17. Jack
17
JACK
“T his is payback.” I feel my smile get so big it hits my ear lobes.
“For what?”
My brain stops, trying to figure out the right answer. The brilliant idea and my chain of logic don’t make it to my mouth. I begin to realize that not getting nookie on a rooftop is no justification for pissing on a guy’s car.
But I can’t give him the satisfaction of my contrition. I go defiant instead.
“You know what.”
“I actually don’t.” Griffin gets closer but also knows that no man can stop another man mid-stream.
I shake out the last drops and tuck my dick back in my pants. I wipe my hands on my shirt and turn around. “What’s up?”
“You fucking asshole. You pissed on my car.”
“You did this to yourself!” I yell. The alcohol has fully taken over my brain. I step around him, but Griffin hooks his thick fingers onto my arm and pulls me back. His hot touch burns up my skin, sending shivers of lust raging through my system.
“What did I do? Tell me what I did, Jack.”
“You talked to Darlene about me.”
“Yeah,” he says, confused. “I put in a good word.”
“I don’t fucking get you!” I push him back, my hands on his broad chest. “You’re in my head, and I hate it!”
He pulls me close, his hand staying firmly fixed on my arm. “You’re in my head, too! You think I want that?”
“I don’t know what you want. I took you to a beautiful rooftop and you pushed me away! I never take guys there because it’s special! I took you there because I wanted to experience it with you, even though I just met you, and you…you said thanks but no thanks. You’re an asshole! When my bladder refills, I’m coming back here and pissing on the other side of your truck.”
Griffin doesn’t say anything, leaving me unnerved. His hand digs into my arm, sending more lust shivers through my traitorous body. His eyes are on fire, blazing with intensity as the flames lick at the pit of my core.
Thunder rumbles through the sky. Lightning crackles across the darkness, but it can’t match the electricity between us.
“Fucking kiss me already,” I spit out, seething with fury.
Griffin tugs me against him, leans his head down, and delivers the most epic kiss of my life as the sky cracks open, unleashing a downpour.
He smashes his lips on mine, making me remember all over again what a great fucking kisser he is. But it’s different this time. There’s no hesitance, no sweetness. It’s heat. It’s need.
His lips are fucking magic. Warm and salty with the bitter taste of beer on his tongue. I breathe in his scent, wanting him in all the worst ways. His beard scratches my smooth cheek as his tongue explores my mouth.
Rain soaks through my clothes and my hair. My hands canvass across his broad shoulders, the muscles popping through on his arms, wet clothes hugging even tighter to his thick body.
He shoves me against the brick wall of the alley as his hands dig through my hair, pulling me against him.
“You okay?” he asks, his hand caressing the back of my head.
“Of course I’m fucking okay.” I resume kissing, our tongues tangled in lust. I unleash a moan as he gives my pointed nipple a quick pinch through my soaked shirt.
I finger the strap of his eye patch behind his head as his coarse hair bristles under my pads. His eye patch rubs against my cheek slightly, a new sensation that makes me want to hold him tighter.
I rut against his leg like a hopeless, horny, stray dog. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he gets me hard in two seconds flat, but I’m way past thinking rationally.
“Is this what you fucking want?” he growls under his breath.
“You wanted it first. Staring at me across the bar.”
His hot breath dances on my lips. I scrawl my fingers through his beard.
“You and your fucking beard,” I mutter against his lips. “You should shave this fucking thing.”
“Not until the end of the season, Ringer.”
“Call me Ringer again, you fuck.”
He smiles at me but says nothing. What did I tell you? Asshole.
Griffin pushes up one of my legs, letting our bodies get closer as rain streams down our faces and clothes. His woodsy cologne and manly scent, a bit of permasweat mixed in, gets me dizzy with desire. His hands press into my back as I’m pulled flush against his chest. His cock digs into my hip, taunting me.
I grip his cock over his jeans. He lets out a raspy moan and hisses into my mouth. I can get drunk all over again on these noises.
“This is the part where you usually run off,” I say.
He stares at me, his eye blown wide and heavy lidded, the lust raging through him just as strong as it is with me. Good, it should be. I should always elicit raging lust within this man.
I stroke my hand over his cock, back and forth, giddy with the thickness I can detect. He puts his hands on my chest, a little unsure, maybe a little scared, which catches me off guard. There’s a hesitant exploration. It’s a moment of tenderness in this tornado.
I unbutton my shirt and let him put his hands on my bare chest, heat and want sizzling inside me as his fingers slip over the light hairs around my pert nipples, which are as hard as my cock. He gives them a firmer pinch than before, forcing me to throw my head back and moan.
My breath pounds in my ears. My lungs can’t keep up. I want him to split me open. I need his touch. We are on a road with nothing but green lights.
“I’m going to give you the best fucking blow job of your life,” I say, the statement coming out as a threat.
“You better.”
Fucker.
I shove him backward until he’s up against his truck. I get on my knees, landing in a puddle, but I’m already soaked. The rain makes his shirt stick to his chest and belly, emphasizing each muscle, each lump. I grip his cock through his jeans.
“You’re not running this time,” I warn him as I unbutton his jeans. He doesn’t stop me, nor does he stop me from unzipping his fly. A lamppost above illuminates us, providing just enough light to navigate pulling his cock from his boxers. He tries to help, but I shove his hand back. I can’t trust he’s not going to end this. If he really wanted to end this, he could.
His hard cock juts out. Fuck, it’s bigger and better than I dreamed about. Yes, I did dream about it and might’ve been late to practice one morning from cranking it in bed. He’s unabashedly hairy down there, almost like he wants someone to dare ask him to clean up.
“We should probably go somewhere—” Griffin starts.
I shove his cock in my mouth, refusing to let him finish that sentence. If we move from this spot, the moment could be over. He could bolt. We have to get this over with and out of our systems.
That’s what this is. Getting out of each other’s heads by giving head.
He throws his head back against his truck, letting out a groan silenced by the pouring rain. For my ears only.
I take his cock down my throat, letting its salty heat shudder through me. I reach up his shirt and land on his hairy gut. I push down to the base, letting him completely fill my mouth.
“Suck me, Jack.”
I swirl my tongue over his crown. “You better be liking this.”
He unleashes a groan that rivals the thunder in volume.
I suck him hard and fast, knowing that some lovely couple could walk past the alley any second and stumble upon us. That fact makes me even hornier.
He pulls his cock out of my mouth. Rude. He smacks it on my tongue.
“How badly have you wanted this, Ringer?”
“Not as bad as you,” I shoot back.
“You want this cock?” He holds my chin back, fucking wagging his dick in my face. Which sadly, only makes me want it more.
He lifts up his heavy shaft. “Lick these nuts.”
I take a ball in my mouth, then go to the other. I can feel their heaviness, full of come. They’re musky, manly, a mix of sweat and rain coating them. He jerks himself while I lap up each ball.
“I’m going to make you come so hard.” Another threat escapes my lips.
“You’re going to swallow every last drop,” he growls at me, sending a bolt of heat exploding between my legs.
“You can’t fucking tell me what to do,” I say before taking his cock again. He juts his hips out to give me a better angle.
“Hands off,” he says. I drop my hands to the side, and Griffin grabs a fistful of hair in each hand and fucks my face.
“Take it,” he commands.
The feel of his cock filling my mouth, precome bitter on my tongue mixed with the hard taste of rainwater that drenches us. I lose myself in the rhythm, in the waves of lust rolling off both of us. His burly hands tighten around my hair as he pulls me closer, rutting into my mouth.
“Fuck. I’m coming.” He lets go at the last minute, as if giving me a last minute choice to back away if I wanted. I’m not going anywhere.
He unleashes a guttural moan that rips from the deepest part of his chest as he empties himself down my throat. I swallow every last bitter drop of come, leaving no stone unturned in my quest to right the wrongs of the rooftop.
He falls back against his truck, holding his cock at the same time. The rain glistens on his meaty thighs. I wipe all residual glimmer of blowjob off my lips.
“Glad we could finally get that out of our fucking systems.” I stand up and walk away, leaving Griffin slumped against his car.