Francesca

33 Christian

I hear Jamie walk out the front door.

There was a time I would’ve tensed at the sound- wondered what he was getting into, what kind of trouble he was about to find. Something reckless or messy that I would wind up cleaning up.

Now, I don’t even think twice. He’s probably just getting some air. Going for a walk. Clearing his head. Maybe going to see Francesca.

The change in him still catches me off guard.

When he asked me for a job, I figured it wouldn’t stick. A few days, maybe. Just something to fill time between jobs for his dad.

But he didn’t go back.

That alone would’ve surprised me.

What surprises me more is how seriously he’s taking it. Showing up. Putting in the work. Not cutting corners. Not looking for an out. And staying sober the whole time… This version of Jamie, the clean, focused one is a force to be reckoned with.

I lie there in the dark, a quiet sense of something settling in my chest.

Jamie’s clean and Frankie’s home.

I settle into bed, a smile on my face, when I hear it.

Ryan’s voice, slightly muffled, but clear enough.

“Fuck Frankie.”

It sets my nerves on fire.

I picked this room when I moved in here because it was on the other side of the wall from Frankie’s. It’s not the primary bedroom- is actually the smallest of the three- but I didn’t care. I wanted to be as close to her as I could be.

I’m really regretting that now.

“Oh god, Ryan-”

Okay, nope. I might be trying to figure out how the hell this works between all of us- how we make it work, because it has to work- but I’m not enough of a masochist to lie here and listen to that.

I get up and head to the shower, making it as cold as I can handle. It marginally helps.

When I get out, the hall is still dark and I assume Jamie isn’t home, but as I pass his room, I see his silhouette in the dark. Sitting on the bed. Unmoving.

A bit of panic rises in me, and I’m instantly next to him on the bed, uncaring that I’m only wearing a towel around my waist.

“Jamie- what’s wrong. What’s going on?”

I raise my arm to hug his shoulders but pause, unsure if me touching him will trigger him.

“My fucking father,” he says. Despite the pain in his voice, I can tell he’s still clean. It calms me.

“What happened?” I ask, dropping my arm back to my side.

He doesn’t look at me. His elbows are braced on his knees, hands hanging loose between them.

“He says Gary’s back,” he says.

My stomach twists. “We always knew he was out there. We’ll handle it.”

Jamie’s hands curl into fists. “I know. I just…” He exhales hard. “I keep seeing it. What he did to her. The hell he put her through.”

He finally sits up, looking at me.

“I just hate thinking about the shit he put her through.” His jaw tightens. “That place we saw today? That dump?” He shakes his head. “That was better than what she had here.”

Something cold settles in my chest.

“It will never be like that again,” I say, steady, certain.

“I know, but…” His voice falters. “I don’t know if she’s better off here. With me, I mean.”

“She is,” I say, quieter now, but just as firm.

I hold his gaze. “She’s safer here than anywhere else. With anyone else.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just nods once.

“That’s not all,” he finally adds.

My shoulders tighten. “What else?”

“He wants money.” Jamie lets out a short breath. “Says I owe him. That he lost work when I quit. That I need to pay him back.” His mouth twists. “It’s bullshit.”

“How much?” I ask, already knowing the answer doesn’t matter. He tells me. Then folds forward again, elbows on his knees.

“I don’t want to pay him,” he says. “He doesn’t deserve it. But I don’t know what he’ll do with Gary, how he’ll try to come after Frankie if I don’t.” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have it,” he says sighing.

“I’ll pay it.”

His head snaps up. “No.”

“It’s not- ”

“Stop.” His voice cuts, sharp. “I’m not your responsibility. You’ve already done more than I deserve. You gave me a job. You kept me going when I wouldn’t have on my own. Hell, you didn’t even charge me rent. I’m not letting you fix this too.”

I want to argue. And I will. I will argue and fight with this man until he understands that he does deserve all that. And more.

Just not right now.

“Okay,” I say evenly. “So that’s it? Gary’s back, and your dad’s shaking you down?”

Jamie lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. That’s all.” Then he barks out a laugh. “Actually, it’s not.”

“What else?”

Jamie doesn’t look at me.

“He asked if I was having fun,” he says quietly. “Playing house with my boyfriend.”

I swallow. “Jamie- ” I keep my voice even. “He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“That’s what I told myself too,” he says quietly. “That it doesn’t matter what he thinks. That it isn’t true.”

He finally looks at me fully then. His eyes are pleading and it makes my chest tighten.

“The problem,” he says, voice rough, “is that I want it to be true.”

The words land between us, raw and bare.

We are both breathing heavily, our chests moving in sync almost.

Then we collide.

Really, I crash into him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him to me, slamming my mouth against his, knocking my glasses askew, a clashing of lips and teeth and tongue.

It’s almost feral, both of us fighting for dominance.

He growls against my mouth, and it ignites something deep within me. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer.

Finally, we break apart just enough to breathe, foreheads pressed together. I move a hand to his hair and grasp the strands firmly, like I’m holding us steady.

“I…” His voice trembles. “I want this. You. But…” He swallows. “Frankie.”

“I know,” I say quietly. “I know. Me too.”

I pull back just enough to look at him.

He shakes his head immediately. “I don’t know how to shut that off.”

“Me neither,” I say. “But I can’t fight this anymore.”

His eyes search mine. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not choosing,” I say, more firmly now. “Not between you. Not between any of this.”

He studies me, head tilting slightly. “How?”

A rough laugh slips out of me. “I don’t fucking know,” I say honestly. “I just know I’m not giving her up. I love her.”

I hesitate for only a second before I stop holding anything back.

“But I’m in love with you too, Jamie.”

The words don’t scare me once they’re out, but even so I don’t think I breathe for a moment, watching for him to react.

He pulls back just long enough to grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it off in one smooth motion.

It’s dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside, shadows carving over the muscle of his chest and stomach. I’ve seen his chest a thousand times, but this feels like the first time I can really look at it.

I can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out of me.

“What?” he asks, a flicker of nerves cutting through his voice.

I lean forward and press a kiss to his chest, just beneath his throat. Then another, slightly lower. I keep going, my mouth mapping him slowly, words threaded between each kiss.

“It’s always pissed me off,” kiss, “how unfairly hot you are,” kiss, “despite your incredibly unhealthy lifestyle.”

I reach his nipple and pause there, brushing my lips over it before flicking my tongue lightly.

“Shit- Chris- ” he breathes, but I don’t stop.

“I run miles every week,” kiss, “eat balanced meals,” kiss, “do all the right things,” kiss, “and I will never,” kiss, “look like this.”

I trail my tongue along a black slash of ink cutting across his abs, his infuriating six pack, following the line as it curves to the waistband of his pants.

His hands slide into my hair and he pulls me up until we’re face to face, foreheads almost touching.

“Christian,” he says, voice steady but thick with something I don’t hear from him often. Emotion.

His gaze drops, taking in the towel, my naked torso. “I don’t understand this,” he admits. “I’ve never looked twice at a guy. Never thought of myself as bi or anything, but with you…”

His mouth quirks slightly. “I think I’m Christian-sexual, if that’s a thing.”

A quiet warmth spreads through my chest.

“In all my fucked-up partying, I’ve never done this,” he adds, softer now. “Never been with a man. Like, I’ve had threesomes, but I never touched the guy. Never wanted them to.”

“Me neither,” I say. Then, after a beat I add, “I haven’t been with anyone in five years.”

He blinks. “What? Seriously?”

I nod. “Since I realized how I felt about Francesca. She was too young. I knew I’d be waiting.” A small exhale escapes me. “I just didn’t think it would be this long.”

Something shifts in his expression- guilt, maybe. “I’m sorry. For all the girls I brought through here. I think- ” he huffs a breath “-I think I was trying to prove I didn’t want you.”

I cut him off with a kiss. Firm. Certain. “I know,” I whisper against his lips.

He exhales, shoulders dropping slightly.

“Fuck. I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. “Either of you.”

“Hey.” My voice sharpens just enough. “Listen to me, James Marshall.”

His eyes snap to mine.

“You deserve good things. You deserve love. And I’m not letting you think otherwise. Do you understand me?”

He nods. A beat passes before his voice drops again, quieter this time.

“Stand up,” he murmurs. “Please. I want to see you.”

I hold his gaze for a long second then push to my feet.

He shifts closer, pulling me between his spread thighs, hands lifting towards the towel.

I stop him, catching his wrists in mine.

“We don’t need to do anything tonight, Jamie,” then I laugh, “hell, we may need to do some fucking research to figure this all out.”

He tilts his head up and raises an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I can figure out how to suck your dick.”

I forget to breathe as he gives me the most wickedly sexy grin imaginable. Then he slowly pulls the towel away from my body.

My cock has never been harder and when he lowers his head and takes the tip of it into his mouth, I’m thankful that I jerked off in the shower twenty minutes ago. Otherwise, with how good this feels, I know I’d come immediately.

“Holy shit Jamie,” I breathe out, my hands gripping his head.

I was twenty the last time I fooled around with anyone, but I do not remember any of the blowjobs I received back then feeling anything like this.

This isn’t teasing or trying to be sexy.

There is something strong and powerful in his movements, like he knows exactly what he is doing to me, knows what will drive me crazy.

Probably because he does.

He flicks his tongue along the bottom of my shaft. He takes one hand and grips my balls, the other grabs my ass and pulls my body further into him. He looks up at me, wide eyed, then sucks in a deep breath through his nose as I feel him fucking swallow my cock deep into his throat.

“Fucking hell, oh my god, Jamie. I can’t- pull back. I can’t stop-”

He pulls back the slightest bit and takes a deep breath, then swallows me back down again and I explode, deep into his throat, coming with a force that surprises even me. I see his eyes widen and he pulls back, choking and coughing a bit, my cum dripping out of his mouth.

“Sorry-sorry. I tried to warn you-”

He looks at me and smiles, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. Then he winks, “I’ll get better at swallowing.”

I smile, a quiet laugh slipping out as he leans forward to untie his boots.

Without thinking, I drop into a crouch and take over, brushing his hands away as I start working the laces loose.

There’s something about it- about being down here, undressing him like this- that feels unexpectedly intimate. It feels soft and gentle, unlike the normal frenzy of foreplay I remember in the past.

I slide one boot off, then the other, setting them aside before my hands move to the waistband of his jeans.

He leans back on his elbows, watching me as I undo the button and zipper. He raises his hips and I ease them down his legs.

When he’s only wearing his tight black boxer briefs I stand up and stare down at him. I can make out the shape and size of his hard dick through them.

“You really are fucking sexy,” I say, then crawl over his body. I’ve always been big, broad, strong, but I’ve never had the cut, defined muscles Jamie has. I find myself wanting to run my tongue over each and every one of them.

I move, laying on my side next to him and snake my hand down his abs, under the waistband of his underwear and grab his cock.

I pause when my finger makes contact with-

“Holy shit Jamie. Is that-”

He laughs. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have any other piercings,” I say, sitting back a bit to scan his body, double checking that I didn’t miss one.

“Well, I started with what is apparently the most painful one you can get. Didn’t make me want any more.”

I shake my head a bit at this crazy, sexy, beautiful, wild man. “I need to see this,” I say, moving and grabbing the waistband with both hands. He lifts his hips again as I tug the shorts down.

Of course, his dick is as perfect as the rest of him. One of his tattoos curves around from his back, stopping on his hip bone, lining up with that V of muscle I’ve never quite gotten.

But of course Jamie has it.

I wrap my hand around him, feeling the metal balls on the top and bottom of the head of his cock.

“It’s called an apadravya and I don’t recommend it.” Then he groans and drops back onto the bed. “Actually, never mind, it feels fucking incredible. Don’t stop that, please.”

I shift and move off the bed but keep stroking him the whole time. When I’m on my knees in front of him, I take a second to just gaze at his body. He’s so beautiful, so strong. I wish he believed that too.

I lean forward and lick his head and he moans.

“Christian, I’m not okay. I’m not… gonna last.”

Well, then, I better make it good.

I move my hand down to the base of his cock and wrap my mouth around the top half, surprised for half a second that I’m not freaking out about giving head.

But this is Jamie. This is right.

I move my head up and down while jerking my hand in time and it’s only about thirty seconds until Jamie sits back up on his elbows.

“Holy shit, that’s hot, Chris. Oh my god. If you don’t want to- I’m about to-”

I don’t pull off, just speed up my jerking until I feel a warm rush of liquid explode in my mouth as he yells out my name.

I look up at him as I swallow.

He huffs out a sigh. “Of course, you are better at swallowing than me.”

I laugh quietly, as we curl up beneath the blankets, his warmth pressed into mine. He takes my glasses off and sets them on the bedside table. There’s no conversation, no decision to sleep here together, just the unspoken understanding that this is where we’re staying.

It would take a tornado ripping through this house to make me let him go- and even then, I’d probably just hold on tighter.