21. Seventeen
Seventeen
Jake
T he house was hot as fuck. A bead of sweat trailed down the arc of my spine before I had my boots off.
“You running the heat without realizing it?” I asked Fallon by way of greeting, checking the thermostat. Nope, all good.
Placing a palm to my forehead, I scanned for a fever. “Why’s it so hot?”
Uncomfortable in my skin, nothing tempered my unease since leaving The Pub.
She didn’t glance up from her book as she curled on the couch in her little sleep shorts and cotton tank top. Shit. She was so damn cute.
“It’s summer, baby.” Fallon stood and stretched. “Sorry, let me amend. It’s summer, you baby. ”
I had her in my arms a moment later for a tight hug. “Smartass.” I smacked her ass.
She giggled against my chest and pushed me off her. “I’m going to bed early. You go take a cold shower before you light this place on fire.” She headed for her room with bare feet shuffling over the carpet.
“I’ll join you.” I toed off my boots and chucked them toward the door.
She didn’t turn around. “Happy for you to come to bed right this second, but Jurassic Park just started on Channel 9.”
“Shit.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, staring at the alluring sway of her luscious hips. So round and full. “I’ll be in before the Jeeps get stuck,” I swore, already heading for the couch.
She laughed and called goodnight, closing the bedroom door.
“One beer, a few scenes. That’s it,” I promised myself, knowing I’d go to bed when the credits rolled. My girl knew it was my favorite movie.
Tugging off my shirt and pants, I lounged in my boxer briefs. I sweated like a fucking furnace in this tiny house. I would have a couple of beers and tiptoe to bed, careful not to wake Fallon when she had to be up early.
I cracked my first beer, the cold bottle at my lips, when I remembered that I should have told her about my conversation with Beau.
I glanced at the closed door, wondering if tonight was the time for that topic. Besides, Beau hadn’t confirmed he would do it.
Taking a long swig, I chewed over the idea. Fuckwad would for sure do it. Playing hard to get to feel self-important, the asshole. As if I were unaware that he wanted to sit pretty as King of the Mountain for a couple of days.
But the more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became. Rarely was I vulnerable with anyone other than Fallon, and I dragged myself out on a precarious limb with all of this. But Beau, the unserious prick, had to treat life like one big game.
I finished the beer, grabbed another, and settled into a sinking mood. Even that kid getting electrocuted on the fence didn’t make me laugh tonight.
I watched Beau torment the fuck out of my girlfriend’s clit. Babysat him on-site and made life easier for him at work. I bought his beer because I knew the asshole was hurting for money. Like, declare me a saint this goddamn minute!
The prick had his fun—time to pony up. I twisted the cap off a fresh beer and leaned against the counter. My phone sat on the coffee table, and I stared at it across the room. Fuck it, commercial break. I had the time.
I left the kitchen, collapsed onto the couch, and got right to the point, texting Beau.
Me: I’m going to need your answer. Preferably now.
“There.” I grunted approval with my exceptional self-initiation, tossing the phone down and returning to the movie.
Another twenty minutes passed, and another beer was gone. When I picked up my phone, Beau still hadn’t responded. I didn’t check to see if he answered; I was confirming that I set my morning alarm.
The oppressive heat made me cranky. That was all. Should have gone to bed with Fallon.
I pressed the cold bottle to my forehead, surprised to find it empty.
“Huh.” I stared at it. That was why I was being stupid. Just buzzed. Good to know.
I glanced at the phone balanced on my thigh. Dark screen. What the actual fuck?
The beer. That was it. That had to be it. I needed it to be why I unlocked the screen, and my thumbs flew over the keyboard.
Me: Real funny, right? Making me ask again. Nice, dickface.
My knee bounced furiously. Agitation skated over my sweat-coated skin. Hot in this house. Goddamn. Why was it so hot?
I scratched my stomach, my skin tight and itchy. This was ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous.
Me: You know what? Fuck this. The next time I open up to someone, it will be my autopsy.
Not thirty seconds later, my dumb drunk ass was back at it.
Me: I’m gonna go wake up Fallon with a slow fuck. She goes crazy when she wakes up with me inside her. Loves being fucked when she’s sleeping.
I’d do it, too. I was in the middle of a text telling him to forget it. The arrangement, or whatever we called my offer, was off. Not worth it. This sucked. This entire thing—
The phone vibrated in my hand.
Beau: Goddamn, you’re mean when you’re needy, bestie. What gives?
Me: Oh, you do check your messages.
“Shit,” I muttered, sitting up and staring blankly at the floor.
It bothered me to think he’d been ignoring me. Then again, it was ten o’clock. He could have gone to bed early, and I’d been throwing a tantrum for no good reason.
“Double shit.”
But there was a good reason. It was hot in this house! Could make anyone cranky. The ceiling fan did shit other than click and clack and assault my eardrums.
Beau: I was in the bath. That’s my me time.
Didn’t want to, but I laughed. Seemed very Beau-like.
Me: What are you doing in the bath when it’s so hot ?
Beau: Ice bath. My shoulder is killing me. Shrinks my balls, but worth it to jerk my dick back to life without this aching pain in my arm. Whatchu up to, buddy?
Impossible to tell if that was true. With Beau, it could be flippant teasing or unguarded honesty.
Me: Watching Jurassic Park.
Beau: What channel? A cinematic masterpiece if ever one existed. Muldoon still alive?
Me: Just disemboweled by a clever girl. Channel 9.
Beau: R.I.P. Didn’t happen that way in the book. Turning it on now.
Beau read books? What were his favorites? Did he read at night in bed or lounge around on a rainy afternoon, cozy with a good book? What did Beau do in his free time?
Kicking the thought aside, I considered silencing my phone and going to sleep. My brain was being fucking weird, and the beer wasn’t helping, and again, the fucking heat .
Me: For real?
Beau: Lived and took out some raptors. Epic shit. My favorite book and my favorite movie. Did you read it? You should. I’ll get you a copy.
Stupid, the ping of satisfaction that came with the offer. Maybe his judgment wasn’t as questionable as I assumed.
But mine was.
Me: How much ice do you need for an ice bath? I’m sweating like a motherfucker, and Fallon’s house is an oven.
I shouldn’t have asked. Weird thing to ask. Why was I making shit weird?
He answered immediately.
Beau: Did you miss the part about shrinking balls? If you’re about to wake Fallon with a solid dicking down, you want those guys at full strength.
I dropped my head against the couch, laughing—such an idiot.
Me: Thanks for your concern. We’ll be good.
After a few minutes passed, I assumed he had nodded off or gone to bed without saying anything. And why wouldn’t he? Not like we did that shit. Texting. Saying goodnight. Talking outside of required socializing.
Excitement and relief hit equally when he replied.
Beau: Real talk, buddy. You gonna do it?
I licked my lips, considering how to answer.
Me: Yeah. Hate waking her, but now that I’m thinking of it, it can’t be helped.
I shifted, adjusting myself beneath my briefs. The thought of fucking Fallon in a minute had me ready.
Beau: Are you going to do it right away or get ready for bed first? How long before you do it, you think?
Raking my teeth over my bottom lip, I shook my head.
Me: Why? You want to jerk off when I’m railing her?
My heart pounded in my chest, my head light with the gratification of taking Fallon while he had to sit around thinking about it. Knowing I was thrusting into her, pleasing her, fucking her, unraveling her.
Beau: Maybe. Might be kind of hot.
I scoffed. “Rude.”
Me: Might be? My girl and I are fire together.
Beau: If you say so.
That dick. He immediately sent an eye roll emoji.
An awareness eased up my spine, rising with an idle thrum of energy. A satisfaction that accompanied competition. But this held something different… something unfamiliar.
But it felt good.
Me: She sleeps on her side. Makes it easy to lift her leg and hook it over my hip. Opens her tight little cunt for me to touch and tease until she’s wet. Then I ease in, just an inch at a time. Watch her lashes flutter, and her chest rises and falls. Her body wakes up before she does.
Nothing better.
Beau: I fucking hate you.
That only made me harder.
Me: By the time I’m inside her, she’s breathing hard. That’s when I start thrusting slowly. I don’t touch her clit. I want my cock to be what wakes her up. The moment her pretty brown eyes blink open. The smile when her arms wrap around my neck and pull me closer.
I closed my eyes, my hand palming over my dick, the phone gripped tight in the other as I stared at the screen and waited. When he didn’t answer, I kept going.
Me: Rolling her onto her stomach and spreading her legs. Hitching up her hips until that wet and swollen pussy lines up with my aching cock, driving into her. Nothing slow, then. Fucking into her hard and fast as she bites into the pillow and nearly sobs and rocks her ass against my hips.
“Shit,” I shuddered a breath, squeezing my dick and curling my toes into the carpet.
I imagined grabbing Fallon’s silky hair and wrapping it around my fist, fingertips digging deep into her fleshy thighs. Bodies slapping, whimpering, and grunting, a glorious melody of pleasure singing between us.
Me: That’s when I like to press forward and whisper in her ear how good she is for taking me like that. How delicious her cunt feels. What a mess she’s making with that soaked pussy. Then I stroke her clit until she comes, and I go at the same time.
Full-on jerking off now, I panted and stroked, slack-jawed, as I read my messages back and pictured my girl on all fours. Pulling out of her and making her beg for it before slamming back inside .
God, we did look good together. When I closed my eyes and imagined it, Beau knew it because he was watching us.
That wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but gliding along my thick shaft and pumping like a man on a goddamn mission, I didn’t think it through.
Me: So yeah. My girl and I are fire.
Took a minute to get the last message out. God bless autocorrect.
“Oh, shit. Yes,” I breathed, stroking myself. I didn’t care if he responded ever again. I made my point. Got myself fucking going while doing it, but I made my point. So why didn’t I haul it to Fallon’s room?
Beau: Bet you’re jerking off right now to your filthy taunts, huh?
I didn’t answer, leaving the phone beside me and spreading my legs to settle into a good fist fucking session.
Beau: Look who isn’t checking their messages now. Think it’s funny to get me worked up like that? You’re an asshole.
Beau: I’m going to be the one performing your autopsy, you piece of shit. You’re a cruel motherfucker. I’m so hard, and it’s your fault.
“Jesus , ” I hissed between my teeth, almost coming right then. But I didn’t want to. Not before… Shit. Not before I knew what he planned to do about it.
What the fuck is wrong with you ?
It was the beer. The heat. The friendship. We were friends. Just playing around.
Me: You’re a big boy. You can take care of yourself.
Oh, my god. Did I just imply Beau Dalton should jerk off?
Beau: Did you just imply I should jerk off?
My chest tightened, my eyes shuttering closed. Wrong. For so many reasons.
Me: Are you jerking off?
Beau: Are you?
Me: I asked you first.
Beau: You are. Dirty bastard. You worked yourself up, and now you’re jerking off and talking to me.
Goddamn him.
Me: I asked you first.
Swear I’d kill him if he sent me back a text filled with laugh-crying emojis.
Beau: I’ll answer when you send me a pic of your flaccid dick. Next thirty seconds. Not after you’ve busted a nut from your naughty story time. Tick-tock, bestie.
Still gonna kill him.
My hand slowed, reluctant to part with my throbbing cock. Zero chance this erection would relent in thirty seconds. Shit. Maybe I could find a picture on the internet. But it had to look good.
Beau: Time’s up. Fucking liar. You come yet?
Me: Well done deflecting from your pervy jerking.
I groaned, recognizing how utterly stupid I sounded. Utterly stupid… and transparent. One was worse than the other. Worse still? Even the crippling humiliation couldn’t sink this boner. God, I hated him.
Beau: Oh. I’m deflecting nothing. I’m for sure jerking off. Feels real good, doesn’t it?
Son of a bitch.
Me: Stop making fun of me, asshole.
It took him a minute, but he responded.
Beau: Not making fun of you. Validating your experience, bestie. I’m stroking pretty hard right now. I like it rough. How about you?
My teeth ground tight, my jaw clenching. I felt like a fool. A hard, horny fool.
Who didn’t know when to stop because I sent the one message I might forever regret.
Me: Prove it.