Chapter 15 Have the Final Tasting with the Caterer
? Have the Final Tasting with the Caterer
“You’re … hard … again?”
Three words Jordan never expected to say out loud. A question he never expected to ask another man. But here he is, lying in Jamie Peters’s bed.
Naked in Jamie Peters’s bed.
Naked with Jamie in his bed, blinking at him. Surprised but also a little excited.
“Yes,” Jamie finally replies. He shifts until the full length of his hardness is pressed to Jordan’s stomach.
Jordan bites the inside of his cheek.
Quickly, Jamie says, “We don’t have to do anything!”
“But what if”—Jordan tucks locks of damp hair behind Jamie’s ear—“hypothetically, we did?”
“Well,” Jamie says, catching Jordan’s hand, “then, hypothetically … I want you to fuck me. But not, like, hypothetical at all.” He kisses each fingertip. “I want you to fuck me, Jordan.”
Jordan’s breath leaves his body on one single “Wow.”
“If you don’t want to—”
“No,” Jordan blurts, “I’m game. If you are.”
Jamie’s answer comes in a nod. In his mouth tracing down Jordan’s palm. Across the inside of his wrist. In a “yes” and a “please” and a “why aren’t we already?”
“Yeah, okay,” Jordan manages, nervous, unsure of what else to say. What he should be doing.
He searches Jamie’s face for an answer.
“We need stuff,” Jamie tells him.
He stretches to the wooden nightstand. It’s covered in phone chargers and old receipts and jewelry Jamie never wears. He yanks open the bottom drawer. Immediately, items fall out. Jordan peers over Jamie’s shoulders to inspect.
A string of pink silicone beads. A neon-blue vibrator. A very anatomically correct dildo.
“Oh, God.”
Jamie rights himself. “Found ’em!”
He dangles a strip of condoms and holds up a bottle of expensive-looking lube.
“How should—I mean, where should I…” Jordan shyly looks at Jamie through his eyelashes, scrambling for words. “Is there a position you like?”
“All of them. Well, most of them.”
Jordan exhales, hoping for a more concrete response.
Jamie must see it in his face. “Reverse cowboy’s my favorite. That’s when—”
“I know what it is, Jamie. I’m inexperienced, not ignorant.”
“Not for long.” A corner of Jamie’s mouth hitches.
That’s it. Jordan’s never going to make it past this part. He’s too overwhelmed and too overstimulated by Jamie Peters insinuating what’s about to happen to fully commit.
Thankfully, Jamie makes it easy for him. “Since it’s your first time,” he says, climbing into Jordan’s lap, “it’s better like this.”
His strong thighs bracket Jordan’s hips. He rests one hand on Jordan’s shoulder for balance. He curls forward until their foreheads almost touch.
Soft and patient, he says, “This position is more intimate.”
“Mm-hmm.” Jordan has been reduced to noises.
“It’s better for me too,” Jamie carries on. “I haven’t bottomed—haven’t done anything with someone else in a long time.”
“A long time?”
Jamie cocks an eyebrow.
Jordan reads between the lines:
Not since his last relationship. Over a year ago. Not while they were hanging out before. Not while they’ve been hanging out now either. Jordan doesn’t know how to parse that revelation, so he doesn’t.
Jamie’s grin is dark, hungry. “This way, we both have control.”
Jordan swallows hard. “We do?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But—”
There’s no time for more questions. Jordan can’t form one anyway. Because Jamie is slicking his fingers with lube. Then adding a generous coating to Jordan’s. He almost remembers how to breathe as Jamie prepares himself before guiding Jordan to help.
Jamie’s warm and welcoming. He grips each of Jordan’s fingers like they’re not enough. He needs more. His body says as much, his spine arched like a bow. Hushed words spill off his lips like a prayer.
“You can go deeper,” Jamie tells him. “Now add anoth—ah.”
Something angelic and achy leaves Jamie’s chest.
Jordan blacks out. Kind of.
He’s aware of Jamie’s expert hands unrolling the condom. The soft hairs on his thighs as he positions himself over Jordan’s cock. Tension in his shoulders as Jordan slips in. Pink tongue caught between his teeth. Head tipped back, throat bare as his body takes Jordan in.
There’s a gasp and a moan. Jordan’s clueless about who makes what noise.
Because Jamie sinks lower.
And lower.
All the way down.
For a long beat, neither of them moves. Jordan holds tightly to Jamie’s hips. Above him, Jamie’s eyes are shut. He bites on a corner of his mouth, adjusting. Little breaths flare his nose.
Finally, one of Jamie’s hands ghosts over Jordan’s cheek.
“Comfort check,” Jordan says through a hiss as Jamie squeezes.
“You feel amazing.”
“How do you feel?”
“I—” Jamie cuts off. He lifts a little, tentative. Eases down. His chest heaves. Then, Jamie smiles, all teeth, unguarded.
“Words, Jamie,” Jordan all but begs.
“Fucking fantastic,” Jamie groans. “I feel so good. You have no idea how bad I want—”
Again, he breaks off. Shivers race through both of their bodies.
Jamie tests rocking his hips. “Can I move now?”
A content noise leaves Jordan’s lips. “Please, proceed.”
Jamie’s face crinkles happily. He leans down, presses a wet kiss to Jordan’s mouth. “Trust me, I plan to.”
From there, Jordan’s locked in the moment. He relinquishes control so Jamie can set the pace. Besides, Jordan’s too in awe of the way Jamie’s muscles flex. Dewy sweat beads on his hairline, damp on his chest. His bottom lip is bitten red, all the concentration showing in his furrowed brow.
He twists his hips and Jordan lets out a helpless noise.
Every second is new. Exciting. Devastating.
Jordan can’t wrap his head around how it’s happening. How it’s still just Jamie. Yet, to his surprise, that’s what changes everything.
“Please.”
Jamie’s groan pulls Jordan back.
He maneuvers Jordan’s hands from his hips to his ass. That one move tethers Jordan. From there, need guides him. He grips Jamie’s ass. Gains a measure of dominance, planting his feet on the mattress.
Jordan lifts his hips to meet Jamie each time he sinks down. Slow, then deliberate. Desperate.
Jamie’s next moan turns into a choked laugh.
Through labored breaths, Jordan says, “What?”
“I told you,” Jamie gasps. “We both have control this way.”
Jordan grins. He goes a little harder, faster. He listens as Jamie keens. Takes his cues from the way Jamie’s fingers dig into his shoulders.
They crash into another kiss. Jamie smells sweet from his shampoo and salty from the sweat. Unforgettable. Like amber and oak. Like memories, old and new.
Belatedly, Jordan realizes he does too. Jamie’s scent is all over him. He can’t imagine ever wanting to smell like anything else.
“Fuck,” Jamie grunts into his ear.
Jordan sucks a kiss to his neck. Gently bites until he finds Jamie’s most sensitive spots. Turns out, that’s everywhere.
“You learn quickly,” Jamie says. “Already a pro.”
Jordan cranes his head back, panting.
“Incredible, Jordan,” Jamie whispers, right against his ear. “You’re so fucking incredible.”
Jordan exhales a husky, elated breath.
“So good to me, Jordan.”
There it is again. That electric zip. Jordan’s entire body vibrates with the praise.
It’s a moment he’s unprepared for—wanting this. Needing to hear praise from Jamie. To see him this way: enthusiastic and eager and breathless. All for Jordan.
Because of Jordan.
He threads his fingers into Jamie’s hair. Tugs tenderly.
“Ah, yes,” Jamie moans.
He does it again. Pulls.
Jamie whimpers. “Jesus, Jordan.”
Jordan blinks up at him. A rush crashes down on him in a wave. He’s heard a million stories about sex from his teammates. Seen it in movies and on TV, read it in books. It’s not an experience he’s craved before.
But this—the closeness between them. Softness in Jamie’s eyes. His hand on Jordan’s cheek with his body embracing Jordan’s cock …
Jordan wants more of this.
He knows, deep in his marrow, no one else could’ve drawn up this feeling inside him. Only Jamie.
Always Jamie.
It’s over before Jordan can unravel what that means. To be fair, he’s not sure how he lasted this long. How he survives watching Jamie sit upright. Circle his fingers around his own dick. Show Jordan exactly how he likes to be stroked.
The way certain movements make him whine and others unearth trembles in his thighs.
Sweat pools beneath Jamie’s throat. Jordan wants to lick it off. He doesn’t. Instead, he manages to keep his pace, watching, riveted, as Jamie comes, crying out.
Then, he’s gone too.
Spine arched. Fingers numb from gripping Jamie’s hips. Throat dry and raw from gasping.
Breathlessly, Jordan says, “That was…”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Jamie, I’ve never—”
“Me neither.”
He squints at Jamie’s wry smirk, but in his eyes, Jordan reads the honesty. It meant something for each of them. Even if they can’t say it out loud.
After, Jordan rolls Jamie onto the other side of the bed. He cleans them up with a fresh towel. Tugs on his boxers before staggering into the kitchen. He returns with more ibuprofen, two nighttime cold pills, and a cool glass of water.
Jamie smiles timidly at him as he takes them.
Jordan dresses but doesn’t leave just yet. He climbs back onto the bed. Jamie cuddles him. Jordan curls an arm around his bare shoulders. He waits for sleep to take Jamie under.
Before it does, Jamie mumbles, “It’s my turn again.”
A faint grin curls Jordan’s lips. “Technically, it’s my turn.”
“Rules are overrated. So are traditions.”
“Fine,” Jordan says, unwilling to argue. It’d be unfair for him to win against a sick man. “Tell me something no one else knows. Not even Denz.”
Jamie yawns, his eyes blinking shut. “I’ve never stopped thinking about our first kiss.”
Jordan freezes. His mouth opens but nothing comes out.
Drowsily, Jamie continues: “I’ve been chasing that feeling for years. Ever since it happened. It’s one of the reasons why”—he yawns again, snuffling into Jordan’s chest—“why I never stay in relationships.”
His left hand slides up Jordan’s chest. He can probably feel how erratic Jordan’s heartbeat is.
“No one’s made me feel like that,” Jamie murmurs.