Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MARCUS
My high is definitely wearing off.
And now that the filter between my mouth and brain is sliding back into place, I suspect that I said something I shouldn’t have.
My boots are also going to be a problem. I failed to pick them up after I tossed them at the crows, so hopefully they’re still hanging around the bookstore. Of course, now I’m completely embarrassed to go back there.
Seriously, what was I thinking?
We wipe off our sandy feet and enter the beach house. Jeremy peeks at me, his teal eyes unsure, and then looks down at his ruined clothes. He reaches for the top button of his shirt, but I stop him with a gentle hand.
“Let me.” Even though I’m not really as high anymore, I still feel lighter and more relaxed than I have in a really long time. And I don’t want to lose that yet. For once, I just want to do what I feel like doing. And what I feel like doing is helping Jeremy out of his clothing.
He swallows hard, the pale skin on his neck dipping with the movement.
I intertwine our fingers and lead him to the bathroom.
Jeremy stays quiet as I start with his top button and carefully work my way down, opening his shirt as I do.
I admire the way the material contrasts with his perfect, pale skin as I push it off his shoulders.
He shrugs out of it, letting it fall to the floor.
He wraps his arms around his torso, and something tugs in my chest. He’s normally so self-assured, so it’s strange seeing him like this—almost scared.
I reach for his pants next, asking for consent with my eyes.
He nods slightly as I undo the top button and the fly and pull them gently down his legs.
I know from our experience last night that Jeremy doesn’t want me to take off his boxers, and while I’m desperately curious to know why, I respect his boundaries.
I step back and remove my own sandy clothing, never taking my eyes from him.
In the warm bathroom light, he looks like an alabaster statue.
He’s slim but elegantly toned, his biceps curved and plump, and his abs gentle ridges that culminate in a delicate V-shape near the top of his boxers.
And where I have hair all over the place, Jeremy’s body has miles of smooth skin that I’m itching to run my tongue over.
When I’m stripped to my boxers, I step forward and place my hand gently on his pec, feeling the rapid pace of his heart beneath my fingers.
“Can I . . .” I rumble, and his breaths quicken.
“Please,” he says on an exhale. “Touch me.”
I let my fingers trace the lines of his muscles, marveling at the softness of his skin. Jeremy lets out a shuddering breath and closes his eyes as I explore. I’ve never touched a man like this. Hell, I’ve never touched anyone like this—like I’m worshipping them.
My cock is hardening, tenting in my boxers obscenely, but I don’t care.
Jeremy’s dick seems to have a similar reaction the closer I get to his waistband. But before I can delve inside, Jeremy’s hand is there, blocking my reach. He opens his eyes and looks . . . embarrassed?
Instead, I cup his cock through the silky material of his underwear, and he whimpers and pushes into my palm. I step closer, and one hand wraps around his length over the fabric, and my other hand slides up his spine until I reach the back of his head.
I ease his mouth to mine, and we kiss softly, our lips sliding together almost sweetly, his tongue nudging its way into my mouth. He smells like flowers and tastes like candy, and I can’t get enough.
Jeremy leans into me, his movements needy as he snakes his hands around my waist and grasps my ass. Our dicks bump together, zaps of pleasure lighting up my nerves with each touch.
“Mmmfff,” I moan, rocking into him.
He pulls back, panting. “Bedroom?”
I nod frantically, and he jumps into my arms, wrapping his legs around my waist as our mouths meet again. He’s so light and small, but also hard and strong. He’s certainly not as delicate as he looks. It’s a confusing combination, but I can’t deny that I love it.
I walk us into the bedroom, which is darkened now that the sun is setting.
The only light is a sliver of gold shining from the parted curtains onto the sheets.
I set him down gently and crawl up his body, layering us together while our tongues fight for dominance.
He invades every inch of my mouth while he arches his small, hard frame into mine, our cocks grinding almost painfully.
I’m so fucking feral right now, and I don’t really know what to do—not just because Jeremy is a guy, but because I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on with any person I’ve been with. Even Norah, which says a lot.
My hands feel like they’re everywhere at once, squeezing Jeremy’s biceps, slithering over his hips, gripping his firm ass cheeks. His responsiveness to my touch is sending my lust into overdrive as the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard fall from his lips.
He reaches for my boxers, pushing his hand inside. His fingers slide down my cock, squeezing, and then tugging back up.
“Fuck . . .” I groan as he gives me another pump.
He sits up, his abs bunching and flexing with the movement, and pushes me onto my back. Then he tugs at my underwear, and I lift my ass to assist, desperate for him to get me naked.
I widen my legs as he resumes jacking me off, his pale hand with the teal nails contrasting beautifully with my tan skin. An embarrassing amount of precum leaks from the red mushroomed tip of my cock, dribbling down my length.
“Look at you, big guy, leaking all over my hand.”
“Ugh, Jer, I—” The words get stuck in my throat.
“You what? Tell me what you need, Marcus?”
“I-I want to come. I want you to make me come. Please.” The last word is a needy whine. I don’t even recognize my own voice.
“Mmm, I bet you do.” Jeremy stops and sits back.
I look up at him, a frustrated growl in my throat. “Why—”
“I have an even better idea.” His eyes dart to my temple, where I feel a bead of sweat. His pupils are blown wide, black and turbulent like the ocean at night.
He reaches for his boxers, sliding them off his legs. The sun has set, and darkness blankets the room, so while my eyes have adjusted some, I can’t see anything out of the ordinary on his body, though I’m distracted by his deliciously thick cock slapping against his stomach.
Jeremy spits into his hand as he scoots toward me. Our cocks meet and he wraps his hand around us both, squeezing tightly.
“Jesusfuckingchrist.” I reach for his waist and he freezes.
“No.” He stares at me intently. “The rule is I touch. You keep your hands to yourself. Understand?”
This is important to him, I realize.
“Yes,” I murmur.
He gives me a sexy smile. “Good boy,” he purrs, his hand stroking again, and it feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. My balls are tingling, pleasure flickering through my thighs and up my spine while Jeremy jacks us.
“Your cock feels amazing, Marcus. Look how good we look together.” I start to thrust in time with his pumps, lingering on the edge of my orgasm. “That’s it. Fuck my hand. I got you, baby.”
I think it’s the nickname that does me in.
“Shit. Gonna come,” I whine, our panting breaths mingling together. “Jeremy, uggghhh . . .”
His fist quickens, and my cock erupts, shooting cum all over his hand, and Jeremy isn’t far behind.
He gives a strangled cry, holding his cock against mine, his grip tight and needy, milking us both until our balls are completely drained.
There’s warm, sticky cum everywhere—the sheets, our chests, between his fingers.
When his grip loosens, I instinctively wrap my arms around him and lower us to the bed. I kiss his forehead, his eyebrows, his cheeks, and then bury my nose in his neck, inhaling his floral scent as his hair tickles my face. Despite the mess, our bodies feel so fucking good pressed together.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes for some reason, and I close them tight, holding everything I’m feeling inside. I’m so overwhelmed in the best way possible, and my body clearly has no idea how to react to all the sensations and emotions mixing in my chest like a volcano ready to blow.
Jeremy clings to me, his fingers tracing the line of my spine, and we lie there for a long time. So long, in fact, that I’m sure he’s almost asleep. He shifts a bit until his back is to my front, making me the big spoon.
I’m just starting to drift off when Jeremy whispers, “Marcus?” I swallow, and he rolls onto his back, studying my face. “How long have we actually known each other?”
Right. Stupid stoned Marcus told him about when we actually met. Despite that, I still try to play it off. “What do you mean? It’s been a few months—”
“Don’t.” His eyes harden. “Please don’t lie to me.”
I sigh and run a finger along his brow and down his jaw. My thumb wipes away some smeared mascara. Will he be upset if he knows that I’ve been watching him for years like a fucking creep?
“Since I was eleven.”
“You were the boy on the beach.” It’s not a question, so I just nod. “I guess I don’t look that different.” He looks up at me and rubs my scruff with the tips of his fingers. “You do, though.”
I chuckle. “It’d be weird if I had facial hair when I was eleven.”
He runs his hand through my hair, and I close my eyes for a moment, savoring his touch. “Your hair is the same color.” Jeremy’s brow furrows, making a line that I want to rub away. “You knew it was me all this time. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug, my bare shoulder moving against his. “I don’t know. I guess I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of what it meant. You were . . . important.”
Do I tell him more?
He looks at me expectantly, and I realize that I want to tell him. Because now I can’t deny that I care about him, and I’m so tired of hiding.