Chapter 24
Theo O'Keefe
Jamal steals another glance at me, and his hand twitches. I’m telling myself he wants to hold my hand, but I’m being ridiculous. It’s sex, nothing more.
He says it’s a shorter ride on the train than to drive, so once again, I’m on the subway. A couple of orgasms have scrambled my brain.
Joining him in the locker room shower was the worst, best idea I’ve ever had. Now I’ll want him every time. The covert operation was worth it to feel him come in my hand. Ten out of ten would do it again and again.
“You didn’t have to get me a hoodie.” He nudges me with his shoulder. He shouldn’t have to wear old, ripped sweatshirts, and clothing is something I can buy without getting John’s attention. I nod and change the subject.
“You going to the same cousin who’s an artist?” I ask to hear his voice.
“Yup. She’s a magician.” He pulls on a braid. “Hey, does your name have any significance? Like a family name, or what does it mean?”
I shake my head, piecing together how the conversation has taken such a sudden turn. “Not sure.”
“No wonder you’re so cocky,” Jamal scoffs with a hint of a smile as he shows me he searched my name on his phone. “Your name actually means God.”
I scan the definition. Theo is Greek in origin and derived from Theos meaning God and Doron meaning gift. Often short for Theodore or Theodora. “Oh yeah.” I pat myself on my back. “If the shoe fits…” I trail off, cracking up with laughter. “Why do you want to know?”
“This is our stop,” he says, ignoring my question. We get off the train and climb the stairs to street level. “Nevaeh’s meeting us at her friend’s shop.” Jamal leads me to a storefront with black wigs and long lashes in the window.
“Who the hell didja bring in here?” a petite Black woman with her hands on her hips calls out.
“Be nice. I told you.” Jamal wraps her in a hug. “Theo, this is my cousin, Nevaeh.”
I stick out my hand, and she looks between my hand and eyes before saying, “Shit. Sit over there, pretty boy.” She points to a chair a thousand miles from where Jamal has taken a seat.
No one’s talking. They’re all staring at us. I rarely feel self-conscious, but this attention makes me sweat. In the elite social circles of Boston, I am constantly judged for my looks, clothes, and manners. I don’t give a shit about them, but here, I’m unsure and uncomfortable.
“Stop staring at the fine white boy. Y’all act like you never seen one before.” Nevaeh huffs and fastens a cape around Jamal. Everyone resumes their conversations, but I’m out of place.
Nevaeh moves deftly as if she’s done this a million times. She sprays a mist over Jamal’s hair and then works oil into the braids. She clucks her tongue as she holds it up for inspection. “Not bad.” She snips the ends off each braid, and I watch them float to the floor.
“Told you she’s got skills.” Jamal meets her eyes in the mirror.
They talk about family and gossip while I soak it in. From what I can tell, Nevaeh’s all bark and no bite. She clearly loves him. It takes well over an hour for all the braids to be undone.
I’m drawn to him, unable to stop myself. His hair…it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. It’s crimped and sticks out in all directions.
Nevaeh’s slap on my hand brings me out of my comatose state. “Can I?” I ask Jamal’s permission to touch his hair.
I run my hand through the strands by his ear, but it’s too tangled to get to the ends. Jamal leans into my touch.
“We’re not even a quarter done, Mr. Pretty. Go sit down like a good little boy.” Nevaeh waves a comb at me. “Combing this out is a beast.”
Jamal’s eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I don’t go sit like I’m told. I stand behind them, out of Nevaeh’s way. We stare at each other until I feel my pulse in my throat, and I don’t recognize the smile on my face.
Jamal shifts. I bet he’s hard, but I can’t see under his cape.
“We ain’t playin’ this game.” Nevaeh steps into my view. “You all can send each other fuck-me eyes when I’m done.”
My mouth drops open, and Jamal slaps the arm of the chair.
“Nevaeh,” he hisses. “Enough.”
“I call it like I see it.” She shrugs and gets back to conditioning and combing Jamal’s hair. “I got plans tonight. I’m not letting you spoil my fun.” She sticks her tongue out at Jamal.
“Plans?” He sits up straighter in the chair.
Nevaeh turns her lips inward and clenches her jaw.
“Who does my cousin have plans with?” Jamal asks everyone in the shop who can hear him.
They bicker for another hour, and I can’t stop smiling. I’m an only child, and so is he, but they must’ve grown up like siblings.
“Whew, all combed out. I need a break. Stretch your legs.” She walks away without a backward glance through a door marked Employees Only.
Jamal takes a couple of steps toward me, and my hand rises with a mind of its own. Before I ask permission, Jamal ducks his head under my hand.
“It’s so fluffy-soft. I want to touch it all night,” I say without thinking. Now when I sink my fingers in, they can make it through to the ends without snagging.
Jamal stands straight but moves closer to my touch. I bury my other hand in his hair and groan.
“Nevaeh,” Jamal calls with his eyes on me. “If you don’t braid me tonight, when can you fit me in?”
My body flushes from head to toe, and if it were safe, I’d kiss him. He’s asking for me, but I don’t understand why when he had a panic attack last time some of his hair was loose. It’s a big thing.
“Day after tomorrow,” she says with the tone of an eye roll.
“What time? Our plane leaves for a few away games at 5 p.m.”
“If you can be here at noon, I can get it done.”
“Thanks,” Jamal says, still staring into my eyes. “See ya then.” He pulls me out onto the street and walks with determination. “You’re coming back to my place.”
“What if I want you in my bed?” I say for the sole purpose of being argumentative. A habit I should get a handle on.
He stops on the sidewalk to face me. “Don’t. Either you want to go home with me, or you don’t. No games.”
I swallow my pride because he’s serious, and I have to get my hands on him. “Sorry,” I mutter.
Jamal spins and jogs. “I don’t want to miss the train.”
I sprint ahead of him to the subway, even though I don’t know which way to go. By the time we run to his apartment from the train, I’m breathing hard, and it’s not from exertion.
“Thank you,” I say as soon as the door closes behind us.
“Stop talking,” Jamal commands, and crowds me against the door. I nod obediently, ready for whatever he has in store for me. He drops to his knees, pulling my pants and underwear down as he goes. I’m hard, pointing straight at him, and when I hear him suck in a breath, precum covers my tip.
“Can I… I need…please,” I babble, aching for everything at once. His mouth on me. My hands on him, in his glorious hair.
His eyes burn as bright as the Caribbean Sea on a sunny day. “You can touch me. I’m going to suck you off.”
It should piss me off that he gives me permission but dictates what he’s going to do.
It doesn’t.
I’m so hard it’s painful. And when he stretches his full, soft lips around me, it’s as close to heaven as I’ll ever get. My fingers disappear in his hair, and I clutch the soft strands so I don’t shove my dick down his throat.
I’ve done this in college, but it was fast and dirty and a secret. Nothing compares to this. To Jamal.
He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, eyes begging for approval, mouth open wide, and hair made for me to touch. “You feel so good,” I moan.
Jamal takes me to the back of his throat and gags. He squeezes my cock and takes me right to the edge of an orgasm. I pull back, until my tip rests on his tongue. His blue-green eyes issue me a warning, which does not help the situation.
“You’re going to make me come too soon,” I admit, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. It’s as wild as he’s making me. Jamal gives me a triumphant smirk and pops off my dick. Before I can complain, he sucks my balls into his mouth. “Fuuuuck.” I draw out the word, tingling from head to toe.
Jamal is the first man to look at me like he can’t get enough while taking me apart piece by piece. My balls tighten, and he lets go with a lick. “I think you’re trying to kill me.” I mean with sex, but then my thoughts go off the rails.
What if he’s gaining my trust to fuck me over later, and not in a good way. Maybe this is his revenge for being unnecessarily poor for so many years.
“Hey.” Jamal runs his hand up my leg to cup my ass cheek with his long fingers as he swirls his tongue around my tip. “Stay with me.” I’m bewitched by brown lips, white teeth, and a killer pink tongue. He could ask to remove my balls, and I’d agree.
There’s a vulnerability in his tone and eyes that I trust. I wrongly vilified him for years, and I have to stop. He’s not the monster I thought he was.
“Has anyone ever said you look perfect on your knees, Your Majesty?” I cradle his head to paint his lips with my precum.
Jamal’s grin lights up his face as he opens for me, taking me to the edge of his gag reflex and swallowing.
He secures me in his iron grip, and feeling trapped by him makes my cock jump in his mouth.
His finger dips into my crease, and my cheeks clench.
His bright eyes snap to mine, asking if I’m okay.
“I’m going to come down your throat. Are you ready for my load?” His moan shreds the last of my self-control. I empty my balls into his greedy mouth, sliding down the door, unable to stand when I finish.
My cum dribbles down his chin. The sight rallies my spent dick. My legs twitch, and I pet his head, wishing I could bury my face in his hair.
Jamal is splayed out on the floor, his cheek resting on my thigh. “That was the first time I did that.”
My heart soars at being the only one to experience him. He’s mine. All mine. “That was an adequate first try,” I say, letting out a long exhale. I’m not sure how I can sound cocky and unaffected while my dick is begging for more.
“Huh. Funny, I thought you were the guy whose knees got so weak he collapsed and whispered that was the best you’ve ever had.” His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he teases me.
I don’t deny it because my mouth speaks without my consent. Instead, I lift him with me, walking over to the couch. I rip his pants off, kneeling between his legs. “Sorry if I actually tore those.”
“No, you’re not.” Jamal leans forward and kisses me. It’s the first time I’ve tasted myself on someone else, and it’s addicting, knowing it’s him. I devour his mouth and chase his taste beneath mine. I’ve never understood the appeal of kissing until Jamal.
I want to live with my tongue in and on his body. His needy whimper spurs me on, and I kiss along his throat, sucking on his Adam’s apple. I wonder how much suction would be needed to leave a mark. I should attempt a less conspicuous place.
“Tell me what you like.” I remove his shirt and suck a nipple until it’s a hard pebble. This is my first good look at his cock, and it strains for attention, darker than his skin and glistening with precum. It grows larger under my gaze with a pronounced head and thick veins.
“Whatever you want. I trust you.” Jamal removes my shirt and settles back to stare. “I love looking at you.” The heat of my flush brings out his smile.
Jamal’s trust is a gift I didn’t know was possible until he said it. He’s the first person to tell me that. Sarah trusts me, but she’s never said it out loud.
Jamal’s cock is mouthwatering, and I lick my lips to make sure there’s no drool. I open wide and stuff him in my mouth. Its salty, musky taste gets me hard again. It seems even bigger in my mouth. If I try to deep-throat him, he’ll wreck my esophagus and puncture my lungs.
His guttural gasp is all the encouragement I need to destroy my throat to give him pleasure.
My name on his lips is reverent and worshipful. I cup his full balls, large and heavy in my hand and smoothly shaved. I’m unable to tear my mouth away from him. Touching him is amazing, but the sight of his body ramps up my desire.
I need to come again.
He digs his fingers into my scalp, and he pleads, “Can I fuck your mouth?”
A switch flips in me, and I drop my hands to my thighs and sit back on my heels.
His cum receptacle.
I can unpack why that’s such a turn-on later.
Jamal’s hands keep my head in place, and he snaps his hips, using me to find his release. Secrets spill from his lips. “Your mouth is my favorite place to be. You’re made to take me. Made for me.”
I get no warning before he floods my mouth, and I have the satisfaction of knowing I made him feel that way. Me. He lets go of my hair and curls his body over mine so that his arms drape down my back.
“Kitten,” he whispers, and I come again.