by Tessa Bailey
“Condom,” Marcus growled, bliss threatening to erupt inside him at any moment. Without waiting for an answer, he threw open Jamie’s side table, thanking God they’d both been blessed in the anatomy department, because hallelujah, Jamie had a strip of Magnums. He tore one open with his teeth, moaning long and loud when Jamie took over and rolled it down Marcus’s aching cock. “How? The bed, or—”
“Do what feels right.”
“I want to be able to see your eyes,” Marcus managed around the heart beating in his throat. Without another thought about what he should do, he followed his instincts. Marcus used his lower body to push Jamie higher on the wall and angled his hips beneath him, leaving Jamie’s tight ass sitting on his lap—and the sweet pressure of it increased when Jamie slung his legs around Marcus’s hips. “Do you want to see my eyes, too, Jamie?”
Jamie’s eyes flashed and he caught the sides of Marcus’s face, bringing their heads together, anchoring him in the moment again. “More than anything.”
With their mingled breaths coming faster and faster, Marcus reached behind Jamie and guided his cock to where his fingers had been, breaching the tight space one inch at a time. Jamie latched on to Marcus’s lower lip and bit down, drawing blood, never breaking eye contact and everything inside Marcus grew, swelled, gravitated toward his man. Need. This is what real need feels like. “Jamie,” Marcus panted. “Oh Jesus, it doesn’t feel like I stretched you at all. Babe, if I hurt you, I’ll die. I’ll fucking die—”
Jamie cut him off with a kiss and slowly started to undulate his hips, pushing himself down on Marcus’s rigid dick with every deliberate movement. “You’re not hurting me,” Jamie choked out. “I swear to Christ, it’s the opposite.”
Marcus balls drew up tight and his vision wavered, but he didn’t move. His life was going to end right here and now if he didn’t explore the snug channel Jamie was offering him. But he couldn’t move until he was positive… “Are you sure?”
“Marcus,” Jamie said. “Think of someone else’s hand on my thigh.”
“No.” Marcus drove home with a growl. “Mine.”
“Fuck,” Jamie shouted at the ceiling, his thighs jerking tighter around Marcus’s waist. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
What happened next would be fossilized in Marcus’s memory forever. Even before reaching completion, he’d never been more whole. More satisfied. More himself. His mouth fastened on to Jamie’s and he fucked so much more than his first man.
He fucked his first and last love. He’d never been more sure of anything in his life.
Marcus used the wall and an arm around Jamie’s hips to secure him, then he took hold of Jamie’s cock in his free hand and beat him off between their heaving bellies. He timed the pumps of his fist with the drives of his dick into Jamie’s ass and Jesus, in addition to being the sweetest, snuggest pressure of his life, the movements were like breathing. Jamie’s body flexed and grew shiny with sweat, his eyes fogging over, so masculine and gorgeous, Marcus could only marvel that Jamie was giving him the gift of himself. “I’m so lucky, Jamie,” Marcus slurred, leaning in to lick his tongue over Jamie’s collarbone, his neck, his stubbled jaw. “How am I so fucking lucky?”
Jamie pulled him down into a kiss, flexing his backside around Marcus’s pumping dick, eliciting a growl from them both. “I feel how bad you want to bust, crammed inside me so tight. But you’re waiting for me to pop off first, aren’t you?” Jamie ground out, his breath stuttering every time Marcus rocked upward. “Feels like I’m the lucky one.”
“Not for much longer,” Marcus choked out, his thrusts coming faster, his hips acting of their own volition, his base, urgent needs taking over. “This tight ass is killing me,” he said through his teeth, a sharp spike of urgency prodding him low, low in the belly. “I want to fuck it forever, but it’s squeezing me too hard. Making me come.”
“I’m coming, too,” Jamie near-shouted, the hair on his inner thighs rasping the outsides of Marcus’s hips. “Harder, baby. Please.”
The endearment broke Marcus, cracking something open in his chest and creating a painful strain in his balls at the same time. Jamie cursed, his body jerking between Marcus and the wall, and Marcus felt the wet spurt of Jamie’s orgasm creaming over his knuckles—and the proof he’d pleasured Jamie catapulted him over the finish line like nothing else could. A roar built in his sternum and blasted out of him as he drove deep into Jamie’s ass and released the pressure that had been living inside him for at least a century. “Oh my God,” he bellowed, his open mouth on Jamie’s shoulder. “Oh my God, Jamie.”
Jamie’s arms wrapped around Marcus’s neck and although they were unsteady, they were strong. They kept Marcus glued together when he swore his completion—for once, absolute—would bring him to his knees.
“You okay?” Jamie asked, his breathing labored. “That was…”
“Don’t tell me it was good.”
Jamie raised a sweaty eyebrow. “You don’t want me to tell you that was amazing?”
Marcus moaned. “It’s going to make me hard again.”
“Diesel, you are never not hard. This is a proven fact.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Lucky for you.”
Jamie’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond. Maybe Marcus had been wrong to imply this would be happening again? His pulse skipped, lead forming the lining of his stomach at the possibility this was a one-time thing. Something Jamie would be kind about in the morning but would almost definitely classify as a bad decision.
“What’s wrong?” Jamie asked, his legs dropping from their perch around Marcus’s waist. “You want to…talk about anything?”
“No,” Marcus said honestly, dread still trying to battle its way into this perfect moment. He wasn’t going to let it. Searching for courage, he reached down and twined his fingers with Jamie’s. “Can I stay?”
Jamie shook his head. But he said, “Yes.”
Marcus grinned and pulled Jamie toward the bed, but when he would have dived into the clean, white sheets, Jamie yanked him to a stop. “Whoa, whoa. Christ. Get rid of the condom first, would you?” he said, flicking a hand at Marcus’s semi and the weighted latex hanging off the tip. “Is this a pretty good indication of how nasty your sheets are?”
Unable to wipe the smile off his face, Marcus grabbed a tissue and wrapped up the condom, dropping into Jamie’s waist basket. Not bothering to hide that fact that he was ogling Jamie’s naked body, Marcus bounded into bed and got comfortable in the sheets, gesturing for Jamie to join him. After a definite hesitation, Jamie started to climb in—
And Marcus pulled Jamie into a backwards bear hug, wrapping legs and arms around him so he wouldn’t get away. “I’d clean my sheets for you, babe,” he yawned into Jamie’s neck.
It wasn’t lost on him that Jamie didn’t answer.
But Marcus was soaring so high on cloud nine—spending the night in Jamie Prince’s bed—he could only close his eyes and surrender to the best sleep of his life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jamie had apparently woken with the maturity level of a nine-year-old, because he was pretending to be asleep while Marcus plodded around the room getting dressed. Truth was, he’d been awake since before dawn, wondering what the hell to do about the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man in his bed. The one holding him like a stuffed teddy bear.
Beneath the comforter, Jamie’s cock woke up at the sight of Marcus’s naked silhouette. It was outlined in the sunlit blinds, showing off…everything. His dangling dick looked like a someone had filled a sock with wet sand, and Jamie knew if he so much as rolled over, that thing would jump to attention like a boot camp soldier.
As for the rest of Marcus…it was beautiful, too. His hair was in disarray from bed, one side flat, the other in ninety-two directions. He looked softer in the glow of the morning sun, his mouth relaxed, eyebrows knitted together while he tried to find the neck hole of his T-shirt in the dark.
When Jamie’s heart turned
over in his chest for the tenth time since waking, he forced his eyes shut. The mature thing to do here was wake up. For real. Ask Marcus if he wanted some coffee. Compliment him once again on the fucking of a lifetime. Because yeah. That’s exactly what it had been. Jamie was afraid to find out what Marcus could do with some practice. Okay, maybe afraid was the wrong term. More like salivating.
Which is why he continued to feign sleep.
Marcus wouldn’t do the awkward morning-after dance. Jamie knew that without a doubt. He would probably wrestle Jamie into another hug and ask if they could sit together on the beach today. And Jamie would say yes. He’d say yes to anything right now that meant he could spend more time with Marcus.
Anything.
Bad. That was bad.
Case in point, it wasn’t even eight in the morning and Marcus was leaving so no one would know he’d been there. Even now, Jamie could feel the warmth of the embrace he’d slept in dissipating, replacing itself with cold. This is how he’d feel all the time if he gave in to the urge to see how a relationship with Marcus played out. So he forced himself to think of the ridicule on Chris’s red face as he held him under the water, calling him disgusting names. It was impossible to picture that same expression on Marcus, but what if his family found out? When a man’s back was to the wall, there were no guarantees.
And God, Jamie wasn’t sure he could survive Marcus actively denying this thing between them. Because he’d been an idiot and let himself get in too deep, hadn’t he?
Jamie tried to keep his breathing even as Marcus approached the bed.
“I’ll see you at the Hut, Jamie,” he whispered. “I wish…I could stay. I wish so many things. But mostly I just wish for you.”
It was a wonder that Marcus couldn’t hear the knocking of his heart. The creaking of the floor signaled Marcus walking to the door and as soon as he was gone, a rush of breath left Jamie and he couldn’t haul it back in, no matter how hard he tried. He sat up on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands, vacillating between a wish to go back in time and keep Marcus at arm’s length and wishing he hadn’t pretended to be sleeping.
“I’m so fucked,” he muttered, standing and snagging a pair of sweatpants from his drawer and yanking them up his legs, before putting on his glasses and heading downstairs—
Straight into an intervention.
Rory and Andrew were standing at the kitchen island with their arms crossed.
And he hated that the first words out of his mouth were, “Don’t you dare tell anyone he was here.”
His brothers exchanged a concerned look.
Andrew kicked out a stool. “Sit down.”
“Fuck you.”
Rory whistled. “Someone is gunning for my position as the family asshole.”
Jamie trudged the rest of the way down the stairs and took a coffee mug out of the cabinet, dropping it onto the counter like a gavel. “Were you down here when he left?”
“No.” Andrew tipped his chin at their youngest brother. “Rory saw him leaving through the upstairs window and came to get me.”
“This isn’t half as catastrophic as you’re making it out to be,” Jamie scoffed.
“Oh no?” Rory drawled. “Remember what happened the last time a guy snuck out of here before sunrise?”
Pain lanced Jamie in the chest and the wind seeped out of him. “Rory,” he said, turning and focusing in on his brother. “I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you again.”
“Christ, Jamie. I’m not worried about me,” Rory snapped, looking insulted.
“I am. I do.” Jamie shouted back. “I worry all the time about fucking things up again for my family. That’s why I’ve been so careful.” He fell into the stool Andrew had kicked out for him, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Until now. I…I don’t know why the fuck I can’t just be careful when it comes to him.”
Andrew and his stern expression came to stand in front of him. “I can juggle shifts around at the beach, find someone else to work the door at the bar.”
Jamie laughed without humor. “That wouldn’t keep him away.”
“Want me to make him stay away?” Rory asked, grinding his knuckles on the island.
“If you go near him,” Jamie said, failing to keep his tone level. “I’ll light the goddamn boardwalk on fire. Do you understand me?”
A staring contest between Jamie and Rory ensued and Rory conceded victory by inclining his chin. “I’d say this problem is bigger than we thought, A.”
“I’d fucking concur,” Andrew sighed. “Jamie, we just don’t want to see you get hurt. There are so many men out there who’d be better for you.” He paused. “Find a way to walk away from this. Nothing stays a secret for long. You know that. I saw this coming because I’m close to you. But it’s only a matter of time before people start to speculate, Marcus gets nervous and…”
“And then it’s an instant replay,” Jamie said quietly, swallowing. “Without the whole attempted drowning and incarceration aftermath.”
“Don’t remind me about what happened,” Rory gritted out, plowing his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe that piece of shit had the nerve to come back to Long Beach. I’d love to find him and—”
“But you won’t,” Jamie and Andrew stressed at the same time.
“You’ve got Olive now to think about,” Jamie said, watching Rory drain of tension instantly at the mention of his girlfriend. “And if you think getting burned by another man would hurt me, try getting in trouble again because of me.”
Rory gave a slight shake of his head, almost seeming confused. “You’re not really still feeling guilty about the time I served, are you, Jamie?”
“Every day.”
“Well knock it off,” Rory shot back.
“Another heartwarming family meeting, brought to you by the Prince brothers,” Andrew muttered, splitting a reproving look between them both. “Listen, Jamie, just think about—”
The door burst open and Jiya stood outlined in the sunshine, her dark hair lifted in a whirlwind around her face.
“Beautiful,” Andrew breathed. “God.”
“You’re not going to believe what happened!” Jiya squealed, dancing into the kitchen on her toes and executing a perfect pirouette.
“What?” Olive asked sleepily, padding into the kitchen in one of Rory’s T-shirts and rubbing at her eyes beneath her glasses. Their youngest brother turned to visible goo, pulling the drowsy blonde between his outstretched thighs and planting a lingering kiss on her temple. “What aren’t we going to believe?” Olive said again, around a yawn.
Jiya carefully laid down an opened envelope on the kitchen island and pointed at it, like it was a living thing. “Someone paid for my flying lessons.”
A beat of silence passed, before everyone sped into motion. Rory, Olive and Jamie got up to congratulate Jiya with a hug, while Andrew patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.
“How?” Jamie asked, forcing suspicion not to show in his expression. “Was it your parents?”
“Probably.” Jiya was still dancing in place. “My mom has said no to the idea so many times, she probably can’t admit she softened, but there they were in yesterday’s mail. Maybe she still feels bad about forcing me into that terrible blind date—”
Jiya cut herself off and traded an uncomfortable, through-the-eyelashes glance with Andrew. “Oh, was it terrible?” Andrew coughed into his fist. “I’m, uh…sorry to hear that.”
Jiya tucked her hair behind her ears. “Perhaps it wasn’t a love match, but at least now I have a starting point to go on. The next guy will either be better or worse and then I’ll have a date barometer. Is graphing my date experiences cruel or simply scientific?”
“Scientific,” Olive said, pushing up her glasses. “Definitely.”
Andrew tensed. “More dates?”
“When do the lessons start?” Rory cut in, widening his eyes at Andrew.
“In two weeks!” Jiya picked th
e envelope back up and held it over her head like she’d just hit Powerball. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”
With that, she danced back out the kitchen, leaving a vacuum of sound in her wake.
Jamie turned to Andrew. “You bought the lessons, didn’t you?”
His older brother stared after Jiya with his heart in his eyes for a moment before schooling his features. “Be at the Hut on time,” Andrew said, striding from the room. “We’ve got another busy day ahead.”
*
Jamie walked down the boardwalk, watching seagulls swarm a dropped breakfast burrito on the beach. At this time of morning, summer Long Beach was just beginning to come alive. Joggers trundled down the wooden planks in brightly colored gear, young people in pajamas walked their dogs, eyes glued to the cell phones in their hand. The sun drifted behind the remaining cloud cover, continuing to burn it off little by little. The scents of warm sugar and coffee and sunscreen mingled together, so familiar. And yet the way Jamie felt that morning was anything but commonplace.
A guy on a bike swerved around him, dinging the bell, but he barely reacted. Up ahead, the Hut beckoned, the same as it did every day. Marcus would be there. Even if he broke it off with the man, which he needed to—absolutely had to—Jamie still needed to act like last night never happened, for the benefit of their audience. For Marcus’s sake.
And he was in a panic at the mere idea that last night would never happen again.
That last night was it.
He’d never go to sleep again feeling…like nothing in the world could touch him. Like he was in the safest place on the planet. Like he could let his guard down.
Jamie’s heartbeat started pounding double time the closer he got to the Hut. Bad. So bad. He’d always thought of Marcus as some kind of big, eager canine who wanted to play fetch, but the roles were reversed now. Jamie might as well be wagging his fucking tail in anticipation of seeing Marcus. Jesus, how had he let this happen?
