The Blueprint, page 25
A muscle snapped in Tomas’s jaw. “Maybe you can help get him settled, and then we can—”
I whimpered pitifully as I hobbled to the couch. Tomas looked damn near apoplectic by the time I lowered myself on the cushions.
Kelly shook his head. “Maybe next time.”
They stepped back out to the porch, and Kelly closed the door behind them. I strained to listen to their upraised voices.
“You fucking serious right now?” Tomas sounded mad enough to shit a brick—or enough bricks to build a mansion.
I started to push off the couch. Running out there would completely ruin my invalid act, but if he thought I was going to let him get physical with Kelly, he was dumber than he looked. I would jettison him off the porch and straight into his fucking windshield.
“Yes, I’m fucking serious.” Kelly’s voice was sharp enough to make me jump a little, and I sank back down on the couch. “Don’t talk to me that way in my own fucking house.”
Those Ala at Me’s clearly weren’t strong enough. I was reminded that Kelly was no pushover, and he could clearly take care of himself.
“I could’ve gone home with anybody at that bar. I chose you.” Tomas sounded disgusted. “What a fucking waste.”
“Then why are you still standing here?”
Clearly Tomas hadn’t gotten the memo—his episode of The Bachelor was over.
“You owe me for those drinks,” he snapped.
“Fuck off.” And then the front door opened again, and Kelly stormed through. He slammed it and looked pissed off enough to spit nails. “A guy buys you a couple drinks, and suddenly you’re bought and paid for. Jesus.”
“What a tool,” I agreed.
He pointed at me. “And don’t think I don’t know what you were up to. You’ve never complained about pain in your life, not even when there was a bone sticking out of your fucking leg.”
Fuck. He knew me too well. I remembered that time when we were kids. Face completely ashen, he assured me he’d just called his mom, and she’d called the ambulance, and they were both coming soon. He spent the next fifteen minutes running to the road and back to me on the playground like a goddamned jack-in-the-box.
I looked at him shamefacedly. “Sorry.”
“It just so happens that I changed my mind when I got here, and you just gave me a good excuse to send him home.”
That wasn’t true, and we both knew it. He may have seen through my pitiful pain act, but he made Tomas leave because I wanted him gone.
We stared at each other for a minute. And then I had him across my lap and we were kissing—my hands on his back and in his hair and everywhere else I could reach. We fit. We fit like pieces of a fucking puzzle, and I was tired of working on the corner pieces when I knew how to solve the middle.
He pulled back, gasping for air. “I don’t think—”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
I’d been dreaming of him riding me again like he had the first time. Fuck. The memory alone made my dick hard. He should give lessons—actual fucking lessons—on how to ride dick like that. I buried my face in his neck, licking, biting, sucking. I gripped his hips, and he moaned.
This. This was what I’d needed. I might not have been ready to admit it to anyone else, but, goddamn it, I could admit it to myself.
He worked my shirt over my head and rubbed his hands over my skin, over my nipples. He stole his clever fingers back to tweak them a little. I bucked up against him, more than surprised that, once again, nipple action was turning my crank. Guess there wasn’t anything he did in bed that I didn’t like.
“Blue?”
“Yeah, baby,” I murmured and leaned back as he rubbed across my nipples again.
“I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I don’t always like to receive.”
“Receive?” It was my turn to unbutton his shirt. I was so focused on sliding the buttons through the holes that I didn’t even realize he’d stopped moving. I glanced up blankly because there were only two things on my mind right then—why’d you fucking stop and… oh yeah, why’d you fucking stop.
I bucked up a little to get him moving again, but he remained still. I finally asked with a sigh, “Receive what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Packages, Blue. What do you think?”
Receive. I looked at him for a few seconds until his meaning finally sank in, and my eyes went wide. “Oh. Oh. Receive.”
Fuck. Receive dick, then. I wiped my suddenly damp forehead. That was a horse of a different color—a horse with a very small, untried asshole that was even then closing up with anxiety. I bit my lip as he looked at me patiently. He clearly wasn’t going to push, and that gave me space enough to think.
Having sex with Kelly had never really freaked me out. I wanted him, and he was sexy, and that was really all the nudge I needed. I was kind of hedonistic that way. But was I really ready to let him have me like that? It wasn’t that one thing was gayer than the other. But bottoming took a lot of trust—a willingness to make yourself vulnerable to another person.
I trusted Kelly with my life, so why not with my body? I slowly nodded, and his cheek dimpled. “Really?” He looked a little skeptical. “You’d let me do that?”
“I’d let you do anything you want,” I said honestly. “It’s you.”
His cheeks colored. “Stop saying things like that if you don’t really mean them.”
“I do mean them.”
“Like I mean them.”
“How do you—”
He leaned forward, took my mouth with his, and silenced my argument. And there was going to be an argument. How the hell did he know if I meant them less than he meant them? What was he saying? That I meant more to him than he meant to me?
As usual Kelly’s tongue short-circuited my train of thought, and eventually my entire brain. I’d have to yell at him later because, at that moment, every bit of my attention was occupied by him pushing me to lie back on the couch. We both struggled with my pants for a second, until he finally yanked them clear. Then he straightened and began to take off his own clothes. I watched, a little breathless with anticipation. No matter how anxious I was about getting fucked, I had no second thoughts about how he made me feel.
He was all sex as he slowly undressed. Purposefully. I watched as he shrugged off his unbuttoned shirt and shimmied out of his pants, kicked off his shoes and socks.
And then he got on the couch and sank to his knees between my legs. I tensed up again as I eyed those beautifully toned thighs, his almost-flat stomach, and his hard dick that stood up proudly. He was kind of big, although at that point, anything larger than a Q-tip was gonna make me sweat.
Fuck, what have I been smoking to agree to this?
He leaned over and sucked me down to the root with no hesitation at all, and I nearly hit the ceiling. Oh, that. That’s what the fuck I’ve been smoking.
He blew me for a few minutes, dragged me to the edge, and then pulled off to let me catch my breath. I looked at him almost reverently as he worked, mouth stretched, brow creased in concentration, lashes fanned against his cheeks. Every now and again, he would open those pretty gray eyes to look at me, and I silently prayed for stamina.
When he licked at my balls—delicately at first and then sucking them alternately in his mouth—I squeezed my eyes shut. I could still feel his gentle attention and hear his groans, and I shot my hand out to grip his hair and pull him back. “Unless you want it to end here, you gotta stop.”
His pout was adorable. “I thought you had more endurance.”
“Fuck you, Cannon.”
He smiled wickedly. “Actually, a Montgomery is getting fucked tonight.”
That did a lot to dampen my arousal, and I glared at him.
He leaned over me and fumbled around in the table next to the couch. Finally he pulled out a small tube of lube and a condom, and I shook my head. “A den of iniquity is what this is. What the hell is that doing in there?”
“What do you think?” He sank back between my legs and lightly slapped my outer thigh. “Spread ’em.”
I rolled my eyes even as I bent my knees and planted my feet in the cushions. “So romantic I don’t even know what—ahh.”
He was suddenly licking at my hole, and I could only watch in stunned silence as he moved his head between my thighs. And why the fuck did that feel so bloody good? When his tongue breached me, all I could do was suck in a breath. I didn’t think I’d made a sound since he started. When I canted my hips to the stroke of his tongue, all I could do was wonder why I hadn’t known about this before and marvel at what a fucking waste my sex life had been thus far.
He slid his finger in then, right under his clever tongue, and I groaned loudly enough to wake the dead. His face was almost stern in concentration as he worked that finger around and loosened me up. I gritted my teeth and sorted through the strange feeling of discomfort and pleasure all at the same time.
I finally grabbed his wrist. “This really isn’t necessary.”
He shook me off, went right back to it, and slid a second finger in next to the first. “Good thing it’s not just for you.”
It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying it. It just felt too raw and too open. Like someone taking care of you—every part of you. As though there wasn’t one part of me that was taboo or wrong. I squirmed away again. “Just go ahead, already.”
He sat back on his feet, clearly exasperated. “For God’s sake. You’re finickier than a cat. I feel like I’m about to fuck a goddamned cactus.”
I stared at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re welcome to make that exchange, if that’s what you prefer. But I hear nettles to the dick hurt like a motherfucker.”
“You want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” Everything is too right, like everyone I’ve ever been with before you was a fucking waste of time.
“Do you not want to do this?”
“Of course I do.” I was nervous, not crazy. “You better believe I do.”
A glimmer of amusement flickered in his eyes as he patted my thigh. “Is it because you’re a virgin?”
“Shut up, Kel,” I growled. “No one is a goddamned virgin here—”
He leaned up and kissed my jaw, all along the curve—soft kisses that made me trail off and my irritation putter away to nothing. When he buried his face in the crook of my neck and just breathed me in, I sighed. “You don’t have to calm me like a spooked horse.”
Even if it was working.
I could feel his smile against my neck as he nickered at me. “Whoooa, Silver,” he murmured. “I meant to bring you a carrot, but I only have lube. And a dick.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Whatever nerves had been plaguing me dissipated like smoke. It was Kelly. I wanted… him. And nothing else was relevant. No matter how complicated our situation became, that fact had never changed.
Gracious as always, I waved a hand. “Let’s get on with it.”
“Oh, the romance,” he said as he swooned a bit. “We’re like a modern Rhett and Scarlett.”
“Didn’t he leave her?”
“Shut up, Scarlett.” He slapped my ass again. “Now let me do my thing.”
And then his fingers were in me again, and I had no time to argue about who was Scarlett and who was Rhett in his fucking scenario. He did things to me with his long, clever fingers—unbelievable things that made me squirm. Eventually he slicked up his fingers with lube, and the sensation was even better.
I tried to hold back any embarrassing noises, but I wasn’t entirely successful. When he added a third finger to the mix, a low groan ripped from my throat. I appreciated him taking his time with me and all, but goddammit, there was a limit to my patience.
Despite how mortified I’d probably be later, I knew what I had to do. That sexy motherfucker was going to make me beg. “I need it,” I said a tad desperately. “Need you.”
“You’ve got me.” His voice was lazy as his fingers slipped free.
Easy for him to say—easy to say a lot of things if someone hadn’t been eating you out and fingering your ass for ten minutes. “Kelly,” I finally said.
Whatever he saw in my eyes made him nod. “Roll over. It’ll be easier that way your first time.” I hesitated, and he rubbed my thigh. “Trust me?”
I stared at him for a long moment, and then I smiled. “Always have. No reason to stop now, I guess.”
I rolled over and felt his weight descend on me as he braced one arm on either side. He tapped his dick at my entrance, and I was suddenly glad he’d taken all that care to prepare me. “Breathe,” he instructed.
“This isn’t fucking Lamaze.”
He smacked my ass, and I jumped a little. “Do what I said.”
“Bossy on the bottom, bossy on the fucking top,” I muttered, but I did what he asked.
He slid into me, and we both had to take a breath. I tried to adjust around the intrusion and felt my brow crease while I concentrated. Fuck, that was different. Not bad different, just… different different. It was closer to good than bad, but the pendulum hadn’t swung too far in either direction. I tightened my muscles around him experimentally.
He let out a low, desperate groan and dropped his forehead to my back. “Are you okay, baby?”
“It’s all good. It just feels a little… strange.” I worked my muscles again, and he swore. I smiled a little. I really liked that part. Suddenly I understood how people could control from the bottom. When I glanced back at him, I took in the tense look of almost pain on his face and nodded. “Go.”
“Thank God,” he breathed.
He started to move, driving into me over and over, fucking me slowly and deeply. He started out with long thrusts, bottoming out and then pulling back almost all the way out, leaving just the head in and then driving back in again. The pendulum swung over in the good direction, then further than good—great, maybe. Spec-damn-tacular, actually. The sight of it, the feel of it, the sound of it…. And then he hit my prostate, and I saw sparkles behind my eyes.
“Fuck,” I cried out.
“I know, I know,” he muttered against my ear.
Did he? Did he know how he was turning me inside out? Did he know how crazy it felt to be that close to someone? “Oh God,” I choked out.
My dick felt too sensitive as it rubbed against the cushions underneath me, and I grabbed it. Almost automatically I started to stroke myself in rhythm with his thrusts. Every muscle in my body felt bowstring taut as his thrusts got shorter and faster.
I was almost surprised when I came. My stomach clenched and contracted with the strength of it as I shot all over the couch cushion beneath me. A few more strokes and I could tell Kelly was coming too. At least that’s how I interpreted his groaning, sighing, grunting, and eventually collapsing on my back—either that or he was dying. I was too sated to be concerned.
Then I thought about him not being able to do that to me again and felt his wrist for a pulse. It throbbed underneath my fingertips. Reassured, I closed my eyes. There was no room for stupid words. I started to drift off with Kelly’s weight draped comfortingly on my back.
And then he spoke. “What are we even doing right now?”
I didn’t have a prayer of pretending to be asleep. All the muscles in my back that had been loose and relaxed suddenly resembled a topographical map of the Andes. “Sleeping, I thought.”
“You know what I mean. You tell me you want to be friends, and then you push all those boundaries that you created aside. You tell me to go ‘have fun’ when I left earlier tonight, but when I actually attempt to do that, you’re ready to fake death to have me all to yourself.”
I sank my teeth into my bottom lip. I wanted to deny it—all of it. But he was right. I was the undefeated, irrefutable champion of mixed signals. “Were you really going to sleep with that guy?” I blurted.
“Blue.”
“I heard what you said. I’m just asking.”
“No. He gave me a ride home, and we kissed on the porch. No matter what he thought, that’s as far as it was going to go.” He rolled off me with a sigh and stood up. I turned my head to watch him gather the clothing we’d strewn carelessly around the room. “I’m kind of stuck on someone else right now. This big, blond idiot who has no bloody idea what the hell he wants.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” He dropped our clothes in a pile on a chair and put his hands on his hips. He looked like an avenging warrior just then, all naked and determined and proud, a fine sheen of cooling sweat on his skin. “This mixed-signals bullshit is driving me nuts. I think… I think you should go home tomorrow. Your home.” He held up a hand when I would’ve spoken. “We both need space. And you need to figure some things out.”
“What kind of things?” I didn’t need to hear the undercurrent running through my own voice—a little hoarse and way too scratchy.
“Difficult things. Unpleasant things. The kind of things that might make us just friends again.” He sighed. “I’ve already figured out what I want. It’s time for you to do the same.”
I want you. Say it. Just say those fucking words. My tongue seemed tangled and thick in my mouth.
He shook his head. “I’m going to bed.”
Alone. He left that word unspoken, but we both knew it was there, waiting quietly like a loaded slingshot pulled all the way back, ready to hurt if he unleashed it. I was glad when he turned and walked up the stairs without letting that missile fly. My chest still felt tight when I heard his bedroom door quietly close.
Seemed so final.
I buried my face in the couch cushion and listened to the tick of the retro wall clock.
Part of me thinks I could fall in love with you. The clock ticked some more. The other part of me knows I already have.
Chapter 27
Blue
THE NATIVES were growing restless.
I glanced around the media room and tapped my pen lightly against the playbook balanced on my lap as Coach droned on. At least the chairs were comfortable—maybe a little too comfortable. Two years ago they did a full renovation of the facility, and the media room was remodeled to look like a movie theater, with huge black leather recliners. I was damn near ready to fall asleep, or I would have been if Coach weren’t on a tear.
