Zipper Fall (16 page)

“You okay? Are you hyperventilating?”

Heat flooded my face as I looked up, barely able to focus on Jack’s face. “I… I just love the way you smell. You’re like catnip—and I’m the cat.”

His eyes widened in sudden understanding. “Is that why….” He nipped at my neck. “The hamper in my room….”

“And the aftershave in your bathroom,” I admitted, melting into him, my knee brushing his powerful thighs. “And your pillow….”

“Fuck.” His eyes glazed over with lust as his fingers flew over his buttons, ripping his shirt off. “Smell this.” He thrust the warm, white garment into my hands and, shameless and greedy, I grasped it and buried my face in it. It held a record of Jack’s day: his trials and tribulations and physical exertion, his cooking….

“Cinnamon?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah…,” he said. “I spilled some at breakfast. You can still tell?” He took his shirt back and took in a deep breath, then shrugged. “I can’t smell it anymore.” He leaned in, and my knee slid between his thighs again as he wedged his leg between mine. We pressed into one another, and I felt his heat.

“You’re overdressed.” My voice was breathy in an undignified sort of way as I fumbled with his belt buckle and pants button, then slid his zipper down with care.

He let his pants fall and stepped out of them, and there we were, wearing identical black underwear. He ground into my hip as I pressed in, arching my back. “You want this, Gaudens?”

Gaudens.

“Mmm. Feels good, Azurri.” And right then and there, as we stood there, rolling against one another, I came to a firm decision. He wouldn’t get any until he called me by my first name. The problem was, I felt awkward just asking him to do that. I felt as though he should arrive at that conclusion by his own, lone self. I didn’t want to give him remote-control commands and have him do as I said just so he could get me on my back. I wanted him to throw me down and nail me into the nearest horizontal surface and say my name. Scream my name. Not my father’s name. My name.

Wyatt.

The name my mother gave me eight years before she died.

“
T
HERE
’
S
condoms by the bed,” I said, leaning into Jack, pushing him back a gentle step.

He followed me into the bedroom. “Shower first?” he asked. He slipped his shorts off, and I took stock of what I saw. He was top-to-bottom gorgeous, and so hard it must have hurt. That would never do.

“Shower later,” I decided.

He picked me up and dumped me onto my queen-size bed. The look in his eyes was feral, and I returned it with a sly grin.

I sat up halfway; he came in, not expecting me to grab his knees and pull. He landed on his back, just as I planned. I landed on top of him, just as I wanted to. I pinned his legs with mine and anchored his wrists. “Jack….” I panted, raining kisses onto his exposed clavicle. “Would you like the top or the bottom?”

I felt him freeze under me. “What do you mean?”

“Which way do you like it better?”

Instead of answering, he did a fabulous sit-up, dislodging me. “Top, of course.”

“How come?” I worked hard to keep my voice level.

“Because I’m bigger and stronger,” he whispered by my ear, raising a rash of goose bumps down my body. He tried to flip me.

“But I’m faster and sneakier,” I hissed, avoiding the move and trying for a pin. It would’ve worked if he hadn’t bridged and hooked his leg around mine. My leverage gone, I extricated my leg and rolled away, flashing him a
Chase me!
kind of look.

“Not bad,” he allowed. “Where did you learn how to wrestle?”

“High school. You?”

“Same. Later I got into tennis.”

“Oh.” I got off the bed and stood up, all serious and solemn, looking at him with what I hoped he thought was newfound awe.

“What? It’s just tennis. It’s not a big deal, Gaudens.”

“You’ve spent your college years hitting balls….” I covered my crotch in a protective gesture.

He howled in laughter at the horrible pun, dissolving on top of my bed, his wavy hair a fuzzy halo against the pillows.

I pounced on him in his moment of weakness and pinned him good, locking my legs around his torso and capturing his extended arm.

He could barely speak for laughing. “Wyatt… Wyatt you… sneaky… hahaha… shit! I… I can’t… hah… believe you’d trick me… haha… like that.”

Wyatt.

I could feel my heart melting. He called me—

Faster than a flash he flipped me onto my stomach. Apparently a melting heart went along with a loosening grip that day, because I found myself under him, his hips pressing hard against my butt. Yet I didn’t mind; I was putty in his hands.

He could tell right away. “You giving up?” His voice was low and sounded even disappointed.

“No. You’ve earned the privilege.”

“By what, flipping you over?”

“No… I love what you just called me.”

I could hear the flies buzzing inside his head. “You liked being called a sneaky shit?” Not surprisingly, he sounded incredulous.

I wiggled and turned under him, then wrapped one arm around his neck and the other around his broad back. “You finally used my first name.”

He raised himself on his elbow, his sapphire eyes meeting mine, and apparently he detected the unfeigned sincerity of my statement, because he smiled a wicked, devastating smile that just about blew me away. “Wyatt.” His voice was like dark, melting chocolate

Oh, YES!
“Yes, Jack.”

“Would you like to face me, or would you like to turn over?”

Now, that was a good question. Sex was like ice cream; it came in all kinds of flavors, and almost all of them were delicious. Today, I decided, I’d prefer to face my partner. It’d been quite a while since I actually had a partner to speak of, and Jack was much bigger than Paul was all those years ago—I hoped my body would adapt. On the other hand….

“It’s been a while,” I admitted. I didn’t mean to make it sound so sad and lonely.

Jack leaned over me, cupping my face. “What’s the matter, Goldilocks?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were all business.

“Nothing.”

Sue and I broke up right after high school; she was my early heteronormative flirtation. She was so nice, but the chemistry wasn’t quite there. I had loved her. Hell, I still do, in a way. She’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. And once we broke up, I couldn’t get Paul’s glimmer of excitement out of my mind. I thought he’d go after her, but he ended up pursuing me instead.

Which was how we ended up on the floor of my room over a year later, him inside me and me biting on his shoulder to keep quiet, just when my father barged in, his disregard for my privacy an unpleasant reminder of reality.

My father and I had a huge row back then, which centered on his deep dislike both of me dating a guy and me bottoming for him; and he especially hated Paul’s father, Dr. Hinge, who my father kept blaming for my mother’s death. He gave me a choice that night.

I moved out two days later.

“Hey, Wyatt.” Jack’s lips grazed mine in a tender caress, and his fingers carded through my hair. “If it’s too big a deal, we don’t have to.”

I realized it had been a whole minute—and that is a long time when you’re with someone, not saying anything. “Sorry…. Just a bad memory.”

“Of being intimate?” He frowned, concerned.

“Of being found out and kicked out of the house on account of having been intimate.” I sighed. “It’s been five years. Damn!” I turned into him and buried my face in his chest. “Sorry. I’d have thought I’d be over it by now.”

He smiled, his lips stretching in a long, sexy grin. “Sounds like your memory needs to be reprogrammed. Sounds like you need to experience some truly awesome ecstasy to keep the old stuff from intruding like that. When you’re with me, you’re with me one hundred percent. Aren’t you, Wyatt?”

I felt like I was arrested by his heated gaze, and all I could do was swallow and nod.

“I want you.” His voice was a sexy purr. “I want you the way you are, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I want you to take me in your mouth and do your magic for just a little while. Then I want to lie you down so I can do unspeakable things to you.” He buried his face into the crook of my neck and inhaled softly. I shivered when his tongue marked a trail all the way to my ear. He bit me at the juncture of neck and shoulder and sucked, making me writhe in scintillating pleasure. “I want you to scream for me.” His voice was but a low rumble that sent a rush of urgent pleasure to my groin.

I wanted this man, and I wanted him bad.

They say the brain is our most important erogenous zone, and I guess that’s true, because first I had to take a moment and banish old ghosts. Then I moved down, cherishing small, interconnected bits of Jack with my lips, my hands, my tongue. When I settled between his splayed legs, I took time to stroke the soft insides of his thighs. The pits in the back of his knees were ticklish when I tongued them, which almost earned me an accidental broken nose.

“Sorry!” Jack shrieked in a paroxysm of helpless laughter. “It’s just so…. Oh…. Oh….”

Hearing him settle down as I touched the very tip of my tongue to the base of his cock was immensely satisfying. So was hearing him laugh, and I realized I would do almost anything to keep him from slipping back into that earlier, darker mood. I wanted to please him, satisfy him, love him. I wanted to keep him. The desire felt premature, however, and I pushed it out of my mind and focused on the nest of brown curls under my nose.

His pubic hair was soft and wiry at the same time, and it held his musky scent and the residual top notes of body wash. I buried my nose and inhaled him. The scent felt warm and had colors, as though my senses threatened to merge. I licked the crease of his thigh, avoiding his hairy balls—you can’t really suck on a hairy object with good results—and I directed the tip of my tongue to the sensitive and perfectly smooth cock that awaited me.

I licked him all the way up and kissed the tip, and when I glanced to Jack’s face, I saw him watching me. His expression spoke of turned-on pleasure and lust and sheer amazement.

I sucked him down gently, barely touching, and he rose into me in a slow, gentle arch. He was smooth and hard and hot in every way, and when he plunged his fingers into my hair and fisted it, I moaned in appreciation. He worked hard not to thrust—too hard—so I slid my finger into my mouth, right next to his cock, to gather a bit of moisture. Then I worked my hand under his balls and let the knuckle of my thumb rub against his taint as I reached my finger farther in. I must have rubbed against something good even flying blind, because he thrust and panted, and his grip tightened on my hair as I slid my lips up and down his shaft. I felt his balls tighten and he froze.

“Slow… slow down, will ya?” He let go of my hair and just lay there, taking deep, calming breaths.

I let his cock slip out of my mouth and looked up. “What’s wrong?” I asked in a voice that was much too innocent and perhaps a bit smug. Unraveling Jack had proved to be a singular pleasure.

“If you don’t want me to blow, you’ll stop right now,” he said. His eyes were closed and his eyebrows were drawn together in concentration.

I moved my hands up his sides. “Okay,” I said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I heard a click of a lube bottle. I let him roll me to my side and spoon me from behind, resting his arm under my neck in a possessive embrace. His hard heat, still tacky from my spit, dried against my lower back as he slid his hand down my side, bypassing my throbbing dick and lifting my leg for access, reaching me from behind. He slid a slicked finger up and down my cleft and circled around my hole with a teasing, delicate touch.

A moan escaped me and I heard him chuckle in response.

His finger dipped lower as he breached me.

I hissed in surprise.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… oh!…
Oh
!”

He tried to say my name, but his voice became incoherent as he pressed his hard length against me, his fingers now doing their magic down under. I felt the heat build down in my center and radiate through my shoulders, my nipples, my thighs. My cock, untouched, stood at attention. His desire fanned the flames of mine, and when I thought I couldn’t take it any longer, he pulled his hand out and stroked his palm up my shaft.

I gasped, arched into him in a needy invitation and, in not too long, he rolled me onto my back. “Condom,” I gasped.

“Oh…. Yeah, right….” With a sheepish smile, he reached over to my nightstand, grabbed a packet, and ripped it open. I heard him snap the rubber on.

His knees eased mine far apart, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, and dammit if I didn’t think of Paul just then and how Paul used to do this part differently. I banished my ex out of my mind. I was determined to be eager with anticipation if it killed me. Mindful of the present, I focused on the feeling of the cold, wet head about to enter me, trying to relax and push against him, and next thing I knew, he was buried inside me. He ground his hips into me. I gasped, and he smiled. His face was close to mine with his elbows by my head. He gave another thrust, gentle and slow.

The door wasn’t shoved open.

Nobody walked in on us.

Yet.

“Relax, Wyatt…,” Jack whispered.

A sudden desire to escape washed over me, and my eyes must have given me away, because he buried his fingers in my hair and kissed me. Then he began to move in deep, slow strokes. I felt his fingers caress a circle around my ear. My apprehension was a thing of the past as I was approaching overload. The amazing, delicious fullness of our joining, the sensuous touch of our tongues, the way he drove deeper and harder with every thrust. His weight became almost too much—I whimpered—and then I felt it. A bright brush of pleasure.

“More!” I didn’t ask, I commanded. I heard Jack grunt as he thrust again, hitting that same spot, and I let out a low moan, squeezing my eyes shut against all the sensations I felt flooding me.