33. Twenty-nine
Twenty-nine
Jake
H e said shit about it.
Beau had been pulling away since the cabin. The unmistakable quiet started on the drive back, and I could feel it.
I’d given him days to sort his shit, but ever the baby, he shut down instead. Fuck him for closing me out, but when he didn’t respond to Fallon’s texts, it became a serious problem. He couldn’t ignore my girl, abso-goddamn-lutely not.
I went to Beau’s to drag him back to Fallon. To us.
He could have told me about the strike then, on his parents’ doorstep, on the ride to the lookout, on our hike, when his hands were on me, making me feel good, or when both our hands were on ourselves, feeling fantastic.
But now I felt like shit. My girl had fallen for him, loved on him, wanted him, and I wouldn’t allow him to do that to her.
He planned to leave? Fine. He had to say it to her face like a man.
Why didn’t Beau say anything? He knew. I fucking know he knew. Probably why he freaked out today, and instead of saying anything, he let me cart him off rather than bidding him a fare-fucking-well and helping him pack his suitcase.
I should be celebrating and dancing. Beau Dalton was free to leave town. I wanted that from the start. Fuck everything between then and now.
Twenty minutes of angry pacing ensued outside of The Pub, hovering like a storm cloud ready to strike lightning and set something on fire as I waited for that asshole to emerge.
He was inside grabbing a beer with his pops because his dad loved him and wanted to spend time with him.
My dad loved me in his own way, but his affection was neutral at best. It didn’t bother me, not really. It was just life, no different from my mom taking off. But I didn’t have to be like them and swore I wouldn’t be.
The people I loved, I loved hard. I’d give my last breath to care for them, show them I loved them, and earn their love in return. But I expected reciprocity.
“Where are you?” I grumbled, my hands shoved into my pockets to avoid biting my nails to the quick or punching Beau’s face as soon as I caught sight of it.
Ah, there you are, asshole. I grinned, admittedly unhinged, charging over to interrupt as he strolled out of The Pub, holding the door for his dad to follow.
“Beau Dalton,” I drawled, approaching from behind. He said something to his dad, parting ways as Henry looked on with trepidation.
I won’t murder him, sir. No need to worry. No guarantees he’ll have all of his pieces when he stumbles home, though.
“Good evening, Mr. Dalton,” I called with a wave, gripping Beau’s arm when he got within reach. “Sorry to interrupt. I just need a quick word with Beau. My apologies.”
“Christ,” Beau muttered under his breath. “You’re a real polite fucker when you want to be. Psychopath.” He waved off his dad. “I’ll catch you later at home.”
“Your dad is the size of a Yeti. Of course, I’m going to be polite,” I said, tugging him down the sidewalk by the sleeve of his shirt.
Beau trotted beside me as I dragged him off to… Shit, what was my plan here?
Whatever it was, standing in broad view of The Pub’s windows seemed a piss-poor idea, given the rumblings already circulating about Beau popping up everywhere with Fallon and me.
“Hey, you okay?” Beau asked, following across the dark public lot toward my truck—no hesitation or fear for his safety. The dumbass chuckled. “Fallon gave a cryptic heads-up, but I’m confused—”
The words cut off when I shoved him against the truck, my hand around his throat. “I’m not okay. I’m fucking angry ,” I snarled.
Beau’s hand wrapped over mine, his fingers prying my grip from his windpipe. Reluctantly, I released him.
“You know,” he said softly. “Thought you’d be throwing a party, bestie—”
“I’m not your fucking bestie,” I snapped, furious at his gentle tone. Furious with his jokes. Furious with… “Why, huh? Why can’t my girl let you go? Why did you come back here at all? Away from your fucking life down in sunny L.A. with your fancy fucking celebrities and opportunities?”
Any softness disappeared as Beau clenched his jaw and glared. “You don’t listen if you think that’s my life. I told you, shit’s fucked.”
I barked a laugh, cold and mean. “Yeah, right. Shit’s so fucked there that you come to fuck everyone here, huh? Shake up Fallon’s life like it’s no big deal. Go back, and what? Fuck your actresses? Or hell, maybe actors? Forget about her?”
“That’s what you wanted!” he exploded, standing chest to chest with eyes wild. “You wanted me to leave, to be gone, and then leave her alone. And now, what? You’re pissed at me for doing what you told me to do, Jake? You told me how it was going to go. You never asked if it was what I wanted, and I didn’t complain. I accepted the trade-off. Now you’re pissed about that?”
He swiped the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip, his eyes downcast and his head shaking. “You know who I’m fucking in L.A.? Nobody. No-fucking-body. The last person I was with was Fallon.”
I snorted. “Yeah, no shit. I was there.”
“No,” he seethed, his fist gripping my shirt. “Before that. The last time I was with someone was Fallon at Christmas, because she messed me up when I fell for her and left her alone because your stupid ass came back.”
Chin held high, his eyes flared with fury. Beau planted his legs wide and stared me down, but his indignation only fueled my outrage.
“Real fucking hero, Beau. Keeping your dick in your pants. Well done. That the first time?”
He shoved me, sending me back a few steps. “You think this is easy? It’s not easy for me.”
“Oh, the hell it’s not,” I spat. “You’re making this look effortless.”
I underestimated his speed. Beau’s grip was on me before I registered it, flipping us to pin me to the truck.
“It’s. Not. Like. That,” he gritted, one word at a time. “You think my life is perfect down there? I’m a joke, a goddamn insignificant joke. There. Here. Do you think because I laugh about it too, it doesn’t kill me?
“My heart hurt, Jake. I came home at Christmas with a failing career and a history of people who want my fun without caring about me; thanks for your concern. Your girl put my heart back together. Then she broke it again because I can’t have her since she’s your girl . Now the same thing is happening, but worse because it’s twice as goddamn painful.”
“Why twice, huh?” My lips curved into a faint smile. I wanted the fucker to say it. He wanted to cry about his heartbreak and then run away? This was his choice, and fuck him for making it. “Come on, bestie,” I mocked. “I thought you liked secret time.”
With a tight fist on my collar, he slammed me against the truck again, the air emptying from my lungs with the surprise impact.
“You think that feels good to say? You think I want to be back here? You think I want to be friends with you, knowing you’re the one she loves? That she’s the one you love? That you’re going to go home and fuck her? That she’s going to fuck you?”
He pulled back and shook his head. “That’s her scent on you. Tell me you didn’t have her before you hunted me down to punish me for your rules. I dare you.”
“You think about it?” I cocked my head to take him in. “Who do you think about fucking, Beau? Her? Or me?”
His nostrils flared, heat blazing in his eyes. Oh, Beau didn’t like that.
“Fuck off,” he spat, his fists balled tight at his side.
I grabbed him by the collar, spinning us to reverse positions and caging him against the truck.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I doing?
My heart pounded, my stomach shifted, my dick ached.
Beau Dalton was pinned against my truck, and it was my hips keeping him there, my arms blocking him in, and my breath heavy in the quiet night air as my chest heaved. Even the surrounding darkness couldn’t hide my intentions.
I pressed forward, erasing any space between us to whisper in his ear. “You think about me fucking my girl? My cock inside her? Thrusting deep and filling her? Or do you think about my cock inside of you?”
I pulled back, studying his face for a reaction. Breathing fast, face flushed, eyes dark.
“I can’t tell if you’re angry about that or aroused,” I murmured, my gaze raking over him. “Maybe both.”
I shifted my hips. Beau grunted softly when I rubbed against his hard-on.
Fuck me. I like it. I liked the feeling, and I wished I didn’t. Not because it was another man’s dick responsible for the thickening of mine, but because he wasn’t going to stay.
The reason this was supposed to work in the first place had broken down, and now maybe I would, too.
“Fuck you,” Beau whispered. “You know I think about fucking her. About you… fucking her.”
He didn’t dare move, his body entirely still except for his rising chest. His hands remained tight at his side, and I gripped his shirt roughly and pressed myself closer.
“Do you like me fucking her because it’s her pussy or my dick?”
His eyes fluttered closed. “Don’t ask stupid questions, asshole.”
I brazenly rubbed against him, testing. I didn’t hate it. Judging by his stifled whimper, he didn’t either.
I ground harder. “I think the more obvious question is what you’re going to do about it,” I taunted.
Beau tried to push me off, slipping out as we wrestled for control, and he shoved my back against the door hard enough to cause the metal to bounce beneath my weight.
“Yeah?” he rasped, voice breaking as he leaned into my face. Hardly a few inches apart, I waited for him to kiss me, but he moved no closer to my mouth. “What should I do about it, Jake?”
He pressed against me, heat flushing all over my body.
“Ask,” I murmured. “Ask me about fucking her. You want to. Ask what I did to her an hour ago. How I touched her. How I fucked her. How I filled her, and she’s leaking my cum into her panties right now.”
Beau groaned, hanging his head and breathing hard. His hands splayed on either side of me, fingers flexed.
“I do, yeah,” he admitted. “I want to know what you did to her.”
“Then ask,” I whispered with a low laugh. “Go ahead.”
He leaned forward, his hips rolling to grind against me as his cheek pressed into my neck, and he asked me to tell him every filthy detail, asked how wet she was, how many times she climaxed, and if I hit that spot that had her fingers clawing into the bed and sobbing gibberish.
My hands tangled in his shirt, holding him, hips connected and grinding and dry humping with tiny little groans that echoed in my ear.
“Now, ask me what you really want to know,” I breathed.
Beau’s entire body shuddered. “Did you think of me?”
“Yeah, asshole,” I murmured. “I thought of you.”
Indecent, even in the cover of darkness, to grind on each other in a parking lot. Lewdly groaning and gripping at clothes to pull one another closer. His hands dropped from the truck, grasping my hips to hold me as he thrust and rubbed. I had a death grip on his shirt.
His hand sank between us, palming my dick and squeezing over the fabric. “ Fuck. Want this. Want you,” he breathed against my neck.
Dizzy and lost to his touch, I wetted my lips and managed a pathetic “ Please .”
When Beau bit his lip and groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, I knew he was coming. Dry humping got him there, and the pride of that desire and craving thickened my cock, my entire body tingling as I blew right after.
In my goddamn shorts like a teenage boy.
My hands released his shirt, my fingers aching from the tight grip on the fabric. I cupped the back of his head, pressing him against my neck, fingers twisting in his soft hair. Beau squeezed my hips, panting to catch his breath.
“Like a couple of fifteen-year-olds,” he mumbled. “Embarrassing.”
“Don’t go,” I said quietly. “Not yet.”
A simple request to a complicated situation, but when Beau whispered, “Okay,” it didn’t seem so complicated after all.