Rebel Hearts

11. Jesse

11

JESSE

W hat was even happening?

I’d been excited about Mark coming on this weekend trip with me, and nervous, of course, wondering what it meant. And I’d spent the entire time, from the minute he said he’d come until the minute he got in the car this afternoon, telling myself it probably meant nothing. Because I wasn’t supposed to get my hopes up. Mark and I were just friends. That’s all he wanted to be.

And now…this?

What was Mark doing, pretending we were dating? And why had he volunteered to spend the night in the same room as me? Didn’t he realize that meant we’d be sharing a bed? I mean, of course he realized. Cam had said as much. And Mark could have backed out, could have explained that we weren’t really a couple, at any time. It wasn’t like Cam would have cared, or like I wanted to rub it in his face like I had with Tanner.

The only thing I could think of, the only explanation I could come up with, was that this meant Mark wanted…But no, it couldn’t mean that. Because Mark was the one who’d said he never should have kissed me. Mark was the one who’d said it was a mistake, that he was sorry. Mark was the one who didn’t like me .

So what the actual fuck was he doing?

He kept giving me these absurd, inscrutable smiles like I was supposed to know what they meant as we followed Cam through the house, dropped off our bags, and let him give us a key. Well, I didn’t know what those smiles meant, and while I would have appreciated being clued in at some point, I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

I’d asked about what was going on between us last time. This time, I was content to play along. That’s why I’d answered Mark the way I had. I was just going to one-up him until he got uncomfortable enough to explain himself. We’d see how long he could last in this fake relationship of ours.

As we headed out of the house and made our way toward the beach, I alternated between trying to read Mark and trying to think of ways to throw him off his game. It wasn’t a particularly long walk, Tolliver being the size it was. The street sloped down towards the water, and music carried back up on the breeze.

I’d just turned around to study Mark again when I slipped on a rock—the street we were on was more of a rutted, sandy path than an actual road—and started to fall. Mark grabbed me before I toppled over completely, holding me steady with one arm.

“You okay there?” he asked, his eyes wide and concerned.

“Yeah,” I said, annoyed to find that I was breathless, and not just because of the fall. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He let go of my arm, but before he could withdraw his hand completely, I grabbed it, lacing my fingers through his. He wanted to act all unconcerned? He wanted to pretend like pretending to date wasn’t weird? Well, let’s see how he liked that .

But he didn’t react at all. He just smiled and even began whistling as we walked over to the festival.

Not. Fair.

It turned out Taste of Tolliver was a lot more than just a food festival, and involved a lot more than just businesses from Tolliver. Which, I supposed, made sense, considering Tolliver’s businesses included a general store, a surf shop, and Zeb’s Windows and Siding, which I couldn’t really see offering much in the way of food.

Restaurants from all over Summersea had set up stalls along the sand, with long lines of people queueing up for crabs, oysters, and hushpuppies, burgers and brats, tacos, and even something that purported to be pizza in a waffle cone. They’d erected a stage for bands and a dancefloor right there on the beach, and families sat on towels and blankets around the edges. There was even an art fair, with booths set up on the street that fronted the beach.

The booth closest to us seemed to belong to a local photographer with stunning landscape photos. Mark seemed more interested in the boiling pots of crabs than looking at art, but I pulled him over to inspect the photography anyway. That was one advantage to holding hands, I realized. I got to indulge in my bossy side.

“These are gorgeous,” I said to the photographer, a tall guy with chestnut hair and muscles that could give Mark’s a run for their money. “Are they all from around here?”

“I think so?” the guy said. “And thank you.” He laughed. “I wish I could accept the compliment, but I’m actually not the photographer—that’s my boyfriend, Em.” He pointed to a shorter blond guy who was finishing up a sale with a customer in the other corner of the tent. “The closest I got to any of these was building some of the frames.”

Mark stepped forward at that, peering at an artfully carved wood frame around a black and white seaside landscape. “Whoa. Did you do this one? It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” the guy said. “Though I still can’t take that much credit—the wood grain is doing most of the work there.”

“Still impressive. What kind of tools did you use for the carving?” Mark straightened up and offered the guy his hand. “I’m Mark, by the way.”

“Tate,” the guy said, shaking his hand. “And it depends on the stage. When I was first cutting…”

“Oh God, are they talking tools again?” said a voice behind me.

I turned and saw that the blond guy—Em, Tate had called him—had come to join me now that he was finished with his customer.

“Yeah, but not the fun kind,” I quipped, before clapping a hand to my mouth. I was pretty sure Tate had called Em his boyfriend, but that still didn’t mean I should be dropping double-entendres with people I’d just met.

Em snorted. “Just wait till the conversation moves on to wood. Tate can go for hours talking about the hardness of wood without once cracking a smile. It’s really unfair.”

I laughed. “I feel like I should be paying attention. I’m trying to buy a bed and breakfast out here, and if I manage to do that, it’s going to need a ton of work. But every time people start talking about drywall and sandpaper my mind just goes blank.”

“Oh, wow, really?” Em looked excited. “Which bed and breakfast? Or do you mean you’re starting a new one?”

“Uh, kind of both, I guess? I’m trying to buy the Sea Glass Inn out here, but I don’t think it’s been operational for a while.”

“The Sea Glass?” Em’s eyes widened. “I thought that place was condemned.” Then he winced. “Shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—well—it’s kind of—”

“No, trust me, I get it.” I smiled. “It’s definitely like, one part bed and breakfast, one part disaster area. Maybe two parts disaster area, to be honest. But I just kind of fell in love with it.”

“No judgement from me,” Em said. “My parents did the same thing when they started the Wisteria Inn.”

“Wait, your parents own the Wisteria?” I said. The Wisteria Inn was a bed and breakfast over in Adair, another town on Summersea. I’d stayed there once, on an early visit to the island. “I love that place.”

“My brother, Deacon, is the one who runs it now,” Em said. “Him and his husband, Mal. Actually, Mal’s around here, somewhere. Deacon’s working tonight, but you should definitely talk to Mal.”

I blinked. Em and Tate were dating. Em’s brother was married to a guy. Was this island a lot gayer than I’d realized, or had I just happened to run into the few guys who were?

“Are you and your boyfriend going to be around for a while?” Em continued.

My heart thumped loudly. I was a second away from correcting him, and explaining that Mark and I weren’t together, before I remembered that I didn’t need to do that. Mark was the one who’d started this whole game, so he was the one who would have to finish it.

So I just smiled widely and said, “Yeah, I think so. We’re going to get dinner, at least.”

“I’ll probably close up here in another half hour or so,” Em said. “Once I’m done, I’ll round up Mal, and we’ll come find you.”

I had to physically pull Mark away from Tate—they were deep in discussion about mitre saws, whatever those were—promising him they could pick up the conversation where they’d left off after we’d gotten food, but I began to regret my decision as soon as we sat down at a large picnic table with our plates of crabs, because I had an epiphany.

Crabs were the least sexy date food in the history of the world. They were so messy, with their shells and their innards, and yes, the butter was delicious, but it got everywhere . Case in point, I managed to flick some onto my cheek after a particularly large bite. Mark laughed when he saw it, and I had to wipe it off with a papery napkin from the silver dispenser in the center of the table.

“You missed a spot,” he said, chuckling—and then he reached out, brushed my cheek, and licked his finger.

It was all I could do to keep my eyes from falling out of my head. Was I asleep? Was this a dream? There was no way that this was really happening, right?

Except that it was, because Em, Tate, and a third guy with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes who had to be Mal came over a few minutes later, and soon enough Mark and Tate were talking about the virtues of acrylic versus latex paint, which was way too boring a topic of conversation to be something my subconscious had dreamed up.

“So, Em tells me you’re going to buy the Sea Glass,” Mal said, turning his attention to me as Tate and Mark moved on to discussing the pros and cons of different paintbrush fibers. “That’s exciting.”

“Well, hoping to buy it,” I said. “Haven’t actually done it yet.”

“I’m sure it’ll work out.”

“Fingers crossed. Though to be honest, the current owner just mentioned some water damage that happened last week, and I kind of wonder if I’m biting off more than I can chew. I’m better at the breakfast part of the equation than I am at the bed part.”

Mal grinned. “I completely understand. I’m hopeless at half the stuff that needs doing at the Wisteria. Luckily, though, Deacon’s hopeless in the kitchen, so we make a good team.”

“How long have you guys been running it?” I asked.

“Only about a year together,” Mal said. “I came to Summersea last summer and was just supposed to be a fill-in cook at the Wisteria. But Deacon had been running it for about a decade at that point. His parents died pretty young, so he took it over and helped raise his two brothers at the same time.”

“Wow. That’s amazing. I mean, sad, too. For obvious reasons. But that’s great that they were able to keep the business in the family.”

“Yeah.” Mal nodded. “Yeah, it really is.”

“It’s gotta be nice, too, to have his brothers to rely on too, if anything breaks, or if you need extra help. My sister, Jenna, lives down in Florida and even if she were up here, she wouldn’t do anything that could risk her breaking a nail.”

Mal laughed. “In theory, yes, it is nice. In practice, though, it’s a little more complicated.”

“Oh?”

“Well, Em pitches in sometimes, which is great. But their other brother, Connor, is, um…let’s just say that it’s probably best for all involved that we keep him away from most guests and tourists.”

“A bit of an acquired taste, is he?”

“You could say that.” Mal smiled. “I like Connor a lot, but he’s not really a people person, and he and Deacon strike sparks any time they’re left in a room together for more than five minutes.” His smile broadened. “To tell the truth, I actually think Connor’s softening a bit. His boyfriend Julian’s influence, I think. But you’d never catch me telling Connor that to his face. I’m pretty sure he takes pride in his ‘ hitman with a migraine ’ image.”

“Okay, seriously—is everyone on this island gay?” The words were out of my mouth before I realized I’d spoken, and I flushed as Mal threw back his head and laughed.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, still giggling as he got himself under control. “It’s not—not you. It’s just—God, I wish Deacon were here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that I think it would be nice for him to hear you say that. I think Summersea has changed a lot in the past few years. He grew up here, and had some pretty bad experiences with homophobia. And I’m not saying it’s a utopia now, but it’s really cool to hear your impression of what it’s like. It’s so different from his experience. I think it might help him to hear you say that, you know?”

Mal leaned forward and put his hand on the tabletop. “Listen, I’m going to get a pitcher of beer for the table, but then you’re going to give me your phone number. I really want you to meet Deacon soon, okay? I think you’d like each other, and even better, he can probably be guilted into helping you fix the Sea Glass up, once you buy it. If you even need any help—it sounds like your boyfriend is kind of an expert, judging from his conversation with Tate.”

Mal tilted his head over in Mark and Tate’s direction—they were talking about caulk now, because of course they were—and smiled, and I fought down the urge to clarify that Mark wasn’t my boyfriend. If anyone was going to clarify that, it was going to be Mark. I wasn’t the one who was going to break first.

So I just smiled and nodded and let a song about dinosaurs being warbled by a children’s singer up on stage wash over me. This evening—this whole day—didn’t make any sense, but I was just going to accept it and enjoy the ride.

Eventually, the children’s singer changed to a polka band, then a group of men in overalls with a washtub bass and other dubious-looking instruments, and finally a country band with a singer who declared that it was time to get our square dance on. Mal had drifted away by then, but Em pulled Tate up to dance, and I looked over at Mark and grinned.

“You hear that? We’d better get out on the dancefloor or we might get in trouble.”

Mark’s face paled, and he wore the most serious expression I’d seen all day. “Oh no,” he said, a note of panic in his voice. “No, I don’t dance.”

“‘ Don’t dance ’ doesn’t mean anything. It’s either can’t or won’t , and I don’t see anything to suggest to me that you truly can’t dance, so it must just be because you don’t care about me enough or value our relationship,” I said, turning on the puppy dog eyes. There, let him react to that!

“I value you enough to buy you another beer,” Mark said. “Does that count?”

“You didn’t even buy the first beer, Mal did.”

“Okay, well I value you enough to buy you one myself. I still think that should count for something.”

“We’ll see.” I narrowed my eyes. “But you’re on thin ice, buddy.”

Mark did get us more beer, but by the time we were done, the square dancing was over. They’d switched to a DJ who was playing pop hits, and I was even more determined to drag Mark out onto the floor.

“Come on. There’s no way anybody is paying attention at this point in the evening,” I begged. “No one is going to notice you dancing.”

“ You’ll notice me dancing,” Mark grumbled.

I rolled my eyes and stood up, walking around to the other side of the picnic table to tug on his hands. If sweet reason wouldn’t work, brute force would have to do. Or as much brute force as a guy like me could have with a guy Mark’s size.

After a few more half-hearted protests, Mark let me pull him up and out onto the temporary floor. Once we were dancing, it was hard to keep my eyes from roaming all over his body. God, he was hot. And nowhere near as bad a dancer as he claimed. Besides, when in doubt, you just got closer, which was perfect, since that was what I wanted to do anyway.

The song switched, and I moved an inch nearer to Mark, and then another, and another, until I was practically on top of him. I had the stupidest grin on my face, partially to indicate that we could still play this all off as a joke, partially because I couldn’t help it. I was having too much fun. I ground up on him and he said something that I couldn’t hear.

“What?” I yelled over the sound of the music. “I didn’t catch that.”

Mark angled his mouth down, and I stood on my tiptoes to lean in, but instead of bringing his lips to my ear and repeating myself, he kissed me.

I froze in the middle of the swirling bodies and music, but only for an instant. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was just how weird the day had been, but I didn’t want to question this, and I didn’t want to play it off as a laugh anymore. Instead, I put my arms around Mark’s neck and pulled him closer. I felt his arms snake around me, and the next thing I knew, we were full-on making out on the dance floor. Someone whistled nearby, but I didn’t even care.

When Mark finally pulled away, I stared up at his face, searching his eyes for an answer to the question I couldn’t bring myself to ask. He looked abashed, and surprised, but then he smiled.

“Was that okay?” he asked.

He sounded so concerned, so worried, that I almost laughed. But I had a choice, I realized. I could turn this all into a joke, write it all off—or I could be honest, really, truly honest, and hope he would do the same thing.

“It was definitely okay.” I took a deep breath. “As long as you know that it was okay because I like you. A lot. And I’d like to do that again. A lot. But only if it’s real. Because you’re great, and I have so much fun when I’m with you, but I can’t do a confusing, half-relationship, half-friendship kind of thing. It has to be real, with you.”

“Okay,” Mark said simply.

I stared at him in shock. Despite my hopes, I hadn’t actually expected him to say that. I didn’t have an answer prepared.

“As long as you know that this would be my first time dating a guy,” he continued. “I mean, I think you’ve probably figured that out by now. And as long as you’re okay with me maybe being bad at this. But I promise, I want this, too. I want you. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I know that much, at least. I want you .”

His voice had a desperate edge to it, and I found myself smiling through sudden tears.

“Really?”

“Really.”

I reached up and kissed him again. I couldn’t think of anything better to say, or anything better to do, than to put my lips on his. And it turned out, that was perfect.

We kissed on the dance floor. We kissed as we stumbled through the sand. We kissed as we walked uphill, leaning against a split-rail fence, and a mailbox shaped like a fish, and the one streetlight in the whole town. We kissed in the front yard of the Sea Glass Inn, the stars above and the ocean below. We kissed as we staggered into the house, and down the hall, and at the doorway to our bedroom.

And then I forced myself to stop.

“Hey, listen.” I peered up into Mark’s face. “I don’t want things to move too fast for you. I know this is new. I don’t want to force anything, or make you feel like you have to—”

But then he kissed me again, and I abandoned that line of thought.

As soon as we closed the bedroom door, Mark pushed me up against it, one hand caressing my neck, the other buried in my hair. I used the opportunity to run my fingers up and down his body, loving the fact that I was finally getting to do something I’d been fantasizing about for so long.

I stroked along his stomach until I found the bottom of his shirt and began to pull it upward. I moved slowly at first, giving him time to get used to this, to change his mind, but he didn’t, and soon I was touching his bare chest, chiseled and sculpted like a goddamn statue.

My hands dropped to Mark’s waist, and I moved one around to the back, rubbing his ass through his jeans while the other palmed the bulge I could see in front. He hummed into my mouth as I rubbed him, and I took that as a good sign, flicking the buckle of his belt open and pushing his jeans down so I could get at the light fabric of his boxers underneath.

I palmed the hardness between his legs, and my eyes shot open involuntarily. Mark really was huge. I couldn’t wait to see him uncovered.

Mark’s hands drifted to my shirt, and I helped him tear it off. I was too eager to let him do it himself. But when he moved to my waist, I noticed that his hands were trembling.

“Hey,” I whispered, looking at him intently in the darkened room. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay—we don’t have to.”

“Jess, I want to,” Mark said, insistent. “Please, don’t think I don’t want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I’m not excited, okay?”

“Okay.”

I helped him unzip my jeans and shimmied out of them, letting them join the rest of our clothes in a pile on the floor. I realized that for the first time, I was the one who was more experienced in the bedroom. In this context, at least. There was something about that that turned me on.

I took Mark’s hand and pulled him toward the bed. How hot was it that someone as sexy as Mark was nervous about taking me to bed? Hopefully he’d get over his nerves soon, though, because all I really wanted was for Mark to take me in literally every way possible.

I lay back on the bed and pulled him down on top of me, flashing back to the day in the park when he’d fallen. This time, though, Mark let his chest touch mine immediately, leaning into the kiss while he stroked my side. I moaned into his mouth when his hand found my cock and I felt his hardness press up against me. Well, he definitely wasn’t lying—he wanted this.

I found the waistband of his boxers and hooked my fingers underneath the thin fabric. “Is it okay, if I—” I pulled down slightly and Mark nodded, helping me pull them off.

“Holy shit, you’re…gorgeous,” I gasped. He was. His cock was long and thick, with curly blond hair at the base, and it was so hard. I wanted it more than I’d wanted anything in…I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d wanted something so badly.

Mark pulled my briefs off and smiled when he saw me uncovered. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, repeating my own words back to me.

I blushed. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel good,” I said, laughing slightly. “The fact that you’re attracted to me at all is compliment enough.”

Mark took my hands in his. “Look at me,” he said, and I met his eyes, trying to make sense of the intensity I saw in them. “You are gorgeous. I’ve wanted you for so long, and your body is perfect. So stop talking down about yourself, okay?”

The force of his words startled me, but it was the kindness in his eyes that hit me hardest.

“Okay,” I said softly. “I’ll try.”

He leaned in and kissed me, biting my lower lip gently before releasing it and taking ownership of my mouth. I let his tongue explore every inch of me while I stroked our cocks together. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Mark was so fucking hot and he was in bed with me .

I wanted to show him how much he turned me on, so I shifted slightly. He looked at me in confusion as I pulled out from under him and put a hand on his chest to push him onto his back. Straddling him, I bent down and kissed his lips once before moving down to his chin, his neck, and collarbone.

I reached his stomach, tracing my tongue over his abs and silently thanking whatever god had let me spend this night with him. Mark inhaled sharply as I kissed lower, and I stopped just before I reached my true goal, his cock standing erect from his body, looking just right for sucking.

“Is this okay?” I asked, glancing back up at his face. Mark met my gaze, his dilated pupils making it clear he was enjoying himself.

“Yes,” he said, his voice rough and raspy. I’d never been more turned on.

Slowly, I bent down and slid the head of his cock into my mouth. He moaned as I took him in, and I smiled around his shaft, loving that I could make him feel that good. He reached down and tangled one hand in my hair again, massaging my neck with the other. I wasn’t always a fan of that, but with Mark, it felt hot.

And I wanted to make it even hotter. His cock was large enough that it was actually a bit of a strain to take him down deep. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d never had much of a gag reflex as I felt him hit the back of my throat.

He tasted sweet and salty, the tang of his precum tingling my tongue. He hummed and groaned, and when I finally slid his cock out of my mouth, he moaned in displeasure. I liked that, too. I sucked on his balls, rolling them around in my mouth to get them wet before caressing them with my hands while I went back to sucking his dick.

“God, Jess, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—you should stop.”

“Do you want me to?” I asked, taking a breath before returning to my task.

“I—fuck—no, not if you don’t want to, but—”

I stopped paying attention, doubling down on my efforts. I stroked Mark’s length with one hand, tugging his balls with the other, all the while concentrating on his cock's firm, fat tip. I felt him tense underneath me.

“Fuck, Jesse—” he groaned, and then he came, spilling over into my mouth. I swallowed it down and did my best to suck out even more, loving the way he was shuddering underneath me. When he finally came to a rest, I licked him clean and pulled myself back up.

Mark leaned over to kiss me but I stopped him, placing a finger on his lips. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” He pushed my finger out of the way and kissed me deeply. Then he pulled back and looked me in the eyes.

“Will you teach me how to do that?”

“I feel like I’m repeating myself,” I laughed, “but again, you don’t have to.”

“And again, I want to.”

He made his way down my body, and I already knew I wasn’t going to last long. I was too hard, and I’d been wanting this for too long. He moved between my legs and put his hand on my shaft. I trembled in his firm, warm grip as he used the precum leaking from my tip to slick my skin.

Mark licked the head of my cock once, then pulled back and looked up at me. “I, uh, I want to do a good job, so just, let me know what you like?”

“You couldn’t do a bad job if you tried,” I said, trying to control a laugh that I had a sneaking suspicion would turn into a giggle if I wasn’t careful. “Fuck, I’ve been hard all day, just thinking about you. Just do what you’d want done to you.”

“Well, then, what you just did to me, I guess,” Mark said with a smile. “I can do that.”

He leaned down again and slipped my cock into his mouth. I moaned at the heat of his mouth, the slickness of his tongue bathing my cock and stimulating it in a way nothing else could. His lips were soft and sweet, sliding up and down my shaft as he swirled his tongue around my head.

Like butter , came the errant thought, but I had to push it out of my mind before I started picturing those crabs from dinner and really did start giggling.

I really wasn’t going to be able to hold out very long. I could already feel an orgasm building as Mark massaged my balls. I spread my legs wider to give him better access and saw him reach up to lick his fingers. He brought them back down between my legs, moving backwards to my hole.

“Is this good?” he asked, hesitant. “Do you like this?”

“Oh, God, yes,” I whispered, and he began to stroke my hole in a circle, rubbing and relaxing me and then slowly pushing his finger inside.

“I’m gonna come,” I groaned, clutching the bedsheets with my fingers. “If you want to stop, now’s your chance.”

But Mark didn’t stop. He just sucked me faster, and teased my hole, and my orgasm came over me, overpowering my senses and rolling through me in waves. I rode each one, releasing into his mouth, feeling practically knocked out.

I wasn’t sure how long it took before I came back down to earth, or when, exactly, Mark had slid back up in bed next to me. All I knew was that I never wanted this evening, this moment, to end.

I rolled onto my side and tucked my head into his neck. He stroked a hand down my back, tracing my skin with his fingertips. He was so quiet, I began to wonder if something was wrong. What if he’d actually hated that? What if his first experience with a guy turned out to be his last?

“Regrets?” I made myself ask.

He just laughed. I could feel the vibration in his chest.

“Only one.”

“Yeah?” I asked, bracing myself for—well, for anything, really.

“Yeah.” He tilted his head down and brushed a kiss across my cheek. “That we didn’t do that sooner.”