He wants me; there’s no question. But I need more from him. “I want to suck you off exactly how you want it. I don’t want to do what I like. I want what you like, okay?”

  He nods quickly and answers breathlessly. “Don’t touch my dick yet. Just tease me. My thighs. My chest. My balls.”

  “Oh fuck,” I grunt as my dick twitches in my jeans. “I will.”

  He’s sexier than my dreams, asking me to toy with him. I dip my face to his thighs, slide my hands up his strong legs, and rub my stubble against him as I touch all around his dick.

  I cup his balls, weighing them in my hand and drawing a decadent moan from him.

  Jason grabs my other hand and guides it upward, so my palm roams across his ridiculously hard abs before sliding over his chest.

  “Yessss,” he groans, then lifts his hips, trying to get his dick even closer to me. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  I’m driving him crazy?

  He’s driving me crazy.

  He’s teaching me how to drive him crazy.

  I keep up the torture with my hands for another minute until Jason is writhing on the couch. “Fuuuuuck.” He slams a hand on my head and shoves my face against his dick. “Get your mouth on me now.”

  I lick a long stripe up his shaft, tasting a man for the first time.

  My brain scrambles.

  I can’t process how good this is. My mind is a complete haze of sex and mystery, but through it all, I manage one question: “Is this okay?”

  He pushes his length toward my mouth. “Yes. Now lick the head of my dick, Beck.”

  It’s barely a command. It’s more like a plea. I’ve hardly touched him, and he’s helpless.

  His excitement is the biggest aphrodisiac in the world.

  I wrap my hand around the base, then I draw the blunt head of his dick into my mouth . . . and wow.

  Yes.

  He’s everything I’ve imagined and more.

  His hands jump to my head, and I tense. For a second, I expect him to go full porn star and jackhammer my mouth. “Jason,” I whisper as he threads his fingers more tightly through my hair.

  His eyes float open. He looks drunk. “Yes?”

  “I don’t know if I can . . . you know . . . take you deep,” I say as I swirl my tongue along the crown.

  “Don’t have to. I’m gonna come really soon. Just suck me and use your hand. I swear that’s all you have to do,” he says, sounding as if he’s drowning in breath and words.

  I’m drowning, too, in lust and discovery.

  I’m learning so many new things. Top among them is that Jason loves a good, long tease.

  I give his shaft a pump with my fist while bringing him deeper into my mouth.

  “Fuck, yes,” he mutters, his eyes slamming shut. Then he opens them like he’s fighting with himself. “Want to watch you suck a dick for the first time.”

  I nearly come right there.

  Don’t know if it’s his dirty talk, his filthy gaze, or the taste of his lust. But every single thing is working for me.

  “Wow,” he murmurs as I go.

  Wow, I think, as I watch his face twist with pleasure.

  It’s heady to witness his slack-jawed lust. “I’m close. Want me to pull out?”

  I shake my head, but then I realize that if he likes to talk during sex, maybe he likes to listen too. For a hot second, I let him fall from my lips so I can tell him in a whispered breath: “Want to taste your come.”

  Jason shudders, then pushes my shoulder down, urging me back onto his dick. I draw him deep until he’s panting, gasping. His hand slides between my shoulder blades. He gives one firm pump, then grunts out a coming.

  I do my best to relax my throat, tasting his release.

  “Holy shit,” he mutters, and for long, blissful seconds, he basks in the afterglow, panting and breathing hard.

  Then he laughs softly, opens his eyes, and reaches for me. “Get up here.”

  I climb into his lap again, waiting for what’s next. He runs his thumb over my lower lip like he’s admiring the handiwork of my mouth. Finally, he speaks in a soft, tender voice. “What did you think?”

  His question comes out with so much vulnerability it floors me.

  What did I think? “What did you think?” I counter.

  He chuckles. “I believe you swallowed what I think,” he says, and I laugh.

  But then I stop laughing. I truly want to know. “Was I . . . okay?”

  Jason sighs in disbelief. “Kiss me,” he demands.

  I drop my lips to his and kiss him softly.

  “Mmm. You taste so good with me on your lips,” Jason whispers.

  I tremble from head to toe. But still, I want an answer.

  Jason senses my need because he pulls back and meets my gaze. “You weren’t okay, Beck. You were tremendous. I would love to coach you through sex. It’s so fucking fun,” he says, sounding enthused and dreamy.

  I want that so badly.

  But this is probably just one night. We’re getting it out of our systems. I’m sure of it.

  I’m sure, too, that—

  My breath hitches. Oh hell. His hands are on my jeans, popping open the top button. Then he reaches for my hips and lifts me off him. “Want to spread you out on my bed and lick these tats. Then I’m going to give you the best head of your life.”

  I go upstairs so fast.

  17

  The Best Laid Plans

  Jason

  * * *

  I don’t think about what a bad idea this is. At this moment, getting my rival off is the only idea. The guy is sprinting up my stairs, but I take my time since I’m swinging in the breeze.

  “Last door on the left,” I call out, and he turns into the main bedroom.

  “Damn.” He whistles.

  I smile, picturing him admiring my bed. “It’s an Alaskan King,” I say as I turn into my bedroom and see him, as expected, standing a foot from my supersize mattress.

  “You like space,” he says as I come up behind him. I steal the chance to clasp his shoulders and press a kiss to the back of his neck. He shudders.

  “I like big beds, and I like sleep, and I like a lot of room for fucking. And right now, I want you naked on my bed.” I grab a loop of his jeans and spin him around, so he’s facing me.

  His brown eyes are hazy and soft, but his dick is nice and hard, tenting his jeans.

  Like a beacon for my hand.

  I kiss his cheek as I slowly fiddle with the zipper. His neck, as I carefully slide it down. His jaw, as I work the jeans over his hips.

  Then he pushes them off the rest of the way, the eager fucker.

  Once he kicks them off and his socks too, I push his chest so he falls on the bed. “Was that a quarterback sack?” he asks.

  I dig this playful side of him. I always have. I like this side of him even more when we’re naked. He doesn’t trust easily. But I like that he trusts me.

  “Yes, and I’m about to give your dick some deep coverage,” I say as I crawl onto the bed, stopping at his thighs so I can slide off his boxer briefs.

  I groan as his dick pops free, saluting me.

  I climb over him, bracing myself on my palms by his chest. “How do you like blow jobs, Beck?”

  “However you want to give me one,” he says, breath shuddering.

  “Nope. Tell me what you like. I told you,” I say.

  He closes his eyes like he’s embarrassed, then he opens them and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  I blink. “You don’t?”

  “I mean, I’ve had blow jobs. They’ve been good. But I’ve only been with one person.”

  “Ohhh,” I say, connecting the dots. All his experiences are limited. But it’s a privilege to be the man to introduce him to how good a blow job can be. I’m so damn lucky he came to me tonight, and I want him to feel incredible for trusting me with his firsts. “You want me to take the lead, Beck, and you can just tell me what feels good and what doesn’t?”

  “Yes, please,” he says with obvious relief.

  Easy enough. I love giving head, so this should be a fiesta. But first, I want to lavish attention on his body. Lick him all over. I dip my face to his chest, kiss the illustrations on his pecs, then flick my tongue over a nipple.

  In seconds, he’s trembling and panting. Lifting his hips eagerly.

  Hmm. Maybe I should take pity on his dick sooner rather than later. “How about I suck you deep right—”

  “Yes, please. I’m so fucking turned on.” His hands fly to my head, shoving me down between his thighs.

  I’m going to give him the blow job of his life. I cup his balls, then lick my way up the shaft, and the second my tongue touches him, he trembles everywhere.

  This is going to be fun. I inhale the salty, musky scent of him, then groan as I draw him into my mouth. His hands curl through my hair, and he’s panting, thrusting. Moaning.

  A few seconds later, he stills, shudders, and then I’m tasting his release.

  Well, then.

  That didn’t take long at all.

  With a smile, I swallow his orgasm, then pop off. I flop to my back, laughing. “I’d say I’m the king of blow jobs, but I think a stiff breeze would have gotten you off, Beck.”

  He grabs a pillow and hurls it at me. It hits my noggin with a soft thud, and I crack up. Grabbing it, I scoot up the bed and flop onto the pillow, parking my hands behind my head.

  The mattress dips, and I see Taco has joined us and is curling up next to Beck.

  Then?

  The little asshole purrs and rubs his face against Beck’s chest. “Are you kidding me, CockBlocker?”

  Beck smiles. “I told you cats like me.”

  “No shit,” I say, then I stare at the ceiling, wondering what’s next. My brain’s hazy, though, and I’m still a little woozy, a lot spent.

  I’m not sure how long we’ll stay here, naked in my bed, post-sex. “I mean, maybe you were right about his name,” I grumble, just because I want to talk.

  “Finally, he admits it,” Beck says as he strokes my cat. The creature rumbles like there’s an earthquake moving through his little body.

  “Seriously? Do you have catnip planted in your armpit?”

  “I don’t know. Do I?” he taunts, clearly enjoying my cat’s preferences.

  “Maybe you do,” I say, then I reach out a hand and attempt to get a pet in. I bump Beck’s hand, though, and our gazes snag, a little awkward, as if we’re both wondering are we holding hands now?

  I pull mine back and fold both on my stomach. Is he going to want to take off now that he got off? I frown, hating that possibility.

  Oh, shit. I want him to stay.

  No clue if he wants to, though, so I don’t ask.

  Beck breaks the silence, patting my bed. “So, you really like a big bed?”

  Ah, that’s an easy diversion. “Once you go Alaskan King, you can’t go back.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” he says.

  Ah, so he’s not angling for an invite to stay over. Why do I even want him to spend the night?

  Because you like him, dumbass.

  But I’ll get over it. I always do. I start to swing my legs out of bed so I can get dressed, but then a sliver of guilt lodges in my chest. This was his first time with a man. I should make sure he’s all good.

  I settle back on top of the sheets. Then I clear my throat, unsure what to say. Finally, I pull a Beck, blurting, “What did you think?”

  He smirks. “You mean—did I like it?”

  Color heats my cheeks. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking.”

  His expression turns thoughtful as he looks at me. “I did. A lot, Jason. Like, an insane amount.”

  Ah hell.

  My heart goes a little wild. And so does my stomach, rumbling.

  Beck laughs. “Are you hungry?”

  “Maybe? I sort of nibbled earlier.”

  “You nibbled? You’re a football player! How do you nibble on dinner?”

  “I figured I’d make something. Or order something,” I counter. “But you came over.”

  “So I ruined your dinner plans by blowing you?”

  “Evidently,” I tease.

  He pushes up higher in bed. “You have that beautiful kitchen, and you were going to DoorDash.”

  “How do you know I was going to DoorDash?” I’m a little offended he can read me so easily.

  “I can tell. You’re a DoorDasher.”

  “Fine, I was going to get delivery,” I admit. “But I use Ding and Dine. It’s woman-owned and has good bennies for its employees.”

  “Like I said, you’re a nice guy. But, do you want something homemade instead?” he asks, sitting up in bed.

  I roll to my side and prop my head in my hand. “You’re going to cook for me?”

  “If you want me to, I will,” he says, and the tentative offer is so sweet, so endearing.

  But the if stands out to me. Beck’s telling me he wants to stay. He needs to know he’s welcome here, though. It’s my house. I’m the older one. I’m the more experienced one. I need to reassure him.

  I also need to make it crystal clear. I sit up and run my knuckles down his jaw. “I do want you to stay awhile.”

  He dips his face to hide his smile.

  18

  Bluster in the Bedroom

  Jason

  * * *

  Beck’s barefoot and in jeans in my kitchen, sautéing peppers and onions at my stove. Who knew I had taco ingredients? But Beck found a can of black beans in the pantry and some salsa and veggies in the fridge. Then I Instacarted cilantro and taco shells for rush delivery, and voila—there’s a hot guy in my kitchen making me a late dinner.

  Is this winning or what?

  I lift my beer and take a drink, enjoying the view from the stool at my counter. I’ve got on gym shorts. They’re blue, in honor of Beck.

  “So, how are you such an awesome cook?” I ask to his back. “Wait. Are you just one of those one-dish cooks? Admit it, Caff. You suggested tacos because it’s the only thing you can make,” I tease.

  He turns his gaze to me in slow-motion, delivering the dirtiest how dare you look as he stirs the sizzling veggies in the pan with a red plastic spatula. “If you want, I’ll make a bet to prove I can cook any dish.”

  “Will it take you a year and three weeks to make good on it?” I counter as he returns his focus to the stove.

  A chuckle moves through him, then he flips me the bird with his free hand.

  “You weren’t so sassy when you were coming in my mouth in ten seconds,” I point out.

  He goes quiet as he adjusts the heat.

  Shit. Did I touch a sore spot? Is he always fast on the draw? Ah, fuck. I don’t want to make him feel bad if he’s a sprinter in bed. “Look, I get it. I’m kind of a rock star with my tongue, so I understand,” I say, laying on the cocky charm.

  He looks back at me again. This time, his eyes flare with competitive fire. “How about a rematch?”

  I wasn’t expecting that at all, but I recover quickly. “Does this mean you want to jump back on my dick, or are you wanting more of my magic mouth?”

  Even though he’s turned his back to me again, I can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Both.” Then he adds, for emphasis, “Definitely both.”

  Mmm. I like that answer a lot. Someone digs me too. I grin like a fool but wipe it off my face as soon as he turns to set the plated dishes on the kitchen island in front of me.

  “I do feel like a king now,” I say, admiring the spread. “Since I love tacos.”

  “I figured you did.” Beck gestures with his red spatula to the hallway, where CockBlocker sits, swishing his tail back and forth, staring at the chef. “That’s why I suggested them.”

  “Brains and brawn,” I say, assembling my late-night meal. “But the cat’s new name is officially CockBlocker. I’m going to get him a new tag too.”

  “And will you use that name in mixed company?”

  I laugh as I sprinkle cilantro on my food. “I just might,” I say, but then pause. “Maybe not with my dad. He’s super chill, but I like to pretend sex doesn’t exist around him. Not because I’m gay but because he’s my dad.”

  Beck laughs. “Totally understandable,” he says as he dresses his taco with salsa, then sits across from me and bites into it. I take a bite of mine too and moan my approval. When he finishes chewing, he smiles ruefully and points to the second floor. “I’m sorry I was kind of . . . overeager earlier.”

  My heart squeezes for him. “Don’t be sorry. It was kind of a cool compliment,” I say. No swagger now, just honesty.

  “I mean, I was pretty worked up, Jason. I don’t think I’ve ever been that turned on,” he continues, recapping our sex matter-of-factly.

  I’m not used to this kind of bluntness from a man. Most guys I’ve dated are full of bluster in the bedroom, wanting to prove something. I’m probably that way too. I rarely let down my guard. I’ve also rarely seen a dude take off a mask.

  Until now.

  I do the same with my late-night visitor, meeting Beck on his level. “I was pretty aroused too. You worked me over real good.” A hot spark slides down my spine as I relive the electric thrill of Beck kneeling between my thighs and teasing the fuck out of me like I asked him to.

  Beck can’t hide his smile. “Are you thinking of the couch right now?” he asks, then takes another bite.

  “That obvious?”

  “No. I was just hoping you were.” He sets down his food and reaches for his beer bottle. When he takes a swig, it’s like he’s drinking courage. “And I meant it when I said ‘rematch.’”

  I smile, psyched that he wants to stay longer. “Yeah?”

  “Is that okay with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “You didn’t say anything when I mentioned it before.”

  Oh, shit. That was my bad. I stretch an arm across the table, run my thumb over his top lip, then murmur, “Have I told you I’m obsessed with your lips?”

  “No, but feel free to say it over and over,” he says, his voice a little dreamy.