Chapter 24
Skyler
The first thing I noticed as my hand slipped beneath Jacks’s shirt was how firm he felt.
I’d been with my share of athletic women.
They were lean, wearing muscle shaped by endless hours of cardio or gym work; and yet, there was still a feminine softness to them.
There was none of that with Jacks. Save the slight softening of a man who no longer played a competitive sport, Jacks’s body was firm, his skin taut.
I traced the outline of his abs, the four that remained of a once-glorious six-pack, before letting my fingers drift upward toward his pecs.
The light dusting of hair coating his chest and trailing down the center of his stomach was another difference.
It felt strange at first; but the more I swirled my fingers through its softness, the more I came to like the feel of it.
His chest also gave no hint of softening.
He clearly worked out his chest as hard as he always had. I squeezed and barely felt any give.
Why does that send such a thrill through me?
The question popped into my head so fast, so suddenly, that I almost pulled back. The realization that I was kissing and touching and exploring a man seemed so ridiculous in that moment; and yet, excitement mixed with terror as understanding dawned.
I’m doing this.
With a man.
No, with Jacks, my frustratingly active subconscious mind corrected, though, I supposed, that was an important distinction.
I wasn’t touching some random guy from a hookup app.
This was Jacks, a man I admired. Hell, that was fucking weak.
I was crazy about him. He made me laugh and see the world through fresh eyes.
He made me want, well, I wasn’t sure what I wanted, honestly—but he made me want more than the all-consuming career I currently enjoyed.
And that was saying something.
But what did I want with him?
What could I want with another man?
“You’re thinking.”
Jacks’s voice jerked me back to the present. Had he nor been gripping me around my waist, I would’ve leaped and landed on top of our discarded leftovers.
“Sorry,” I said, burying my nose into the space between his neck and collarbone and breathing him in. For some unknown reason, I’d yet to remove my hand from his chest. “Guess I’m in my head a little.”
Jacks kissed me again, then removed a hand from my waist and trailed fingers down my cheek.
“We can stop, watch a movie, relax. I didn’t come here for more than that.”
“I don’t want to stop,” came out without my permission. My eyes must’ve popped wide because Jacks’s expression went from surprised to amused faster than a Porsche set loose on the Autobahn. “I mean, this is good. Touching you and kissing is good. Better than good. It’s amazing.”
He thrust upward, our fully clothed cocks grinding against each other, both rigid and ready for whatever might come next.
“Feels like it.” He smirked.
I felt my face flush, and he chuckled.
“I’m serious, Sky. This is all new to you. We don’t have to—”
I’ll never know what he was going to say, what excuse he would’ve armed me with to avoid further exploration, because my lips devoured his as my hand squeezed his chest so hard I might’ve been making orange juice.
“Ow!” He squirmed beneath me. “Easy on the boobie.”
I snort-laughed, my head falling onto his neck again. “Boobie? Seriously? How old are you?”
Two fingers found their way into my sides and dug in.
This time, I leaped up. Our legs were still tangled together, so I lost my balance and fell sideways off the couch, banging my side on the coffee table and landing onto a Thai container.
The sickening splat told both of us everything we needed to know about the fate of what would’ve been tomorrow’s lunch.
Jacks lost it.
I let my head fall back until it smacked the floor.
Moisture seeped into my shirt and slimed my skin. I’d become a wonton or some other sauced item, literally.
“Serves you right, trying to milk my baby feeder like that.”
“Baby feeder?” I spat, laughter tumbling out despite the smarmy feeling soaking into my shirt and smearing my back.
That was a moment in which two grown men dissolved into pre-teen boys, giggling and laughing at their own ridiculousness, telling one stupid joke or offbeat comment after another.
Each was stupid. None would’ve even earned a laugh in the locker room.
And yet, lying there on my floor atop a tub of spicy goodness with Jacks a foot away on my couch, everything was hilarious.
It might’ve been the most innocent, sweet moment I’d ever experienced.
And it was utterly disgusting.
“Okay, enough!” I said, feigning outrage, as I pushed myself up from the floor, sauce dripping from my shirt onto the butt of my jeans. “I’ve seen gross in the locker room, but this . . . this is gross.”
Jacks chuckled. “Did you roll in the stuff? It’s all over your back and butt.”
I tried to look behind me, nearly tripping over the damn coffee table again in the process.
Jacks smothered another laugh. “We should soak your clothes so they don’t stain.”
I looked down and raised a brow. “Are you trying to get me naked?”
Jacks blanched. “Sky, no, I—”
I reached down and yanked my shirt over my head and off.
Whatever protest Jacks meant to utter died as he stared up, his gaze roaming first across my bare chest, then down my torso.
Unlike him, I was in peak shape, a pro athlete with the body fat percentage to prove it.
He didn’t quite drool as he counted the ripples, but his eyes did widen.
“Help me with these jeans?” I asked.
He blinked a couple of times, and I wondered if he’d refuse, but his hand lifted and fingers pried at the top button.
I think my whole body thrummed in time with my racing heart.
Watching him pop the button free, then reach up with his other hand and grip the zipper, his fingers so close to my cock, closer than any man had ever been, made the tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention.
He scooted to sit upright on the couch so he could reach his hands inside my jeans and pull them down. My cock was stiff, barely contained within the tighty-whities I always wore. Jacks’s grin was instant the moment he saw it.
“Well, hello, hockey star.”
“I think he likes you,” I managed through a gulp.
“Mmm,” was all Jacks said in reply.
I stepped on the bottom of my jeans and let him slip them off, careful to avoid splattering Thai sauce all over the couch and floor.
“Jesus, Sky,” Jacks said, his eyes lifting to take my nearly naked form in again.
“What?” I asked, more self-conscious than I’d been in years.
“You’re . . . Damn. Just damn.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I grinned like an idiot and let my face flush with fire.
Without warning, Jacks reached up and pressed his palm to my cock. It still hid beneath a thin layer of cotton, but I could feel the warmth of his touch. I twitched the moment he gripped through my underwear.
“Is this okay?” Jacks asked.
I nodded, a frantic motion, not trusting my voice.
He stroked me through the fabric, his palm drifting from tip to balls, then he cupped me and squeezed lightly.
“Ow . . . shit . . . oh!”
Jacks’s head snapped up, his mouth quirked. “Did that hurt or feel good?”
“Yes. Both. I mean, they’re balls. Squeezing them hurts. But then . . . damn . . . whatever you did felt amazing.”
Jacks squeezed again, and I felt my body shake.
“Can I take these off?” Jacks asked, his fingers tugging at the elastic band.
I nodded again, that frantic “please but don’t ask me to speak” gesture of the truly frightened.
Slowly, so damn slowly, his other hand found my hip. His fingers slid inside the band, teasing my skin while lowering my undies. When my cock caught and resisted, he lifted the band, exposing my head for the first time.
“Well, hello there,” Jacks said, leaning down and kissing my tip.
My body shivered again.
Jacks grinned up, his lips still pressed to my dick, and licked.
“Oh, Jesus. Just fucking get me naked already.”
The skin around his eyes wrinkled as he smiled.
Still, he didn’t rush.
Inch by torturous inch, he slid my undies lower, kissing down my length as more skin was exposed. When my balls dropped free, his tongue pulled one toward him, and he sucked it into his mouth.
“Ow, shit! Oh, fuck. Damn, that feels . . . damn.”
I felt him laugh, my ball in his mouth. That might’ve hurt more than it felt good, but I was too befuddled to tell for sure.
He slid my underwear off, tossing them atop my discarded jeans.
For the first time in my life, I stood naked before a man.
Okay, I’d been naked plenty of times in locker rooms and the like, but this was different.
God Almighty, this was totally different.
This man wanted me. And fuck me if I didn’t want him as bad, maybe more.
I watched as Jacks’s hands returned to my cock, one cupping my balls, while the other gripped the base of my shaft, tightening the skin and making me feel even harder than I already felt. Then his lips were on my tip again. His tongue swirled, then lowered to the sensitive skin below the rim.
I trembled at that, my hand reaching up and feeling my own chest the way Jacks had done earlier.
His head lowered, and I felt his mouth take in more of my length. The wetness of his saliva coated my skin, slickened it, as I felt myself scraping the inside of his throat.
He gagged.
“Jacks—” My hand flew down to his shoulder.
He didn’t so much as budge, only lowered himself further, opening his throat and taking all of me inside him.
“Well, okay then,” I said, blinking back tears of pleasure.
He squeezed and sucked and slurped and stroked, over and over, until stars danced in my vision, and my chest felt like it wanted to explode.
I squeezed my eyes shut and let the pleasure wash over me, consume me.
In my mind’s eye, all I could see was Jacks, his beautiful eyes and floppy hair, his lopsided grin and toothy smile.
I wanted to kiss him so badly, but there was no way I was about to stop what he was doing.
“Jacks, shit . . . if you keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to hold back.”
Instead of pulling back or slowing, the fucker sped up!
His grip tightened around my balls.
His other hand stroked faster, in time with his head bobbing up and down.
My body wracked and rocked. I had to brace myself on the couch arm.
Still, he didn’t slow.
“Jacks! Stop. Fuck. I can’t—”
He didn’t stop.
The first wave rushed out of me, flowed into him.
He drank it down.
Then the second.
And the third.
Long after I was spent, his head still bobbed, and his hand still stroked. Only when my erection began to soften did he pull back, smack and lick his lips, and grin. What he said next will live rent free in my head forever—and probably get me in trouble the next time I lift weights with the guys.
“Gotta have a protein shake after a good workout, right?”