CHAPTER FIVE
Jett
Blade is in the shower, water pounding on the glass door. The scent of his spicy bodywash slips into the thin air of the bedroom. I’ve smelled it before at the gym we use to stay in shape for our jobs.
Here, it feels different. It feels too intimate for him to be naked in my shower. Now I’m even more confused about how I feel about him.
I sit on the edge of the bed and start scrolling through train schedules, then bus lines. Anything to get out of here. Make some excuse that Trace needs me.
Damn it, all buses and trains heading to Manhattan from the local hub here in Ridge Hollow today have left. And everything is booked solid for tomorrow, because it’s Thanksgiving.
I give up and decide to stay. For now.
The bathroom door opens, and steam rolls out, thick and curling through the air like a pyrotechnic show. Blade, the main attraction, steps out, towel slung low on his hips, droplets sliding down his neck.
My throat closes.
He doesn’t even look self-conscious. Why should he? He’s a god. The lamplight catches the contours of his shoulders, the cut of his abs, and the tattoos etched into his skin.
Some of that ink is my work when Dirk wasn’t available.
Then our eyes lock, and something in that stare hits too deep, too fast. It’s not teasing this time, it’s searching. Like he’s trying to pull a confession out of me. But I’m not ready. Not like this. Not when I can’t get away from him.
Yet, I can’t look away.
For a split second, maybe two, I think about kissing him. Just once. Maybe that would make these thoughts and urges stop spinning. Maybe if I crossed that line, the tension would burn out and die before I take things too far.
Blade steps closer, and his towel slips a little lower. My heart slams hard against my ribs.
Jesus Christ.
He leans over me to grab something from the nightstand. The heat of his skin brushes against mine like a match to a flame. I smell his shampoo now, the faint trace of the salt beneath his skin, and the steam still clinging to his body.
My pulse goes wild.
Then he turns and drops the towel. I gawk at every curve, every shadow, every pulsing muscle that tells a story of the strength and the weight of this man.
Something deep inside me shifts. Breaks, maybe. Now I know, if I ever let him touch me, he’d utterly ruin me.
The thought slams into me so hard I can barely breathe.
Blade strolls to his side of the bed, all casual, like he hadn’t just detonated something inside me. My palms are sweating, and my skin feels too tight. As well as my jeans in the groin area. Everything is fucking throbbing.
Needing to get my sanity in check, I mutter that I’m taking a shower next. I don’t even care if there’s hot water. In fact, I’d much rather a shot of cold spray on my traitorous, heated skin. I have to get away from Blade before I say or do something I can’t take back.
“See you in the living room,” Blade says, his voice light and casual.
In the bathroom, I press my hands on the sink to steady myself. Steam from Blade’s shower still blurs the mirror, but my reflection finds a way to stare back. My eyes are too dark, my jaw too tight.
I’d been with plenty of women. But this... This rush of arousal in my veins feels different. This lust belongs to a man. Blade.
Inside the shower, I’m surprised there’s hot water, but I keep it lukewarm, so I am on the edge. My cock bobs, aching for release.
Ignoring that, I keep my eyes closed. I grab some soap and start washing myself.
My body is a graveyard of scars, Shoulders, chest, abdomen, and lots on my arms, too.
I stopped feeling self-conscious about them long ago.
If Blade saw these scars beneath my tats, he wouldn’t be disgusted, he’d be furious.
I would have to tell him about how I got them. It’s not a long-drawn-out answer, they were all from the same foster home. One that Dirk was lucky enough to avoid. CPS didn’t like breaking up siblings, but things got desperate that winter.
It wasn’t the mother or father. They were smart enough not to hurt the kids.
Kids were money. It was the other kids. I was the youngest, and they used me as a testing ground to see how much skin would bleed.
And because the mom didn’t want to raise any flags, she never brought me to a hospital or even to urgent care for stitches.
It’s all part of my history. Dirk learned to ink skin just to hide my scars. Then I learned, too. I’m just not as artistic as he is.
What I feel for Blade didn’t come out of nowhere. It’s not like one day I just looked at him and something flipped. A faint gnawing has always been there. I just learned early on to bury those feelings deep, smother them.
Growing up with dudes who hurt me taught me that being vulnerable around men meant pain. So, I shoved it down, convinced myself I was straight. Or bi, since I respond to women just fine.
Or maybe that was a way to cope.
Maybe because I’ve finally felt like I’ve come into my own since I started working with Quinlan Empire, and Blade is single again, it’s all sharpening for me.
I finish up, knowing I don’t have all night to be in here. The hot water’s bound to run out, and I’m fucking hungry.
And not just for food.
The image of Blade’s face won’t leave my head. Damn it. How his ass looked when he walked away naked affects me differently now.
Did Dirk say something to him? My brother still hasn’t mentioned the text.
Unless... Did Dirk tell Blade what I said with a warning to stay away from me, regardless of how I felt? Fuck, I have to confront my brother. But will that start WWIII here at the cabin with us all jammed into this tiny space for the weekend?
Shit, I have to forget I ever sent that text. And live with this quiet ache.
Live with the fantasy of Blade behind my eyes. How confident he is on our jobs for Trace, taking the lead, often going out of his way to keep me safe. His electric blue eyes pop off his golden skin. I am dying to know how those eyes would watch me if I went down on him.
Or stare at me as I look over my shoulder, while on my hands and knees, and he had his way with me.
My cock wakes up again, stirring to a painful stiffness as memories of Blade blur into fantasies. I have to figure out what to do with this surge of longing that manifested into that text confession.
I don’t remember the last time I had sex, and I don’t remember the last time I was this hard. Not even when I watched Blade rail some stranger in a bathroom.
My cock thickens more, and it’s dizzying to be this aroused.
God, I see him lowering to his knees for me, smiling, lips parted to take all of me into his mouth.
I stroke myself and with just one tight jerk, my vision goes white with lust. My mind is jumbling the fantasy that it’s my hand on his cock, or his hand on my cock.
Doesn’t matter, it’s fucking fantastic. This lust has me by the balls, which are hard and tight. Bracing one hand on the tile wall, I stroke my swollen shaft.
With water dousing my hand and cock, all I think about is Blade’s mouth. Surrendering to me would be a sacrifice. His strong, full lips wrapped around my dick, taking me down his throat. My hands on his bald head, guiding it while he blows me.
I’m certain that I’m bigger than he thinks I am. I’ll choke him if I fuck his face.
Gasp...
That nearly makes me come. God, this is too good. Energy surges through me. My hips jerk as I drag my tight fist up and down the length and over the sensitive crown.
I turn around to feel the water on my back while I jerk off. The steam and droplets dripping into my ass feel like Blade’s tongue swiping my hole.
After a few more full strokes, root to tip, I groan, “Fuck, Blade, suck my cock.”
God, this is wrong, but it feels so damn good. Like he’d work my dick into a sexy lather and then drink down my cum when I climaxed in his mouth.
I’m so damn close. Teetering on the edge. Stroke, stroke, stroke. I lick my lips and feel Blade kissing me. His tongue is in my mouth, and I know it would be someplace dirty next. My balls are so tight, so sore, they might stay swollen unless I find a human hole to fuck.
I keep stroking, bringing these crazy, unrealistic thoughts to their inevitable conclusion.
“Blade, I’m coming,” I cry out as my ropes of cum spray all over the shower wall.
He’d groan as I fill his mouth with my cum. His throat would tighten around my length, his blue eyes getting darker the more I come.
“Blade, yeah,” I growl, his name slipping off my lips quiet, intentional, and raw.
I’m in so much trouble. Whatever this is, it isn’t going away.
Lost in my climax, my knees buckle from the loss of oxygen to the brain. Again. My vision goes blurry as the sound of the water overtakes the blood roaring in my ears. My heart crashes wildly in my chest.
I drop my cock, catching my breath. A surge of terror crashes over me at what I did. What I imagined. What I want.
“Fuck, fuck, and fuck,” I grind out.
Curled into a ball on the shower floor, I shiver against the cold until I find the strength to rise and look at myself in the mirror.