Chapter Sixteen Mateo #3
I kiss him again, or he kisses me, and I reach past his waistband to stroke him for the first time, his cock thick and wet and mine.
The sound Jamie makes is dripping with sin, and the saint in me swallows it whole.
He fumbles for a grip on me too, but even unzipped, my jeans and boxer briefs are still in the way, and I'm not interested in making this part easy for him.
I walk him backward until he falls onto the bed, his sweatpants bunched around his ankles while he waits for me.
It's the story of us, made ugly by need, but neither of us is going to look away. I issue a command to this beautiful man and note how quickly he moves in response, even when he's shaking his head, awkward and perfect when he scoots up the bed to leave room for all the mistakes we're about to make.
I'm desperate to get his dick down my throat, but I crawl further than that first, grinding against his bare thigh while our tongues take more than they give. Jamie's hands are in my hair, far from gentle when he tries to arch into any contact he can find.
"She didn't taste like you," he pants. "None of them ever taste like you."
"I'm not me tonight. You don't know me. You haven't already memorized the way I taste and the way I sound and the way I feel. We'll fuck, and then we'll forget."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't," I say, stealing one more filthy kiss before I slide down his body. On any other night, I'd spend forever devouring him from head to toe, but we don't have the luxury of things like time or tenderness. "This would be so much easier if you did."
A second later, my mouth is around his cock, and a pillow is over his mouth.
It's a sharp reminder that there are people everywhere, and I can't be nearly as enthusiastic as I'd like to be.
That knife twists a little when I realize he wouldn't bother with a pillow if Lena were still here, and I go back on my word because I don't want to forget a second of a night I'm not allowed to have.
Jamie's heavy on my tongue and I'm unsurprised by it, and the perfect fit of his balls in my hand is something I've imagined, too.
He leaks more than anyone I've been with in a while, and in a different daydream, I'll tease it out of him until he cries.
There's no teasing tonight. I tell myself to remember how I suck and hum and choke, and how he can't stay still beneath me, his fingers curled into my hair again while he thrusts into my mouth.
Then my mind races ahead, thinking about what happens next.
We once told each other we wanted to be slow and loud, but the clock is ticking and we'll have to be silent.
I let him go and disappoint us both, painfully hard when I scramble off the end of the bed and pull his sweatpants from where he's been cuffed by them.
He's naked and needy and stunningly scarred and still simmering with the fury left behind when I interrupted something that would've been so easy for him.
What we're doing now will fracture Jamie, me, and us, and those cracks will never fully heal, no matter how much we promise to love each other forever or wait for even longer than that.
We only get one first time, and the tears pooling in his eyes all but promise me it will be our last.
"Nightstand," Jamie says. It's closer to where he lies, but he hasn't stopped staring up at me. Maybe there's no reason to put effort in when I'm so willing to be the one to ruin us. "Taylor keeps the bedrooms well-stocked for weeks like this. Help yourself."
I don't move from the foot of the bed right away.
I furiously rake my fingers through my hair and shiver when I drop my hands to my hips, pushing at my jeans and everything I can drag away with them.
Downstairs, the music is thumping, and the smack of pool balls punctuates laughter I almost envy.
Nothing is funny up here, and my heart pounds relentlessly when I meet the challenge in Jamie's eyes.
It'll haunt me someday, how close I am to changing my mind.
I flew all the way here, but I don't think it was for the chance to bare myself to him so literally.
Maybe if I put my clothes back on and kiss Jamie like it's just us and the ocean, it won't matter that I sucked his dick for a few minutes first. He once heard me come, but we held on to something like friendship long after I cleaned up my mess, and I want to believe getting dressed and walking away could save us now.
I want to believe it, but it doesn't matter whether I do. I can't leave him now. I don't think I ever could.
"Roll over."
My voice shakes when I tell him what to do, but we both need to hurry, no time to waste when I've heard at least a couple of voices in the hall.
I'm overwhelmed with lust and preemptive regret, but I'm thinking just clearly enough to grab his sweatpants from the floor and shove them into the space between the headboard and the wall.
Whether Taylor McKeon's luxurious guest bed will make enough noise to give us away won't be answered until we're on our way to a precariously private moment, but my restraint has frayed and I simply won't care by then.
Raiding the nightstand drawer, I ignore that Jamie's head isn't even turned to look at me, his back arched as if he's made a blind offer like this a thousand times before.
It leaves him on display, some version of that true his entire life, and there's so little I can do to keep from taking advantage of it now.
But I can silently remind him how much this nobody loves him.
My tongue touches him first, my hands holding him open for me, then holding him still as he bucks in my grip.
When I sit back, slick fingertips circle him for a few seconds before I make everything wetter and more obscene.
He should be tense, I think—guarded against something inherently intrusive—but I suppose that's another thing the years have stolen from him, and he sounds almost relieved when I push forward with two fingers at once.
I don't know what else he needs from me, and I'll barely find out, but I shift until my weight can press him into the mattress and he squirms for more of a touch I'd give him forever if I could.
Someone in the next room speaks, and Jamie moans into the same pillow that smothered his sounds a while ago.
I give up wishing we could be anywhere else, and I slide my fingers free just in time to hear him smother something new.
Clumsy and very much not, I nudge his legs apart with my knee and pour enough lube into my hand to make stroking my dick as loud as anything else I've done, and I think it only makes me angrier about secrets I don't want to keep.
A smeared handprint mars an overpriced duvet, and then I'm crossing every line I ever drew.
Jamie either heard me open the condom wrapper before I fingered him open or he doesn't care whether I'm wearing one.
The idea of being bare inside him has me biting his shoulder until I imagine I can taste blood, but then I imagine nothing and feel everything as I rock into him with one long thrust after another, hardly gentle and hopelessly in love.
This position limits the tattletale slap of skin on skin, and we find our rhythm sooner than anyone should.
His body is tight and begs for mine while I answer with something like yours yours yours on every exhale.
Then I realize I need to fight with him, if for no other reason than to prove I have an ounce of willpower left in me.
"C'mere," I grunt, my arm forced under his abdomen to lift him a few inches off the bed and away from the contact that must feel so good against his weeping cock.
He's the professional athlete, but I'm plenty strong, and Jamie lets me have the win for a minute before he fights back, swearing at me when he grabs his pillow and shoves it past my arm. His quick thinking changes two things for us, and I'll remember both for as long as I live.
One, it means he can unabashedly hump his way to an orgasm while I admire something so wildly vulgar that I almost come inside him right then.
Two, it means there's nothing to keep Jamie from crying out until I cover his mouth and fuck every noise he makes into the palm of my greedy hand.
We're chaos now, that perfect rhythm faltering as we wear each other down. This warm room has grown hot, and I let myself love the sweat between us before he makes me realize I'm not covering his mouth as well anymore.
"Don't stop, 'Teo," he breathes. "Please don't stop."
I couldn't if I tried, but I have to make him stop talking, and I slip my fingers past his lips, unsurprised when he sucks them hungrily.
With him closer to silent again, I get rough, intent on making him forget every nobody he's had since prom night with Melanie Bishop.
My thrusts speed up and the angle is so fucking good and his body won't still beneath mine.
He's needed me since I gave him a ride to a taco truck within walking distance of his front door.
He's needed to know I miss him when he tells me I'm not allowed to.
He's needed to know he can find me in the quiet spaces between strangers' cheers.
It's possible he's needed to know I'd show up—wholly uninvited—at a hockey legend's vacation home for the chance to put an end to us once and for all.
But I don't think I've ever needed him to need me like I do now.
I'm wrapped around him while I bury myself deep and plead for him to keep me there.
Jamie's still fucking the pillow, and as he's madly sucking on my fingers, he finds where my other hand is pressed to his heart and covers it tightly.
He's going to come within seconds, and I don't know why I know that without knowing this part of him at all.
When it happens, Jamie shudders beneath me and bites my fingers hard enough to hurt.
When I come a minute later, the hand over his heart curls violently and cuts him open.
I leave him because I have to, almost responsible when I hide the condom in a couple of balled-up tissues.
He rolls over slowly, staring at me when I attempt to assess the damage we've done.
I think we might've kept quiet enough that nobody in the house heard us break promises to ourselves, but I'm not sure what can be done about the state of anything else.
The bedding is stained with lube and sweat and blood and cum.
At least a couple of those will leave the room smelling of sex for hours unless we open a window soon.
My fingers will heal fine, but they hurt now.
And Jamie's been left with a wound that could've been avoided if I'd just stayed home.