Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MARCUS
My hand shakes as I try to paint a silver line across the surface of a plate, intersecting it with three other lines. I lean back, sweat running down my brow, and blow out a frustrated breath, staring critically at the wobbly stroke.
I toss my brush down in disgust and stand, bring the plate to the drying rack with my other pieces, then walk to the sink to wash my hands.
I woke up pretty early and I didn’t want to wake Jeremy, so I snuck into my studio to work on a project I started a few days ago.
My stress levels are high right now, and I can’t figure out how to relax.
Something happened in Vancouver between Sebastian, Fiona, and her stepfather, Dennis, and the Vancouver Police Department got involved.
It’s the second time that the Vancouver pub has gotten negative press, and my father isn’t happy about it, which means I’m not happy about it.
I’ve been fielding calls from Charlie, Sebastian, and my father, and it’s making my head hurt.
I really don’t want any of this shit to affect the success of the Seattle opening. It has to go well for Sebastian’s and Charlie’s sakes.
I move through my closet and find the bed empty but the bathroom door is closed. The water is running, so I assume Jeremy is showering. I sit heavily on my bed and pull my phone from the pocket of my sweats, worrying my bottom lip while I consider what to do.
Finally, I open up my contacts and hit the FaceTime button next to Sebastian’s name.
He answers pretty quickly, though the connection is a little choppy. Seb is obviously outside, based on the snow-covered trees behind him and the sound of the river in the background.
Where the fuck did they go? Northern Canada?
“Hey,” I say. “What’s good?”
He looks tired, stubble shading his jaw, but also somehow more rested. “Oh, you know how it is—just hanging out in a secluded cabin with a washed-up, smart-mouthed hockey player and our sister’s hot best friend. What could happen?”
I laugh. “You growing a beard?”
He runs his fingers along his cheek and gives me a wry look. “Not on purpose. I just forgot to shave, I guess.”
Now I know he’s full of shit. Something’s different. The kid has been shaving religiously since he hit puberty.
“Well, I’m just checking in.”
Suddenly, I hear a noise and realize the water has shut off.
My eyes dart to the bathroom, my heart pounding, but the door stays closed.
I focus back on the conversation at hand.
“I was going to go back to Vancouver this week, but Gabriella took to your admin tasks pretty quickly. You should leave more often.”
“Thanks,” he says dryly.
I shrug. “Do you know when you’re coming home?”
“That, I don’t know yet, but soon, I think. Fiona has to sort out this stuff with her stepdad and the VPD before we can come back.” He stops and looks away, like he’s hiding something.
Worry? Fear?
“Is he dangerous?” I ask, my stomach churning.
“Who? Dennis?” The way he considers my question makes my nausea worse. “I think he’s dangerous to Fi if she’s alone,” he clarifies. “Which is why we’re still here with her.”
I press my lips together and nod. This is obviously important to him. She’s important to him. “Just be careful. I know you can handle yourself, but after what happened with Charlie . . .”
“I know.” His words escape with a puff of white air, and he gives me a pointed look. “I assume you know better than to tell Charlie and the guys about all this?”
I chuckle. “She’s been calling me nonstop because she knows you’re hiding something.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That you have a huge crush on Fiona and you’re embarrassed about it.”
He glares at me. “Thanks for that, asshole.”
I give him a shit-eating grin. “I had to tell her something to get her off my back.”
“Marcus?” Jeremy’s voice comes from the bathroom.
Shit.
“Well, I should get going,” I mumble.
“Who was that? Do you have a girl there?”
“What? No,” I scoff, probably looking guilty as hell. “Definitely not a girl.” Not a lie. “I’ll call you later, okay? Stay safe. Say hello to Fi for me.” Then I hit End on the call and toss my phone onto the bed just as Jeremy opens the bathroom door.
He walks out with a towel hanging low on his hips, his blond hair damp from his shower. I can’t help the way my eyes travel the length of his body before sliding back up to his face.
He smirks at me. “Enjoying the view?”
I give him a tired but coy smile. “Maybe.”
Jeremy approaches me and sits on my lap, straddling my legs. He pushes his hands through my hair, and I close my eyes briefly, letting out a pent-up breath.
“You seem so tense lately,” he murmurs as he studies me. “Did you sleep at all?”
I shrug. “A little.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“It’s just pub stuff. Nothing you need to worry about right now.”
He gives me a wounded look, and I realize he wants more from me.
“It’s my siblings. Charlie’s best friend, Fiona, is working with Sebastian at the pub, and there’s this drama with her stepfather.
And Charlie is worried and keeps texting and calling me.
” I press my forehead to his warm shoulder.
“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such a good big brother.
I’m tired.” He kisses the side of my neck, and I grip his hips and pull him a little closer.
I raise my head and kiss him softly. He feels nice against my lips.
“And how’re things going with your dad?” Jeremy’s gentle fingers on my chin pull my gaze back when I look away. “Talk to me.”
“He wants me and Sabrina to set a wedding date, so we’ve been discussing what we want to say to him.”
Jeremy tenses a little. “I don’t understand how your brother is so clueless about all of this. It’s kind of a public spectacle in Seattle.”
“Sebastian has his own shit going on. But also, he’s always left the business side of things to me, so unless it involves food, he’s a bit oblivious.”
I haven’t told Jeremy that John is going to be our new investor once I’ve freed myself and my siblings from our father’s orbit. Then I’ll step back and leave Sebastian to run things.
His brows crash together as he studies me. “I know you love your family, Marcus, but you don’t enjoy this. You said you wanted a break, but what does that mean?”
He hit the nail on the head. I consider telling him that I only feel alive when I think about moving somewhere else. Somewhere peaceful.
Maybe with him.
I don’t really have a solid future plan, but I make enough money off the pubs to figure it out as I go. I’ve considered just being one those eccentric old guys who wears cozy sweaters and sells his pottery at Saturday markets.
I have started looking at properties—from the Washington coast to the mountains to the west—that are close enough for me to help Seb with the business if need be, but also isolated enough to give me the space I want and need.
But that seems like a lot.
So I tighten my arms around him and distract him with another kiss.
He moans as our mouths slide together, and I nip his bottom lip and flip us, pinning him on his back, his towel falling open.
Jeremy giggles as I pepper kisses along his cheeks and nose.
When I pull back, we stare at each other for a beat, and his ocean eyes reflect back that feeling that neither one of us is willing to voice.
“Tell me something true,” he whispers.
I swallow.
I might love you.
Instead, I say the next best thing: “I want you to top me.”
Jeremy’s eyes widen.
“I mean, if you want to,” I rush to say.
I’ve been considering this for a while, and initially, the thought was simultaneously terrifying and hot—and the fear always won out.
But the more I’ve come to terms with my sexuality, the more it just feels like the next step.
And when I feel overwhelmed, like I do now, I don’t always want to be in charge. Sometimes, I want to release control.
Jeremy is the only person I’ve been able to do that with.
“I want to,” he says immediately.
“Have you ever?”
Jeremy shakes his head. “No, everyone has always treated me as the little spoon.” He pauses, and his breath stutters slightly. “But also, I’ve never wanted to before you.”
I kiss him hard, grinding my cock into his, and we both shiver. “I need you so badly right now, Jer,” I say into his mouth, and he hums in agreement.
Jeremy pulls off my shirt, tossing it across the room, and then tugs on my sweats. I lift my hips, helping him remove them.
“No boxers?” he says with a raised eyebrow.
“You always seem to make me come in them, and I’m running out of clean underwear.”
He pushes me back, then crawls on top of me and straddles my thighs, giving my cock a firm pull, and my eyes roll back at the feeling of his warm hand. “Oh, so you’re blaming me for your foregasms?”
I lift up on my elbows and look down at him, trying to keep my breaths steady while he continues to jack me. “My what, now?”
“Foregasms. You know, orgasms during foreplay.”
I scoff. “I do not do that.”
Jeremy drips spit onto my dick, and his hand tightens, sliding deliciously over my tip. At the same time, he slides a finger against my taint.
“Fuck!” I yell as I tense, pleasure spiraling up my spine.
He pinches the base of my cock before I come, giving me a pointed look. “You were saying?”
I glare at his shit-eating grin, and he gives me another lazy pull as he studies me with hooded eyes. He looks so fucking hot towering over me, and I release control. Instantly, I feel the tension drain from my limbs.
“Get me the lube,” he demands.
I reach over to my nightstand, pulling the little bottle from the drawer. I try to hand it to him, but he shakes his head. “You’re going to get yourself ready, baby. Now, show me your hole.” I start to turn over, but he stops me with a firm hand. “No, I want to see your face while you do this.”
I lick my lips and nod, lying back on the bed. I bring my legs up so that my knees are almost touching my chest. Every time, this position makes me feel so exposed, and I feel a hot flush on my face.
Jeremy runs the back of his fingers against the stubble on my cheek. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“You look so sexy with your little pink hole on display for me.”
Even though his words light me up inside, I still feel self-conscious as I open the lube bottle with shaky fingers and dribble the cool liquid between my cheeks. I run my finger through it and smear it around my asshole.
“Inside, too, big guy. Get yourself nice and wet.”
I tentatively slide my pointer finger inside myself, all the way to my knuckle. A little sigh escapes my lips. It goes in so easily, but nerves fill my stomach because I already feel so full, and this is just my finger.
Jeremy nods in encouragement, his breathing picking up as he strokes himself lazily while he watches me. “Add another and relax it into it.”
I stick a second finger inside and bite back a moan when I scissor them open like I’ve done to him, stretching myself.
“Fuck,” Jeremy mumbles, his pupils blown wide.
I add a third finger with a needy whimper and then start to move them slowly, in and out.
Jeremy grabs the lube from where I dropped it on the bed and squeezes a generous amount on his cock before giving it several firm pumps. Then, he removes my hand and leans over me, his hands caging my body.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says huskily, his hot breath warm on my face. “You say stop, we stop. Agreed?”
“Yes,” I croak. “Fuck me.”
Jeremy lines himself up, and I feel his mushroomed tip nudging my entrance. “Beg for me, Marcus.”
I squirm beneath him, trying to rut my cock against his abs. “Please,” I say, my voice higher than usual. “Please, fuck me, Jer.”
Jeremy pushes inside me, and while it does burn, it’s not unpleasant, just more like an achy intrusion. He hisses as he eases his way inside me, and I writhe and groan, fiery pain quickly morphing into hot pleasure.
He bottoms out, his hips meeting my ass, and holds still while I adjust to the stretch. Sweat beads on my forehead as I take in the feeling of him filling me. Then he pulls back slowly and pushes into me again, this time nailing my prostate.
I arch up against him with a guttural cry. “Fuck!”
Jeremy freezes, shaking, panting hard. He brings a hand to my damp brow and looks at me with concern. “Was that a good fuck or a bad one?”
“Good,” I moan. “So good. Please, move again.”
He takes a breath and starts to pull out before pushing back into me.
Then he brings his mouth to mine, his kiss loaded with so many unspoken emotions.
He swallows my noises as I lose my mind while his cock pumps in a steady rhythm.
When I reach for my length, he slaps my hand away and wraps his fingers around me.
My dick has never been this hard, and it’s leaking precum everywhere like a fucking faucet.
“Jer,” I whimper. “I’m so close.”
“Me too,” he says breathlessly.
His thrusts are still measured, as if he’s savoring the feel of me, and it’s so intimate.
We’re not fucking right now. We’re making love.
“Shit, shit, shit! Jeremy—” And then I come, my cock pulsing between us while Jeremy milks the orgasm from me. It’s so intense, each pump of his cock against my prostate sending wave after blissful wave crashing through my whole body in what feels like slow motion.
Then Jeremy comes, moaning my name and holding himself deep, and the warm rush of his release fills me as his hands grip my hips painfully hard. He collapses onto my chest, and I shiver when he starts to trace lazy circles in my chest hair.
After a minute, I feel him soften in my body and he pulls out. The loss feels big, like something important is missing. Jeremy climbs off me and scampers to the bathroom, returning with a cloth to clean us up.
I watch him while he wipes his cock, wincing as he drags the material over his sensitive head, and then he moves to me, swiping the cum from my pubes and the soft trail of hair on my stomach. He’s so fucking beautiful with his cheeks flushed red and his hair sticking out at odd angles.
He’s starlight personified. Beautiful and pure and perfect.
I have to swallow around the lump in my throat.
With Jeremy, I’m so relaxed. So safe.
But I can’t help the feeling of dread deep down in my gut that says I’ll ruin him. Even if it’s an accident. Even if my father is the cause. If it’s Ryan.
I’ll be his downfall. It’ll be all my fault.
If I lose him again, I won’t survive.