25. Jake
Chapter 25
Jake
T he mood in the Range Rover on our way back home is somber despite the afterparty we attended with the band last night and the absolutely incredible weekend. Dylan’s hand is in mine, but we know we’re gearing up for battle.
I’m just grateful he’s on my team.
It’s amazing how changing your surroundings can bring so much clarity to a situation. Talking with Sloan and seeing him live his life on his terms was really empowering and watching Dylan’s excitement unfold as the weekend progressed was pure joy.
There is no doubt in my mind that I’m making the right decision and if I have to start all over, so be it.
Dylan’s phone pings from the cupholder. It’s the first message he’s received all weekend and my stomach automatically twists at the reminder that the bubble of bliss around us is deflating with every mile we travel closer to home.
It also reminds me that my phone is still on do not disturb and I’m sure I have a torrent of texts and calendar reminders waiting for me.
Without letting go of my hand, Dylan uses his right hand to grab the phone and unlock the screen.
Glancing to my right, I see a picture, but I can’t make it out.
“What the fuck?” he barks, letting go of my hand, instantly putting me on edge.
“What’s wrong?”
“What the fuck is this ?” He holds the phone up to my face. Thankfully we’re on a straight stretch of uncrowded highway so I can risk looking at the screen.
But what I see forces me to pull over onto the shoulder anyway because surely, I’m not seeing this right.
It’s a screenshot of our city’s Sunday newspaper. Across the Lifestyle page is a massive, bold headline:
Governor’s Daughter To Wed State’s Wealthiest Bachelor
Underneath it, still in bold, but smaller font: Coraline Cosey set to the tie the knot with investment firm CFO Jacob Ellington. There’s even a picture of Cora and I smiling for the camera from some event we attended last year.
“What the hell? Dylan, I have no idea what this is.”
Immediately, I reach for my phone, taking it off DND, and call Cora. While her phone rings, my text alerts start going off.
“Jacob, I can explain.” Well, that’s not what I was expecting her to say . “I am flying to the U.K. for that panel, but not until tomorrow. I had someth—”
“Cora,” I interrupt, realizing she’s not giving me an explanation about the article. “Have you seen today’s paper?”
“Like, the newspaper?” she asks confused.
“Yes. There’s an engagement announcement in it. Our engagement announcement.”
“What?” I hear her fingers hitting the touch screen of her iPad as she searches for the article in question. “ It’s with great pleasure that we announce our engagement and upcoming nuptials. Coraline has given me everything by saying yes and we can’t wait to begin our life together as Mr. and Mrs. Ellington ,” she reads.
“I didn’t give that interview, Cor. My fucking father has gone too damn far,” I growl, already knowing this is his handiwork. “Since you’re still home, can you help me set this record straight before you leave instead of waiting until you get back?” Even if she leaves tomorrow, her trip will be over a week long and I’m no longer interested in hiding Dylan like all my gay porn website URLs growing up. But I also want and need Cora to have a say in how the end of our relationship plays out.
She sighs in defeat before answering. “I’ll see if Ines can make it happen.”
“Thanks, Cor. I owe you.”
We hang up and I immediately punch my father’s number on my screen, setting my phone back in its holder on speakerphone, ready for war. Dylan and I are still sitting on the side of the highway because I’m far too angry to see straight and driving right now would be reckless.
“Jacob,” my father sings. The smug lilt to his voice tells me he knows exactly why I’m calling.
“Cut the shit. You had no right to put me or Cora on the hook like that. My relationships are my business.”
My father stays infuriatingly calm while I seethe. Dylan reaches over and tentatively places his hand on my thigh, allowing me to wrap my fingers around his and squeeze, thankful for the outlet.
“All I did was speed up the inevitable, son. You can thank me later. Cora will make a wonderful wife.”
“ Thank you? All you’ve done is create a mess.”
“No, Jacob. I’ve undone the mess you have created. I’ve simplified things and gotten you back on track. I’m willing to overlook whatever’s gone on between you and that grease monkey the past few months and never mention it again. I’ll chalk it up to your rebellious phase happening late in life, but contact with him ends now.”
It’s not smart to goad my father, but fuck it. This is war.
“Well, that’ll be hard to do, seeing as he’s sitting right next me.” I could leave it there, but I’m on a roll and damn it feels good to finally unleash myself. “He’d say hi, but he currently has his mouth stuffed full of my cock.”
Dylan snorts and quickly covers his mouth with his free hand. I flash him a smile and the glint in his eyes has my blood boiling for a reason far different than this conversation with my father.
“Charming, Jacob. We’ll talk about this when you get to the office tomorrow.”
As he hangs up, I blow out a breath, my left leg is bouncing, and my hands are clammy. Oh sure, I wish I had all the confidence to just say that shit and laugh it off, but what I just said is a big fucking deal.
Dylan launches himself across the center console. I love that he isn’t mad about what I said. I also appreciate that he doesn’t ask what I need, or treat me like a ticking time bomb. He knows what I need, and he wants to be the one to detonate me.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he growls against my jaw, making me arch my neck, giving him access to my throat.
“Dylan,” I pant. “We’re still on the side of the road.”
“What’s your point?” he asks, working at the button and zipper on my jeans.
“Anyone can see us.”
“That’s not true,” he starts. As he talks, he tugs on my jeans and I lift my hips even though I weakly protested the idea. “You have a twenty-five percent window tint grade on your front windows.” He pauses his movements and looks up at me. “Which I’d like to point out is illegal in the state of North Carolina.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan. “Apparently, breaking rules is my new thing.”
“And also,” he continues, getting my jeans down to my mid-thighs and spitting in his hand. “If you start driving, people are less likely to look in the windows because following the flow of traffic is much less interesting than a blacked-out, luxury SUV, parked on the side of the highway.”
He has a point.
I flip my turn signal on to merge into traffic. Admittedly, this is the first time I’ve been given a hand job while driving, so I’m a little nervous, but not wanting to get arrested today, I set my cruise control and do my best to keep my hands steady on the wheel.
As Dylan slides his hand along my cock, leaning over the center console, I move into the right lane to slow down, already feeling my impending release.
He uses his left arm to brace himself and his right thumb teases my tip. Unable to stop myself, I move one hand to the back of his thick black hair and grip tightly just to ground myself.
“Oh, fuck baby. Your hand feels so fucking good.” I wish it was his mouth, but he was clear about his boundaries.
My cell phone starts ringing through the speakers and I almost hit ignore, but it’s Cora.
“H-hey, Cor.”
Dylan doubles down on his efforts to get me off like he just accepted a challenge to see if he can get me there while I’m on the phone and driving.
Driving while impaired? Check.
“Hey, Jacob, are you okay?”
“Mmhm.” My pitch is too high.
“Well, I just got off the phone with my dad. I wasn’t sure what to say because I don’t know if you’ve talked to your dad yet. My dad’s shocked and disappointed you didn’t ask for his permission to marry me,” she laughs, “so I just told him the paper ran the announcement ear—"
“ Oh fuck .” I meant to say it in my head or at most, utter it as a whisper so soft the speakers wouldn’t pick it up, but when Dylan moves his right hand lower and his middle finger grazes my hole, I can either keep us from crashing or hide the fact that I’m about to blow in Dylan’s hand…but I sure as shit can’t do both.
“Jacob, are you… Dylan ! Stop servicing Jacob while I’m on the phone!”
Dylan laughs and removes his hand, causing my impending orgasm to retreat.
“Sorry, Cora!”
“Oh my God. I’m hanging up now. Jacob, call me when you get back.”
The line goes dead and Dylan takes that as his cue to get back to work. This time, his middle finger breaches my hole while his other hand pumps my shaft in long, hard strokes.
“ Jesus, fuck !” Just like that, my orgasm ramps up, just about knocking the breath out of me.
Dylan takes his hand off my dick again to say something, but before he can start talking, I grab his hand and put it back on my cock.
“I’m wound tighter than a guitar string and you’ve been edging me for three minutes, which apparently, is my max. Now jack my fucking dick until I paint your goddamned hand before I wreck this car.”
I hear him hum something that sounds suspiciously like yes sir right before he leans over me, his mouth dangerously close to my cock and spits, adding lubrication, before bringing his right hand back to my shaft.
There’s something inherently sexy as hell about fucking someone’s face, using your hands to push their head onto you as you thrust into their mouth and although that’s not what’s happening, when I look down, I can imagine it with ease.
With my tension already mounting to insane levels, I make two punishing thrusts into his hand and come so hard the clench of my abs almost sends my chest into the steering wheel.
“ Ah! Fuck! ”
Dylan reacts in time to grab the wheel and pull us back into our lane before I side-swipe a Miata. I hadn’t realized my eyes had closed as my orgasm claimed me.
“Holy hell, you’re good at that,” I tell him as my breathing begins to even out.
“I think edging you just became my new favorite hobby,” he smirks.
“Just remember, two can play that game, Ryder.”
Despite the shitstorm waiting for us at home, coming clean to my father about the fact that I’m not only gay, but with Dylan, has sparked hope inside me.
I can’t help my chuckle. “I guess burning your life down is one way of forcing you to rebuild it. And if you have to rebuild it, it might as well be exactly what you want.”