Stay With Me (16 page)

To his credit, he didn’t drop eye contact with me as he pushed his jeans farther down his thighs. I stared at the outline of his thick cock through his boxers and hoped I was as strong as I thought I was. Dropping to your knees is a poor way to show someone you’re in control. But arousal seemed to be sucking the air clear out of the room. I felt hazy and overheated as I wormed a finger in between my shirt collar and my neck, pulling the shirt from the heat of my skin.

“Keep going,” I snapped.

His eyes narrowed at my tone, but that didn’t stop him from pulling down his briefs. His cock sprang free from his neatly trimmed thatch of dark fuzz, thick and long, eight inches of sculpted perfection. Smooth, silky-looking balls hung low behind, dusted with fine hair.
Move over, David
, I silently told Michelangelo.

“You manscape?” I asked dubiously. Another straight guy myth right out the door.

“Sometimes. It’s cleaner,” he said defensively. “Anything wrong with being clean?”

My hands drifted over his balls, those perfectly round spheres, my fingers teasing, probing. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

He jerked a little and then let out a shaky breath as I continued my exploration.

“Please don’t stop,” he managed, knuckles turning white as he gripped the desk.

He gave me far too much credit. I didn’t think I could.

“Touch yourself,” I managed.

“I thought that’s what you were here for,” he said smartly.

I thumped a finger against his balls, and he yelped a bit. I continued rubbing them in the palm of my hand with a smirk at his glare. “In due time. Show me how much you want it first.”

Seriously, would he go up in flames with all that blushing? It couldn’t be healthy. Combined with the flush of his arousal, I don’t think he had any more blood left for important bodily functions. He was far too aroused to deny me anything. If I’d asked him to lift his legs and finger his own asshole, I thought he just might. Just the thought sent a frisson of lust through my body, and I had to quickly think of something else, anything else. Baseball. Hockey.
No, not the man-on-man action!
I scolded my panicked brain. Scores and stats.

His hand drifted down to his cock, and I was lost. He worked his hand up and down his length with a sure grip. He slid a finger through the leaking slit, maintaining eye contact, and a groan slipped past my lips. He had picked up quite a rhythm by this time, and suddenly I looked past the beautiful sight unfolding in front of me and recognized the signs. His eyes had drifted shut, the tendons in his neck stood out stark underneath satin skin, and his balls were tight as a drum. He was closer than I’d realized. I didn’t know what the result of our little experiment would be, but there was no way he was coming anywhere but my mouth.

“Put your hands on the desk,” I said, my voice thick and husky with arousal.

He pumped his cock through his tight fist twice more before groaning and letting his hands drift to the desk. He flopped back flat on the desk, his erection an impressive monument to my powers of seduction. “Mac, I asked you to help me, not give me a coronary.”

I pulled my chair directly in front of his jerking cock. “No reason you can’t have both,” I said, smartass to the end, and engulfed him fully in my mouth.

“Jesus!” He popped back up like a jack-in-the-box.

I bobbed up and down on his hard cock like he was candy because, well, he was. Every time I pulled back, his hips jerked upward to reclaim every inch of space in my mouth.

“Damn it,” he swore, his breathing fast and heavy. “You’re… really fucking talented, you know that?”

“I do,” I confirmed, pulling back just enough so the tip remained in my mouth. I tongued the spongy head gently before digging in the salty slit with my tongue. He nearly came off the desk, and I braced my forearms on his thighs, continuing my journey, seeking more of the salty fluid. At this point, he was leaking so much I could hardly keep up.

“God, I’ve never felt anything like this,” he said fervently.

I was too busy to respond, of course, but my licking turned smug. Of course he hadn’t. Not only did I love cock, but turns out I
really
loved his cock. And I had one thing on Rachel when it came to sucking cock. I had one. And I knew what I liked.

I took my time exploring his shaft, running my teeth along his satiny length and then sucking him down to the root. I’d never been so glad my gag reflex was weak.

When I pulled back, he let out a bereft sound, and I met his eyes. He was watching me, eyes half-closed, stormy blue orbs demanding that I finish what I’d started. My nostrils flared, filled with the scent of his arousal and mine. His cock towered in front of my face, precum making the purplish head shiny and slick. It was time to mock him, time to throw his own desire in his face.

I hesitated just a second too long, and his impatient fingers tunneled through my hair, not pushing, not tugging, but caging my head in front of his dripping cock.

“Suck me,” he demanded, and my cock leaped in response.

If anyone else had said that, I would have been irritated. Angry. But the contrast between patient, unfailingly polite Jordan who wasn’t sure if he was gay and authoritative, turned-on Jordan instructing me to suck him right-the-fuck now pretty much emptied my head of ninety percent of my thinking capability. The burst of flavor on my tongue when I finally took him in my mouth blew out the rest. Suddenly I was an empty-headed sex doll who wanted nothing more than to be face-fucked.

I groaned as the hot flesh slid through the suction of my mouth.

“God!” He clenched his fingers in my hair as I made my way up and down his cock—up, and then down again, losing myself in the rhythm. “Fuck!”

I had a moment of satisfaction that I’d reduced the professional wordsmith to grunts and monosyllabic words before tightening my fingers on his hips. I concentrated on taking as much of his length into my mouth as I could while stroking the rest with a firm hand.

He knocked my hand away and gripped my head on both sides. My eyes went wide, and my mouth parted in surprise. That apparently was the only opening he needed, as he surged between my lips again. My eyes fluttered shut, and I reminded myself to keep them open so I wouldn’t miss a minute. When he started pumping his hips to meet the rhythm of my bobbing head, I realized he was going to fulfill my wish. I let him face-fuck me roughly, his balls slapping against my chin with every thrust of his cock down my throat. My voice was going to sound fucked out, but I didn’t care as I tightened the tunnel of my throat.

He made a strangled sound like he was trying to hold back, and then a shout followed when he failed. He exploded in my mouth, hot blasts of cum shooting down my throat in unbelievable volume.

I only had a second’s notice before my sac went tight and my throbbing cock shot off, sending white cream shooting God knows where. I groaned as my body shook, a little shell-shocked. I didn’t think I’d ever come without even touching myself.

I licked every drop from his cock, pulling back when the head became sensitive. I closed my eyes for a minute, enjoying the moment, that satisfaction that comes after bone-rattling sex.

“Goddamn, Mackenzie. I don’t think I’m going to be able to move for a month.” When I opened my eyes, Jordan was surveying me with a lazy expression I knew mirrored my own. And that was wrong.

“Even though it’s a case of when the wrong one loves you the right way?” My eyebrows climbed my forehead like Mount Kilimanjaro.

He flushed. “Come on. You’re so good at making me out to be a villain.”

“You don’t get hurt feelings, Jordan. I’m the one who just got face-fucked before you came down my throat.”

The words made his eyes drop to my mouth, and suddenly the room was very quiet. Yeah, I could see a round two. And a three and a four, until we were both sweaty, sticky messes, exhausted husks of our former selves.

My hands clenched on the arms of my chair. What had I proven? That he liked getting a blow job? That he loved sex? Who didn’t? I was no closer to making him
mine
, and I wasn’t clueless enough to pretend I didn’t want him. But I wanted
all
of him, not just to be his… goddamned booty call.

My gaze shot up to his, and he sat up straighter at the fury in my expression. Yeah, I’ll admit, I changed gears pretty quickly. But the fact that he was so hot he’d distracted me from my leaving-him-high-and-dry plan just served to make me madder.

I ignored his “Oh boy, here it comes” mutter as well as I stood. He busied himself, pushing off my desk and then tucking back into his pants.

“Good enough, then? Better than Rachel?” I gave him a push, and he stumbled back a bit. “I’m not an experiment. You come find me when it’s more than a curiosity, Jordan.”

He frowned. “What about you?” Of course he would be the kind of guy that cared whether I came or not. Which made me even angrier. I didn’t bother to tell him that he’d been so hot coming that I’d shot off in my pants like a fucking teenager.

“You sure you’re ready for that, Jordan? Ready to take me in your mouth? Feel me, taste every bit of me? Have me hitting the back of your throat with my dick until you don’t know where I start and you end? Taste me coming in your mouth and swallow it all down like a good little cocksucker?” Despite his denials, his eyes were still dilated and his nostrils flared in arousal. I certainly knew what it was doing to me. “Because that’s really, really
gay
, Jordan. All of those things.”

He stared at me for a minute, the expression in his eyes completely unreadable. And then he jammed his hands into my hair. “Damn it, Mackenzie, you drive me absolutely crazy.”

He pushed me up against the wall, even as I pushed back ineffectually. He ground against my suddenly hard cock. Hard. Again. His hands weren’t gentle as his mouth slanted over mine. Hungry. Seeking. Tongues and teeth and everything else as we rubbed against each other like two cats in heat. I pushed at his shoulders, and he didn’t move at all. He was so much stronger than me, in fact, that I realized suddenly that he’d always been in control.

I finally managed to push him off, ignoring the fact that I really wanted to pull him closer. Near me. On me. Inside me.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He sighed, shoving a hand through his hair in mute frustration. After a moment, he said “Should be fairly obvious.”

“You got what you wanted,” I said hollowly, unsure of why, exactly, I felt so angry. “Now go.” I couldn’t say why tears had sprung to my eyes, but I’d be damned if he’d see me shed them. “
Go
.”

So he went.

I sank down in my chair, fumbling in my drawer for the one thing I needed more than air. I found the crinkled pack and my lighter easy enough, and lit one with shaking hands. I really didn’t need a cigarette. I needed a fucking exorcist, because every cell of my body was crying out for someone I couldn’t have. I let it burn to ash between my two fingers without taking a single puff, staring at the gleaming end.

“Y
OU
SHOULD
come up and see the bed-and-breakfast. It’s everything I ever dreamed of. And I know Peyton is practically dying to meet you.” There was a long pause. “I’m not going to stop calling until you answer. You really should know me better than that by now.”

“End of message,” the automated voice taunted me, as I stared zombielike into the fridge, drinking my orange juice slowly.

I pressed the play button again and listened to his voice on speakerphone as I tried to make a decision for breakfast. Nick sounded like himself. He sounded normal. It was hard to picture.

“I’m not going to stop calling until you answer. You really should know me better than that by now.”

I did. I let the fridge door slam shut as I dropped the handle, and rinsed out my juice glass. I pressed a button on my phone. “Message deleted.” Well, that was done. If only I could erase my mind that easily.

My foot landed on one of Finn’s squeaky toys, and I winced. After checking my toes for permanent injury from the
Daily Growl
, aka we’re-so-clever dog toy newspaper, I stared down at the offender, lying silent on the linoleum. I missed that dog like a front tooth, and I still had no ideas for getting him back. I picked up the worn, abused toy, touching the tooth marks with my finger. After a moment, I tossed it in his dog toy bin with new resolve. We wouldn’t be separated too much longer if I had anything to say about it.

I suddenly remembered that I’d promised to bring the food and drinks to our fishing trip, and groaned, scratching my bare belly above flannel bottoms. I had a lot to do for it being only 5:00 a.m.

I pulled the cooler out from under the sink and washed it out slowly, rinsing away the months of nonuse under the soapy spray. I mean, really, what did Nick think we had to talk about? How I had walked away from the accident and he hadn’t? How he had, ironically enough, walked away from me and our relationship?
Just like everyone else.
I didn’t care what Nick said, I wouldn’t be going up to Vermont to meet his partner, Peyton. Nor would I be staying at their quaint B and B.

I began emptying ice trays from my freezer into the cooler, building up a nice mountain of ice, and left them on the counter for refilling later. Then I went back to one of my favorite activities, staring into the fridge, as I debated what to bring. I was really the worst kind of host, and I didn’t know what they’d been thinking, asking me to contribute in this manner. I had plenty of leftovers, but I didn’t think anyone wanted the rest of my Kung Pao chicken or my Chicken Masala in the middle of the Everglades. In the end, I packed away the remainder of some KFC in a Ziploc container, and lunch meat and cheese in another. I tossed in a few containers of precut fruit and began jamming longnecks into the ice mountain, wishing I’d sprung for a bigger cooler. I fit in as many as possible, tested the lid to make sure it’d close, and dusted my hands. There.