Chapter 2
JJ
“Do you live close?” Miles asks, catching up to me once we’re outside in the cool air.
The harsh Chicago winter will be here soon enough, but fall is just as bad sometimes. I zip my jacket up more and yank my hood up. Cars whizz past us on the street, driving faster than they should be.
“You ask a lot of questions,” I comment as I move around a couple walking in the opposite direction. “Not really. Was gonna catch a car up here.”
“Well, I live a few blocks this way.” He points to the left. “If you’d rather go there.”
Makes it easier to leave. Can’t say no to that.
Shrugging, I jerk my head to where he pointed. “Lead the way.”
We walk a few blocks, the businesses and parking lots turning into multi-family homes with smooth driveways.
It’s not my firehouse district, but I have been called around here, to the bigger apartment complexes.
Sometimes the fires are easily controlled; other times…
they’re catastrophic, and it’s all hands on deck.
It’s not unlikely to help out in areas like this.
Miles turns up the driveway of a cute two-family home.
There are two cars in the driveway, both Hondas.
One is white, the other black. The house is canary yellow with white shutters and bushes around the foundation and flowerpots hanging from the porch overhang.
You can tell a happy family lives here, and they take pride in their home.
Half a swing set peeks out from the back of the house, and I recall him saying he has a nephew.
A young one, since he loves fire trucks and needs a babysitter.
Did he say he was eight? Nine? I keep in mind to be quiet so I don’t disturb him.
It’s late, and I’m sure he’s sleeping. The last thing I want to do is wake a sleeping kid, who will then wake up his mother, who probably doesn’t get much sleep as is.
Especially if she’s working at a hospital.
The porch is small, just big enough to fit us comfortably. There is one mailbox hanging on the house beside the door, the last name Montgomery engraved into it. The porch light burns brightly just above it.
Miles uses his key to unlock the front door, and we end up in a narrow hallway. There is a door directly to the left, the stairs starting right after it. To the right is a small alcove being used as a storage area that is a complete fire hazard with all the bins, bags, and summer toys piled up.
“Uh,” Miles says, closing the door behind me. “Don’t mind the mess.”
“It’s a fire hazard,” I say.
He glances at it, nodding firmly. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” He looks at me with a cute smile. “Promise.”
Miles moves past me, his body brushing by mine to get to the stairs. I follow him up, trying not to sound as big as I am on the steps. They creak slightly but seem rather new. It’s quiet in here, otherwise.
The second-floor landing is small but empty. I smile to myself as he opens the door to his apartment and steps inside. I follow him in and look around.
It’s spacious, which isn’t what I expected after seeing the hallway.
After going into so many houses, you pay attention to the layouts, try to learn them, even though you can’t memorize them all.
Every house is different, no matter how much it looks like others you’ve been in.
There’s always a room that you don’t expect or an extra door that leads somewhere it shouldn’t.
Fuck. Working when I’m not even at work.
Miles puts his keys into a small bowl beside the door as I close it.
“I can take your coat.” He offers out his hand, and I shrug my coat off and hand it to him. He hangs both his and mine on a wooden coat rack behind the door.
The living room is modern in soft neutrals—an oversized cream corduroy sectional wraps around a low marble coffee table, layered over a black-and-white abstract rug.
Minimalist art hanging on the walls gives it an easy, comfortable feel.
From what I know of him, this feels very him.
It’s clean, organized, and simple. But it looks lived-in. You can tell this is someone’s home.
Miles walks to the left, deeper into the apartment, so I follow, noting the rest of his apartment follows the same theme.
I need to stop focusing on his damn house. That’s not why I’m here.
“Do you want a—” Miles starts to say over his shoulder, but I grab his arm and pull him to me, smashing my lips to his. His body is warm against mine, welcomed after the chill of the air outside. There’s still a bite of cold to his lips though, but I kiss it away.
I said I wanted simple. He agreed. There’s no point in waiting.
“Actually, I’d rather do this, if that’s okay?” I whisper against his lips.
He nods, his eyes closed. “Very okay.”
“Where’s the bedroom?” I ask, going back in to kiss his jaw and neck.
He lifts his arm, pointing somewhere to the left, where there are three doors, all of them closed. I kiss him again, this time slower and a little softer, as I guide us to where he pointed.
“Uh-uh,” he says, breaking our kiss to speak. “That one.”
His hands come against my chest, and he pushes me a little, making me move toward the door in the middle.
I open it and we tumble inside, his hands roaming my body as mine stay tightly on his waist. Our mouths never break apart as he walks me to the queen-sized bed that’s covered in a navy blue comforter and too many beige and white throw pillows.
Miles is smaller than me in all aspects, and to be honest, smaller than I typically go for, but I don’t hate it. He’s at least six inches shorter than me and fifty pounds lighter, but he has plenty of curves and muscles for my fingers to sink into—which I do enjoy.
My legs hit the mattress, and I spin us so he can lie down.
I crawl over him, grinding against him so he knows exactly what my intentions are tonight.
His legs come around me and he whimpers a delicious sound as I move my mouth to his jaw and down his neck.
I lick and nip at his skin, testing the waters to see what he likes.
So far, it doesn’t seem like he hates anything I’m doing.
My ego could use that right about now, so I keep going, drawing this out just a little.
As I continue tasting him, I work on undoing the button on his jeans and slide my hand inside to stroke his dick. He’s a good size, enough to fill my hand. His hips chase my touch, wanting more. Eagerness turns me on.
I back off, getting to my feet to take off my shirt and shoes. Miles’ lust-filled gaze stays on me the entire time. He licks his lips, his focus going right to my abs.
“Do you have condoms and lube?” I ask.
“In the drawer.” He points to the nightstand by his bed.
“Get naked for me,” I tell him as I slide out of my jeans and boxer briefs and go for the drawer. I drop the lube and condom on the bed beside him as I stare down at his naked body.
I try so hard not to compare, but it’s difficult not to. When you’ve known something for so long, it’s hard to learn something new and forget the old… or the unwanted. No, not unwanted. Just… difficult.
But Miles is nothing like Franklin, just like all my other hookups. None of them are like my husband, and it’s clear that I do that on purpose. Even I’m aware of that.
Miles’ body is smooth with hardly any hair on his chest or stomach.
With each intake of breath, I make out the outline of his ribs.
My gaze moves down to his narrow waist. His cock is hard, resting on his belly with a small puddle of precum below the tip.
His thighs are slightly thicker than you’d expect them to be. I do love a man with thick thighs.
I get on the bed, sitting back on my knees between his legs, running my hand up the outside of his thigh, and then across to his cock. I stroke him once, twice, watching the way his chest rises and falls. His lips are full, parted, and the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I say.
“Yeah, I will,” he pants, his eyes squeezing shut.
His lashes are thick and darker than the blond hair on his head.
I get the lube, spreading it on my hand before running two fingers over his hole.
There’s hair there, but not a lot, and light in color.
He lifts his legs, pressing his feet flat to the bed, giving me more room.
I slide a finger inside, his body tightening on reflex, but he eases up instantly, showing me how badly he wants me in here.
His dick throbs when I brush over his prostate, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.
I grit my teeth, holding back what I want to say—I want to tell him how good he feels and how good he’s being for me.
Dirty talk adds emotion, and I learned a long time ago to forgo it, so people don’t get the wrong idea.
I already warned Miles that I need simple, but anything can make him wonder if that was a lie.
It’s not. I need simplicity because the rest of my life is chaos.
Hookups are a nice distraction but not being able to be myself in the moment sucks. I’m always inside my head, no matter what I do. I can never just let go and be myself…
Miles’ hands grasp the comforter as I push even deeper and add a second finger. My dick is aching, wanting to be inside him, to forget about everything but pleasure for just a few fucking minutes.
I stare at the bead of precum gathered on the tip of his pretty cock as I add a third finger. He groans, his hips lifting to meet my thrusts. His face scrunches up in pleasure. It’s both extremely hot and cute at the same time.
“Open the condom for me,” I tell him.
Breathing heavily, he lifts his head to look around the bed for it and grabs it when he spots it, tearing it open with trembling fingers.
He offers it to me, and I roll it on with one hand while continuing to stretch him with the other.
I move forward, pulling my fingers from him and replacing them with my cock.
I slide in with ease, his body taking me like it was meant for it.