The Blueprint, page 14
DIESEL’S PLACE was just as obnoxious as his nickname—a sprawling mini McMansion with bay-front windows. He’d gone all out with food and drinks, and everything was a little too grand for a small celebration. But I understood why.
On one of our long bus rides to an away game, we talked and shared things we might not otherwise have shared. He told me how he grew up with nothing, and sometimes he was still afraid all his success was just a dream, how every time he saw his jersey, clean and fresh in his locker before a game, he almost had to pinch himself.
Quiet, soft-spoken team-bus Diesel was a far cry from the arrogant guy who was routinely penalized for excessive celebration in the end zone. And when he described his mom’s reaction when he bought her a car that past Christmas, his eyes had shimmered briefly, and I pretended not to notice.
As I milled about the party, I noticed most of the players there were the younger ones—the ones who could still party all night and get up the next day. That kind of led me to wonder what the hell I was doing there and why I hadn’t just gone home with Kel when I had the chance. I didn’t know what exactly I was trying to prove. That I didn’t need him? By standing around a party and thinking about him incessantly?
Despite all the promises I’d made to myself about not drinking anything other than water or juice, I found myself nursing some strange Outlaws-blue concoction that Diesel’s girl made. I didn’t care what it was as long as it mellowed me out a little. One turned into two, segued easily into three, which turned into…. I blearily tried to remember and gave up almost before the thought even fully formed.
I poured another glass of the blue drink and held it up to the light. It was just so… blue. Like me. Blue drinking blue. I might’ve actually… giggled. Just once. A little bit. A manly giggle.
Fuck. I knew then, even as the noise came out of my throat, that I’d had a little too much. And that was funny, for some odd reason.
“You look like you’re having a good time.”
I looked over at a woman who was pouring herself a glass of the blue punch, and I grinned. “To be perfectly honest, I think that’s the punch talking.”
She sniffed her glass and wrinkled her delicate nose. “What do you think is in here?”
“Blue curacao, maybe? It’s really awful.” I took another sip and shivered. “Top my cup off?”
She laughed and ladled some into my glass. Then she held out her hand. I shook it, and her small hand almost disappeared in my grip. “Jillian Starks. I work in the front office for the Outlaws.”
“I’m—”
“I know who you are.”
“Oh.” I never really knew what to say to that, so I just sipped my drink instead. “Are you having a good time?”
“Better now.”
Oh. So it’s like that. I smiled, but I didn’t respond to that either.
She finally huffed a laugh. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
I widened my eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ballplayers.” She shook her head. “You guys have no idea how this is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be propositioning me.”
“Is that the way it works?”
“Pretty sure.” She held out her hand. “Dance with me?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s against company policy,” I teased.
Her eyebrow went up. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, this is one of my favorite songs.”
I shrugged, took her hand, and went along easily enough as she pulled me toward the speakers. There was no dance floor per se, but quite a few people had started doing their own thing in an empty patch of the room.
We had barely hit the floor when she started to move and did some hair swinging and some grinding shit that girls always thought was so hot. News flash? They were right. It was hard to focus while she did her thing.
Jillian’s fast-paced favorite song faded and segued into something that sounded like Zayn. Things degenerated on the dance floor and went from high-energy gyrating and sweating to a slow grind—a slow grind that involved her sliding her hands up under my shirt as we moved to the music. She played with the buttons of my shirt and slid a few of them out of their holes, her dark eyes trained on my face the entire time.
A quick glance around revealed we weren’t the only people getting a little frisky and friendly to the Pillowtalk song. A few exhibitionists were actually putting on a show. I didn’t get off on that. I caught her hands, and they stilled in mine. Her gaze turned questioning, and I smiled suddenly as I realized I hadn’t thought about Kelly in at least thirty minutes.
I led her off the dance floor without bothering to rebutton my shirt. We headed down the darkened hallway and passed a few other people who clearly had the same idea. I put my finger over my lips as I went checked one of the rooms, and when I gave her the all-clear signal, she giggled and followed me in. And then it was just a blur of clothes and kissing and touching lit only by the moonlight.
She caught me by surprise when she gave me a push, and my back hit the bed with a bounce. Guess I wouldn’t have to figure out what she wanted and how she wanted it. I was absolutely cool with that. Nothing turned me off more in bed than someone waiting for me to make all the moves. That clearly wasn’t going to be a problem for Jillian as she straddled my lap unsteadily. She expected me to catch her, and I did. I put my hands on her waist and held her steady.
We only managed to get our shirts off, but that was good enough for what I wanted. She started to grind on me, and despite my doubts, I got hard. It was almost a relief. I still liked… well, everything about sleeping with women. I didn’t know what I’d been so afraid of—that one make-out session and a hand job from a guy made me gay? I was briefly annoyed with myself. Everything was just like it always was, and there was no room in our bed for anyone else.
Until she leaned forward.
She planted her hands on either side of my head, and I suddenly flashed back to that night with Kelly. Not all of it was clear, but I remembered something like that—his hands planted firmly on the mattress as he loomed over me, his arms lean but strong and corded with tension as he held himself in check.
He smelled good, and his body felt good against mine. It was sturdy and substantial, and his mouth was soft on mine, hesitant almost—not because it wasn’t what he wanted, but because he wasn’t sure it was what I wanted. I wanted to tease him about being shy, but I didn’t want him to belt me one, so I held my amusement in and waited for him to kiss me back for real.
Smooth strawberry-glossed lips landed on mine, and I jerked back instinctively, snatched abruptly out of my reverie. I stared up at her, unable to dispense with the complete sense of… wrongness that washed over me.
She pulled back a little. Her eyes were large and liquid and dark—not frosty gray and intense with pure, unadulterated want like Kelly’s had been. “Everything okay?”
“Better than okay.” I squeezed her rear with both hands, and she winced a little. Jesus. Why don’t you just squeeze her like a football, Blue? That ought to get things rolling.
I gentled my touch. So what if I couldn’t be as rough as I wanted to be? Her body was incredible—soft tits pressed against my chest, a soft, round ass…. I tried to turn my brain off and just enjoy it.
She leaned forward again and kissed me again, and I pulled back after only a second. Her lips slid on my jaw. She looked a little annoyed that time, and I could only stare up at her as the knot of dismay grew in my stomach. I wanted to wipe my mouth to get all the strawberry gloss off.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Yeah, she wore too much makeup. What the hell did it matter that she still looked perfectly made up, though we’d been kissing and dry humping for ten minutes? I couldn’t help but compare it to the way Kelly looked undone, his lips all swollen and bare. His eyes had been huge and his pupils blown with surprise and arousal. His hair was messy and wild where I gripped it—
Stop thinking about him. Jesus. I pulled her down again and kissed her harder in an attempt to recall the mood. Our lips glided against one another, aided by that stupid fucking lip gloss. It still tasted like strawberry. I liked it better when there was nothing on someone’s mouth when we kissed—nothing but soft bare lips against mine. Like when Kelly—
I pulled back, breathing heavily. Good God, he broke me. I wasn’t even capable of having a sexual thought that didn’t involve his stupid fat head.
Everything was clicking, and then all of a sudden, it wasn’t. I was hard, sure. But there wasn’t any…. I scrambled around in my brain for the right word. Connection? As she kissed her way down my neck, I realized I’d stumbled on the right word. There was no connection.
I blinked. Since when did I need a connection to fuck? Especially someone as hot as Jillian? She rubbed soft, enticing tits in my face, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. My mouth firmed. Relax, Blue. I would take off her bra, and that would probably get me going again in seconds. I’d always been a breast man, and Jillian’s were grade-A perfection.
Some lunatic blurted out, “I need to go.” I looked around for a minute, blinking stupidly. Then I realized that lunatic was me.
Fuck my life.
I just couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong everything felt—not because I didn’t enjoy her incredible body or how good she smelled or that soft long fall of hair that curtained us both. It wasn’t wrong because I didn’t like women anymore.
It was wrong because she wasn’t him.
I groaned inwardly as she sat up. She stopped her sexy grinding motion and looked at me with both perfectly arched brows raised to her hairline. My dick was a little shocked too. Apparently I’d rather be with Kelly than fucking some hot girl. Those words shouldn’t even be next to one another in the same sentence, let alone an actual thought in my brain.
“Are you having a little trouble?” She seemed ready to take it as a bit of a challenge. Her eyes looked crafty as she slid down between my legs. “I know just the trick.”
I halted her descent. “It’s not going to matter how long. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widened. “Does it happen all the time?”
“Just some of the time. And I can’t predict when,” I ad-libbed. “Prolonging it just makes it worse.”
Fake impotency to the rescue. I couldn’t even imagine what that costume would look like. I could tell from her surprised gaze that she was buying it, and I didn’t care if she spread the word. Clearly I was never going to have sex again anyway.
Her gaze turned sympathetic. “We can just cuddle if you want.”
I wanted to kick my own ass. She was nice. Sweet. And all I could think of was getting out of there as soon as possible. “I’m just going to go home.” I gently lifted her off me and set her on the pillow-top mattress. I scooted off the bed. “I like to sleep in my own room.”
I didn’t take the time to say goodbye to anyone as I left, mostly because I was busy calling a cab to get me the hell of there. Then I stood on the curb, hands buried in my pockets as I wondered what the hell was happening to me.
When I got in the Prius that finally pulled up, the driver—some dude named Paul—asked me where I wanted to go. “Home, I guess.”
When he met my eyes wryly in the rearview, I had to laugh. “Right. The address would probably help.”
I gave it to him, and he looked at me again in the mirror, his brow furrowed. “Hey, are you Britton Montgomery?”
“Sure am.”
He twisted around in his seat. “Dude. I’m such a huge fan. You have no fucking idea.” When I just stared at him blankly, he went on, his enthusiasm not dimmed one bit. “The Outlaws are my favorite team. I have Ivanovich’s jersey.”
“Not mine?” I teased.
“It was out of stock,” he said earnestly.
I had to laugh. “Dude, it’s all right. I’m just messing with you.”
He beamed. “Can we take a selfie?”
“Sure.” I yawned. “Let’s do it when I get out, though.”
“You got it.” He backed out of the driveway, and we were underway. Every now and again I saw his eyes in the rearview, watching me in what I was sure he thought was a circumspect way.
I was too buzzed to really care that he was treating me like a zoo animal. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window. It seemed like I’d only closed my eyes for a few minutes when Paul woke me up and told me I was home. I opened my bleary eyes and looked around for a second. Then I huffed a laugh. I shook my head wryly as I looked up at a familiar condo with all the windows darkened. I must’ve given him Kelly’s address.
“Good to be home?” Paul asked.
As I looked out the window, I didn’t bother to correct him that it wasn’t my home. Guess my subconscious understood things better than I ever did. “Yes, it is.”
Chapter 15
Blue
I HAD to jam my spare key in the door four times before I got it right. I tried to make my way through the living room in the dark without making noise. I congratulated myself on only bumping into an ottoman on my way to the stairs, and I headed straight for Kelly’s room.
My mouth twitched as I surveyed his bed from the door. I always teased him about sleeping like a goddamned mummy. Not one part of his body was visible, given the way he was covered up. I pulled up a corner of his comforter, got in, and enjoyed a rush of pleasure as my body hit soft mattress. My feet hung over the end, and I was well aware the bed wasn’t long enough for my six-foot-four frame, but it didn’t seem to matter as long as Kelly was in it. Even if it was a bed built for munchkins.
I could tell the moment he woke up, as the bundle of navy and white sheets moved. He emerged at the top like a badger out of a burrow and squinted at me in the dim light. “Blue?”
“You expecting somebody else in your bed?”
“No, especially seeing how I live alone.” His hair was a little ruffled, and there was a crease mark from his pillow on his cream-colored cheek. He was kind of adorable, even when he scowled at me. “You drunk?”
“No.”
He snorted. “Try again.”
“Not drunk,” I insisted. “But maybe I did get a little nice.”
He curled up against me, and that feeling of wrongness that had plagued me all night began to dissipate. It didn’t matter what or why I shouldn’t want him. I just did. I wanted his kiss again, wanted his hands on me again, and I didn’t want to go to bed without it.
I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. They were warm, dry, and firm against mine, and I sighed patiently as he continued to resist me. He hung on for another second, until I hauled him on top of me. He squawked a little as he flailed, but then he settled, one leg on either side of my hips. It was a damned good place to be. Especially when he tried to roll off and I resettled him directly on my cock. Fuck. I hissed as his hands came down on my shoulders and our bodies lined up perfectly.
He stared down at me inscrutably, his gray eyes unreadable. I liked those eyes—his face, his mouth. And whatever he was doing with his hips as he kept trying to get comfortable. Full of alcohol and still high on a win, I didn’t care why.
I pulled his face back down to mine and pressed kisses along his throat until I ended up back at his lips. He rewarded me by not participating. Again. So I smacked his ass—hard. His mouth opened a little as he gasped, and I took full advantage and kissed him thoroughly. I kissed him until he relaxed—kissed him until we were both breathless and horny as fuck.
He pulled back, breathing hard. “Is there some reason you only do this when you’re drunk?”
“For the last time, I’m not drunk.” I wasn’t entirely sober either, but I knew what the hell I was doing. “I want you,” I said clearly.
He rolled his eyes. “You just want your dick sucked again.”
My eyes went wide as my dick jumped. “Please tell me you’re shitting me. I really missed that?”
His mouth curved, and that cute fucking dimple appeared in his cheek. “Well, not exactly.”
“Tell me what happened. Exactly.”
“I jerked you off. I mentioned that I wanted to suck you, and it was over.” His eyes settled on my lips, and he licked his own. My stomach clenched. “You came hard. A little on my face. A lot on my hands.”
“Fuck.” I groaned, and my dick jerked in my pants again. “There some reason you’re telling me this, or you just going to let me suffer?”
He looked at me hard. Whatever he saw in my face made him nod. I was going to ask him what he decided, but then he worked his way down between my thighs, and I figured he decided yes. As he tugged my boxers down over my thighs, I was almost afraid to breathe because he might change his mind.
I shouldn’t have worried. Clearly when Kelly decided he was in, he was in. He took the head of my dick in his mouth without any hesitation. My back bowed, and I arched up with a deep, resounding groan. It was almost too good…. I didn’t know any other way to put it. Good down to my fucking toes. He put an arm across my tense thighs to muscle me back down, and I went willingly enough—just as long as he didn’t stop.
He started to work me with his mouth again, with patient, skilled, determined focus. He was deliberately sloppy and got everything wet and slick. I slammed my eyes shut as he ran his tongue around the head. Silver flashed in his mouth every now and again as he showed me his tongue ring wasn’t just useless jewelry.
“Oh God,” I prayed fervently, because that’s what you did when someone tried to suck your brains out through your cock.
“Look at me,” he said, and my eyes snapped open. I met his warning gaze. “I don’t want you pretending I’m someone else.”
Like a woman? I swallowed as he went back to his task. “I’m not.”
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
I framed his jaw with my thumbs, not to obstruct, but because I couldn’t stop touching him. There was just something so vulnerable about letting yourself be so helpless and exposed—something so amazing when someone kneeled subserviently between your legs and took your dick in their mouth. It was something to be appreciated. Remembered. I watched in fascination as he bobbed up and down on my cock as though it were the best thing he’d ever tasted.
On one of our long bus rides to an away game, we talked and shared things we might not otherwise have shared. He told me how he grew up with nothing, and sometimes he was still afraid all his success was just a dream, how every time he saw his jersey, clean and fresh in his locker before a game, he almost had to pinch himself.
Quiet, soft-spoken team-bus Diesel was a far cry from the arrogant guy who was routinely penalized for excessive celebration in the end zone. And when he described his mom’s reaction when he bought her a car that past Christmas, his eyes had shimmered briefly, and I pretended not to notice.
As I milled about the party, I noticed most of the players there were the younger ones—the ones who could still party all night and get up the next day. That kind of led me to wonder what the hell I was doing there and why I hadn’t just gone home with Kel when I had the chance. I didn’t know what exactly I was trying to prove. That I didn’t need him? By standing around a party and thinking about him incessantly?
Despite all the promises I’d made to myself about not drinking anything other than water or juice, I found myself nursing some strange Outlaws-blue concoction that Diesel’s girl made. I didn’t care what it was as long as it mellowed me out a little. One turned into two, segued easily into three, which turned into…. I blearily tried to remember and gave up almost before the thought even fully formed.
I poured another glass of the blue drink and held it up to the light. It was just so… blue. Like me. Blue drinking blue. I might’ve actually… giggled. Just once. A little bit. A manly giggle.
Fuck. I knew then, even as the noise came out of my throat, that I’d had a little too much. And that was funny, for some odd reason.
“You look like you’re having a good time.”
I looked over at a woman who was pouring herself a glass of the blue punch, and I grinned. “To be perfectly honest, I think that’s the punch talking.”
She sniffed her glass and wrinkled her delicate nose. “What do you think is in here?”
“Blue curacao, maybe? It’s really awful.” I took another sip and shivered. “Top my cup off?”
She laughed and ladled some into my glass. Then she held out her hand. I shook it, and her small hand almost disappeared in my grip. “Jillian Starks. I work in the front office for the Outlaws.”
“I’m—”
“I know who you are.”
“Oh.” I never really knew what to say to that, so I just sipped my drink instead. “Are you having a good time?”
“Better now.”
Oh. So it’s like that. I smiled, but I didn’t respond to that either.
She finally huffed a laugh. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
I widened my eyes. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ballplayers.” She shook her head. “You guys have no idea how this is supposed to go. You’re supposed to be propositioning me.”
“Is that the way it works?”
“Pretty sure.” She held out her hand. “Dance with me?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s against company policy,” I teased.
Her eyebrow went up. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, this is one of my favorite songs.”
I shrugged, took her hand, and went along easily enough as she pulled me toward the speakers. There was no dance floor per se, but quite a few people had started doing their own thing in an empty patch of the room.
We had barely hit the floor when she started to move and did some hair swinging and some grinding shit that girls always thought was so hot. News flash? They were right. It was hard to focus while she did her thing.
Jillian’s fast-paced favorite song faded and segued into something that sounded like Zayn. Things degenerated on the dance floor and went from high-energy gyrating and sweating to a slow grind—a slow grind that involved her sliding her hands up under my shirt as we moved to the music. She played with the buttons of my shirt and slid a few of them out of their holes, her dark eyes trained on my face the entire time.
A quick glance around revealed we weren’t the only people getting a little frisky and friendly to the Pillowtalk song. A few exhibitionists were actually putting on a show. I didn’t get off on that. I caught her hands, and they stilled in mine. Her gaze turned questioning, and I smiled suddenly as I realized I hadn’t thought about Kelly in at least thirty minutes.
I led her off the dance floor without bothering to rebutton my shirt. We headed down the darkened hallway and passed a few other people who clearly had the same idea. I put my finger over my lips as I went checked one of the rooms, and when I gave her the all-clear signal, she giggled and followed me in. And then it was just a blur of clothes and kissing and touching lit only by the moonlight.
She caught me by surprise when she gave me a push, and my back hit the bed with a bounce. Guess I wouldn’t have to figure out what she wanted and how she wanted it. I was absolutely cool with that. Nothing turned me off more in bed than someone waiting for me to make all the moves. That clearly wasn’t going to be a problem for Jillian as she straddled my lap unsteadily. She expected me to catch her, and I did. I put my hands on her waist and held her steady.
We only managed to get our shirts off, but that was good enough for what I wanted. She started to grind on me, and despite my doubts, I got hard. It was almost a relief. I still liked… well, everything about sleeping with women. I didn’t know what I’d been so afraid of—that one make-out session and a hand job from a guy made me gay? I was briefly annoyed with myself. Everything was just like it always was, and there was no room in our bed for anyone else.
Until she leaned forward.
She planted her hands on either side of my head, and I suddenly flashed back to that night with Kelly. Not all of it was clear, but I remembered something like that—his hands planted firmly on the mattress as he loomed over me, his arms lean but strong and corded with tension as he held himself in check.
He smelled good, and his body felt good against mine. It was sturdy and substantial, and his mouth was soft on mine, hesitant almost—not because it wasn’t what he wanted, but because he wasn’t sure it was what I wanted. I wanted to tease him about being shy, but I didn’t want him to belt me one, so I held my amusement in and waited for him to kiss me back for real.
Smooth strawberry-glossed lips landed on mine, and I jerked back instinctively, snatched abruptly out of my reverie. I stared up at her, unable to dispense with the complete sense of… wrongness that washed over me.
She pulled back a little. Her eyes were large and liquid and dark—not frosty gray and intense with pure, unadulterated want like Kelly’s had been. “Everything okay?”
“Better than okay.” I squeezed her rear with both hands, and she winced a little. Jesus. Why don’t you just squeeze her like a football, Blue? That ought to get things rolling.
I gentled my touch. So what if I couldn’t be as rough as I wanted to be? Her body was incredible—soft tits pressed against my chest, a soft, round ass…. I tried to turn my brain off and just enjoy it.
She leaned forward again and kissed me again, and I pulled back after only a second. Her lips slid on my jaw. She looked a little annoyed that time, and I could only stare up at her as the knot of dismay grew in my stomach. I wanted to wipe my mouth to get all the strawberry gloss off.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Yeah, she wore too much makeup. What the hell did it matter that she still looked perfectly made up, though we’d been kissing and dry humping for ten minutes? I couldn’t help but compare it to the way Kelly looked undone, his lips all swollen and bare. His eyes had been huge and his pupils blown with surprise and arousal. His hair was messy and wild where I gripped it—
Stop thinking about him. Jesus. I pulled her down again and kissed her harder in an attempt to recall the mood. Our lips glided against one another, aided by that stupid fucking lip gloss. It still tasted like strawberry. I liked it better when there was nothing on someone’s mouth when we kissed—nothing but soft bare lips against mine. Like when Kelly—
I pulled back, breathing heavily. Good God, he broke me. I wasn’t even capable of having a sexual thought that didn’t involve his stupid fat head.
Everything was clicking, and then all of a sudden, it wasn’t. I was hard, sure. But there wasn’t any…. I scrambled around in my brain for the right word. Connection? As she kissed her way down my neck, I realized I’d stumbled on the right word. There was no connection.
I blinked. Since when did I need a connection to fuck? Especially someone as hot as Jillian? She rubbed soft, enticing tits in my face, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. My mouth firmed. Relax, Blue. I would take off her bra, and that would probably get me going again in seconds. I’d always been a breast man, and Jillian’s were grade-A perfection.
Some lunatic blurted out, “I need to go.” I looked around for a minute, blinking stupidly. Then I realized that lunatic was me.
Fuck my life.
I just couldn’t stop thinking about how wrong everything felt—not because I didn’t enjoy her incredible body or how good she smelled or that soft long fall of hair that curtained us both. It wasn’t wrong because I didn’t like women anymore.
It was wrong because she wasn’t him.
I groaned inwardly as she sat up. She stopped her sexy grinding motion and looked at me with both perfectly arched brows raised to her hairline. My dick was a little shocked too. Apparently I’d rather be with Kelly than fucking some hot girl. Those words shouldn’t even be next to one another in the same sentence, let alone an actual thought in my brain.
“Are you having a little trouble?” She seemed ready to take it as a bit of a challenge. Her eyes looked crafty as she slid down between my legs. “I know just the trick.”
I halted her descent. “It’s not going to matter how long. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widened. “Does it happen all the time?”
“Just some of the time. And I can’t predict when,” I ad-libbed. “Prolonging it just makes it worse.”
Fake impotency to the rescue. I couldn’t even imagine what that costume would look like. I could tell from her surprised gaze that she was buying it, and I didn’t care if she spread the word. Clearly I was never going to have sex again anyway.
Her gaze turned sympathetic. “We can just cuddle if you want.”
I wanted to kick my own ass. She was nice. Sweet. And all I could think of was getting out of there as soon as possible. “I’m just going to go home.” I gently lifted her off me and set her on the pillow-top mattress. I scooted off the bed. “I like to sleep in my own room.”
I didn’t take the time to say goodbye to anyone as I left, mostly because I was busy calling a cab to get me the hell of there. Then I stood on the curb, hands buried in my pockets as I wondered what the hell was happening to me.
When I got in the Prius that finally pulled up, the driver—some dude named Paul—asked me where I wanted to go. “Home, I guess.”
When he met my eyes wryly in the rearview, I had to laugh. “Right. The address would probably help.”
I gave it to him, and he looked at me again in the mirror, his brow furrowed. “Hey, are you Britton Montgomery?”
“Sure am.”
He twisted around in his seat. “Dude. I’m such a huge fan. You have no fucking idea.” When I just stared at him blankly, he went on, his enthusiasm not dimmed one bit. “The Outlaws are my favorite team. I have Ivanovich’s jersey.”
“Not mine?” I teased.
“It was out of stock,” he said earnestly.
I had to laugh. “Dude, it’s all right. I’m just messing with you.”
He beamed. “Can we take a selfie?”
“Sure.” I yawned. “Let’s do it when I get out, though.”
“You got it.” He backed out of the driveway, and we were underway. Every now and again I saw his eyes in the rearview, watching me in what I was sure he thought was a circumspect way.
I was too buzzed to really care that he was treating me like a zoo animal. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window. It seemed like I’d only closed my eyes for a few minutes when Paul woke me up and told me I was home. I opened my bleary eyes and looked around for a second. Then I huffed a laugh. I shook my head wryly as I looked up at a familiar condo with all the windows darkened. I must’ve given him Kelly’s address.
“Good to be home?” Paul asked.
As I looked out the window, I didn’t bother to correct him that it wasn’t my home. Guess my subconscious understood things better than I ever did. “Yes, it is.”
Chapter 15
Blue
I HAD to jam my spare key in the door four times before I got it right. I tried to make my way through the living room in the dark without making noise. I congratulated myself on only bumping into an ottoman on my way to the stairs, and I headed straight for Kelly’s room.
My mouth twitched as I surveyed his bed from the door. I always teased him about sleeping like a goddamned mummy. Not one part of his body was visible, given the way he was covered up. I pulled up a corner of his comforter, got in, and enjoyed a rush of pleasure as my body hit soft mattress. My feet hung over the end, and I was well aware the bed wasn’t long enough for my six-foot-four frame, but it didn’t seem to matter as long as Kelly was in it. Even if it was a bed built for munchkins.
I could tell the moment he woke up, as the bundle of navy and white sheets moved. He emerged at the top like a badger out of a burrow and squinted at me in the dim light. “Blue?”
“You expecting somebody else in your bed?”
“No, especially seeing how I live alone.” His hair was a little ruffled, and there was a crease mark from his pillow on his cream-colored cheek. He was kind of adorable, even when he scowled at me. “You drunk?”
“No.”
He snorted. “Try again.”
“Not drunk,” I insisted. “But maybe I did get a little nice.”
He curled up against me, and that feeling of wrongness that had plagued me all night began to dissipate. It didn’t matter what or why I shouldn’t want him. I just did. I wanted his kiss again, wanted his hands on me again, and I didn’t want to go to bed without it.
I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. They were warm, dry, and firm against mine, and I sighed patiently as he continued to resist me. He hung on for another second, until I hauled him on top of me. He squawked a little as he flailed, but then he settled, one leg on either side of my hips. It was a damned good place to be. Especially when he tried to roll off and I resettled him directly on my cock. Fuck. I hissed as his hands came down on my shoulders and our bodies lined up perfectly.
He stared down at me inscrutably, his gray eyes unreadable. I liked those eyes—his face, his mouth. And whatever he was doing with his hips as he kept trying to get comfortable. Full of alcohol and still high on a win, I didn’t care why.
I pulled his face back down to mine and pressed kisses along his throat until I ended up back at his lips. He rewarded me by not participating. Again. So I smacked his ass—hard. His mouth opened a little as he gasped, and I took full advantage and kissed him thoroughly. I kissed him until he relaxed—kissed him until we were both breathless and horny as fuck.
He pulled back, breathing hard. “Is there some reason you only do this when you’re drunk?”
“For the last time, I’m not drunk.” I wasn’t entirely sober either, but I knew what the hell I was doing. “I want you,” I said clearly.
He rolled his eyes. “You just want your dick sucked again.”
My eyes went wide as my dick jumped. “Please tell me you’re shitting me. I really missed that?”
His mouth curved, and that cute fucking dimple appeared in his cheek. “Well, not exactly.”
“Tell me what happened. Exactly.”
“I jerked you off. I mentioned that I wanted to suck you, and it was over.” His eyes settled on my lips, and he licked his own. My stomach clenched. “You came hard. A little on my face. A lot on my hands.”
“Fuck.” I groaned, and my dick jerked in my pants again. “There some reason you’re telling me this, or you just going to let me suffer?”
He looked at me hard. Whatever he saw in my face made him nod. I was going to ask him what he decided, but then he worked his way down between my thighs, and I figured he decided yes. As he tugged my boxers down over my thighs, I was almost afraid to breathe because he might change his mind.
I shouldn’t have worried. Clearly when Kelly decided he was in, he was in. He took the head of my dick in his mouth without any hesitation. My back bowed, and I arched up with a deep, resounding groan. It was almost too good…. I didn’t know any other way to put it. Good down to my fucking toes. He put an arm across my tense thighs to muscle me back down, and I went willingly enough—just as long as he didn’t stop.
He started to work me with his mouth again, with patient, skilled, determined focus. He was deliberately sloppy and got everything wet and slick. I slammed my eyes shut as he ran his tongue around the head. Silver flashed in his mouth every now and again as he showed me his tongue ring wasn’t just useless jewelry.
“Oh God,” I prayed fervently, because that’s what you did when someone tried to suck your brains out through your cock.
“Look at me,” he said, and my eyes snapped open. I met his warning gaze. “I don’t want you pretending I’m someone else.”
Like a woman? I swallowed as he went back to his task. “I’m not.”
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
I framed his jaw with my thumbs, not to obstruct, but because I couldn’t stop touching him. There was just something so vulnerable about letting yourself be so helpless and exposed—something so amazing when someone kneeled subserviently between your legs and took your dick in their mouth. It was something to be appreciated. Remembered. I watched in fascination as he bobbed up and down on my cock as though it were the best thing he’d ever tasted.
