I looked at Easton, whose intense gaze told me that like J he wanted to say more, to push me to grab this chance. But being a cop had been my dream, always, and I didn’t know how to feel about the relief rocking just from the possibility of being able to do something else. I wondered if it was me, if I was not suited for it all along. If instead of stubbornly refusing to consider anything else if I would’ve been better off going in another direction like Juan Pablo did.
If I’d wasted all these years.
I was a mess of conflicting feelings, but for the first time in a really long time I felt almost brave enough to admit that I didn’t know what I was doing. That I felt lost. I turned to look at J, whose brown eyes where trained on me like he was trying to decipher what was going through my head word by word. As if it meant everything for him to be able to do so. I let myself feel the love these men had for me. I took it in even though right now I couldn’t reach for what they were offering.
“Thanks, Tom. I’ll keep it in mind. I’m not ready to give up on the NYPD yet. I practically start shaking just at the thought of not being a cop anymore. It’s who I am.”
Multiple protests cropped up at once and Easton actually stood up. “Pris, you know that’s not true.” I had to laugh at my friend’s obvious affront.
“Okay, East, chill,” I said, handing him over my glass. “Let’s get some more wine and take this party downstairs, because even if I love the attention of seven gorgeous men on me, I am not so into this ‘True Confessions’ moment. Thank you again, Tom, truly.”
I pointed a finger at Camilo for the next part. “And that’s not a greenlight for you to try and wear me down until I say yes either.”
He clutched a hand to his chest like the little drama queen he was. “What me? When have I ever told people what to do with their life?”
That finally got the tension to break as everyone proceeded to laugh their ass off at Camilo’s shamelessness. Soon they were all getting up and walking out of the crowded bedroom and headed downstairs. When it was just J and I left in the room I felt his hand on my shoulder and the slightest brush of a beard on the nape of my neck. With my hair up in a pineapple the bare skin there tingled with Juan Pablo so close. There were a thousand reasons for me not to lean into him or to tighten the arms by my hip around my waist, but I couldn’t come up with a single one.
“You all right?” The huskiness in his voice eased me, and I wanted to rest my head there forever.
“I am. I’m good,” I said and meant it. I closed my eyes, expecting him to say something that would make things weird or would make me pull away. In the past he would’ve pushed against me tighter, pressed his lips to my ears, making me shiver. I almost hoped he would, but I also trusted he wouldn’t cross the boundary, or any other, I asked of him.
He just swayed with me for a moment. Letting the conversation and the lifeline Tom had so casually handed over sink in. He knew there was no way I could talk about it. That there was no decision I could make right now. But knowing that my friends had my back meant something.
And seeing J hold back from trying to fix things was the most meaningful of all.
Chapter Nineteen
Juan Pablo
“Did Milo really just leave in the middle of Cards Against Humanity to go fuck Tom?” I didn’t even know why I sounded surprised anymore. “Y’all are really doing the most. Damn. Nesto, leave Jude alone, he’s trying to eat some popcorn.” I was whining. But I was horny, tired and I’d been drinking, so my ashy ass friends were just gonna have to hear me complain.
“Juan Pablo, stop!” Pris was on the other side of the couch I was lounging in, with her feet on my thighs, and she sounded more amused than pissed at my litany of complaints, so maybe I’d just keep doing it. She’d been rubbing on my legs and generally getting me revved up all night. My poor dick was in agony. The past two days we’d been back to the times when we’d be at my parents’ basement, trying not to get caught.
She winked at me as she gestured to Nesto for some more wine. “Jude’s learned to live with the constant pawing.” Jude smiled, his blond hair mussed from all the touching Nesto was doing.
“Oh I’m used to it, I also really enjoy it, so don’t discourage him.” I looked at Pris when he said that, searching for her reaction. When our eyes met I didn’t find the regret in her eyes I’d been expecting, instead there was a spark there. Something good and hopeful, and I was sorry for not being able to act on it.
After another minute Patrice and Easton excused themselves, claiming exhaustion even though the fire in both their eyes indicated that sleep was not on the agenda anytime soon.
Pris and I were left sitting in front of the fireplace and from the tension in her shoulders I knew I was not the only one feeling more than a little flustered. Desperate for some kind of distraction I blurted out the one thing I knew would get both our minds off fucking in a hot second. “So what did you think about Tom’s offer?”
She shrugged and ran a finger over the rim of her glass. “I mean what is there to think? It’s a typical ‘Tom is a Unicorn’ type of thing.”
I laughed at how deadpan she said that, but waited quietly because I knew she had something else in there. “I can’t make those decisions right now. I have obligations. I have cases. I have bills to pay. Chasing some dream of teaching people how to love themselves more may never be a way to make a living and I don’t know that I’m brave enough to take that risk, J.” She looked crestfallen, ashamed to be admitting she was scared. I wanted to hold her, but I knew that doing that would only shut her down.
When she opened her mouth again her words were soft and just a little bit tentative, like she couldn’t believe that she was saying them herself. “I’m discovering that there’s so much in our parents’ dreams that are tied to our own it’s hard sometimes to untangle it all. And their dreams are always safe, doctor, lawyer, cop. The dreams of security, stability.”
Her smile was bleak, almost resigned. It was an expression I’d never seen before. And that was when I really understood that Priscilla and I weren’t those kids who fell in love anymore. We weren’t even the people who broke up a few years later. No, we were a man and a woman who had lived and struggled, and paid a cost to dream our dreams.
When she opened her mouth again, it was like she was summoning the words from a place deep inside where they’d been hiding for a hundred years. “That dream of legitimacy, sometimes we have to be the ones who fulfill it for them. Papi wished more than anything to serve this country and for years he wasn’t able to. Once he could, he was too old and I wanted to do it for him.”
I took a small sip from the Zacapa I’d been nursing and laid my head against the armrest. “I know what you mean. My old man, all he wanted was to leave a legacy, to claim a little piece of the American story for him and his family. And I—”
I almost shied away from saying what was on my mind, because I feared it would put us back in a bad place. Bring memories of some of the worst moments we’d had into the room and I didn’t want anything but her and I here. Still I said it. “I didn’t give him the thing I knew would have made him feel like he had roots.” I didn’t need to tell her what that was. “I think that’s why I was always so defensive whenever it came up between us. Why I could be such an asshole about your job. It took me a while, but I see now that my negativity was more tied to my own shit than anything else.”
I didn’t know why I’d said that, but once I did and saw Priscilla’s face relax I knew it had been the right thing to say.
She was thoughtful, but her mood had shifted; she wanted to say whatever was on her mind. “From the first day of the training academy I knew I’d have to work hard to stay in the force for the long haul. Not just because of the obvious misogynistic and racist bullshit that I’ve always had to deal with, but because there was something about the job and the work that didn’t always fit with me.” She closed
her eyes and I knew she was searching for a gentle way to say whatever she was thinking. I knew despite the struggles she still believed in what she did. “Don’t get me wrong, I think there are a lot more good cops than bad ones, and there are some fucking rock stars in the force, who believe in this work, in getting better. I just think I’m more of a community builder. I like a level playing field. Sitting with people and helping them figure things out.”
I could see her doing that. Getting on her podcast and breaking shit down for folks, bringing in guests and getting down to the nitty gritty with them.
“You’re good at that. You’ve been amazing at the workshops. We’ve got a waiting list.”
She laughed at that, and I could tell how happy she was about how much people loved her classes. “I’m glad I can fulfill that need. Especially in our community. We’ve had our heads filled with way too much bullshit about what sex should look and feel like for black and brown bodies and if I can help get people at least thinking about things differently, or a little curious, then I will have done my job.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that with the demand at the center, how well her podcast was going and the fact that Tom had all but offered her a place where she could open her store, it seemed like trying this out for real was not as far-fetched as she’d thought even just a few weeks ago. But of course our fucking friends had to be obnoxious.
At first I couldn’t tell what the thumping was, since I was so focused on figuring out how to push Pris a little on Tom’s offer, but when she started busting up and looking at the ceiling I finally tuned into the noise.
“Sounds like the honeymoon is still going strong.” She said it between gasps because she could barely speak from laughing. I sucked my teeth and jumped up from the couch. Turned around as moans started coming from the other side of the wall behind the couch.
“What the fuck?” By this point I was starting to fear that Pris was going to hurt herself from cackling. But the moaning together with the thumping from upstairs was giving me the giggles too. Our friends were horny freaks.
Pris had put down her wineglass so she could clutch her stomach and was shaking so hard the pineapple on her head was bobbing like crazy. “Oh shit, that’s Patrice and Easton. They have the big downstairs suite.” She pointed at the wall as another long moan came through the wall.
“What the hell is Patrice doing to him? He sounds like he’s getting skinned!” I knew I sounded like a baby, but now that the shock had worn off I was getting a little bit turned on with all the porn sounds coming from every bedroom in the house.
Pris finally stood up, a silly grin still pasted on her face. “I don’t know if skinned is the right verb, but whatever it is, sounds like Patrice is doing a great job.” She tugged on my hand as I stood there, half horny as fuck and half mortified. “Let’s go to our room. We can watch Stranger Things or some other scary show that will calm you down.”
“I’m calm!” Wow my voice was super high and now she was looking at the tent in my pants. But I’d promised myself I was not going to be the one to break our no-hookup agreement. My heart sped up from embarrassment, but also because I caught the exact moment when she realized she wasn’t as unaffected by the fact that we were basically engulfed in fucking noises. Her eyes ran up and down my front and stopped for a couple of heartbeats on what I knew was a raging erection. I had to fight the urge to smack my dick down. The only thing that kept me from doing it was the knowledge that I’d probably pass out from the pain.
I wasn’t trying to be any kind of hero right now.
And damn the way Priscilla was licking her lips had me feeling some type of way.
Fuck. I wanted her.
She went from looking goofy to flushed and, oh shit, this wasn’t good. I almost tripped trying to get to the stairs, and the moment I started moving she jumped back like I’d shocked her. I pointed in the direction of the stairs. “Uh, I need to shower.” She nodded slowly and pointed to the kitchen.
“I’m gonna tidy up here.” She took off for the kitchen like a rocket and I was on my way up the stairs in a hot second. I was going to strip my dick raw in that shower as soon as I locked that door behind me.
I got to the room in two seconds flat and was skinning out of my sweats as soon as I was on the other side of the door. Motherfuckers had me acting like a thirteen-year-old.
Priscilla
I was squirming. Like my pants were on fire. We went from deep conversation, to wanting to tear each other’s clothes off in the freaking family room in seconds. And the fuck fest wasn’t over either. As soon as Tom and Milo stopped, Nesto and Jude picked up the relay baton and there had been nothing but Si, Papi. And Just like that, Nesto, for the last fifteen minutes. I was starting to fear that Juan Pablo had either knocked himself out in the bathroom or was going to give himself pneumonia, because there was no fucking way there was any hot water left.
“Shit.” I was so turned on, but I would not succumb. No, things were going well. J was supportive and awesome and I would lie if I didn’t say that I was feeling things. Things I’d thought were long gone for me. But there was a difference. J had been a friend to me in the past few weeks like he’d never been when he was my boyfriend. And I was not going to bring in our very well-intentioned, but nosy and opinionated Peanut Gallery into the mix, until I was ready. If J and I got into it tonight, not only would they most likely hear us—since these walls were apparently made of rice paper—they’d want answers for things I was still figuring out.
Still I needed to take the edge off. If J walked out of that bathroom in nothing but a towel, like I knew he fucking would, I was going to jump him.
I went to the door of the bathroom and tapped on it gently. “Hey, are you okay in there?” There was a grunt and then what sounded a lot like panting, and I could see the shadows of his feet as he approached the door.
“Hey, yeah I’m good. Just need like another five minutes.”
I could make myself come in two. Good Lord this was ridiculous, but fuck it.
I dove into my bed and quickly got under the covers, with the sounds of Nesto and Jude’s sexcapade in my ears and the image of J on the other side of that door, gripping his cock hard, pinching his nipples, and making himself come. The way he spoke when I knocked on the door, there was just a hint of tension there that I recognized all too well. And yep, I was going to do this.
With one hand I reached over for the lamp on the table between the beds and switched it off, the other I slid into my yoga pants, my breath hitching at the wetness I found there. My stomach tightened with need as I ran the pads of two fingers over my engorged clit. I was wet and ready but this didn’t feel like nearly enough when J was just a few feet away.
The thought of him naked and turned on was explosive, and soon I was circling my fingers hard over my clit, my limbs and gut going liquid with the orgasm I could already feel coming. I was almost there. I cupped my breast and tweaked the nipple, already panting. My mind flooded with Juanpa doing this instead of me. Like on the beach in the DR. How he grinned and looked up at me. His lips glistening from my heat. The way he licked them after, like tasting me was the greatest delicacy in the world. I arched my back as another shot of pleasure zinged every nerve in my spine and tried hard not to cry out. The muffled groan that came from the bathroom, just as my orgasm was edging out all rational thought was the last straw and soon I was clutching a hand to my chest as an orgasm washed over me.
Just as I was done getting myself together again the door of the bathroom cracked open and as suspected Juan Pablo strolled out in nothing but a towel. I almost laughed at just how accurate my prediction had been.
He was busy running a boar bristle brush on his fade and the way his bicep tightened made me want to jump him. He’d had his head down as he walked out, but after I turned on the small lamp by the bed, his eyes snapped up and locked with mine.
; I was flushed, I knew that. And if anyone could recognize the signs of me in post-masturbatory bliss it was Juan Pablo. I didn’t say anything, too distracted by the mouth-watering picture that J freshly showered made. I dropped my gaze down to the knot right over his groin, then up to that flat stomach and the tattoos that I’d seen him get over the years. There was the one on his chest that he had gotten with the guys so long ago. The little map of Puerto Rico with a heart over the spot where Aguadilla Pueblo, his father’s hometown, was. He had one for his mother too, her last name in heavy black font under his collarbone. I knew that if he turned around, there would be one with the date of our first kiss. It had been a dumbass idea when we were eighteen and still the thought of him having part of our history etched on his skin made my chest flutter.
I wasn’t sure what we were doing tonight or at all, but the ache between my legs was coming back with a vengeance with J flexing for me in every sense of the word. He did little circles on his scalp with the brush for a few seconds, and ran his tongue over his bottom lips. When he leaned against the doorway, eyes holding my gaze I knew we weren’t playing anymore. No, this was a pre-fucking stare off and who ever broke first would be left holding the bag whenever we blew shit up.
I caved first.
“Are you all done in there?” I sounded winded, because I’d been holding in my breath to keep from jumping him.
His eyes were practically trying to pierce through my skull to figure out what was going on in there. He looked hard at me for a few seconds and then pushed himself off the door frame and stepped to the side.
“All yours.” He waved his hand with a little flourish while I prayed to all the deities I knew that his towel stayed in place until I found refuge in the bathroom. I quickly got up from the bed and managed not to trip all over myself as I avoided all eye contact and was in the clear. But when I brushed past him in the doorway, the scruff of his beard made contact with my cheek as he whispered close to my ear, “I know that smell.”
American Sweethearts Page 17
