The Lovers: Cards of Love Series

by Cole, Fiona

  "How's working with your dad? I knew you were sometimes annoyed with that."

  "Not as bad as I thought it would be. He gave me a lot of independence in the company, happy I was working there rather than at some company in California." I laughed, remembering the conversation.

  You do what you need to do, son. Just glad to see your face in the office and know the next generation of Wellingtons will be here so their old grandad can teach them the ropes.

  "Was?" Jackson asked, picking up on the past tense.

  "He uh. . ." My chest gave the familiar pinch. "He died of a heart attack two years ago."

  "Fuck, Jake." Jackson's hand shot out to mine in comfort and it singed my skin. I almost jerked back it was so hot. Yet, I didn't. Instead, I stared at the way his large palm covered my fist, feeling a bolt of lightning shoot through me. "I'm sorry about that."

  He squeezed before pulling back.

  "I'm sorry about your parents," I offered four years too late.

  He winced and dropped his eyes to his drink. "Thanks, man."

  "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

  That brought his eyes to mine and in them, I saw every day we spent together in college, every laugh, and every quiet moment. I saw the pain of the years we spent apart.

  Then he blinked, the emotion gone and replaced with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

  "Let's play darts." He stood without waiting for me, making me follow him to the back corner of the bar. "You still suck, right?" he asked.

  "You wished I sucked before."

  His eyebrows raised, and his lips pinched like he was holding back a smile. I didn't know what was so funny until I went back over my words. I shook my head, giving him the middle finger as I turned to grab the darts from the shelf. Anything to hide the heat that flooded my cheeks.

  "I'm gonna grab another pitcher," I said.

  "Uh, did you drive here?"

  "Yeah, but I'll just get an Uber home."

  "Okay."

  The buzz already flowed through my veins and loosened my muscles reminding me of college. How many times had Jackson and me abandoned the crowd to go play darts on our own? We'd sucked at first, but after the first year, we were evenly matched. But I'd been practicing over the years and was ready to finally kick his ass.

  We ended up playing three games. I won the first one and he won the second. We were neck and neck on the third when we started to play dirty. Screwing with each other like the last five years vanished and our friendship slid perfectly back into place.

  "Don't fuck it up," I whispered close to Jackson's ear.

  That fourth pitcher of beer was making me ballsy and forget why I needed to keep my distance. We'd messed with each other like this all through college, and it somehow felt natural to fall back into it again.

  He didn't turn to me, but I saw his smile. Then he hip-checked me, almost hitting my balls. While I was stepping back protecting my junk, he threw the dart just outside of the bullseye.

  I glared when he turned, victory all over his face.

  "You haven't won yet."

  "Not yet," he taunted.

  Deja vu hit when he stepped in front of me, leaning close as he reached for something behind me. "Your turn," he whispered next to my ear. Goose bumps worked their way down my neck from the soft breeze of his words. I stood there frozen, watching him smile and pull back with the glass in his hand he'd been reaching for.

  My nerves rattled, stealing my focus, but I gave the throw my best shot. My best shot ended up being on the wall beside the dart board.

  "Come on, Jakey-boy. I thought you said you'd been practicing."

  My last two throws were better, but Jackson stepped up, hitting the bullseye and the triple ring, and that was the game.

  "Good game, asshole," I said, lightheartedly.

  "Let's do it again sometime. Maybe less beer though. I'm gonna be feeling this in the morning."

  I nodded without hesitance. I actually looked forward to seeing Jackson again.

  He paid our tab and met me by the door. "You didn't have to do that."

  "I'll claim it as business expenses," he explained as he ordered his Uber and I ordered mine. "Next time I'll let you be the man and pay. Since you don't like being the lady in this relationship."

  "I'd be a better man than you. Show you how it's done," I joked just like we used to.

  "Yeah, fucking right," he said, shoving my shoulder. "You'd have to fight me for it."

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I laughed harder, shoving him back.

  He stumbled from my push and grabbed on to my arm to correct himself. Everything after moved as if in slow motion. I'd grabbed onto his arm, so he wouldn't slam into the brick wall, but fell with him, ending up close and bracketing him in with my hands on either side of his head.

  His eyes immediately dropped to my lips as he swallowed. My chest squeezed, and my breath barely escaped my parted lips. They felt dry and my tongue slicked out to moisten them. Then we were moving. Jackson flipped our positions with me pressed against the wall, bracketed in by his arms. But we were closer than before, the heat from our bodies filling the small gap between us.

  All pep talks of shoving anything other than friendship aside vanished. My mind went wild. What if I leaned forward? What if I just touched my lips to his? Would they feel the same as before? Would he pull back? Would my cock get hard again? Would he take me home, fall to his knees and suck my cock again?

  Apparently, we didn't even need to touch for my dick to start lengthening down my leg, pressing against my slacks.

  "Jackson," I whispered. The small breathless word was filled with so much more than I'd intended to let escape. Longing for our lost friendship—for more. Longing for him to fill the places that not even Carina could make whole. It twisted with a desire to feel him that I'd been denying for years.

  Jackson's eyes closed as he breathed in hard through his nose, his lips pressed between his teeth. Then he stepped back. The cool night air caressed my skin, bringing me back to reality.

  Fuck. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I thinking?

  "Your Uber's here," Jackson said, his voice monotone, giving nothing away.

  "Yeah," I muttered, seeing the car by the curb. A hand came into my vision before I could walk off. I slipped mine in his, giving a shake, almost laughing at how formal it was since he'd just had me pinned and breathless against a wall.

  "Thanks for the games of darts. It made me realize how much I missed you—missed my friend."

  His words mirrored the thoughts I'd been having all night. We'd both been missing each other and as long as I stayed away from four pitchers of beer, I should be fine.

  "I missed you too, man," I admitted.

  He gave my hand a final squeeze and let go, jerking his head toward the Uber. "Now go home. We'll play again when you're not drunk as fuck, making questionable decisions."

  The words were said with humor but fell heavy with extra meaning. He was giving me an out for what had just happened. Jackson had always given me an out. And I always took him up on it without thinking too hard about why I needed one.

  "Yeah," I said, simply.

  The ride home was only a few minutes, but my mind swirled around the events of the night. The confusion I'd had from five years ago came back with a roar, but one question screamed the loudest.

  Why? Why Jackson?

  I wasn't attracted to men—and I'd looked when I was trying to find answers. But every time I thought of a guy, my body refused to react. So, why Jackson? The question had me digging through the night I gave in to my curiosity, trying to find an answer.

  My lips were on Jackson's. No one was watching. No one was daring me to do it. I was doing it. All on my own because there was nothing that was going to stop me from leaning in and tasting him.

  He stood prone for all of ten seconds before he abandoned grabbing whatever it was behind me and became an active participant in this craziness. His hands gripped my
hips and pulled me in close. I slicked my tongue across the seam of his lips, and he opened, meeting me halfway, our tongues tangling, pushing together for dominance.

  This kiss was different than the one downstairs. Maybe because I knew what to expect from my body. I wasn't so shocked when my cock grew hard. I wasn't surprised when I felt his length against my own.

  His hands slid under my shirt and up my back, the calluses on his fingertips scraping against my skin, the hard muscles of his shoulders and arms flexing beneath my searching fingers. Every one of my senses was aware of the man before me. Everything about this kiss reminded me that this wasn't a soft female I had in my arms.

  But my body didn't care. My heart still raced, pumping blood to below my waist. My skin still felt alive, anticipating every touch. My mind still pushed me to continue, to race to the orgasm I knew would come. It didn't care if it was Jackson; a man, my best friend.

  Want was all that mattered, and in this moment—in this tiny room—I wanted. Consequences be damned.

  Our bodies collided and rubbed together. His lips aggressively worked their way down my neck, biting at my shoulder before sliding back up to whisper in my ear.

  "Is this okay?"

  I nodded.

  "Tell me when to stop. I'll stop if you need me to." His voice shook, and I wondered if it was the same nerves and excitement making my whole body quiver.

  I helped him take off my shirt and groaned when the heat of our bare chests touched. His hands touched every part of me, and I returned the favor. Our touches were rough and desperate like if we didn't hold on tight enough, this night would slip through our fingers.

  I could hear doors slamming down the hall, but I blocked it all out. Jackson was working his way down my neck again, going further until he flicked his tongue against my nipple.

  Could he feel my heart thundering behind my ribs? Had desire ever burned so hot, singeing every inch of my body until I was sure I'd combust?

  No. I'd never felt this before. Shutting off my brain, I focused on feeling. I focused on watching.

  Jackson sank to his knees and moved his hands to the button on my jeans. Before he opened them, he looked up at me and I wanted to sink in the molten brown of his eyes. I swallowed hard and nodded. He unbuttoned my jeans, slowly tugging the zipper down.

  When I expected him to tug them off, he instead dropped his hands to my thighs and roughly rubbed up and down, staring back at me again. His eyes gleamed, but I could see his nerves too. Wanting to soothe him, I stroked my hand through his hair before cradling his cheek. He turned his head and placed a soft kiss to my palm.

  With my other hand, I worked the denim over my hard cock and groaned when it sprang free, the air of the room a cold breeze across my hot, aching skin.

  Jackson's hand stroked up my bare thigh before gripping the base of my cock, holding it in place so he could slide the full length in his mouth.

  "Oh, fuck," I groaned, trying and failing to keep my eyes open. I wanted to watch the way his lips wrapped around me. I wanted to watch his strong jaw work to take all of me.

  He hummed, and my legs damn near collapsed, and I forced myself to tip my head down to take it all in. A part of me tried to question all of it. A part of me rang like a siren that this was a mistake. I was getting the best damn blow job of my life from my best friend. I was a straight man barely holding off his orgasm as I was roughly jerked and sucked by one of the most masculine men I knew. There was no pretending. There was no wanting to.

  My fingers slid in to his hair and I lost myself, fully giving in to the moment.

  "Yes, Jackson. Suck me harder. All of me."

  I pulled his head down at the same time I thrust my hips, hitting the back of his throat and groaning when he gagged. I was going to pull back because most girls hated when I pushed harder. But not Jackson. Jackson groaned, the vibrations shooting to my balls, pulling them up tight.

  So, I gripped his dark hair in my fingers and did it again. And again. Harder and harder, muttering filthy things you didn't say to your friend.

  But I did.

  "You like it when I fuck your face? Like the way my cock pushes into your throat?"

  He just kept humming his agreement. He'd come off my dick, only to slick his tongue up the back side. He'd sink lower and pull a ball into his mouth to roll it around as he gripped my shaft harder than before and jerk me off.

  At one point his free hand moved to pull the waistband of his pants down to free his own cock. He was so big. Thick and skin pulled tight, flushed with pleasure, a bead of cum leaking out. I had to bite my lip and focus on my breathing when I watched him stroke his thumb across the tip and began stroking himself as he sucked on me.

  "Dammit, you suck my cock so well. I can't wait to shoot my cum down your throat. Gonna make you taste me, fill your whole mouth. Are you going to swallow?"

  At that, he pulled off and smirked up at me. "Every fucking drop," he said as his tongue snaked out to tongue the slit on my head, pulling the precum leaking there into his mouth. "Now, are you going to make me do all the work, or are you going to make good on your promise and fuck my face?"

  I growled, a smile tipping my lips. Because this was Jackson, my best friend who always pushed me harder. Having him on his knees with my cock in his mouth was no different. I gripped his hair tighter and lost myself to my gasping breaths, to the wet sounds of his mouth sliding up and down, to the gagging sound he made each time I pushed harder, to the gasping breaths he took when I finally pulled my cock far enough out of his throat to let him breathe.

  My orgasm started from somewhere deep inside me, a place I never knew existed, and spread like wildfire through my body until every part of me burned.

  "Yes, yes," I moaned. "Swallow me. Swallow it all."

  My cum was ripped from me and he took every drop, the contraction of his throat milking me until I had nothing left. "Jackson," I breathed, all the fire stolen from me.

  He pulled off me and sat back on his heels, his stiff length standing proud in front of him as he stroked himself. I groaned again, watching his biceps and chest flex with the movement. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips parted and wet, begging for me.

  I collapsed to my knees in front of him and pushed my tongue inside, tasting the tang of myself in his mouth. I snaked my hand out and gripped his shaft, jerking it harder than I would my own and loving his moans against my lips. Loved the way his free hand came up to grip my shoulder and hold on as his own orgasm wracked his body. Jerking my lips away from his, I stared down as rope after rope of cum coated my hand still moving up and down. When his tremors finally subsided, I slowed my pace and brushed my thumb along the head, loving the way he jerked from the pressure on his oversensitized skin.

  Curiosity got the best of me and I lifted my hand to slick my tongue through the fluid clinging to my thumb. The salty taste wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be. And the thought of taking Jackson's cum in my mouth made me salivate. That thought should have scared the fuck out of me, and it did, but I was too tired to care. Too satisfied.

  "Fuck," Jackson breathed.

  "It's not bad."

  We each sat on our heels, cocks freed from our pants, the only sound around us the heavy breaths sawing in and out of our bodies.

  "Are you okay?" Jackson spoke up first.

  "Yeah." I breathed a laugh. "Yeah, I think I am."

  Every muscle in my body tingled but was relaxed. The alcohol from earlier mixed with the heavy release had me ready to collapse.

  "Come on." Jackson stood and pulled me with him, handing me a towel to clean up. "Will you stay?" he asked once we had our pants back in place.

  He looked so nervous and I hated that. I wanted to soothe him, wanted to make him feel half as good as he had me.

  "Of course. Anything."

  He gestured to the bed and we crammed our large bodies on the twin size mattress, laughing at how tight a fit it was. But I'd turned to my side and Jackson slid behind me, wrapping me ti
ghtly in his embrace.

  It felt like coming home. Better than I'd ever felt with anyone else's arms around me.

  It wasn't until the light of day peeked through the blinds that panic set in and I'd ran.

  "Sir? We're here."

  I jerked from my memory, more shaken than I was when I got in the car. I'd wanted to know what it was about Jackson that made me question my sexuality, but I hadn't found any answers in the ten-minute ride home.

  I thanked my driver and stumbled out of the car. When I entered the elevator, I made a rash decision and hit Carina's floor instead of mine.

  Just thinking about her greeting me in her nightie was enough to get me excited. I'd take her as soon as she opened the door. Rip the fabric off her and feast on her until I forgot what it was like to want another.

  This. This was desire.

  Jackson and I were just friends like we were before.

  I walked down the hall and rationalized the night away.

  I was a straight man.

  I just needed to get laid.

  I was drunk, and my body was easily excited, no matter the gender.

  I fumbled with my keys to her apartment, dropping them from my numb fingers. Desperate to reach her and push the night from my mind, I knocked harder than I needed to. A moment later she opened the door, looking rumpled and delicious, wearing the nightie I'd imagined.

  "Why didn't you use your keys?"

  I remained silent, kicking the keys I'd dropped on the floor earlier into her apartment before stalking her back, flinging the door shut behind me.

  "Jake?" she questioned, a quiver of desire igniting behind my name.

  Her arms reached back when her butt collided with the frame of the couch, pushing her breasts out, making me almost as hard as remembering that night from college with Jackson.

  No. Harder.

  I was more turned on by the beautiful woman in front of me. And once I had her naked, no doubt would linger about it. I gripped the silky material and tugged, feeding on the sound of her gasp and the shredding fabric, letting it fuel my desire.