Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
CALEB
Jesse clearly had a different definition of “townhouse” than I did. Because his place was nothing like the cookie cutter structure I’d pictured.
His building was a stately brownstone with three stories and lots of thick, dark walnut. It looked like a place where Oprah might live, maybe hosting book clubs or something.
But books were the last thing on my mind as I hesitated in the doorway that connected Jesse’s insanely enormous bathroom to his equally enormous master bedroom.
He sat propped against a small mountain of pillows, his long legs encased in a pair of navy pajama pants.
His bare chest was covered in hair that spread over thick, round pecs before descending to a happy trail that disappeared into his waistband.
The bulge between his legs set my mouth watering.
He looked up from the book on his lap, his face as youthful and handsome as it had been in the photo at the restaurant.
Immortal.
Invincible.
Or something close to it, at least. In church, everyone talked about “everlasting life” like it was the greatest thing ever. That was the whole point of religion, right? You behaved yourself and tithed every week, and when you died you hoped Jesus let you into the club.
But no one ever talked about what came after. Like, what did people do in heaven? If nothing ever ended, how did anything new begin?
Jesse set his book on the bedside table. “What are you thinking about?”
“Forever,” I said before I could stop myself.
Right away, I wished I could take back the words.
Jesse had lost the werewolf who turned him—a man he’d obviously cared about.
And here I was, ready to bitch about the gift of immortality.
On a more selfish note, I’d been hard as a rock all through dinner.
Jesse might be filthy as hell, but he’d shown hints of a prim and proper streak.
Maybe it was a teacher thing. If he thought I was freaking out, he’d probably send me to bed with cookies and milk or something.
I tugged at the hem of my T-shirt: a gray Hale Valley football crew neck I’d stuffed in my duffel. The fabric was thin and worn from hundreds of trips through the washer, and it clung to my chest in a way that had earned me plenty of second looks from girls—and the occasional guy—on campus.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not really sure what I was apologizing for. Maybe I’d been doing it for so long that it felt natural but meaningless, like saying “good” when someone asks how you’re doing. They never expect you to tell the truth, and they don’t want you to.
Jesse moved to the center of the bed, then patted the space next to him. “C’mere.”
I went to him, and when he held out his arms, I didn’t even care if I looked pathetic climbing into them.
I plunked my head on his shoulder and hitched one of my thighs over his.
He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head.
His heart thumped steadily under my ear, and he smelled clean and expensive, like cologne splashed over diamonds.
For a long moment, he just…held me. And I couldn’t remember anyone ever doing that.
If my parents had, it happened so long ago that I didn’t recall it.
Jesse’s embrace wasn’t sexual, but his broad, thick chest under my cheek and his slow, steady breaths stirring my hair felt so damn good that my dick pressed against the front of my sweats. I’ve wanted your ass since the second I saw you.
Sure, it wasn’t poetry. But I wanted it.
I wanted everything Jesse van der Meer had to give me.
That first night in his kitchen, the pull in my chest had urged me to curl up at his feet.
The same feeling pulled at me now, but it wasn’t fallout from what had happened to me in August. No, this was just… falling. I was falling for him.
Eventually, he cupped my cheek and guided my head back enough so I could meet his gaze.
His dark eyes were soft and serious, his brown irises like melted chocolate.
“It’s dangerous for our kind to dwell too much on the past, but it can be just as dangerous to think too hard about the future.
” He brushed the hair off my forehead. “The best thing you can do is to think about right now.”
Boldness filled me, and I pressed my hips forward, slowly grinding my erection over his thigh. “I’ve been thinking about right now all night.”
His eyes lightened to gold. He moved his hand to my mouth and traced my bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re sure?”
“More than sure.” And in case that wasn’t clear enough, I sat up and climbed over his hips, straddling him.
I reached back and grabbed my shirt by the collar, pulling it over my head in the way I knew looked good—an athlete’s careless strip, biceps flexing and pecs bunching under my skin. I wasn’t above using what I had.
And I had a pretty good chest. I knew it the same way I knew my catch percentage: as a fact, not a boast. Four years of two-a-days had given me something to work with, and I worked it now, rolling my shoulders back and letting Jesse look.
Watching his eyes track from my collarbone to my abs with a narrow-eyed focus that made electricity dance over my skin.
I hadn’t bothered with underwear, and my dick tented the front of my sweatpants.
I pushed the waistband down, trapping my cock flat against my stomach.
I was leaking a bit, my damp tip nestled in my belly button.
I spread my hands over his chest and palmed his pecs.
“I want you to do everything you promised in the car.”
He grasped my hips, his eyes going heavy-lidded as he ran his gaze from my dick to my face. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured. “You are so sexy.”
“Nothing like you.” I trailed my hands down his chest, watching the dark, curly hair part around my fingers.
His jaw was more shadowed than usual now that it was evening.
I’d never considered myself into hairy guys, but maybe I’d just never met the right one.
Jesse wasn’t a sasquatch or anything, but something about his overt masculinity did it for me.
He was a man—a big one who could probably maneuver me any way he wanted without breaking a sweat.
But somehow, I knew he’d die before he hurt me.
The certainty of it was a steady beat in my mind, and it was just as compelling as his dirty talk and his dark, sensual stare and his big hands spanning my hips.
He eased my waistband lower, and my cock sprang free, just as hard and eager for him as the first time.
With an appreciative sound, he ran his fingers up my shaft and pinched my tip, coaxing more moisture from my slit.
As my breath shuddered out, he collected a bead of precum on his finger and sucked it into his mouth.
Heat licked through me—so sudden and white-hot I almost turned to see if my silhouette was permanently etched on the wall behind me. But that would have required taking my eyes off Jesse, and I couldn’t do that.
He returned his hand to my dick and stroked, his long fingers sure and possessive. “This probably goes without saying, but you and I don’t need condoms. We can’t catch human diseases.”
It took me a second of mental fumbling before I could string words together. “Yeah. I figured. I don’t want you to use a condom.” I didn’t want anything between us if I could help it.
“So you want me to breed you, sweetheart?” He gave my cockhead another slow, devastating squeeze, then sucked his fingers, his eyes sliding shut like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. When he opened them again, they burned bright gold. “You want my load in your ass?”
“Fuck, yes,” I said, my fingers curling against his chest. My hips rolled of their own accord as his cock swelled under me, teasing my cleft.
A devil landed on my shoulder, urging me to suck my bottom lip into my mouth as I held Jesse’s stare.
“Are you gonna spank me for cussing?” I asked, hearing how low and suggestive my voice had become.
I sounded like the brat he sometimes called me.
A wicked smile gleamed in his eyes as he cupped my aching balls. “I’ll spank you just for the hell of it, college boy. I don’t need a reason.”
“Fuck,” I gasped, tipping my head back and riding his hand. My nuts were already so tight there was no way I was going to outlast all the stuff he had planned.
He squeezed my sack, his fingers kneading gently. “Do you know about safewords?”
A groan built in my throat. He wanted to talk about this now, when I was seconds from begging? When I wanted nothing more than to collapse on top of him and press my nose to the steady beat in his neck while I jerked my hips against his until I came like a fountain?
“Caleb?” he prompted, squeezing just a little bit harder.
Grunting, I lowered my head and met his eyes. “It’s for BDSM or whatever. Like a word I can use when I want you to stop spanking me.”
“Not just spanking,” he said, sliding his hand farther under me and massaging the sensitive skin behind my balls. “Your safeword is a hard limit. You use it when you want me to stop. And I will, every time.”
“Yeah. That’s fine.” Whatever, just keep touching me.
Jesse frowned, but he continued his firm strokes over my taint. “Pick something you won’t say casually.”
My breath shuddered as words tumbled through my mind. And the perfect candidate came to me wrapped in thin, clear plastic, little multi-colored candies embedded in a smooth layer of frosting as easily peeled away as the inhibitions that had strangled me since adolescence.
“Brownie,” I said huskily, slowing my rocking hips.
Jesse stared up at me with eyes that had gone soft despite the wolf staring out from them. “Brownie. I like that.” He held my gaze for another moment, then slid a finger to my hole and stroked.