Jacob's Ladder (20 page)

“
Shh
.” His hands were shaking so badly that I caught them between my own.

They were cold, and without thinking, I brought them to my mouth to warm them.

“Will you just level off?” I rubbed his fingers. “We can go slow. We can take one thing at a time and decide, yes or no. All right?”

“All right.” He relaxed, and his hands warmed up. “Slow sounds good.”

“I"ll put your clothes here.” I picked up his trousers and held my hand out for his shirt. He seemed to shrug off his residual anxiety and pulled his T-shirt over his head and handed both to me. I laid everything carefully over a chair and turned back to the bed.

“Need my shorts?” He looked down, red-faced but ready to pull them off.

“I think you can keep them for now. They look hot.” I pulled off his socks, though, because as many times as I"ve seen a guy in porn wearing nothing but socks, it never fails to make me laugh.

“Can I get rid of your jeans?” His hands hovered over my fly.

I held my hands at my sides. “You can do whatever you like.” St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

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“I want to touch you.” He opened the button on my jeans gingerly. “I want to taste you.”

I watched as he carefully lowered my zipper. Then I put my hand on his head, into the brush of brown hair there. It was cut precisely, long on the top and neat over the ears and tapered into the neck. It felt good, and I stroked it a little, petting him. He couldn"t control his beard, heavy and coppery in the light, with that same precision. I loved its bristly, rough texture under my fingertips and stroked his cheeks to feel it more than once.

“You have these golden spots that feel like sandpaper,” I pointed out, although to him it must have seemed a rather absurd observation. But they made him appear to glisten, and I thumbed the scratchiness over his mouth before he moved in to press his lips to my dick. I stayed still—and it killed me—while he lapped at my cock delicately, his first vague exploration. He nuzzled in and tasted, breathed in my scent. I found it excruciating. Embarrassing. But so fucking sexy that I nearly blew in his face as he gathered the fluid leaking from the tip onto his tongue.

He stayed there a minute and then pulled me down to share a deep, intimate kiss that brought my flavor back to me.

Holy cow!

What a mouth. He had a full upper lip with a defined, perfectly formed cupid"s bow, and a lower lip that begged to be nipped between my teeth. He shifted back on the bed, and I crawled up to stay close to that fucking, fabulous mouth, and then I bit down gently. That tiny pinch of pain caused him to moan and shift beneath me; his legs fell open loosely, and his arms tightened around me, and the next thing I knew I was swinging a leg over his thighs—straddling him—to get closer.

I was determined to squeeze all the air from between us, and it made me want to press him down, to cover him and gather him up beneath me until we were flesh against flesh in the most primitive way.

“Fuck, Yasha.” He moved his hand up to cup the back of my neck and kissed me with everything he had. I pressed my hips to his and felt the knob of his erection jutting against my own.

“What do you want? You want to fuck me?” I whispered. I was ready to give him whatever he needed, even though I ached with a few needs of my own.

He shook his head. “I want you to fuck me.” His hips rocked frantically as he ground against me.

“Are you sure? We can wait. I can give you pleasure all kinds of ways without that.”

“You don"t want it?”

“Oh hell yes, I want it. I just don"t want to move too fast for you.”

“I want it too,” he told me, fresh determination in his eyes. “I want to be with you like that.”

I backed off slowly and watched his face for clues. After a while, during which I saw nothing but sincerity—no fear and no distaste—I helped him turn beneath me.

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“All right, then. Here.”

It was time for those briefs to hit the floor. I pulled at them, and they twisted in my hands until I got them off his feet, a tiny figure eight of fabric and elastic that smelled like him when I sent it sailing off the bed.

I positioned myself between his legs and kissed the curve of his spine, running my tongue all along the length of it, up and down, dipping lower and lower into the cleft between his ass cheeks each time. His body tensed and sizzled beneath my mouth, his skin trembling when I tickled it. I parted his thighs and brushed him with my lips, a brief, intimate kiss. He chuckled with embarrassment and nearly whined with need.

“Nightstand drawer.” I pointed. “I have lube and condoms.” He reached over, lifting his body just enough for me to wedge a hand beneath him to fondle his balls. The rumbling, purring nose sounded so much like his truck, I nearly laughed. He handed me the supplies and pushed his hands under his chin, content to lie there while I familiarized myself with him.

“Might feel a little odd,” I said, squeezing lube into my hand to warm it.

He turned and gazed at me with apprehensive green eyes. “I trust you.”

“Do you?” I asked, slipping a slick finger along his perineum and circling his tightly puckered hole.

JT tipped his head and smiled, and it took my breath away. “Yes, Yasha. More than…anyone really.”

“Just say the word, and I"ll stop anytime, no matter what. You know that, right?”

“I know.” JT shook his head. “Jeez, you"d think you"d never done this before.” I breached him with the tip of one finger, gently, and he flinched. I smoothed my hand over the muscles of his ass to soothe him. I remembered he had a plug, so I knew he wasn"t completely unused to penetration. “Steady.”

“I was just…” He put his forehead down on his arms. “Go ahead.”

“I am.” I circled and tapped the tight sphincter that guarded his channel until it gave way, and my finger slipped in.

“Ahh.” JT breathed out. “Feels good.”

“To me too.” I loved the heat of him, the way he clenched around the invasion.

I sucked on the tender skin on the inside of his thigh and felt him push against my finger as he tried to get me to go deeper. “More?”

“Yeah.
Yes. Please
.” JT panted. “
More
.”

“Better than a plug?”

“Shh…
shit
,” he hissed.

I added a second finger, and soon he was pushing back against me, begging me to fill him. I pulled him up to his knees, and he positioned himself on his elbows. He St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

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held his head hidden in his forearms, deep in the pillows, while he offered his ass to me like a gift.

I nudged my knees between his thighs and continued to work him, opening a condom with my teeth, rolling it on with my left hand, none too easily, as I"m better with my right. I fumbled it a little because my hands were shaking, and I knew if I couldn"t have JT soon, I"d blow right there, all over his back, and how embarrassing would that be? He"d never let me have control again.

He made a strangled noise when I pulled my fingers away. I lined up my cock and pressed at his entrance, nudging my way into him as I cupped the skin of his back and his ass, finding it felt like stiff, hairy bread dough, something firm and dense like super-wheat, whole-grain
pain de champagne
, the baker in me kneading it, smoothing the knots in the tough muscles there.

Soon I was balls-deep in the incredible heat of his ass, and he was moaning with each push, grunting with each drag back. Vocal and flexible and taking as much pleasure as he could, pulling pleasure from my body in every way he could.

He grabbed for my hand and drew it to his cock, only semierect and dangling between his legs, and when I wrapped my fist around it, I felt it tighten and fill, slick at the tip, sweaty at the balls, and all mine to control, just as I controlled the pace in the heady, steady ebb and flow of our fucking.

Then, as if it were magic, he and I found a rhythm, a frantic rocking tempo that met both our needs, and it felt like we soared together. As if it were a foregone conclusion between us, I surged over him and he arched beneath me, and for the first time ever I wished I could see it, capture it on video, because it felt perfect and beautiful, not just my fucking him, but his taking my desire, intensifying it, then passing it back.

“Fuck,
JT
.”

“So hot.” He dug in and pushed back. I met him fully extended, so far deep inside him I felt his heartbeat all along my cock. “Harder.” I slipped my hands under his arms and cupped his shoulders, pulling him toward me, spearing him on my dick over and over. “C"mon, baby,” I chanted, wanting to feel him clench around me in release. “Give it to me.”

“It"s yours.” He panted. “Whatever you want.
Take it
.”

“I just want you,” I whispered, nipping at the skin on his back. His muscles tightened with each thrust. “Come for me.”

JT growled low in his throat, the sound a little chilling in the otherwise quiet room. “
Yasha
!”

I felt hot cum splash onto my hand where I stroked his shaft, even as his body tightened all around me. Mine shuddered and stopped at the apex of my pleasure, hanging on the precipice of the best orgasm of my life. “Fuck,
Jason. Fuck, fuck
.”

“
Yasha
!” He pressed back until we were a single entity, flesh and bone and two hearts that rocketed in the exact same rhythm like trip-hammers. My muscles strained with his to stay connected, so that even when I softened and slid from the 116

Z. A. Maxfield

warmth of his body we floated down to the bed together, and he stayed that way, wrapped in my arms and gripping my wrists as if he never wanted me to let him go.

I pressed my lips to the back of his neck and breathed in the scent: jiz and sweat, and resignation, maybe. Eventually I got rid of the condom in a trash bin someone had thoughtfully placed next to the bed.

It didn"t surprise me that he never let me turn him toward me. He kept his face buried in the pillow, even as he pressed back into my arms. I brushed my lips along the back of his neck and held on, knowing that what he felt wasn"t personal.

That it was as inevitable as my feigning sleep while he gently dislodged me so he could get up and dress. As inevitable as the regret I knew we both felt when I heard the door close behind him.

St. Nacho’s 3: Jacob’s Ladder

117

Chapter Eighteen

I didn"t wake up until the phone rang at seven. Dan didn"t bother with a preamble.

“Do you ever get the feeling that neither one of us is much of a judge of character?”

I ignored that. I knew what he meant. I"d ask him later how he knew that JT

had come back. “Good morning,” I said, sitting up.
Shit
. Sticky turns into stuck in the morning, and it"s neither fun nor spanky. “I need a shower, and then I"ll be ready for breakfast.”

“Great. Thanks to Carl from the front desk, I"ve already been to pick up my car from Nacho"s. I want to take a drive around. See what"s here. See what could be here. This is an amazing little town.”

“I want to stop by Miss Independence and introduce you to Mary Catherine.”

“She"s the one who"s offered you a job?”

“Yeah. You could take a look at the place she"s got her eye on. See what you think.”

“Sure.”

“I"ll be ready in thirty.” I hung up and blew out a deep breath. If Dan really had seen JT leave last night, I"d have some explaining to do.

When I was dressed and ready to go, I left my room and found Dan outside my door, leaning against his Lexus, smoking a cigarette. He unlocked the doors, and we got in, taking our time fastening our seat belts. Dan keyed the ignition and turned to look at me while the wipers eradicated the condensation from the outside of the windshield and air defogged it from the inside.

“Thirty minutes. What a refreshing change from cooling my heels until lunchtime before I can go out to breakfast.”

“Women care what they look like,” I pointed out. “Clearly I don"t share that.”

“Your guys like what they see apparently.”

“I guess.”

Dan hesitated, grinding his cigarette out. “Look. Do we have to have a talk about self-respect?”

“No.” It was cold, and I waited for the car to warm up. “We do not.”

“Do I have to remind you that some guys will take what you have to offer and never, ever admit it publicly? Doesn"t that bother you?” 118

Z. A. Maxfield

“When the hell is the expiration date on those brotherly meddling minutes?”

“No time soon,” he growled, putting the car in reverse and backing it out of the parking space. “When will you start looking out for yourself?”

“I do all right.”

“That must be why a man in Los Angeles beat the crap out of you. That must be why you"re happy to be Closet Lad"s dirty little secret.”

“You have enough shit to worry about. Don"t you have a divorce to plan?” Dan clenched his teeth.

“I"m sorry.” I looked out the window on the foggy coastal morning as he left the parking lot at a crawl toward Miss Independence. You could hardly see fifty feet ahead, and he was being cautious. “I know I"m not doing myself any favors. I didn"t expect to want to stay here. When JT showed up last night… I don"t know. I wanted him. Surely that"s happened to you?”

“Not for a while.”

“You were never tempted? Nothing against BreeAnna, but she seemed kind of—”

“Cold?” Dan shook his head. “That was…maybe my fault. I thought loving a girl because she was bright and pretty would be enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“To make up for not wanting her very much.” He turned to me when I would have pursued that, and held his hand up. I had my mouth open, ready to ask what the hell he meant by that, but that hand stopped me. “I don"t want to talk about me right now.”

“But—”

“Leave it. I just…don"t.”

I closed my lips over my questions for the moment, but my heart raced.
What
the hell
? “Me neither.”

“Fair enough. This fog is insane. Is that the place?” He pointed to the warehouse-style building that housed Miss Independence Pies.