Chapter 25 Jacob #2
“That's it,” Griffin murmurs, his thumb sweeping over the sensitive head of my cock with each upward stroke. “Cum for me.”
His other hand slides up my spine, fingers tangling in my hair as he tilts my face toward his. The intensity in his gaze pins me in place.
“I want to watch you fall apart.” The combination of his words, his touch, the weight of him pressed against me…it's too much.
My orgasm hits me like a lightning strike, white-hot and all-consuming. I cry out his name as pleasure tears through every nerve ending, my body convulsing against his.
Griffin keeps stroking through it, prolonging each wave until I'm gasping and shuddering in his arms. The feel of him pulsing against me, his own release mixing with mine, sends another aftershock rippling through my oversensitive flesh.
Griffin’s hand on my jaw feels impossibly grounding and impossibly intimate all at once, like he’s not just tilting my face up to meet his but gently lifting my entire world into his line of sight, and when his lips capture mine again it’s nothing like the heat of before.
This is slower, deeper, softer, and every bit as consuming.
When he finally pulls back, he traces his thumb along my swollen bottom lip. I feel boneless and happy and so fucking at peace. His eyes hold mine and they are so soft. He looks like Griffin but his expression is just peaceful and soft. Something that I don’t get to see all that often.
“Don’t leave,” I whisper, and even the words feel fragile on my lips, like they might shatter if I speak them too loudly.
I know he has to go. I know we don’t want Hughie to get dragged into this before we’re ready.
I know revealing anything about us could rattle the athletic department.
And I know Griffin himself is still unraveling what this means about him, about who he’s attracted to, about all the parts of himself he’s barely begun to understand.
But I need him to stay. I need to feel him pressed against me. I need him to hold me and kiss me and just…fuck, I just need him here with me.
He watches me, eyes soft and kind and impossibly attentive.
“I’ll leave early in the morning,” he whispers back before placing a soft kiss to my lips.
I watch him climb off the bed and head to my hamper, pulling a shirt out. He cleans himself up quietly and the sight of him moving through my space with casual ease makes my heart hammer.
When he comes back over and cleans the mess from my stomach with soft, practiced movements, I don’t move because every gesture is loaded. This amount of care and vulnerability is so out of the norm for me that I find myself craving every second of it.
He tosses the dirty shirt aside and then climbs into the bed beside me, positioning my body until I’m curled up against his chest, ear pressed right against the steady thump of his heartbeat.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispers. The pet name falls from his lips with such fucking ease and I find myself loving it.
I swear to everything inside me that my heart is going to burst from the pure, unfiltered ache of it. I close my eyes and let out a slow sigh, letting the tension drain out of my body like heat running out of an opened wound.
I wake up alone, and honestly, I’m not even disappointed. Not because I’ve gotten numb or because I don’t care, but because I knew he would sneak out before Hughie woke up, didn’t I?
I ease out of bed, my back popping, and I rub at it while I climb into some sweats and head for the coffee. It’s early and I’m pretty sure Hughie hasn’t left for practice yet.
That thought is confirmed the second I walk into the kitchen. He’s in sweats, leaning against the counter with a mug in his hand. When he looks up and sees me, it’s like something in his eyes weighs a hundred pounds.
He speaks first, quiet, low, and so fucking worried. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
My stomach clenches and I freeze. I have to clear my throat so that I don’t choke on the lump that has landed there before whispering, “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t look flustered or angry. He looks calm. Scary calm.
“With Griffin,” he says, eyes steady on mine.
I stiffen, but I figured he would have it all figured out already. It’s not like I was super quiet last night and this entire time he has known that I have a large crush on the guy.
“I have it under control,” I say and the words feel weirdly hollow even as they come out of my mouth.
I don’t actually have anything under control. I don’t know what we are or what last night means. I don’t know if the date we had was anything more than just…an experiment. I don’t fucking know anything.
He shakes his head and I can see the disappointment. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
The way he says it makes something twist in my chest. I open my mouth to say something, but it comes out quieter than I expected. “It’s nothing serious.”
And immediately I know it’s a lie. The way Griffin touches me, the way we fit together in ways I didn’t expect doesn’t feel like casual. But I choke a little on the honesty of it, because what if it’s something he doesn’t want to admit to himself yet?
“You’re risking your reputation for a hookup,” he says with a dramatic sigh.
I jerk back like he slapped me, even though he didn’t raise his voice. “I… it doesn’t mean anything,” I protest, the words tasting like guilt and panic.
“Then it’s not fucking worth the risk,” he grits out, and the edge on his voice makes me want to argue or explain.
It feels worth it. Griffin is worth feeling something terrifying and big and complicated for.
But I can’t say that. Not here, not in these early morning light with Hughie standing there like the disappointed dad version of himself.
I can’t say that without having a conversation with Griffin to know if he thinks that I am worth it.
So I just mutter, quieter this time, “No one is going to find out.”
I can feel my face flush with a mix of shame and stubbornness.
He stares at me so hard that I start to squirm. Then, like it’s the most matter of fact instruction in the universe, he says, “Then you better cover up your hickies so no one asks any questions.”
My face fucking flames with heat as I fight the urge to reach up and touch my tender neck.
The marks that Griffin left behind are red and throbbing and such a hot reminder of last night but right now all I feel is…
uncomfortable. A weird mixture of shame and guilt because Hughie is disappointed in me and he’s still protecting me in the only way he knows how.
And with that, he turns, grabs his own coffee, and walks out of the kitchen like it’s just another morning.
But the door closing behind him makes the whole apartment feel cold, and I’m left there with the bitter taste of coffee on my tongue and the awful realization that navigating this is going to hurt.