Chapter 5
JUDE
Confessing to murder to Conner was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Seriously. I should be committed. Even as I lose myself in the way he slams his dick into my hole, making my entire body fill with desperate need, fear trickles in.
What’s he going to say when this is over?
His hands grip my ass cheeks, and he holds me right where he wants me as he fucks into me. I let my legs spread wider, allowing him all the access he needs. Letting him take me how he wants me.
Conner Langley has a perfect cock. Just the right girth so every thrust feels like it stretches me, but not to the point where he’s going to tear me open. His length is equally perfect. He hits all the deep spots but isn’t punching me in the stomach with every penetration.
I’ll have to take some time to truly examine his goods thoroughly. Right now isn’t the time. Not when he’s sending me into a state of euphoria. Even my stupidity in confessing to murder as a means of foreplay can’t take me out of the moment.
“You need to come,” Conner grunts. “You feel too good.”
I grin against his lips. “You need to stroke my dick, too,” I tell him. “I can’t come hands-free.”
One hand leaves an ass cheek and wraps around my cock. I instantly jerk, and my insides turn molten. Heat rushes through me like an inferno backdraft. When the door opens, feeding the fire inside, my orgasm bursts forward.
I gasp, body spasming as I grind down on his cock.
Conner doesn’t stop fucking, but his rhythm is broken.
His grunts mingle with gasps and a low groan, telling me he’s joining me in coming.
My brain flickers on and off. A single word trickles through my mind as I stare through unseeing eyes. Beautiful.
My body rolls away, and I flop onto the bed beside Conner. Mm. I love the smell of good sex. Mingled with Conner’s natural musk, I feel like I’m on an aphrodisiac high.
Minutes pass. Conner doesn’t move. Is he thinking about my confession?
Without looking at him, I sit up. His dick is softening against his thigh. Even in this state, hot. Totally hot. I gently remove the condom and get up from the bed, tying it off as I head to the bathroom.
I don’t bother with a thorough wash. If all goes well, I’m going to need another fuck tonight. If I haven’t freaked him out, that is.
I wash away my release and between my ass cheeks so it doesn’t feel so slimy. After rinsing the cloth again, I head into the bedroom. Conner is exactly where I left him—flat on his back, slightly starfished, and eyes closed.
“That good, huh?” I ask.
His lips curl. “Yep.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, though you did all the work.” I kneel on the bed beside him and clean his stomach and cock.
“Your body is…” He doesn’t finish.
“Speechless. I’ll take that as a compliment too.”
Conner grins widely. Once more, I leave him for the bathroom to toss the washcloth in the shower. At the very least, it should be dry before putting it in the hamper.
I flick the light off and then join Conner in bed. I only last half a minute on my back before I roll onto my side, propping my head on my elbow so I can look at him. He doesn’t open his eyes, but his lips curl.
“Have I exhausted you, or are you up for a little talk?”
“Are we talking about your murder confession?” he asks, eyes remaining closed.
There’s no tension in his shoulders or jaw. His smile doesn’t fade. He thinks I’m joking. Relief floods through me. Thank fuck.
I touch his chin, and his eyes squint open. “Actually, I want to ask what you have planned for the rest of the summer. I’ve kind of asked already, but… Just want to check in again.”
His smile fades, and he sighs. “I don’t have any plans, but I should be looking for a job.”
“You can do that from anywhere, yeah?”
“I mean, most places have the option of remote interviews, so probably. Why?”
I study his face, my fingers tracing the stubble on his jaw. While I meant for this to go in a different direction, I can tell that he’s stressed. So, for the moment, I table that conversation. “What is it you want to do? What’s your passion?”
Conner gives me a dubious smile. “Hockey. But I can’t make a team want me.”
“You have an agent, yeah?”
He nods. “Yep.”
“Have you checked in with him lately?”
“Not since right before graduation.”
“Maybe you should. Emphasize that you still want to play. You’ll take whatever league. You’ll put in the hard work. You’ll do training camp or whatever.”
Conner nods, but I can see that there’s no hope. He’s already written it off as not having a future in hockey. I don’t know how to fix that.
“Maybe if you can’t play hockey, maybe you can still work in hockey. You could research other careers in hockey. Coaching? Agent?”
He sighs. “Yeah.”
“Look at me.” Conner tilts his head in my direction. “Just because your first dream didn’t become a reality doesn’t mean you won’t find something you’re passionate about. You know that, right?”
“The reality of that happening is slim, Jude. I have nowhere to fall back on. I have to find a job that pays me a livable salary immediately.”
This is going to be a longer conversation than just some reassurance tonight.
“Listen. Every summer, I head to the boat club. We—the club—own a castle on its own island in Alexandria Bay. At the risk of sounding like a spoiled rich boy, I’ve spent the last few summers floating around on the lake, diving for treasure that may or may not exist, enjoying a hundred-and-forty-six-year-old hunting lodge turned castle, racing boats, partying, and hanging out with friends. Come with me.”
“Come with you?”
I grin. “Yes. Don’t worry. There’s Wi-Fi. You can still look for jobs and have interviews.”
“It feels irresponsible to do… that instead of focusing on doing something with my life.”
“In the morning, your situation hasn’t changed, right? It’s not going to change overnight. It takes time. Besides, there are a ton of people who are part of this club. I’ll introduce you to everyone, and you can make some connections.”
“Rich people have all the connections,” he muses.
I lean forward and kiss him. “I enjoy spending time with you, Conner. I’m not ready to end this. I’m also really hoping to ride you several more times. However, I’m coming up on a week later than I said I’d be there.”
“Nolan said you usually only stay a couple of days here.”
“He’s right. I love my family, but I work fucking hard, and I’m ready for a relaxing break with friends on the lake. I want you to come with me. Please.”
Maybe it’s the fact that I keep kissing him. Licking his lips. Sucking on his tongue. Trailing my fingers around his nipples. Eventually, Conner agrees with “for a while.” That’s enough for me.
“Good. We leave in the morning.” No need to tell him I already bought him a ticket two days ago.
My phone pings, letting me know I have ten minutes left in the first lounge shower. I don’t need a shower, of course. But since our layover is almost four hours in Chicago and I only got to ride this man once last night, I decided that the lounge shower was going to have to do.
Conner’s arm wraps around my neck like a half Nelson. His other hand is on my hip. My spine curves backward as he fucks into me. To keep my face from smashing into it, my forearms are braced against the tile wall of the shower.
I think my eyes are rolling. He keeps hitting that one spot that has my dick tingling. I’m not sure if that’s even possible. Do dicks feel tingles? I swear, mine does.
He’s already mastered my pleasure. Conner grips my cock when he’s ready to come and jerks me roughly.
It doesn’t take much effort on his part to get me off right now.
Not with the way he uses his cock. As soon as his hand is around my dick, the fire blazing inside me burns all my nerve endings, and I choke on my orgasm.
Conner’s deep groan in my ear has my head spinning. Why is it so damn good? Has it been so long that any sex is going to feel good, or is it simply Conner? I have a feeling it’s just Conner.
I’m not huge on hookup culture. I’ll drop into a club here and there to get off maybe once a month, but otherwise, I tend to stick to myself. Orgasms are good and all, but until last night, I’ve never experienced one quite so consuming.
I imagine that’s because I’m actually attracted to Conner as a person. I’m not sure when the last time I had sex with someone I was more than marginally attracted to was. Sex generally has a purpose attached, and it’s transactional.
Then again, I suppose I’ve not given myself the opportunity to get to know someone since… high school. Wow, what a life.
Conner’s hand comes off my dick and wraps around my stomach, which I’m thankful for. I think his dick in my ass is what’s holding me upright. My knees feel shaky.
“That notification on my phone was signaling we only have ten minutes,” I say. My heart races like I’ve been doing sprints on the ice.
“How long ago was that?”
“Probably ten minutes.”
He snorts. “Fine.” Conner doesn’t move for a long moment, but then he’s slowly stepping backward. His dick falls from me, and I grunt. I feel his smile against the back of my shoulder where his lips are pressed.
I remain against the wall for a second, watching him as he discards the condom in the trash outside the shower. Then we wash quickly and get out of the shower. Not too bad. We’re only three minutes late.
“What’s the purpose of a boat club?” Conner asks as we’re sitting in the cushy chairs waiting for our flight.
My ass feels tender, so I’m sitting sideways. I can’t keep the grin off my face. It has the beautiful effect of keeping a sweet pink tinge on Conner’s cheeks.
“Spoiled rich people flaunting their money. It’s like a dick measuring event.
Showing off our new toys, bragging about what accomplishments we’ve achieved this past year.
That kind of thing. The real fun is boat racing.
There’s a handful of clubs in Alexandria Bay, and it’s ridiculously competitive. Dangerously so.”
“Huh. I didn’t know boat clubs were a thing.”
“Think of them like country clubs. If you’re into golf, you’re all up in the golfing know. An elite club for all kinds of people like you. The more expensive the membership, the higher the caliber of elite that hobnob together.”
“So, you’re into boats, is what you’re saying.”
I laugh. “I mean… I inherited this lifestyle. My parents got into boating when my dad retired from hockey. I don’t think it was so much the lifestyle as it was a fun hobby for my father to do while Dad Zak continued to work on his fashion movement.
My siblings and I were born into the life.
I guess, like hockey, I’m the only one who keeps up with it. ”
“You alone are carrying on your dad’s legacy, huh?”
“In these two areas, yes.” I grin. “However, my brothers are successful in their own right. I don’t know what they’re going to do, but their passion for cheer rivals mine and my dad Owen’s passion for hockey and Dad Zak’s passion for upcycling clothes.”
“What about Gracie?”
I shake my head. “Gracie doesn’t have a direction yet. Sometimes passions aren’t discovered right away.”