Chapter 10 the Floral Design #3
Like soft lips. The way Jamie’s tongue flicks the seam of Jordan’s mouth apart. Sharp tastes hitting him—tart raspberry and bright lime.
There’s an ungodly noise bouncing around the back of Jordan’s throat. He tries to keep it in. But Jamie is just so …
Incredible.
Jordan has kissed other people since Jamie and Yazzie. Nothing he’s initiated. Or enjoyed. He thought it was what he was supposed to do.
None of them were long, drawn-out, meaningful kisses. Just quick pecks. Ones where all Jordan thought about was how empty it felt.
It’s not like that with Jamie.
With him, Jordan’s on his tiptoes. He reaches for more. Jamie doesn’t hesitate to give it to him. He releases Jordan’s elbow to slide his large hand onto the small of Jordan’s back. Another point of pressure Jordan melts under.
He fists Jamie’s shirt. Experiments with threading fingers through his thick hair. Tugging delicately.
Jamie groans in frustration. Against Jordan’s mouth, he says, “Do it.”
Jordan does.
Finding angles with a kiss isn’t one of Jordan’s strengths. At any second, he’s certain Jamie will pull away. Laugh in his face for being so tragically amateurish.
But Jamie doesn’t.
He adjusts his approach. He’s patient and teasing with his teeth. All the embarrassment heating Jordan’s cheeks transfers into another part of his body.
When Jamie grinds against him, a shocked gasp breaks through Jordan’s lips. Jamie lets Jordan feel how hard he is.
Jordan’s never …
He doesn’t—
His brain tries to reboot. It’s not fast enough. The rest of his body, however, falls into the rhythm of Jamie’s hips, encouraging.
“Wait,” Jamie says, easing back. Jordan tenses with the suddenness of it, but Jamie’s hands are still gripping him. Holding him close. He stares at Jordan, panting, lips plump and red. “I need to do a comfort check.”
Jordan blinks at him. “A what?”
“A comfort check,” Jamie repeats, slower. “I need to know where you’re at. With all of this.”
“Where I’m … at?”
The left side of Jamie’s mouth rises. “Talk to me, Jordan. Tell me if you’re good. If you need to slow down. Stop—”
Jordan’s breath hitches anxiously.
“—or not,” Jamie continues, starting those slow circles with his thumb again, this time against the center of Jordan’s spine. “I can keep going. I want to. But this isn’t just about me.”
Jordan bites his lip. He knows what Jamie’s saying—he wants Jordan to be sure. Underneath that, he wants Jordan to be okay. Safe. To not do things just because they’re kissing and Jamie’s hard and Jordan’s body is reacting to everything.
“I’ve never—” Jordan swallows.
Jamie waits, smiling.
“I still haven’t … you know. With a man.” The urge to cringe is strong. Jordan fights it off. “With anyone.”
“Okay,” Jamie says before Jordan has a coronary. “Do you want to?”
He hasn’t before. There were times when he was making out with Yazzie, her perched in his lap, sure fingers guiding his hands underneath her shirt, that he considered it. Yazzie even offered. He genuinely liked her. Felt something deep and intimate for her. But they never went any further.
Still, she was the closest he’s ever been to crossing that line.
Until now.
Now, he stares at Jamie’s chaotic hair, a mess from Jordan’s hands. His lower lip swollen from Jordan’s mouth. The quick rise and fall of his chest from Jordan being this close, this receptive. There’s no question in Jordan’s head. No hesitation.
This isn’t a stranger from a hookup app. A blind date he feels nothing for.
This is Jamie.
And Jordan … wants him.
“Yes. I want to,” Jordan manages to say. “With you.”
Those last two breathy words send something rolling across Jamie’s eyes. A sunburst. The heat burns against Jordan’s skin as Jamie’s hand slides across the back of Jordan’s head. He applies pressure and Jordan leans in. Their noses brush.
“There is no one like you, Jordan Carter,” is the last thing Jamie says before their mouths connect.
It’s a delicate dance from there.
Jordan’s arms hook around Jamie’s neck. Jamie kisses him, soft and purposeful, all while blindly reaching for something. Jordan hears a palm smacking glass. Fighting with a door handle. Their bodies sway and rotate.
The strength in Jamie’s biceps sends a shudder through Jordan as he’s carefully laid on the Jeep’s back seat.
This is a bad idea. They’re in public. If anyone sees them—if even one person clocks him as a Carter—it’s game over. But it’s also thrilling. The kind of live-on-the-edge high he gets when winning.
Jamie’s Jeep smells exactly like Jordan remembers: clean leather and cherry Gatorade and a thin layer of booze from all the discarded work T-shirts thrown on the floor mats. The scent is intoxicating. The best kind of comfort.
Jordan doesn’t even realize his shirt’s been yanked off until Jamie’s mouth is against his sternum. His kisses are feverish. His nose presses to Jordan’s skin, inhaling.
“Fuck, I love the way you smell.”
Jordan throws an arm over his eyes, mortified. He probably stinks of sweat and the outdoors. Did he remember to put on deodorant today?
“Don’t say that.”
“No, no. It’s great. It’s like”—Jamie drags his mouth over Jordan’s tightening stomach muscles—“sea salt. And, okay, this is gonna sound ridiculous—”
“Coming from you? Impossible.”
Jamie grins against his skin. “You know the color burgundy?”
Jordan peeks down at him. “Yeah?”
“It’s like if that color had a scent,” Jamie goes on. His teeth graze Jordan’s abdomen. “Rich, lush. It doesn’t work on anyone else, but on you? Fuck, it’s incredible.”
“So, for the record: I don’t smell bad?”
Jamie laughs against the sensitive skin just below Jordan’s navel. “No, you don’t,” he confirms. “Not one bit.”
“Good,” Jordan says between gasps. “Glad we cleared that up.”
Long fingers curl into his waistband. “Talk to me, Jordan. Still okay?”
For a beat, Jordan considers the question. He’s shirtless. On his back in the back seat of Jamie’s Jeep. His breaths are tight, but his muscles are loose. His erection is fighting to get free.
Jamie hovers over him. His gaze is somehow serene and desperate. There’s no sign he’s going to move until Jordan tells him to.
“I’m okay,” he whispers.
“Can I go on?”
“Please.”
That one-syllable word breaks off halfway in the middle. Jamie groans, tugging so hard he brings down Jordan’s boxer-briefs with his joggers. He’s on Jordan before his next inhale fully forms.
It’s new, different. Being this exposed. Yes, guys have seen him naked in locker rooms before. Jordan’s not modest. But he also doesn’t go around flashing his dick to anyone.
He’s never been spread-legged with another man between his thighs before.
Jamie kisses the soft skin there. Drags his mouth across Jordan’s already tight balls. He smiles over the dark, coarse hair above Jordan’s aching cock.
If Jordan’s brain ever comes back online, it’ll probably short-circuit before fully loading.
He shivers. “Oh, God.”
Jamie takes Jordan into his mouth without any preamble. Simply slips his lips around the head and eases down. Slow and relaxed. He pauses midway. Slurps his way back up, building a rhythm.
Jordan bites the inside of his wrist to muffle a cry. His hips wiggling against the leather is loud enough. He can’t keep still. Can’t stop this instinctual need to arch up.
A smile spreads around Jamie’s mouth.
“Do it,” he says after suckling the head. He grips the shaft, squeezing. In the shine of the Jeep’s interior light, Jordan’s cock glistens with saliva. Jordan barely hears Jamie repeat himself over his erratic heartbeat.
“Do it, Jordan.”
He doesn’t wait for Jordan to comply. Jamie takes him in again, sliding farther down. All the way down.
Jordan’s eyes widen. Involuntarily, his hips buck. Jamie stays still, rubbing encouraging circles into Jordan’s thighs.
“I— Oh fuck,” Jordan gasps out.
“Mm-hmm.”
The vibration unleashes a new wave of tremors through Jordan’s muscles. “Oh, no, don’t … Jesus, wow.”
Jamie laughs. At least, Jordan thinks he does. It’s hard to tell with his dick so far in Jamie’s throat and—
Holy fucking shit, Jamie is amazing at this. Jordan has nothing to compare it to, but still. Jamie’s … unbelievable.
He eases off Jordan again, panting. Cheeks bright red. He smirks and Jordan’s never been so on the verge of passing out in his life.
“You’re close,” Jamie tells him.
Jordan chews the inside of his cheek, nodding.
“I can tell.” Jamie’s fingers circle the tip of Jordan’s cock. “I can taste—”
“Jamie Peters, don’t say another word!”
Another husky laugh spills from Jamie’s mouth.
Jordan’s skin is on fire. His legs are shamelessly trying to spread wider, to invite Jamie back in, even though it’s impossible because of the lack of space.
And the fact that Jordan’s joggers are tangled around his ankles. The effort is definitely there, though.
Jamie pats his naked hip. “Still okay?”
Jordan nods.
“Hey.” Jamie waits until their eyes meet. “I need words, all right? Everyone thinks they’re good at reading body language, but they’re not. People misinterpret a lot of shit. So talk to me. Please?”
A flare of gratitude sparks so hot, so big in Jordan’s chest, it takes him a second to formulate what he wants to say.
“I don’t want you to stop, Jamie.”
“Good.”
Jamie grips his waist. He tugs Jordan farther down the seat. Closer to him. Jordan’s knees practically bracket Jamie’s wide shoulders as he sinks back into position, crouched outside the Jeep. He’s flexible in ways Jordan will never understand but is thankful for.
“I don’t want to stop,” Jamie says. “Not until you’re seeing stars.”
It’s so right-out-of-a-bad-porno ridiculous, Jordan almost guffaws.
But Jamie swallows him. Moves at a faster pace. Gives all his attention to the head while his expert hands massage the shaft and what the actual hell—
Jordan sees the Milky fucking Way.
Bright, bursting, supernova-like stars.
His hand finds Jamie’s hair, tugging. Jamie mewls at the pressure on his scalp. He’s so into it, so lost, he nearly misses the signs.
Jordan’s breaths are too strained to gather words. But he does.
At the last second, he chokes out, “Jamie, please, I’m—”
Jamie’s mouth slips off with an “Ah!”
His hand doesn’t quit. He strokes steadily. Unravels Jordan with his fingers. All Jordan’s nerves are connected to that one extraordinary point of release. He manages to keep eye contact with Jamie through every blissful second.
After, Jordan is completely wrung out. Boneless and still suspended in reverie. Jamie kisses him long and deeply. He doesn’t mention his own still-hard cock bulging in his shorts. He doesn’t pressure Jordan to help him get off.
Instead, he grins, staring into Jordan’s eyes.
“Still okay?”
Jordan pushes Jamie’s hair back. He gets a full view of the softness around his eyes. The amusement in his mouth. Contentment etched into every corner of his face. It doesn’t confirm anything for Jordan.
He still has no idea why he feels this way with Jamie and Jamie only.
But, amazingly, Jordan’s okay.