Chapter 8
Marco
Kellen had his hands all over me. Everywhere. All at once. In all the perfect ways. Ways I’d imagined. Ways I’d hoped. Ways that turned me the fuck on.
I’d sort of figured he was gay—he kept checking out my ass when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Also, though, he had a sweetness about him.
Even while he’d scorched the pot—because really, how did someone do that?
Even then, he kept his cool. Worried about me.
What I’d think of him. What I’d say that might hurt him.
For all his bravado, he was actually a really sensitive guy.
And his father was an even bigger asshole than I’d given the guy credit for.
I knew about the polluted waterway—his company had been given a slap-on-the-wrist fine that amounted to less than a rounding error with his multibillion-dollar company.
I also knew he was heavily invested in the oil fields of Alberta—belching out their toxic gases as they extracted natural gas.
Frankly, I’d been shocked to find this place didn’t have a gas line. Would’ve been a huge sum of money to bring it in from the road—or wherever the nearest pipeline was—but Mike Parsons could fucking afford it.
Had I, once or twice in the last twenty-four hours, wished for gas and electricity? Yes. If I had them, would Kellen’s fingers be encircling my cock?
Probably not.
I gasped a breath. “Keep that up and it’ll be over sooner than either of us would like.”
“You’re right.” Kellen winked. Then slowly sank beneath the blankets.
I lay on my back. As much as I was expecting his mouth around my cock, it still came as a bit of a surprise. I gasped as he swallowed me down. Oh God, he doesn’t have a gag reflex.
He pulled back a bit—likely so he could breathe—and then he began a concerted effort to make me come. I couldn’t find another word for it. He sucked, he licked, he tongued my slit, he took my balls in his hands— “Yes, Kellen. That.”
I was too hot and yet the idea of throwing off the blankets held little appeal as my nose was already chilled.
His sucking kept going.
Too overwhelmed, too overwrought, I came.
Hard.
Lithely, he crawled up my body. Between my gasps, he thrust his tongue into my mouth.
I tasted myself. I tasted him. I thought the combination was the best thing I’d ever enjoyed in my life. More. More. More.
“Can I blow you?” Heat raced to my cheeks as this wasn’t an offer I made often. A couple of the other grad students were into experimentation—but it hadn’t meant anything like this.
This was everything.
He blew out a breath. “I wish I had a condom.”
I chuckled. “Not likely up here.” In the middle of freaking nowhere. I had thought I’d be alone. I hadn’t thought I’d be desperately wishing for a rubber. When I was younger, my dad always kept some in my bathroom drawer—a tacit way of saying, yes, I know you might have sex. Please do it safely.
My dad and his wisdom were holed up with his husband, safe in Vancouver with all the electricity they could possibly need.
And I was with this beautiful man in Northern—
“Oh shit.”
I stilled. “What?”
He snapped his fingers, then vaulted out of bed.
The cool air hit my very limp dick. Instead of giving in to the desire to burrow back under the covers, I rose, gingerly walked over to the fireplace, and tossed another couple of logs on.
The mantel clock read just past seven. Ah, so we’d been making out longer than I’d thought.
Kellen returned, triumphantly holding up a bottle of lube and two condoms.
I burst out laughing. “I know those weren’t there when I arrived.”
“Nope.” He popped the p. “I had them in my shaving kit. I can’t even remember why but, frankly, does it matter?”
“Nope.” I popped the p. “Just…” I bit my lower lip.
“I can go either way. I prefer to be on top, but if this is your first—”
“Let’s not talk about firsts.” Heat crawled from my chest up to my cheeks. I stilled. “How old are you?”
“Legal, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He snickered.
I arched an eyebrow.
“Twenty-three, if you must know. How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Jesus.” He shook his head.
“What? Too old? Too young?” We were just two years apart, and I certainly looked…about twenty-five. So I couldn’t conceive—
“I didn’t even finish my undergraduate degree, and you’re a PhD student.” His lips thinned. “That’s kind of pathetic. For me,” he rushed to clarify.
“Kellen.” Soft. Coaxing.
“Yeah?” A little wary.
“That doesn’t make any difference to me.
When Troy came back into my life, I discovered he had dropped out of high school and was working a minimum wage job.
He kept his sanity by reading library books.
He’s gone back to school now—studying Canadian Literature.
Do you think I ever, even for a second, judged him? ”
“Vancouver’s an expensive city. You can’t even live on a minimum wage job.” He snickered. “You’re surprised I know that. Because I live in a mansion in Shaughnessy, you think I don’t know about other people.”
“I didn’t know you lived in a mansion in Shaughnessy. Frankly, it didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter,” I quickly added. “I see you for who you are—not who your father is.”
“What do you see?” Misery-filled.
“A man who is at a crossroads. One way leads to certain destruction—maybe even jail and premature death.” I wrapped my arms around myself.
My back, to the fire, was toasty. My front, facing him, was chilled.
“The other way leads to finding your own path in life. Only you can make that choice. Be a better person, or continue to be self-destructive. I can’t choose for you. ”
He blinked several times. “You really think—” His voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You really think I can be a better person?”
“Of course. You had a better start in life than many people—wealth-wise. But I’d say you lacked the love that I had in abundance.
And yeah, things are tight for me financially sometimes.
But my dad helps me out, I work as a teaching assistant, and I have student loans.
I’m still luckier than a whole swath of people out there. ”
“Like your stepfather.”
“Exactly. I’m so damn proud of him. That he accepted my dad’s help when he needed it.
That he admitted his life had been rough for a few years.
That he took the offered assistance, and has built a better life for himself.
He’s someone I can admire. So’s my dad. My mom died when I was younger—Dad stepped up and raised me right. ”
“You’re so lucky.”
I cocked my head.
“My mom took off when I was four. I never heard from her again.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, pretty much. It’s the woe is me story. My dad didn’t give me any love. I was raised by a series of indifferent housekeepers. I was told to stay out of trouble. Which I didn’t do. I even started a degree. Dad made fun of me. So, in a fit of anger, I quit. I’ve been bumming around ever since.”
“That doesn’t sound like a way to live.”
“Yeah, I guess not. I just…I don’t know anything different.”
Slowly, I nodded. “Then you have to figure out a way out of your quagmire. Find a way to chart your own course. Your own path.”
“I don’t—” He swallowed. “I think that’s too hard.”
“Too hard is winding up in jail or dead. That’s hard.”
He sniffed. “You’re not wrong about that.” He held up the lube and condoms.
I grinned. “Hell fucking yes.”
We dove under the covers at the same time. The flannel sheet cooled my scorching-hot ass. My nipples had pebbled in the cold—a totally contradictory sensation. I worried about getting hard again.
I needn’t have.
Kellen nibbling behind my ear—then scraping his cheek down mine—had my libido waking again. I could barely remember his blow job as he again took me in his hand. “So, am I fucking you?” His gaze met mine.
“That. Yes. Please.”
“Cool. Do you mind if I prep you? Some guys don’t like it…but I find there’s an intimacy to it. Not that I’d ever share that with any of my hookups.”
Proof, at least tacitly, that this was more than just a hookup. More than just a you’re here and I’m here, so let’s fuck. “I’d love for you to prep me. I’m—” I swallowed. “This is new for me.”
He pressed a hard kiss to my lips. “Oh, I’m going to love being your first.” He scooched closer. “On your back? I want to see your face so I can figure out if things are working or not.”
I had absolute faith in him. Not just because he’d done this many times before, although that helped.
No, I trusted him implicitly. He wasn’t going to hurt me.
He wasn’t going to take advantage of my na?veté.
So I rolled onto my back, in the middle of the bed, settled a pillow behind my head, and spread my knees for him.
He grinned and settled himself, kneeling between my thighs. He donned a condom over his very erect and sizable cock. Then he dribbled lube onto his fingers. He held my gaze.
I nodded.
He lazily trailed his fingers around my rim.
I squirmed.
He pressed a finger inside. Just one.
I adjusted to the odd sensation. Funny, I knew I liked guys, but I’d never done this to myself before.
He added a second finger. He scissored and worked at opening me up.
Taking deep breaths, I tried to stay loose. My erection curved up toward my belly and leaked a drip of precum.
Then he hit a spot inside me and my cock jerked. “Is that…?”
He grinned. “Prostate. Pretty freaking awesome, eh?” He brushed his finger over the spot several more times.
More precum leaked. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
Slowly, he slid his fingers from me.
Instantly, I felt bereft. I might’ve whined.
He grinned, coated his cock with lube, then lined himself up at my entrance. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Which was the truth. I expected a bit of pain. I hoped for a moment of tenderness on his part.
In the end, I got both.
He was as gentle as could be as he pressed into me. His crown was large. I was untested. He had to grit his teeth as he worked inside me.
Then the pressure eased.
He grinned. “Slow and steady.”
“Sure.” I might’ve whined that.
As he promised, he’d press in a bit, then pull out a bit. Press in a bit farther. Pull out again. Over and over until he was finally seated. He caught my gaze.
I nodded.
“Good. Now, grab your cock.”
I hurried to obey.
“When I start thrusting, you jerk yourself, okay? I want you to come first. I need you to come first.”
Not only could I obey, but the warmth of his gaze shot heat skittering through my veins. “Okay.”
A grin. “Then let’s do this.”
And so we did.