Chapter 19
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Markie
“You lived up to the hype,” Jory says, chuckling beside me.
I pop a piece of popcorn into my mouth and nestle into the pillows. “First of all, I believe you.”
His chuckle turns into a full laugh, his bare chest shaking against my side.
“Second, you’re too much of a gentleman to say otherwise.” I rest the side of my head against his bicep. “So, thank you, but complimenting me was really your only option.”
“Not true.”
“So true.”
He sighs, but there’s humor laced in with his faux exasperation.
The television in Jory’s bedroom is on a sports channel recapping the day’s sporting news.
He handed me the remote after we got out of the bath, and he went to pop us a bowl of popcorn.
I went through the channel guide until I landed on this show.
It was mellow and something that interests us both.
Besides, keeping him in a competitive mindset can’t hurt.
Jory’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. He grabs it, studies the screen, types out a response, then tosses it on the bed beside him.
“That was Josh’s mom,” he says, sliding his arm behind me and pulling me into him. “They’re going to head back in about an hour.”
“I should go then, huh?”
Despite saying the words, I snuggle closer against him.
I’m fully aware that it’s goofy to be doing this—because he’s only my fake boyfriend for a couple of weeks.
Before I know it, he’ll be back in Nashville or wherever he lives.
Hell, I don’t even really know where he actually resides.
And once he’s gone, I’ll be here, doing what I do, back at square one.
It’s the last part that makes me not pull away, because I know what that looks like; I have lived experience. But this? This is new.
It’s being held and not just touched. There’s warmth from his body, but also … inside mine. Nothing about this feels performative or like I’m asking too much of him, and I’ve not considered—not even for a second—that he doesn’t want me here.
The only sad part? I’m sorry that it’s taken my whole life to know what this feels like.
Jory takes a long, deep breath as his fingertips brush up and down my back. “I mean, if you want to go, then that’s cool, but you don’t have to.”
If being curled up next to him didn’t feel this amazing, I’d pull away so he couldn’t feel my heart racing.
“I just thought it might be confusing for Gus for me to still be here,” I say, trying to find the right way to express what I’m thinking without making it sound like I want to leave.
“Did you forget how we met?” He laughs softly. I grin against his chest. “Besides, Deidre has had men over before, so it’s not a new concept for him. And you’re certainly not a random woman who he’d be confused to find in the kitchen in the morning.”
“So you’re saying that you want me to stay the night?”
He leans back until I look up and see his decadent smirk. “If you think I’m done with you tonight, then you’re completely misreading this situation.”
“I guess there’s a first time for everything.” I sit up and straddle him, blocking his view of anything other than me. “Tell me something about you that I don’t already know.”
His hands find my breasts, his fingers toying with my nipples. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Where do you live normally? I mean, I know you play for the Royals in Nashville. I assume you live there during the rugby season. But is that where you live all the time? I don’t know how that works.”
“Yeah, I have an apartment in Nashville year-round. I’m not there all the time after the season ends in May or June until I have to report to the facilities in January.
I go visit my mom and travel around. Sometimes I’ll hire a trainer in another city for a month or two and stay there.
But, yes, I’ve been based in Nashville since I signed with the Royals. ”
He traces the slope of my shoulder, watching his fingers as they move along my bare skin.
His cock hardens beneath my pussy, growing longer and thicker.
Feeling him react to me is powerful and watching him not give a shit that I know that is dizzying.
Because men usually try to keep the upper hand—they want to tell you and remind you that you’re lucky you’re with them.
But with Jory? It’s the opposite. His actions—his words—show me that he believes he’s lucky to be with me.
And I want to hold on to this feeling for a little longer.
“That’s a decision I have to make,” he says, his voice soft.
I run my fingers through the back of his hair.
His gaze lifts to my face, his eyes shining with honesty. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen after I retire next year.”
I smile to reassure him because it’s obvious he’s been wrestling with this decision.
“Tennessee has been my home for several years,” he says. “I love it here. But Gus is in Nevada with Deidre, and I’ve already lost so many years with him …”
The weight of his words hangs in the air between us, and he searches my face as if I hold the answer.
“But I don’t want to live in Nevada,” he says as if I’m going to judge him negatively by his admission. “And I feel like the biggest asshole and the worst dad ever when I say that.”
“Hey.” I stop him with a look. “You are not an asshole, and you are an amazing dad. That kid loves you to death. And the way you look at him reminds me of the way my dad looked at me, and I’ll tell you a little secret: I was his favorite person in the world. So there’s that.”
Jory chuckles, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me. “Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“What would you do if you were me?” he asks.
I run my hands down his pecs. “In some respects, it’s a no-brainer.
I’d go to Nevada. I mean, Gus mentioned that he lost his ‘first dad,’ so he’s aware of what he’s missing.
And like you said, you’ve missed so much of his life already, and you have the chance to fix that.
It’s kind of perfect. Besides,” I say, gliding my hands over his shoulders, “he’s eleven.
He’ll be eighteen in seven years, and then he’ll be off causing havoc. ”
Jory grins.
“Seven years will be over before you know it,” I say, shrugging.
“That’s true, and he’ll be twelve before I retire. So that’s six years.” His chest rises and falls, and his features grow somber. “What if I’m really bad at it?”
“Bad at what?”
He swallows. “At being a dad. I’m sort of a glorified babysitter at this point, tapping in for the fun times of his life.
Holidays, birthdays, vacations. What if I can’t handle the day-to-day stuff?
Or what if I get there and fuck up what’s working?
Deidre is a great mom, and she has her rules and her systems. I don’t even know if it’s right to insert myself in their lives like that. ”
It takes me a minute to wrap my mind around what he’s saying. Because whatever I thought he was going to say, this wasn’t it.
He’s so selfless—the opposite of self-absorbed. Jory’s sole focus is on what’s best for Gus, and the way he considers Deidre is so honorable. What’s best for their routine? What long-term impact will his presence make in their lives?
None of it is about him, and that’s such a rare attribute to have these days. I’m actually stunned.
I study Jory, giving myself a moment to consider how to respond. These are big questions with a lot of consequences. This matters. I can’t just pop off with something witty and then ride his cock.
He truly cares about what I have to say.
“I’m probably not the person you should be asking for advice,” I say. “My life is a patchwork of decisions, and I’m not sure any of them are all that solid.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I have a mortgage. That’s about the adultiest thing in my life.”
He grins.
“I don’t want a nine-to-five,” I say, repeating what I’ve told him before. “I don’t have a retirement plan. My health insurance plan barely fits the description of what insurance is supposed to be. If I get into a car accident or something, I’ll be bankrupt.”
Jory wraps his arms around me, weaving his fingers together at the small of my back.
“So, yeah. I don’t know if I’m the best person to offer advice,” I say. “I mean, my mission for the past two months was to find a partner to beat my ex-boyfriend in a pickleball tournament.”
I’ve never felt goofy about how I approach the game … until now.
I still want to win, and the idea of watching Jasper’s face as I crush him hangs on my mental vision board in a sterling silver frame. But it suddenly feels less important than before. Like I’m seeing it with someone else’s eyes.
He kisses my shoulder. “You are the Pickleball Princess.”
“You’re damn right I am.”
Our hands find each other, and our fingers lace together between us. My palms look so small in his giant, calloused ones.
I consider his questions, the ones I skirted around, and wonder how he could ever think he couldn’t handle being a dad every day. That he might mess up Gus’s routine with Deidre. And worse—why would he even consider that it wouldn’t be right to insert himself into their lives?
“Can I ask you something?” I ask.
He brings our joined hands to his mouth and presses his lips against them.
“What does Deidre say about you moving there? Have you asked her?” I ask.
“I mean, I haven’t directly asked her about it. She knows I’m retiring and that I want to be in Gus’s life—and she encourages that. Obviously.” He blows out a hasty breath. “But it’s not her decision to make. It’s my life, and I’m a big boy.”
I can’t resist. I push my weight onto his lap, circling my pussy against his cock.
“That you are.” I smile at him. “To answer your question, I think you’d be an amazing everyday dad, and I think that if you don’t give it a try just because you think you’d mess it up, that you’re stealing more time from Gus.
The kid adores you and deserves every minute you can give him.
He’d be better for it. And so would you. ”
“And you say you can’t give good advice.”
“Lucky for you, I have one more nugget of wisdom. Wanna hear it? I think you’re gonna love it.”
“Give it to me.”
“I think,” I say as my core begins to clench. “That you should come down my throat.”
His head hits the headboard. “Fucking hell, Markie.”
I giggle. “I told a friend that I’d report back about whether you were big enough to choke me or not. And, while my precursory investigation leans heavily toward a yes, I sadly haven’t done the research to confirm or deny it.”
“If you think I’m telling you not to suck my cock, you’re nuts.”
I lift onto my knees, cupping his face in my hands and tilting his head back. “Kiss me now because the next time your lips find mine, they’ll taste like your cum.”
A small gasp escapes my throat as he crashes his mouth against mine. He parts my lips with his tongue, and it meets mine in a wild tangle of lust.
My nails drag across his scalp, as his dig into my ass. My nipples bead so tightly that when he takes one between his teeth, I almost unravel.
I push him back gently. It takes every bit of self-control that I have to stop him from ravaging me, but I promised him a good time, and I’ll deliver.
His eyes are wide as I climb off his lap and pull the blankets back. His dick is erect—all ridges and veins, and ready to explode. I reach for his balls with one hand and wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft with the other.
He hisses as I grip him, flexing himself against my palm.
I lock my gaze with his and slowly lower my head to the tip.
“Motherfucker,” he groans as I lick a bead of precum off the head. His thighs tense, his body trembling from the contact.
My thighs are coated with my desire for him, and I ache for his touch. As if he knows this, he reaches down, tilting my backside so he can reach between my legs.
I moan against him as a finger slides between my folds. Having a part of him in my mouth and in my pussy at the same time is the best of both worlds.
The tip of his cock slips between my lips to the sound of his groan. I suck him in, stroking him from root to tip, rocking my hips against his hand as he finger fucks me.
“I love how wet you get,” he says, gathering my hair and pulling it back with his free hand. He tosses it over the far side of my shoulder. “I want to see my dick going down your throat.”
I pick up the pace, taking him in as far as I can. My spit drips down his length as my mouth begins to water. Our gazes connect again, and the need I see in his eyes—how much he wants me—makes me whimper.
“Take me deeper,” he says, adding another finger to my pussy. “You said you wanted to choke on it.”
Fuck.
My eyes cloud as I take him farther down my throat, almost to the point of gagging. He tenses beneath me. His eyes darken as he rubs my clit.
“That’s it.” He flexes into my mouth. “You can take a little more. I know you can.”
My hum isn’t a confirmation or a denial of my ability, but I try anyway. Watching his face as he grows closer to his climax, feeling his cock swell in my hand, and the sensation of his fingers playing me like a fucking instrument are a little too much. I’m on the verge of falling apart.
I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to process all the stimuli, and take him as deep as I can.
“There you go,” he says, hissing. “Get ready to swallow, babe.”
His words are the final nail in my coffin, and my body explodes around his hand.
He groans, the sound filling the room as every muscle in his body tightens. I start to shriek from the intensity of my own orgasm but am stopped by a shot of cum to the back of my throat.
The saltiness coats my tongue and the walls of my mouth as he sprays his load into me.
By the time he’s finished, and my body stops shaking, I’m beat. Deliriously, deliciously exhausted.
“Come here,” he says, pulling me onto his chest. He brushes my hair off my face and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re pretty incredible, Markie. Do you know that?”
I try to smile, but that takes more effort than I can manage.
He holds me, with both arms wrapped around me, for the longest time. I lie still, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, contemplating how I’m memorizing this feeling more than I cataloged anything else that happened between us.
I’m not sure what to make of that or why it’s happening, but I’m pretty sure that if I think about it too much, it’ll scare the shit out of me.
So I don’t.
I simply ride the endorphin high, wrapped in the sweetest, sexiest man I’ve ever known.