27. Jack
27
JACK
C all me old-fashioned, but there’s something about a man with a pickup truck that’s hot. I won’t lie; it’s a bucket list sex fantasy to do it in the back of one.
I climb into the bed of Griffin’s truck. The metal is cold, but Griffin’s arms warm me right up when he joins me. I’ve had sex in more uncomfortable places. He pulls me onto his lap and delivers another exquisite kiss, learning all of my lessons and excelling perfectly. The glow of the moon and far-off streetlights streak through the garage windows.
“Good idea coming here,” he says while kissing my neck.
What can I say? Being horny and resourceful is a potent mix.
I trace my finger over the border where his beard meets his bare cheek. I want to be a cartographer mapping every detail of this gorgeous face.
“You’re really cute, you know that?”
“I do, but it’s always nice to hear.” He smiles.
I think about how fucking good he is with his daughters, how much they adore him, how much he adores them. Who knew good parenting could be a turn-on for me?
I whip off his shirt, letting my hands glide through his hairy chest. I breathe in his scent, muzzle my face into his muscles. Things I never got to do in our previous instances. There was always a rush. Now we could settle.
I raise my arms and let him undress me as I grind my ass into his poking erection. Our chests grind together in harmony, mine smooth and his a beast. Griffin won’t stop kissing me, touching me, every move bursting with tenderness.
“Stand up,” Griffin says, his voice choked and husky.
I do as I’m told, getting on my feet, holding onto the cab of the truck while Griffin undoes my pants. His thick, hot hands graze over my crotch then my legs as he pushes down my jeans, then my boxer briefs.
He takes me in his mouth, sending waves of pleasure through me.
“Your mouth feels so good. So damn wet. I can’t fucking wait to have you inside me.”
His beard rubs along my shaft, making me shiver. He takes me in his mouth, teasing the tip. Within seconds, I’m so damn close to the edge, my body tight and coiled with pleasure ready to spring out. I want nothing more than to blow my load down his throat. My balls are begging for it. But I must hold out because I know what’s coming. Griffin’s thick cock fully inside me.
“Swirl your tongue around my shaft. Just like that.”
Griffin goes to town on my dick, taking it all in his mouth, making the ability to stand up really hard right now. He is playing me like the world’s most turned-on fiddle. I want every part of me electrified by him.
I turn around and shove his face against my ass. Sex is about give and take, and I am in the mood for taking. I demand that glorious tongue in my hole. His strong grip holds me in place as he eats me out.
“Tongue that hole. Fuck, you are so goddamned good at this.” I bite my lip, wanting to scream in pleasure.
His prickly beard adds a new layer of pleasure to the process as I feel his tongue flick in and out of me. His thumb circles my hole and dips inside, making me shudder with want.
“I didn’t think of myself as an ass man until I met you,” he says, giving my ass a slap. “But watching you in your uniform. Damn.”
“All that hockey playing. It’s good for the legs.”
“That it is.” His hands skim down my legs, making the hairs stand up. Griffin kisses down my thigh behind my knee, making me laugh with ticklishness. He smooths a hand over my calf muscles and kisses them, too.
“What are you doing? You’re into calves?” I laugh. I’d never been with someone who gave a shit about legs or calves.
“I’m into yours.” Despite a snarky tone, there’s a seriousness to what Griffin says, a warmth that coats his words. “They’re beautiful.”
“They’re fucking calves.”
“I like your muscles. I like how strong you are.” Griffin’s hand rides up to my quad, pulsing and tense to keep me up. My ass twitches, greedily wanting more. But as Griffin’s fingers circle through my leg hair, eliciting goosebumps, I realize he’s discovered a new erogenous zone.
“Griffin,” I squeak out as his hand goes higher on my thigh, squeezing it until it reaches my ass. I cry out in want. His tongue goes back inside me. “Yes. Yes.”
I stroke my aching cock, delirious with lust. Wanting Griffin. Not wanting this night to end and wanting him inside me so bad it hurts.
He spreads me wider, plunging two fingers inside me. I imagine his thick, rough, calloused hands, spending all day fixing planes and playing hockey, his manly hands plowing inside me, making me his. I rock back and fuck his fingers.
I nearly collapse when he pulls his mouth back. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to function after that.
“If I ever become a millionaire again, I’m hiring you away from the airport to do that to me full time.” I sink to my knees. His dick tents his pants. “My turn.”
Griffin stands up and leans against the truck bed as I take his fat cock in my mouth. Tasting his musky scent on my lips. I can’t wait to feel him inside me. Griffin pushes me down, then pulls me back, controlling me by my hair. He’s rough but gentle at the same time, my trust completely in his hands. I want to be his toy.
He gazes down at me, and I get the feeling he’s been looking at me this whole time. There’s a purity to his smile, like he’s watching something of beauty, and not some horny jock slobbering all over his dick.
I stroke him while playing with his balls in my mouth, loving the unmistakable scent of Griffin.
“You better have lube in this garage,” I say.
I stop mid-suck when a dog-ate-my-homework look crosses his face.
“What about lube in your bedroom?”
He shakes his head no.
“Lube in your secret doomsday shelter?”
“No lube.” Griffin sits up, the lust vanishing from his eye. “I need to tell you something.”
Oh shit. Guys who need to tell me something during sex is never good news. This is where it happens. The flip. Again, I let myself trust someone, and then they do a one-eighty and cast me aside.
“What is it?” I ask.
Griffin exhales a deep breath. “I’ve never had sex with a man.”
My reaction is the obvious one. I laugh. Because this has to be a joke. Something to lighten the mood before bringing down the hammer.
“Right.” I pull up my pants. “Okay, what did you actually want to tell me?”
“It’s true. I’ve never had sex with a man.” There’s a sheepishness to him in that moment, something innocent and almost childlike that informs me that yes, this was the something he needed to tell me.
“You’re a virgin?”
“No. I’ve had sex with a woman.”
“Right, right. The kids.” I scratch my head. “But you’re like in your forties.”
“I came out later in life.” He shrugs.
I feel like an asshole. Griffin is being real with me, and I’m still in disbelief. Everyone has their own journey. I squeeze his hand, bring it to my mouth for a supportive kiss. “Well, I’m honored that I get to pop your gay sex cherry. The good news is that you won’t have boobs smacking you in the face during it.”
He lets out a small laugh, but I can tell he’s still embarrassed by the admission.
“There are guys who’ve had lots of sex and are still terrible at it. If you can fuck half as good as you can rim, you’ll be okay.” I clap his shoulder, trying to think back to how a coach would give me a pep talk. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
“That’s why I pushed you away on the rooftop the night we met. I wanted to keep going. I was so into you, but…I was scared. Things were moving so fast. I panicked.”
“It’s on me, too. I was going really fast,” I admit. “I was feeling things for you, which freaked me out because that never happens with guys. Even though we barely knew each other, the vibe between us was real , and real shit scares me. So I wanted to cut to sex ASAP so we could come and never see each other again. Obviously, that plan backfired.”
“We both suck at this.” Griffin cups my cheek, massages it with his thumb, helping to settle the nerves in my stomach.
“You never wanted to have sex when you were closeted? Not even on the down low?” I ask. I sit next to him, thread my fingers through his. No matter his sexual history or non-history, I’m not going anywhere.
“Of course I thought about it. On some level, I’ve always known I was gay. But I didn’t think you could be gay and a hockey player. I told myself that I’d come out once I became a hockey superstar. I’d make history.”
I had that same thought when I got drafted, and I still kick myself for not trying to be more vocal. A part of me wanted to be really successful before I came out, so that nobody could criticize my performance based on my sexuality. That obviously didn’t pan out.
“And then I lost an eye.” He laughs to himself. “I let down my mom by ruining my hockey career. I let down my teammates and coaches. I didn’t want to disappoint them any further. I pushed it down and tried to live as respectable of a life I could. I got married, had a family.”
“What made you finally come out then?”
“I thought of Annabelle and June. I didn’t want to spend my life lying to them. I didn’t want them to believe that that was okay.”
“All through your twenties and thirties, you didn’t think of experimenting with a guy? Getting your gay ya-yas out?”
He shakes his head no. “I think I felt more comfortable being closeted and married to a woman because I was giving a performance. It wasn’t the real me. It was Griffin the straight family man.”
I nod along. It was easy to play Jack the flirty athlete who hits it and quits it. I could play that part forever.
Griffin continues, “But being with a guy meant showing my true self. And what if a guy didn’t like what he saw? What if he saw the same thing I did: a failure. A guy who was washed up at eighteen. No college education. No left eye. Who wants to sleep with a failure, let alone fall in love with one?”
“Griffin.” My heart breaks hearing him talk like that. How dare anyone say those things about this great man. There is no worthier person than Griffin Harper. I hold his head in my hands, force him to look at me. “You are none of those things. You know what I see? I see a man who’s had a rough hand dealt to him but powers through. A man who wants to be a loner but has such a big heart that he’s beloved by his friends and kids. You may not have won the Stanley Cup and gotten endorsement deals, but you do what every professional athlete should: you inspire people.”
It happens so fast, I don’t even realize it, like the overnight temperature drop initiating a new season. I am in love with Griffin Harper. I wish it weren’t so. I wish I could say it was just for the good juju. But no can do. I am a goner for him.
I kiss him because I have no fucking idea what to say next, because the fear and exhilaration of this realization is choking the air out of my lungs. I love Griffin. It’s something I want to keep to myself while also shouting from the rooftops.
“Would olive oil work?” he asks.
“Hell yeah. It worked for the Greeks.”
He hops out of the truck and walks over to a pantry shelf, grabs a bottle of unopened olive oil.
“It’s extra virgin,” he says.
Back on the truck, we get back into it, hot and heavy. He massages oil into my hole, and I’m so fired up.
I get on my knees, my ass sticking out for him. It’s a position that always makes me feel vulnerable, but I am comfortable with Griffin. I want him to pound into me.
Yet he doesn’t move.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“I don’t want you like that. I want you to ride me.”
My mouth goes dry at the hunger that instantly builds inside me, the sheer delight of getting to bounce on his lap.
I love that as inexperienced as Griffin might be, he knows what he wants and he’s direct. He balances me on his lap. Our eyes meet, a million things said between them. I’ve never had sex this way, but for me, sex was always a means to an end, a way to feel pleasure and nothing else.
I sink onto his cock. It pushes past my tightness, and I exhale tight breath. I put my arms around his belly to balance myself. Griffin rests his hands on my hips, steering me up and down. His biceps swell as he lifts me and puts me down. I feel weightless in his arms.
My fingers dance over his eye patch. I want to remove all layers between us. I can tell Griffin anything, be anything with him. I want the same for him.
He puts his hand over mine and together, we slide the eye patch off his face and toss it onto the truck bed. I graze over the scarred, puffy eye. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.
“Ringer,” he says, a deep well of hope in his voice, as he pulls me into a delicate kiss.
I throw my head back, falling into ecstasy as he fills me up. When I pick my head up, he’s still staring at me. He hasn’t looked away.
I dip my head down, then to the side. The intensity of his stare is almost too much. He stares at me like I’m…like I’m valuable.
“Jack,” he groans. My name on his lips. Nothing better.
He takes my chin and forces me to lock eyes with him. Instinctively, I try to pull away, but he won’t let me. We are connected. I bounce up and down, fucking him harder, hoping that I can fuck him into such bliss that he has to look away.
Why won’t he look away? What does he see in me?
Each second more is like stripping away another layer that I don’t want him to see. I’m turned on and I’m terrified.
“Jack,” he utters again.
“Griffin. I…”
I lean down and press my forehead against his. He tips my chin up so our eyes can meet. Our lips connect as he grabs my ass and jackhammers into me, grunting with each thrust.
I push back so I can better meet his gaze. In between our eyes, there is nothing. No universe. No real world. Just us two.
Griffin keeps looking at me like I could be somebody. I want to believe it. And in this moment, I do.
I squeeze my fingernails into his back as I shoot my load. Come hits his furry stomach. He grunts his approval and smiles. His strong hand massages my neck, then sinks to my chest. I lean back and hump against his dick as the last drops of orgasm empty out of me.
“I’m so close, baby,” he says.
I’m baby now? I should hate that, but I don’t.
I assume Griffin needs to close his eyes to get into the zone to come. But no. He keeps staring at me, as if my face is the Mona Lisa meets the hottest gay porn in existence.
I nod, silently telling him how bad I want it.
He contorts as he empties himself inside me.
I fall into his chest, and we kiss again, each of us still catching our breath.
It’s not the juju.
It’s him.
It’s always been him.