34. James
JAMES
It was eerily quiet inside the limo after the thrum of the nightclub, and my pulse took a while to settle back to a comfortable pace. I wished I could call Esther and ask her if these feelings were normal. Maybe I was having a midlife crisis, or the opposite of that, a teenage regression.
I understood wanting to fuck Will. He was hot, and after a summer with nothing but my hand for company, I was horny.
It wasn’t just that, though. I thought about him constantly, especially when I smoked.
I’d sit on the porch, bowl in hand, held captive by thoughts of Will bent over the kitchen island, gripping the edges as I railed into him.
And it didn’t stop there. My imagination kept going, picturing morning coffee rituals and tangled afternoon naps in the hammock.
Who fantasizes about napping? Worst of all was the ever-growing need to protect him, to save him from every abuse, including from the obscene things I myself wanted to do to him.
What the hell was I supposed to do with that?
It had never been like this with Brice or the others—even Michael. Sure, I’d enjoyed spending time with them, but I’d always been equally content on my own. Not with Will, though. When he was gone, even just to take a shower, I missed him. I worried about him.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked. “Do I have glitter on my face or something?”
I jerked my gaze away, caught in the act. “Sorry. Here, I’ll put some music on.” I had a feeling Will wouldn’t appreciate my country western jams, so I selected one of Theo’s playlists.
Unfortunately, to connect my phone, I had to lean across his body. It only took a second, but when he inhaled deeply, like he was taking a hit off my skin, it took every ounce of my willpower not to surrender to gravity and collapse on top of him.
Back in my seat, I glanced out the window. Shit! We were almost back to the hotel already. I needed more time.
I pressed the intercom button. “Hey, change of plans. Can you drive us somewhere outside the city, maybe somewhere where we can see the stars?”
“Sure thing,” the driver replied.
“Thanks.” I took my finger off the button and turned to Will. “That okay?”
He shrugged. “Sure. I assume you’re wanting your nightly bowl in the country?”
“Yeah, something like that.” I helped myself to some of the leftover champagne. Why was I so nervous? I’m never nervous with guys. “About the kiss, I—”
“It’s fine.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“I think you really sold it. I meant what I said, though. You don’t need to keep doing this.
I get that you’re all confident and self-assured and don’t care what others think, but Theo is only eighteen.
Kids are fragile, especially teenagers. And nothing is off limits to these fuckers.
If they think it will attract a few eyeballs, they’ll happily tell the world that I molest my boyfriend’s son while he’s at work? ”
“No.” I shook my head.
“No, what?”
I wasn’t sure. But no. Just no. This wasn’t Will’s fault. It was mine. If I hadn’t orchestrated the karaoke stunt, none of this would’ve happened. If I hadn’t invited Esther to Andy’s bachelor party . . . I couldn’t think about that now.
“No, I didn’t kiss you because I thought people were watching. I kissed you because I wanted to, because I meant what I said. I don’t care about the tabloids.”
“But Theo—”
“Theo is having the time of his life, and it’s all because of you.”
A tear threatened to slip from his eye. “But it’ll get worse. It always gets worse.”
I reached up and cupped his face. “Not this time. This time it’s gonna get better. I promise.” And because I couldn’t bear to see him cry, I kissed him. And this time, there was no audience, no show. Just us.
Once I got my pen recorder back, I was going to expose Tony for the snake he is. I was going to make this right if it was the last thing I did. In the meantime, though, I was going to prove to Will that there was nothing fake about my feelings for him.
I kept my mouth on his, sucking up every drop of salty-sweet saliva on his lips.
Like at the restaurant, he surrendered to my every touch—my every thought, even—moving with me like choreography.
I fisted my hand in his hair, planning to yank his head back and expose his neck, but before I got the chance, he yielded of his own accord, offering me his throat like I was a vampire and he was my next meal.
“Oh fuck,” he purred as I indulged the fantasy and nipped at his stubbled skin.
From there, I traced a path with my tongue along his neck and over the sharp ridge of his jaw.
I paused briefly for another gentle bite, then continued my ascent, not stopping until I reached the soft pillow of his earlobe.
With my lips pressed against the peach fuzz there, I whispered, “You’re incredible,” and was immediately rewarded with a full-body shudder.
It drove me wild. My restraint crumbled, and I forgot to be gentle—just grabbed his leg and yanked it across my lap so we were face to face. The whimper that escaped his lips was obscene, but not as obscene as his ass grinding down on my hard cock.
The friction was exquisite, and I was tempted to sit back and let him have at it. But, no. I was the one calling the shots, not him. To regain control, I pushed him down onto the leather seat and forced his legs apart with my knees.
Below me, his face changed colors with the passing lights: streetlights, headlights, brake lights, and neon signs. But one thing remained constant, his dark eyes tracking my every move.
His lips looked fuller now, kiss-swollen, but I was sure I could do better. I leaned down, letting my weight press into him, chest to chest, and kissed him hard. My dick was right there, pressed up against his ass, but we both still had our fucking pants on.
“Take your shirt off,” I demanded, sitting upright.
He bit his lip and shook his head, his dark hair swishing across the leather seat. For a second, I thought I’d fucked up—Will was riddled with irrational body image issues, after all—but then he smirked. “You do it.”
His words went straight to my cock. Fine, if that’s how you want to play this.
I was tempted to rip the shirt from his body, but considering it cost more than I made in a month, I did the “right thing” and unbuttoned it, starting at the top and working my way down. Once I was done, I rewarded myself with a taste of the sweat gathering in the hollow between his sculpted pecs.
“Your body is insane,” I said on my way to tease his taut little nipples, their dark rings barely the size of a penny.
I gazed up at him as he traced a finger over my mustache, just like he’d done the night I’d shaved my beard. Only this time, I didn’t freeze in surprise. I grabbed his wrist and forced his finger into my mouth, a little preview of what was to come.
“Oh, Jesus,” he said, letting his head fall back onto the leather seat.
I gave equal attention to each of his digits as I unbuckled his belt and drew down his zipper.
Then, not wanting him to get too comfortable, I bit the fleshy part of his palm and pushed his arms up over his head.
Fuck, I loved the way his torso stretched, his tight pecs reduced to flat plains as his skin pulled taut.
I slid his shirt the rest of the way off, and grinned down at my handiwork. He was smaller than me, which I liked, but so much stronger, which—apparently—I also liked. That was new.
I snaked a hand under the small of his back, and he arched in response, letting me pull his pants off.
I didn’t get far, though. The moment I saw the pre-cum soaking through his tight black briefs, I stopped and left his pants bunched around his knees.
I ducked my head inside and hooked his legs over my shoulders like the yoke of a saddle.
I fingered the wet spot on his briefs and brought it to my nose. Just as I’d expected—potent as fuck.
I pulled the damp fabric over his erection, and his cock sprang free, the skin stretched tight as a drum.
He wasn’t bigger than me, which I appreciated, but it was close, and he certainly looked bigger.
That dick belonged on a lumberjack, not a scrappy little kindergarten teacher.
Either way, I was going to swallow every fucking inch of it.
Having watched Will act all summer, I knew just how responsive he could be.
He never just recited his lines and waited for his next cue.
He lived between the words, responding to his scene partners as if it were the first time every time.
Now, he brought that same attentiveness to sex, his body answering mine at every turn.
I brushed my lips over the head of his cock, and he shuddered. I pinned him to the seat, my open hand splayed across his chest, and he groaned. And when I took him to the back of my throat, he gasped and dug his nails into my shoulders.
“Fuck, maybe you really are into dudes,” he panted, his fingers finding their way into my hair. He didn’t try to take control and fuck my face, though—just gently massage my scalp as my head bobbed up and down.
It wasn’t long before I saw his balls draw up, and I had to pull off. As much as I wanted to swallow his load, I had something else in mind.
“Can I fuck you?” I asked.
He flashed me a wry smile. “I don’t know. Can you?”
I bit the inside of his leg, and he yelped. Fucking grammar Nazi.
“Fine,” I said. “Let me rephrase that. May I fuck you?”
“Hmm, let me think about it.” He rolled back, lifting his legs over my head, and my pulse quickened at the sight of his perfect little pucker, thinking he was surrendering to me.
But nope. The little shit was just sliding his pants and underwear the rest of the way off.
Then, in one swift motion, he twisted away from me and sat upright.
Before I could say the quiet part out loud—“What the fuck?”—he glanced down at my cock and tsked. “I don’t know. That bulge looks awfully big. Why don’t you show me what we’re working with, and then I’ll decide?”