your place.”
“Yeah, okay.”
We walk around to the front of the building and retrieve the car without issue. Dylan gets in the driver’s side and as soon as our doors close, I press the lock button on the passenger side just needing to know no one can reach me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and put it on Do Not Disturb with Cora’s number being the only one that will get through.
“Well, that was an unexpected turn of events,” Dylan observes, making all the correct turns without me having to direct him back to the penthouse. “What did she whisper to you?”
“She called me out for wanting you.” I stare out the window, trying to process it myself.
“Before I came outside, Whitney whispered that Cora knew. That’s why I ran outside,” he explains. “How mad do you think she is?”
“Oddly, she didn’t seem mad at all. She just said we’d talk about it later.”
Maybe she is seeing someone? The errant thought enters my mind and I actually smile. God, I hope that’s the case. Maybe she felt me pulling away and is already enamored with a new crush, herself.
The hope that spirals through me is better than winning the fucking lottery, and in this moment, the shackles locking me into a bleak, passionless future, have fallen off my wrists and ankles. Renewed with desire, gratitude, and adoration for the man in my driver’s seat, I throw my hand across the console and rub him between his legs, seeking physical contact and a landing place for all my pent-up need.
The car accelerates when he jerks and steps harder on the gas pedal.
“Jake, you should probably know that’s really fucking distracting and considering I’m behind the wheel of your most prized possession, maybe you don’t want to do that right now.”
I push my body closer to his and trail my tongue up the side of his neck.
“On the contrary, Dylan. It’s the only thing I want to do right now.”
After the longest car ride of my life, we’re back uptown, pulling into the underground garage of my penthouse and my mind is singularly focused.
Sensing the urgency of the lust coursing through me, Dylan jumps out of the car before I can grab his suit and pin him to the seat.
His laugh echoes in the cavernous space as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the elevator. We reach for the keypad at the same time and he notices my shaky hand. After punching in the code for me, he faces me head-on.
“Are you nervous?”
“No,” I answer honestly.
“How far are you expecting this to go tonight?”
“As far as you’ll let me take it.” I appreciate his need for clear boundaries, but I’m not interested in drawing lines anymore. I want everything he’ll give me. The elevator pings and we step in, my desire dulled slightly by his hesitance. “What’s wrong?” Maybe this is moving too fast for him.
“Have you ever actually had sex with a man?”
Although valid, his question makes me bark out in laughter. “Yes. It’s been a while, but yes. Before Cora and I were officially together. My senior year of undergrad and the first year of my MBA program. I knew what was waiting for me as soon as I graduated. Cora was only sixteen at the time so our parents hadn’t pushed the issue of our relationship quite yet, but I knew the day she turned eighteen they’d begin announcing it from the rooftops. I took my last two years of freedom very seriously.”
“So, you were a man-whore then?”
I pull my eyes from the divot at the base of his throat and move them up to his eyes, relaxing when I see the mirth dancing in them.
“ Asshole .”
The elevator doors open and I’ve never been so glad to see the inside of my penthouse as I am right now.
I push against Dylan’s chest laughing and he catches my hands, holding them in place as he walks backward out of the elevator, taking me with him. In a move so fast, I couldn’t have resisted even if I’d wanted to, he spins and slams my back against the foyer wall. The air is expelled from my lungs in a whoosh and instantly, he’s there, pulling the exhale into his mouth.
Wanting Dylan out of his suit, I push his jacket off his shoulders. He lets it fall to the floor behind him and I start on the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin. The way his body has teased me, tormented me, tortured me since the day I saw him has me breaking, handing him my sanity on a silver platter.
It’s still dark in the foyer as he plants his hands on either side of my head. My curtains are closed and the lights from the city below can’t penetrate them. Using his teeth, Dylan nips at my lips while keeping an inch of space between our bodies. The lack of contact is driving me insane, forcing me to reach new levels of desperation.
I suspect he knows that.
“Dylan, please,” I beg. “I’m burning up.”
He ignores me and continues the slowest onslaught of my senses. He’s so close I smell his cologne, I taste his lips, my hands feel the hard muscles beneath his skin.
“Out there,” he nods his head toward the elevator, “I followed your lead. In here, you follow mine.” His deep voice rumbles in my chest, rendering me speechless as his hands come off the wall to unfasten my tie before diving into my hair. He grips my roots tightly, pulling my head to the side, exposing my throat as he sucks on a spot that makes pre-cum drip down my thigh.
I shove my hips forward, silently begging him to touch me there.
No dice.
All I feel is his smile against my skin.
“Come on, man,” I beg. So, this is what it’s like to lose your mind.
My hands, which were previously around his back, now flank his sides, pulling him as hard as I can toward me. But Dylan’s got about twenty extra pounds of muscle that I don’t, and he easily stands his ground.
Letting go of my hair, he grabs my hand and pulls me with him down the hallway to my bedroom where he immediately relieves me of my own jacket. I practically attack him, trying to get his shirt off, but while I’m taking my time slipping each button through its hole — fumbling most of them — he grips the collar of my shirt and yanks in opposite directions, making all the buttons land on the carpeted floor. The shirt and my tie land next to my jacket in a heap.
“Oops,” he smirks.
One of Dylan’s strong hands lands on the back of my neck, the other grips my ass, pulling me into him. Finally. Not wanting to miss out or be left behind, I strip his tie first and then start tearing at his shirt the same way he did mine, relieved when the familiar pop tells me I was successful and his shirt finally falls open.
“Get this the fuck off, now ,” I growl, shoving it down, wanting his muscular, tattooed arms bared to me.
He pulls it off the rest of the way and throws it over the low chair to my right. I reach for the belt wrapped around his waist next. I expect him to stop me just to prove his power, but he doesn’t. I whip his belt through the loops in his suit pants and push him backwards until his legs hit the edge of my bed and he sits.
Now eye level with my waist, he wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs, pulling me toward him and undoes my belt. He leaves it in the loops and goes for the button and zipper next. My hands are in his hair as I stand in front of him.
Teasing me, he leaves my pants open, but in place as he dips his fingertips into the waistband of my boxers and pulls them down just low enough so he can run his tongue along the sensitive strip of flesh beneath the elastic band.
“Fuuuuuck,” I groan, reveling in the feel of a man’s mouth on me once again…the feel of this man’s mouth on me.
Dylan’s hands move to the pockets of my trousers and pull down with a forceful speed, making me drop to my knees between his legs along with my pants.
His erection is long and hard, bobbing along his thigh, angry at being confined. It makes my mouth water.
Quickly unfastening his pants, I grab the sides. “Lift.”
He pushes his hips into the air, allowing me to slide his pants and boxers down his legs. I pull his shoes off and remove his pants completely so he can spread his legs wide, giving me unhindered access.
There are so many things I want to tell him, like how fucking perfect he is, but words would only detract from the current situation, so I take a quick second to savor the sight in front of me before grabbing his shaft and pulling his balls into my mouth one at a time.
His torso hits the bed as his hands begin kneading my shoulders.
I could stay here forever.
Tugging on his sack with my mouth causes his stomach to flutter and I double my efforts, wanting to elicit more of his moans of pleasure. I switch sides, continuing my assault until finally, I pull his cock into my mouth.
He tastes as sinful as he looks. The saltiness of his pre-cum has me craving more.
"Ohh, fuck yes . Don’t stop doing that, Jake.” I bob another couple of times before I swirl my tongue around the head of his dick. “Mmm, yeah. God, you suck dick so well.”
I hum my approval at his words.
I can’t really say any of my previous partners were very vocal, but Dylan’s words have me rescinding my earlier thought that words would only detract from what we’re doing.
My own cock feels neglected, and rutting against the edge of the mattress isn’t doing enough, so I stand, spit in my palm, and stroke my cock with one hand while tapping his thigh with the other.
“Scoot back on the bed,” I command, kicking my pants off the rest of the way, walking to my night stand, and pulling a pump bottle of lube out of the drawer.
His expression is guarded as he barks, “Who’s giving the orders tonight?”
“Right now? Me. Now slide the fuck back.”
His jaw clenches and he looks pissed for some reason, but after another few seconds, he does as I ask, allowing me to climb on the bed after him. He laces his fingers and puts them behind his head, watching me. Fuck, his arms are huge.
I tuck my legs behind me so I’m straddling his waist and with a sloppy amount of lube in my hand, I shove both our cocks in my fist and begin stroking. The pressure combined with the glide of my fist has Dylan muttering in Spanish.
“Santa mierda. Frota esa polla.” Before I can ask him to translate, he does it on his own. “Holy shit, baby. Stroke that cock.”
I manage to keep my orgasm at bay for about three minutes of rubbing our dicks together until finally, I confess, “Dylan, I’m about to come, so if you had other plans for the evening, now would be a good time to tell me.”
Does he want to go all the way? I sure as fuck do.
“What’s wrong?” he smirks, pushing his hips forward, fucking himself with my fist. “You can only come once a night?”
I take my hand away, needing to concentrate so I can give him another honest answer. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a position where I wanted to go more than once.”
Either the honesty, the words themselves, or the challenge in them, causes him to react. He pushes on my shoulders and rolls me over, landing on top of me, rolling his hips into me.
Cool air blows across my fevered skin from the air conditioning vent above us. The low whir creates a peaceful hum in the background of our fractured breaths. Despite that breeze, we’re both still sweating as we grapple for position. Although we haven’t discussed it — both of us assuming that whatever else we were going to do tonight, getting the green light to do this wasn’t on the list of possibilities — there’s no doubt in my mind that Dylan is a top, which works out perfectly for me. I’m only fighting him now because I like the way it feels when his muscles contract to fight back.
I would never be this rough with Cora.
I shove him back so hard he lands on his ass on the bed. Panting, he asks, “Did you push me because you want me to stop or are you fighting with me because you can?”
I launch myself at him, straddling his hips with my knees and smile. “Because I can. Please, for the love of all that’s good, don’t stop.”
In a flash, he sits up, bucks his hips and pushes on my shoulders, knocking me off balance to regain control. Using both of his hands, he grips my waist and easily flips me onto my stomach, smacking me hard across my bare ass. A second later, he grabs my hips and drags me onto all fours. His fingers are digging into my cheeks with punishing force and I smile, knowing he’s going to leave ten small fingertip-shaped bruises back there.
I’ll happily bear his mark.
I hear the spit leave his mouth a second before I feel it land on my ass. His thumb follows the liquid, rubbing it in and slapping his dick against me.
“Fuuuuuck,” he groans. “I’m going to bury myself so far in this ass I’m going to come in a different time zone.”
I want to watch him. I want to see his face and run my hands up his chest. I want to watch all thirty-two of his abs contract with the movement of him pounding into me, but I don’t want him to stop what he’s currently doing, either.
“We haven’t really talked about roles,” he says, his fingers now trailing along my ass-crack.
Roles. Tops. Bottoms. Something I haven’t discussed in quite a while.
To those outside our community, terms like switch are used for guys like me — guys who do both. But I answer him with appropriate lingo to let him know that although it’s been a while, my preferences have remained the same.
“I’m a vers bottom.” I’ll do either, and occasionally enjoy being on top, but mostly, I prefer to bottom. To me, there’s less pressure in this role and I’m able to relax and enjoy it more.
He spits again, and I feel his hips push forward. His dick has replaced his fingers moving along the seam of my ass. “I don’t bottom. Ever. Nor do I suck dick. Is that gonna be a problem for you?”
I’m too fucking horny to really process this shit right now so a joke comes out instead. “Bit of a selfish fucker, aren’t you?” I ask, pushing my ass into him, needing him inside me.
“I’m serious, Jake.”
“Me too. Now fuck me.”
Thankfully, he decides to let it go and changes his line of questioning. “Condoms?”
“Shit. I don’t have them. There’s not really a need. I got tested before Cora and I got together and haven’t been with anyone except her ever since, she’s on birth control, and we just don’t have sex that often.”
“My last partner was a year ago,” Dylan says, still rubbing against me as he talks. “I’m also clean.”
I take a deep breath and control my tone for fear of being overzealous. “It’s okay with me if we go without then.”
“You’re sure?”
I nod because screaming and/or dancing around my room seems like overkill.
I need this. I need him.
“Okay. If that changes, let me know.”
The mattress dips as he leans over me to use the pump bottle I moved to the top of the nightstand. I have to pull on my shaft beneath me to alleviate the intense ache and there’s already a wet spot on my comforter which only grows as sounds of him getting his cock nice and slick fill the room.
My arms give out as he begins to push his fingers inside me first, leaving me with my chest on the bed and my ass in the air.
“Fuck yes, stay like that,” Dylan commands as he continues to stretch me open for himself. Eventually, I feel one of his hands at my left hip and I assume the other is gripping the base of his cock for guidance because the head of his dick is nudging my asshole a second later.
With every inch he moves, I feel ten times the pressure. It feels like a full meal on a stomach that’s been starving for years — speaking of which, I’ve never been more happy that I haven’t eaten all day. I reach my arm back to grip his thigh.
“You want to me go faster or slower?” he asks, unable to tell if I’m pulling him closer or pushing him away.
Embarrassingly, all that comes out of my mouth is a choked sob.
I’m not actually crying, I’m just so overwhelmed. Curling my fingers in his leg, I try to show him what I want since words are evading me. He obliges by pushing all the way in and then retreating. He pumps twice more and then stops.
“Shit, Jake. We’ve got to change this angle or I’m going over the edge already.”
If you go, I go, I think to myself.
“What’s wrong?” I grit out. “You can only come once a night?”
He smacks me hard across one ass cheek then the other.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw Hudson and Phoenix spank you on the boat. Now, watch your mouth or I’ll do it again.”
I feel like I’m twenty again. No one’s hand is anywhere near my dick, but I’m about to explode anyway. “You should probably know that if you do that again, there’s a good chance I’m gonna come.”