by Tessa Bailey
“Fuck that. Don’t kiss me like you’d kiss someone else—”
Jamie dove in with a choked sound, and if Marcus thought he’d been ruined for life and women before, it was proven when Jamie’s mouth moved unrestrained over his, no rhythm to speak of. Just lips colliding, tongues being brandished and sucked on, two sets of hands getting lost in two heads of hair. Lying full against Marcus’s chest, Jamie groaned into his mouth, their mouths slanting across each other, teeth baring and nipping, before resuming the kiss in an increasingly frantic pace.
In need of air, they broke apart and Jamie was the sexiest motherfucker he’d ever seen, his hair all messed up, mouth swollen, eyelids heavy. “Wow,” Marcus whispered.
Jamie’s breath hitched and Marcus could feel the distance Jamie suddenly searched for. Had Marcus said something wrong? He wanted to ask Jamie to please not try to create some kind of wall, but then Jamie unzipped his pants and Marcus could do nothing but gulp, watching with hunger multiplying in his gut as Jamie reached into his jeans. “What were you doing before I got here, huh?” Jamie’s fist moved in his jeans, his head falling back on an exhale. “Trying to convince yourself you don’t need this?”
Watching Jamie Prince touch himself was the hottest vision his eyes had ever been given the pleasure of seeing up close. And Marcus could no more stop his hand from creeping beneath the hem of his own sweatpants than he could live underwater.
“You’ve been watching the wrong shit and we both know it.” Jamie used his free hand to shove the jeans down his hips—and there was his cock. It was…wide. Thick. Kind of like a soda can. It had an upward curve to it that made Marcus’s own dick grow fatter in his fist. “Want to know what I watch? Want me to give you your own private show?”
“Yes,” Marcus rasped. “Please.”
Jamie looked Marcus right in the eye and started to jerk himself off in earnest, faster and faster with his mouth dropped open. Marcus thought Jamie was moaning, but it turned out to be him. Marcus’s fist held his cock in a brutal grip, stroking it top to bottom fast enough to make his balls bounce painfully.
“You like that, don’t you?” Jamie asked.
Moisture leaked from the head of his dick. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Yes.”
“Let me see what’s in your pants,” Jamie said hoarsely. “Show me where all that frustration is coming from. It gets hard for different things these days, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Even when you don’t want it to.”
Sides heaving, Marcus nodded his head several times.
“It gets hard for me.”
“Jesus Christ,” Marcus moaned. “So hard, babe. I can’t make it stop.”
He wasn’t going to survive this. His body was wrapped in flames and every muscle was taut to the point of agony. God. God, he’d never been this turned on or desperate for relief in his life, but at the same time, he didn’t want it to end. Once it was over, he could only get back here by making hard decisions again. Again. Right now, he was already in it, no turning back and there was so much freedom in that, he could barely handle it.
Jamie leaned down and engaged him in a rough kiss that made Marcus thrust harder into his own grip. “Babe, huh?”
“Yeah,” Marcus said gruffly.
Jamie stared at him with a line between his brows, before seeming to shake himself. He looked down at his own cock and Marcus followed his line of vision, memorizing the sight of Jamie fucking his own hand, moisture sliding down the head of his shaft. “Have you thought about tasting it?”
Marcus wet his lips. “When nothing else can get me off…that’s what does it.”
“No one’s going to know if you think of it first instead of last, Marcus,” Jamie said, kissing his mouth over and over, turning his mind to mush. “No one is patrolling your thoughts.”
“You would know,” Marcus muttered thickly. “You’re in them constantly.”
Jamie’s chin jerked up. “We…” he started, for once without the right words. “I think we should stop.”
“No.” Marcus wrapped his free arm around the back of Jamie’s lower body, dragging him close…and the feel of Jamie’s erection brushing Marcus’s lips was the most natural thing in the world. “Please. If we stop now, I don’t know if I’ll be able to start again.”
“That’s why we should stop,” Jamie said, but his fingers were already tangling in Marcus’s hair, his hips were already making subtle side to side movements, making his cock slide back and forth against Marcus’s damp, open mouth. “Marcus…”
At that point, nothing short of a meteor landing on the roof of the building could have kept Jamie’s piece out of Marcus’s mouth. But the hesitancy in Jamie’s voice is what made Marcus wrap his lips around the fat head sooner, finding the slit with his tongue and wedging it in, writhing around in the spot Marcus knew was sensitive as hell.
“Ah, Jesus. Fuck!” Jamie shouted.
Then? The dopest, hottest thing in the world happened.
Jamie got aggressive with Marcus. And yet another cog locked into place inside of him.
Oh shit. Okay, this is right where I’m supposed to be.
Fingers locked in Marcus’s hair, Jamie pushed Marcus down lower on the couch, putting his mouth right on level with Jamie’s lap. Marcus’s ass was hanging off the front of the sofa, but he couldn’t have cared less because Jamie was pumping all that swelled up thickness into his mouth, grunting the way Marcus did when he hit the bench press. And damn, Jamie was getting it. He honest to goodness wanted to congratulate Jamie on being the biggest badass on planet earth, but that would require use of his mouth and he definitely didn’t have that.
Thank God. No complaints.
What he did have? Satisfaction. So much fucking satisfaction. He’d known for some time that making Jamie happy made him happy, but seeing the other man’s face screwed up with a mixture of pleasure and pain lowered a sense of rightness over Marcus. Which was saying something considering his dick was ready to explode in his sweatpants.
Groaning around Jamie’s driving cock, Marcus shoved down his own sweatpants all the way and took control of his erection, fisting the base and stroking upward slowly, slowly, before beginning a series of rapid-fire jerks. He found a pace and quickly focused on what he could do for Jamie. The job he wanted most.
In Marcus’s fantasies, he was more of a voyeur, watching himself and Jamie together. He’d never really let himself consider what the taste, the texture of a man’s flesh in his mouth would be like and Jesus, it was instantly addictive. The shaft of Jamie’s dick was smooth as it thrust between Marcus’s lips, helmet tip dragging along his tongue, leaving salty leakage behind, as if he couldn’t help it. Marcus looked up to see the sheen of sweat on Jamie’s straining throat, his bunched stomach muscles. Hot. So hot.
Jamie’s flesh swelled in Marcus’s mouth and he let out a strangled sound, holding Marcus’s head in place, movements turning disjointed. “You been hiding in this apartment, wishing a man could come ride your fucking throat, Marcus? Yeah, I know you have. Here I am.”
Marcus moaned and felt the tide rise, low in his belly. Having Jamie using his mouth like he owned it was enough to push him close to his peak, but throw in that growly tone of voice he’d never heard Jamie use before and Marcus wasn’t going to make it another thirty seconds without spilling. He continued to stroke himself with his right hand, wrapping the left around the base of Jamie’s cock, tugging the girth toward his suctioning mouth.
“God, yes. Just like that.” Jamie’s fingers twisted tighter in Marcus’s hair, his sac rebounding off Marcus’s wet chin. “Suck me off like you’ve been dreaming about getting on your knees for years.” He pushed deep and held himself halfway down Marcus’s throat, forcing Marcus to breathe through his nose. “Maybe you’ve even been dreaming of getting bossed around a little, huh, Marcus?”
Jamie withdrew himself, allowing Marcus to suck down oxygen and he heard himself gasping, “Yes.” Getting bossed around by Jamie Pr
Only about a split second passed before Jamie was back in his mouth, pushing, pushing, punching his hips. “Christ, you take me so motherfucking deep. I can’t wait anymore.” Marcus looked up, they locked eyes and once again that sense of belonging washed over Marcus. “Going to give it to you now,” Jamie rasped, riding Marcus’s mouth with rough undulations of his lower body. “Go ahead and enjoy it. Your secret is safe with me.”
A look of rapture passed over Jamie’s face and his entire body started to shake. Marcus groaned at the taste of Jamie’s spend as it traveled down the back of his throat. The taste, the front row seat to Jamie’s orgasm, sent Marcus into outer space, his belly twisting violently from the onslaught of relief. Marcus closed his eyes, but somehow the world was still Technicolor. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. It was the never-ending climax. Jamie’s cock jerked over and over in his mouth and Marcus memorized every spasm, every guttural curse from the man above him even as his own spurts of come rained down on his lap, probably getting on the couch but who fucking cared? Life was grand and he was flooooaaaaating.
It seemed to take ages for Marcus’s body to readjust to life on earth. His equilibrium was shot and all he could do when Jamie pulled out of his mouth was flop his head back, trying desperately to fill his lungs. For several beats, Marcus was happy. Almost…giddy in a way. He felt like he’d just been fed nitrous oxide at the dentist—that’s how satisfied he was. And he hadn’t been that way in a long-ass time. Maybe ever.
Jamie stood, staring down at Marcus with a heaving chest. Marcus couldn’t read his expression, but he thought it might have been a mixture of concern and shock. He watched as Jamie turned to walk to the bathroom and—
Oh, so that’s where his come had landed. It was all over Jamie’s back and the top swells of his ass, which were visible above the back waistband of Jamie’s unzipped jeans. Those two tan humps flexed as he walked and Marcus almost got up to follow him. Just to observe.
But the moment Jamie vanished into the bathroom, Marcus’s perspective stomped into the apartment like a ten-ton elephant.
He’d just given a blow job.
This morning, he’d never given one. He’d been trying to do the right thing. Or maybe not the right thing, but at least what was expected of him. What was necessary. He’d been trying to put thoughts of Jamie out of his head. If he could just make it to the end of the week without caving and trying to get close to him, he could probably get to the end of the summer, too. Jamie would go back to teaching. Marcus would be busy with the Main Squeeze. No time to worry or consider if his life would always be unfulfilled because he’d been born…gay. And didn’t know how to live that way.
His family was small. Of the three of them, Marcus was the butt of the jokes. The one whose IQ was always speculated on when he did something dumb. When he told his father and brother about his fledgling idea for a juice shop, they’d not so subtly suggested he take the civil servant exam instead. To considering following in his brother’s footsteps. What are you, some kind of friggin’ businessman now? I love you, bro, but you couldn’t tie your shoes until you were ten. Let’s be real here.
Marcus sat forward and dropped his head into his hands.
Jesus, he could only imagine what they’d say if he brought home Jamie.
Jamie, who they should admire. He was smart as hell, a good brother, funny, he put up with Marcus following him around like a puppy dog. Jamie had this way of pretending to be exasperated with Marcus, but two seconds later, there he was agreeing to help with the Main Squeeze, because he was secretly caring. Yeah, Jamie was complicated and wonderful and…a little bruised up over the past, but that mostly made Marcus want to hug him. Like, all the time.
No way should anyone treat Jamie with anything less than respect.
Being ridiculed by his own family? Marcus would have a hard enough time with that. But if they did it to Jamie? His temper would scorch the goddamn earth.
Bottom line, Marcus had decided to pull back. Stop pursuing Jamie. It had been hard enough staying away when they’d only rubbed their bodies together on the train. This was so much further. Could he even go back to his old self now? Was that even possible?
Everything was moving too fast. One minute he’d been watching bad porn and the next he was a practicing gay man. What the hell was he supposed to do?
Jamie’s hand landed on Marcus’s shoulder without warning.
On reflex, Marcus shoved it off. Jamie stared back at him, holding a towel limply at his side and he was more vulnerable than Marcus had ever seen him. Come to think of it, he’d never seen Jamie vulnerable. But he snapped his guarded expression back into place almost immediately, clearing his throat as he found his shirt, yanking it down over his head.
Why couldn’t Marcus find his fucking tongue to apologize?
Say something.
But he’d gone from the highest high to a place of total insecurity, where nothing in his future seemed clear anymore, so Marcus could only sit there, numb and kind of shell shocked as Jamie stopped with his hand on the doorknob, prepared to leave.
Several seconds passed.
“I’m so sorry, Marcus.”
The door closed on Jamie’s words, the sound of the door snicking shut echoing in the sudden hollow of Marcus’s stomach.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Growing up with the last name Prince was ironic, because their household had been the furthest thing from a palace. When Jamie was just entering elementary school, he remembered some semblance of happiness between his parents, even if their fights had been loud enough to make the neighbors close their windows. Not unusual in their section of Long Beach. Those fights had steadily escalated throughout his youth, until they’d stopped.
Or until someone had put a stop to them, rather.
Jamie bit down on the disquieting thought and put his head down against the wind, trudging down the boardwalk. The weather was as off kilter as Jamie today, warm, sticky and breezy with a light drizzle to round it out. The beach had emptied early, vacationers piling into the bars off the boardwalk. Bad weather on a Saturday meant the Castle Gate would be packed, people seeking refuge in the cozy pub interior.
He couldn’t bring himself to join his brothers at work just yet, though.
Yeah, he was pretty sure if someone knocked on the bar to get his attention today, he’d probably smash a bottle over their heads. Jamie needed a break from the loud. When he, Andrew and Rory were kids, there was only one place they could accomplish that. The house next door. That wasn’t where Jamie was headed now, but it was the next best thing.
At the corner of the block, Spice came into view and Jamie could already see Jiya Dalal passing back and forth behind the floor-to-ceiling windows. On a street lined with coffee shops and bars, the restaurant stood out like a white stone in a handful of black sand. The eaves were held up by marble pillars and Bollywood music crept out whenever a customer opened the door, along with the scent of garlic and cardamom.
During their youth, Jiya had moved from India to Long Beach with her parents. One afternoon, when their parents were having a particularly bad fight, she’d pushed aside a wooden slat in the fence separating their homes and invited the three boys over to watch television in her garage. Mrs. Dalal had brought them Cokes with straws and told them they were welcome any time. Looking back, Mrs. Dalal hadn’t hidden her sympathy all that well. But they’d been too hyped on free soda to care.
Jamie loved Jiya like a sister. So did Rory.
Andrew was another story altogether.
Almost at the entrance of Spice, Jamie caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows and shook his head. Whenever he made it to the Castle Gate, Andrew was probably going to send him home so he wouldn’t scare off the clientele.
After dropping the keys back to Andrew last night and waiting for him to close, they’d driven home together in silence. Jamie could feel his brother sending him concerned looks, but he’d been too punctured full of holes to reassure Andrew. And he hadn’t taken advantage of the few hours of sleep between dawn and his lifeguarding shift, either. Hence his corpse-like appearance.
How had he managed to fuck up so badly?
He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, because he’d gone over to Marcus’s apartment subconsciously hoping something would happen. No sense in denying it. Yeah, he’d been curious about Marcus’s reasons for dropping their friendship like a hot potato, but he’d also wanted to poke Marcus’s attraction with a stick to see what happened.
Now he knew. An absolute catastrophe.
Jamie was back in that place. That dirty, shameful secret place he swore he would never return to—and it was worse this time around. He’d done it to himself and in the process? He’d taken Marcus down with him and that was not fair. As much as it had felt like a slap in the face, he’d deserved to have Marcus push him away afterward.
Swallowing the guilt, Jamie stepped into Spice, winking at Jiya when she looked up with a happy hostess smile parked on her pretty face.
It dropped when she saw him.
“Whoa,” Jiya said, weaving around two tables to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Who beat you with the ugly stick?”
“Me.” He tried to smile, but it fell flat. “I did it to myself.”
“That takes some skill.”
Jamie shrugged. “I’m a man of many talents.”
The words were barely out of his mouth before Jiya hooked their arms together and marched him toward a table, pushing him down onto a cushioned chair. “Stay here. I’m going to tell my mom I’m taking my dinner break. You’re going to have kadai chicken. I’m going to have a salad, but I’m probably going to ignore it and eat half of yours.”
This time, Jamie’s smile was genuine. “Yes, ma’am.”
A few minutes later, a waitress replaced Jiya on the floor, allowing her to untie her apron, toss it on the table and plop down across from Jamie. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you, even looking like shit—”
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