Chapter 13
When I said yes to coming to this club, I figured that we’d sit and chat, maybe have a few drinks. But now Coop is off on the dance floor, looking far too good with the way he’s moving his hips and ass.
Sensual, beckoning. He’s like a prize to be won.
I shift on my feet, sipping on my beer. I should down it and then meet him out there.
“You know, Coop has quite a few fuck buddies out there,” Owen tells me, trying to stir shit up, I’m sure.
I refuse to acknowledge it. He’s just trying to get me to react.
“He’s my husband now,” is all I can say.
Coop’s always told me he would be faithful—from the very beginning he announced it. And I trust him. I do. Still doesn’t make me feel good that there are other people out there that he’s been with. People other than me.
Suddenly, from behind him, a man approaches. A beautiful man, who positively shines. I see his hands grasp Coop’s hips and pull him back against his chest.
“You don’t need to just stand here and let that happen,” Patrick says in my ear.
Everyone is whispering things to me, giving me advice I don’t want, telling me things I don’t need to hear.
I take a step away and glance toward Coop once more, watching as his hips sway, his hand lands on that man’s chest. He’s touching someone other than me. It suddenly makes me unreasonably angry.
“You could go get him,” Patrick encourages once more, not getting the hint that I don’t want advice. I know I should go out there and pull him away, but I find myself hesitating.
What if he doesn’t want me? What if he wants someone else? It’s not like he was ever planning to stay with me long-term.
My feet stick to the floor as I try to move forward, my body not working properly. All the doubts come rushing in, and I find myself unable to breathe. I trust him, I do, but at the same time, what if he’s had enough of me?
What if I’m not good enough?
Coop leans back, and I see that man run his nose up his neck and across his cheek, the goal being his mouth. He’s going to kiss him. He’s going to do something I haven’t even done with him.
It’s now that I find the momentum to move forward. Without hesitation, I rush forward until Coop is right there. Right in front of me.
My hands land on him, and I pull him against me. His back hits my chest, and I twine my arms around him, feeling his sigh of relief as soon as he’s pressed against me.
My eyes meet the man’s confused gaze. He looks unsure, but I keep my gaze steady and refuse to look away.
He’s mine.
Mine.
“Who’s this?” the man shouts, and I hold up my hand, my ring flashing on my finger. I see the man’s gaze swivel toward it, and a sense of pride wells up within me.
Yes, look. Look long and hard.
His eyes start to blink rapidly because he knows. He knows what this means.
“Husband,” I mouth and see the man’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Fuck,” he says as he turns his gaze to Coop.
“This true?” he asks, his hand waving toward me.
I half-expect Coop to step away from me, to tell him that it’s all a mistake, but he doesn’t. He just leans into me further and my hand slides across his stomach. I feel the flex of his muscles against my palm, and I know that his body is responding to mine. To my touch.
He wants me.
No one else.
I shouldn’t have doubted that I was enough. His response to me lets me know that I am.
Without a word, Coop turns toward me, his bright eyes meeting mine. My fingers tiptoe up his back and grip the nape of his neck. He’s warm, flushed, and fuck, I want to claim him.
His tongue flicks out and wets that mouth, and I pull him even closer, our hips pressed together as the music thumps all around us.
“Matthew,” he breathes and even though I can’t hear him over the sound of the bass hitting us, I can read his lips. Can see that it’s my name exiting his mouth.
No one else’s.
“Matthew,” he says again, and without overthinking it, without thinking at all, I lean down and capture those lips with my own.
Kissing a man for the first time should be bewildering, should set me adrift, but for some reason, this kiss does nothing more than set down roots. They twine and wrap around me, digging deep into the essence of us. My world which always felt like it was spinning sideways, out of my control, comes settling into the steady pull of his orbit. For the first time in my life, I feel my future align into place.
Coop. My true north.
My lips slant over his and I press my tongue into his mouth, feeling his trembling exhale against me. His fingers are twisted into my shirt, holding on to me tightly. My tongue touches his, a tentative swipe, and I feel his groan vibrate through me.
Fuck. Fuck. Why does he taste so good?
I do it again, a lick, a swipe, and he shakes against me. I don’t want to stop, but he pulls away, his lips slick with my spit, his cheeks stained red.
“Matthew,” he says, his word drifting away in the sound around us. And I’m lost.
I crash my lips into his again and lick into him, touching every corner of his mouth with my own, trying to taste him, to savor him, to devour him. Our teeth clash, frantic and brutal, but fuck, what else am I supposed to do when he ignites this flame inside of me? He tastes sweet, like sugar and pears, like that drink he was consuming earlier.
My teeth tug on his bottom lip, and in the middle of the dance floor, I realize that our cocks are hard. We’re both ready for what comes next, but neither of us are in the right place.
Fuck, we should have just stayed home.
We could be in our bed right now, doing exactly this. Only naked.
My fingers dig into his side and a desperate thrum of need pulses through me. I want to drag my lips across his body, want to kiss every part of him.
Even parts I never thought I’d want to.
This moment broke something in me, something that needed to be set free, and now I feel like I can finally breathe and think and do whatever I want.
And I want to do all sorts of shit with Coop.
With my husband.
My lips pull away from his and he chases them, his body leaning into mine, trying to get another taste. He looks dazed, and the fact that I’ve reduced him to this—a trembling, uncouth mess—makes my chest swell. Coop could have anyone, and he seems to want me.
“Let’s go home,” I say gently into his ear. Coop only nods, standing on his tiptoes and kissing me once more, dragging time away with him. We stand there for ages, our mouths fused together, until our lips are raw and sore, until his cheeks are red from the abrasions of my five-o’clock shadow.
But even so, even when he’s a mess, he looks perfect.
When we finally make our move, the crowd has only grown in size, a pulsating, gyrating organism, and we have to muddle our way through, trying to get to the exit. As we do, I see a familiar face in the crowd.
My heart skips a beat and I hesitate, my feet stumbling over nothing. For a second, I wonder if it’s a hallucination, a trick of the mind.
Why would Mitch be here?
There’s no fucking way my brother would be here at a gay club. He hates gay people, has made it clear how he feels about them time and again.
I blink and rub at my eyes, but when I look back to where I thought I saw him, I see that it’s someone else. Someone so not my brother.
As I shake my head, I continue my way through the crowd, wanting to get Coop home. Wanting to get him alone.
I want to strip him down and lay him across our bed, and then I want to spend the rest of the weekend kissing him.
We should have been doing this from the beginning. I shouldn’t have ever doubted that he is who I want.
“We need to call a ride,” Coop says, fumbling with his phone.
I watch as his trembling fingers tap on his screen, his movements jerky and frantic. I feel the same way. I want to just teleport home and land in bed, completely naked. The second his phone is back in his pocket, I pull him into me and kiss my way across his jaw. I want more than a taste. I want the full experience.
I want the entirety of him.
The drive home is torture. I keep staring at his lips, keep wanting to pull him into me and kiss him senseless, but I don’t think the driver would appreciate two horny men getting it on in the back of the car.
For the first time since meeting Coop, I wonder if he’s ever faced this kind of fear, this kind of hate. Has he ever been afraid to be himself in front of others for fear of retaliation?
I was one of those men. I was someone he’d have been afraid of. Me and my narrow-minded ways.
“You going to make it?” Coop asks, his body sagging into mine. His lips are brushing up against my jaw, and I can’t help the goosebumps that explode across my skin.
“No,” I say, and it’s true. I may not survive the trip home. He’s captivated me, my mind, body, and soul.
“Poor baby,” he coos and then nips at my chin before settling back in his seat.
The driver peers at us from the rearview mirror, and I feel my cheeks heat. What does he think? Is he judging me for being with another man? If he is, he says nothing, his eyes moving back to the road and driving us to our destination. And thank fuck for that. I need relief. I need to feel Coop against me.
As soon as we arrive, the doorman welcomes us. We tumble inside as he holds the door open for us. I manage a small wave as I nearly pick Coop up and drag him to the elevator. And he lets me, he lets me cradle him to me as I stride forward. As soon as we’re inside that small space, I press him up against the wall and kiss him, desperate for it, thirsty.
I want to drink of him for the rest of my goddamn life.
“Matthew,” he moans when our lips part for just a second.
The elevator dings and we nearly fall into the loft. His legs wrap around my waist at the last possible second, and I heft him further into my arms, carrying him to his room.
Our room.
The place where I’ve slept the past several weeks.
It feels like mine.
Coop feels like mine.
As soon as our legs hit the mattress, we fall onto it, my body spread across his and our lips meet once more. We’re frantic and yet unhurried, knowing we have all night, that we can remain undisturbed the rest of the weekend. That this is what we can do with our time. This and nothing else.
Our clothes make their way off our bodies, one piece at a time, until we’re both fully naked, our warm skin pressed against each other. We grind slowly, letting the sensation of our bare bodies, our bare cocks bring us close to the edge. And when we reach the peak, we slow down, taking deep, gulping breaths.
“You’re so hot,” I whisper into his ear, my lips sliding across his neck and collarbone. He moans and then grabs my hair, pulling my mouth back to his.
And we kiss once more, the same cyclical pattern, edging ourselves into oblivion. We don’t part until the sky turns a dusky gray, the sun slowly moving over the horizon. It’s only then that our eyelids close and we find our way to sleep.
Him in my arms, his swollen lips puffing sweet breaths against my skin.
And when we wake hours later, we do the same thing all over again.