FAST Balls (Balls to the Wall Book 4)

by Tara Lain

  He set the laptop on the table and crawled up to his knees, but he didn’t want to take his fingers out. He grabbed his cock and pumped it while he shoved his other hand in and out of his butt. Oh God, why hadn’t he done this before? Oh yes, oh God. What if that was a cock? What if it was Jerry’s cock? Pushing in.

  He rammed harder and harder. Couldn’t stop. Had to.

  Frantically, he pumped his hand and rammed his fingers. His hole felt hot and—Holy crap, what was that? Like a million-watt bulb went off in his ass. Holy God. Again. Again. He slid in the fingers just enough and explored. Yes! Amazing! Yes. The big black cock reamed that asshole just like Jerry’s cock rammed his hole. Oh God! Juice spurted from his cock like ropes of white cream—again and again while fire shot through his balls. Jesus, it practically hurt, but so good. He gasped for breath. Could his heart really beat that hard? He let his head fall forward onto the arm of the chair and his fingers pulled out of his ass. Sticky.

  It seemed like an hour before his heart slowed back to normal.

  Oh God, that sick music. He opened his eyes. The black man had the woman on her back and was pumping in her butt. Her feet waved in the air, flashing some pink plastic heels. That wasn’t sexy. Turn it off!

  He looked down. What a mess. Streaks of white goo decorated the arm of his favorite chair. Oh crap, what had he done?

  He’d been thinking about Jerry. That was it. Just like his father had said, they lead you into paths of unrighteousness. Jerry. His fault. All his fault.

  Chapter Five

  JERRY OPENED his eyes. Blue sky. He should have been up a long time ago to get the best waves. But he hadn’t slept a lot, and when he’d finally crashed, the sky had been getting light. Shit. He stretched an arm out to the side. He could be touching the smooth brown skin of Andres Garcia, but no. He’d chickened out.

  He sighed and sat up, leaning against the padded headboard JJ had picked for him. Nice. Comfortable. But he didn’t feel very comfortable right now. His stomach was kind of queasy and jittery. Oh hell, thinking was so not his thing, but it was time to do some.

  He was upset about Bill, but… no but, full stop. Number one thing on his mind—upset about Bill.

  He looked at the clock: 9:00 a.m. on a Friday. Bill should be out of that fucking retreat thing by now. Okay, enough thinking. He picked up his cell and pushed the speed dial.

  That familiar soft voice answered. “Hi, baby.”

  Shit. “Baby?”

  There was a deep sigh. “I’m so sorry, Jerry. I didn’t intend to stay when I came up here. But when I got here, it was so perfect, so much like home to me. I forgot how stimulating the environment is, how challenging my colleagues are. I moved to SoCal for the money, and that’s not like me. But as soon as I got here, they took that reason away by matching my salary, and all the other stuff just swept me along.”

  Jerry beat his hand against the pillow. “Yeah, challenging and stimulating. I sure can’t compete with that.”

  “Come on, Jerry. You drive me crazy with putting yourself down. You’re a smart man.”

  “Not as smart as you.”

  “You’re a different kind of smart. You have wisdom and truth. I just have book learning.”

  He threw the pillow at his foot. “Okay, then, why didn’t you come back?”

  Silence.

  He blew out his breath hard. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I wish you the best in your new life.”

  “Jerry, wait, don’t hang up.”

  “Okay.”

  His voice was soft. “Be honest. Did you really want to be with me forever?”

  Well, hell. “I thought so.”

  “Really? We’re so different.”

  “Yeah.” It sounded pretty snarly.

  “Not because I’m smart and you’re dumb. Quite the contrary. You’re so dynamic. You’re brilliant at all the physical things like surfing and every sport. You’re a great firefighter. Me? I’m an ivory tower nerd. I like to sit over long lunches and argue philosophy.”

  “Which I can’t do!”

  “Which you don’t want to do. Come on, Jerry. I know you have trouble reading because of the dyslexia, but hell, if you wanted to read Rimbaud and Chaucer, you would, or you’d listen to them on tapes. You’re doing the stuff you like to do. I can sit and read while you surf, but I yearn to be arguing with someone over something you’d consider a waste of time. Neither of us is right. Just different. I love you. I do. But I think we’re better friends than lovers.”

  He twisted the sheets. “Oh, really. I thought we did pretty well in that area.”

  “We did brilliantly in that area. But we can’t live on sex.”

  Jerry grinned. “You sure?”

  Bill laughed and Jerry breathed.

  Bill’s voice sounded a little lighter. “So come on, tell me about what’s going on. I love hearing about your life. It’s so exciting.”

  Exciting? Him? “We had a fire at an elementary school this week, but it was out by the time we got there. Still, I got to go talk to the kids the next day. They were so great. I loved it.”

  “I’ll bet they loved you too.”

  “Oh, and guess who was nice to me.”

  “Who?”

  “Mick Cassidy.”

  “Mick…? Oh hell, you don’t mean that big asshole that Rodney punched out?”

  “None other.”

  “What do you think he wants?”

  “I hadn’t really thought that he might want something from me. Hell, I’m gay. He hates anyone gay. But he went to see the kids with me. He started real stiff but got better. And then he asked me to lunch. It was weird.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Hunter said too. But Mick’s a good firefighter. That’s why the cap kept him when he insulted Hunter and his family.”

  “Maybe he’s reformed?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Anyway, baby, I’m so sorry about the way this happened. I wouldn’t have chosen to hurt you ever, but it’s kind of good, because I miss you badly, and if I was there… well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be as lonely. But I think we both need to find our way. I’ve learned so much from you—about life and myself. I hope we can stay friends forever.”

  Jerry frowned. “Yeah, I’m a great friend.”

  “Actually, that’s true. One of the best. That’s a measure of your character.”

  “I don’t know about that part, but I’m sure shit at keeping a boyfriend.”

  “You just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

  He sighed. “I guess.”

  “Keep calling me, please. And I’m so sorry about not being there for the ball.”

  “Rod found me a date.”

  Bill paused. “It’s a sign of my ignominy that hearing that makes me jealous.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but I’m glad you’re jealous. And you should be. He’s this gorgeous Hispanic guy.”

  “Rub it in.”

  “With pleasure. But actually, for some reason I seem to want to act like a monk or something.”

  “You’re reevaluating your life.”

  “Is that it? Well, it sucks the weenie.”

  “Or it doesn’t.”

  It felt good to laugh.

  MICK WALKED toward the house. He hadn’t been to a prayer meeting for months, but today was the day. Jesus, he felt like he was going to throw up. He’d always known what to believe. Now he didn’t even know what he wanted. No, that wasn’t true. He wanted stuff all the time, and it was bad.

  The door stood ajar, so he pushed it open quietly and slipped into the big room where people were lined up on the floor and in chairs with their eyes closed. His father hadn’t started, so he wasn’t late.

  One of the brothers waved to him and indicated a chair beside him. Mick scooted between the bodies. He nodded at the guy and sat. If the man knew what Mick had been thinking, what he’d been doing, he wouldn’t want to sit next to him.

  He look
ed around the room. Maybe twenty or so people were gathered. Not everyone could get there on a Friday morning. Jezebel sat on the floor in the corner, and her wide eyes bored daggers into him. Could she see how he’d changed? What he’d done?

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Okay, God, show me something.

  He sorted through his prayers and decided he’d wing it. I’m humbly sorry for my sins. For my evil ways. I’m sorry I watched that evil trash, and I’m sorry I stuck my fingers… where I stuck them, and….

  Was he sorry? God, it was his body.

  Bodies are evil. They lead us astray. Never trust them. I am humbly sorry for my lust. He sighed. If having those feelings was so evil, how come God gave them to him? A test. Yes, a test of purity. But he was twenty-four and he’d never been with a woman. Never even tempted. Hell, when he was in college, girls had chased him like renegade hounds. Called him a cutie. One even made it her job to teach him how to kiss. But he didn’t give in and fuck her. Didn’t that count for something?

  No, it was weird. He didn’t know any virgins as old as he was. Most of the guys he knew from childhood had gotten married when they were eighteen because they couldn’t stand the pressure. They wanted sex and were even willing to marry somebody to get it. Man, were some of them miserable.

  Okay, pray, dammit. Lord, forgive me for my wickedness and lead me back to righteousness. Oh hell. Look, God, I want to do what’s right, but I don’t know what that is anymore. Do you understand that? It would be great to have somebody in my life who understands me. Somebody.

  His father’s voice cut through the silence in the room and the screaming in his brain. “Let us raise our hearts in supplication to the Lord.”

  Yes, supplication. Good.

  “Lord, help us to wipe out the evil and perversion of the world.”

  Was he perverted?

  “Help us to raise our hands and brand the wickedness that we see all around us and then smite it in your name.”

  Smite? Damn. Why couldn’t they just pray?

  “Let us show these evildoers—the drunks, the addicts, the fags—the error of their ways, and if they will not see, arm us with courage to strike out their eyes—”

  No! Enough. His stomach clenched and he stood, looked down so he didn’t see his father’s eyes, and stepped over the girl on the floor next to him. Three steps to the entry and out the damned door. He stopped on the lawn and took a breath. No smiting. No striking. Jesus. He’d been half gone on alcohol until that fag, Rodney, kicked some sense into him. What if someone had decided to strike Rodney for his perversion? Who said they should be the strikers anyway?

  He started walking toward his car.

  “Michael.”

  He turned and saw Jezebel. Her dumpy dress had little flowers on it, like something from an old TV series. She walked up to him and spoke in kind of a hiss. “What are you doing here? Why did you come to prayers? I tell you the truth, and you come back here to confess to Daddy?”

  What was she talking about? Oh, right. “Look, this isn’t about you. I just wanted to try and get some stuff straight in my head.”

  Her eyes widened. “Here? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  He stared at her. “Yeah, I see that now.”

  “So do you still want to go to the dance?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “It’s a long way to Laguna from here. My parents are letting me stay with some family friends in Costa Mesa. You can pick me up there.” She handed him a slip of paper with an address. “That number is theirs. I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “Okay. Want to get some dinner first?”

  She smiled. “That would be real nice.”

  “I’ll pick you up at six thirty, then, okay?”

  “Okay. I sewed a dress for the ball. My mom hasn’t seen it.” She laughed. “And she’s never going to.”

  Chapter Six

  “HEY, SLOW down, guapo. You on a race to get drunk or what?”

  Jerry looked across the table at Andres. Such a handsome guy. Why couldn’t he just be happy about this date? “Sorry, I don’t drink much usually.”

  “You could of fooled me.” But he was smiling. “You drowning your sorrows?”

  Jerry shrugged and played with the label on the beer bottle. They’d gone to a small dive Mexican restaurant that Andres recommended. The place was real casual, so they stuck out like thumbs in their fancy threads, but, man, was the food good. “I guess I’m just confused, and I hate being confused.”

  “What you confused about?”

  “Oh hell, everything. I used to be this real player. Fuck ’em and move on. Not in a bad way, you know? I mean, I went with guys who just wanted to fuck. Then I met Hunter.”

  His black eyebrows rose. “Hunter. Like Rodney’s Hunter?”

  “Yeah. I met him and thought he was it, man. The moon and stars. But I was reaching. Trying to be all intellectual and shit, like he is. It didn’t work.”

  “He and Rod are a perfect match.”

  “Yeah, I saw that right away. But those feelings, man. They kicked something into gear in me. Then Bill stepped in, and I didn’t even think if he was the right one. He wanted to be a couple, and I just went along. But I liked it, man. When I was screwing around, I was just a surf bum. But I went to school and got a good job, and that was hard. I guess I want more or something, but I keep choosing the wrong guys.” He ran a hand through his hair and took another sip of beer.

  Andres grinned. “Maybe I’m the right guy.”

  He looked at those black eyes. “You think so?”

  Andres stared at him. “I hate to say it, guapo, but probably not. I’m still back in the screwing-around stage. If you decide to revert, I’m your man.”

  He had to laugh. The guy was a cutie.

  They finished their enchilada and taco combinations, Jerry paid, and they walked out to the parking lot. Two cars. They’d met there because Andres had worked all day. Tax season.

  “Hey, Jerry, let me drive. We’ll come back for your car.”

  Jerry laughed. “Good idea. How many beers did I have?”

  “Five.”

  “That was four too many.”

  On the way to the hotel where the ball was being held, Jerry leaned back and closed his eyes. It would be kind of fun showing up with a beauty like Andres. Yeah, some guys would freak. Maybe even some of the guys who were okay with Jerry being gay might think it was weird for two guys to dance together. But the captain had said he could bring a date. Of course, at the time he’d thought it would be Bill. Hell, let the haters hate. He wanted to have fun. Yeah, he wanted to be sure he still could.

  “You asleep, guapo?”

  “Nope, just restin’ my eyes.”

  “I’ve heard that one before. We’re here.”

  The car slowed. He opened his eyes. “You going to use the valet?”

  “Hell yeah. I got a firefighter hero with me, man.”

  Jerry laughed and grabbed his hat. He didn’t wear his dress uniform much. This was a treat. The valet opened his door, and he got out. He waved at Donovan, who was walking in with a few of the other single guys. The slim, brown-haired rookie looked great in his uniform.

  Andres came up beside him. Man, that inky black tux was the same color as his eyes and hair. Pret-ty. Jerry took a deep breath and stuck out his arm. Andres looked startled, glanced around, smiled like some cat in a Disney movie, and took hold. They walked into the hotel and followed the signs to the Firefighter’s Ball.

  Andres leaned in. “I thought it was called the Fireman’s Ball.”

  “Nope. Changed to firefighters ever since the women joined up.”

  “You got women in your locker room, guapo?”

  “Nope. We had one, but she transferred to LA. She wanted more action.” He laughed. “I went through firefighter school with her. What an animal. I had trouble keeping up with her.”

  “I’ll bet you did good in school.”

  Jerry nodded. “Yeah, but only becau
se of Rod and Hunter. I’m dyslexic, so I have trouble studying. They helped me so much, man, with all the books and tests. I did okay on the physical stuff on my own.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  They lined up at the sign-in table. When they got up to the signer-inner, it turned out to be the captain’s wife. “Hi, Mrs. Pedero. This is my friend Andres Garcia.”

  She smiled. “Glad to meet you, Andres. Jerry, you look very handsome this evening. You both do. All the ladies will be sighing, but the women’s loss is the gentlemen’s gain. You two have fun.”

  As they walked away Andres smiled. “She seems nice.”

  “Yeah, I’m lucky. Both my captains are great. A lot of firefighters get some pretty heavy discrimination.”

  “But we live in Laguna, man.”

  “Still, there are some real homophobes in the group.”

  The big ballroom was decorated with a silver color theme. JJ, his interior designer friend, would love it. All the small cocktail tables had green leaves and some kind of silver stems that looked like little rockets. Firefighters from all of Orange County’s stations participated in the fundraiser, along with bigwigs from the different cities. It looked like he and Andres were early enough to get a seat but not so early as to stick out. Of course, if they were the only same-sex couple there, they’d stick out by definition.

  Andres pointed. “I see a spot over there. Shall we grab it?”

  They threaded though the groups of people to a small table a row back from the dance floor. It had four chairs, and they took two. A little close to the orchestra, but not too bad. The musicians were playing and a few couples were dancing.

  Jerry waved to people he knew. He smiled at Andres. “Shall we get some drinks?”

  “You think you need one?”

  “Sure, one more.”

  They left stuff on their table to mark it, walked to the bar, and got two cups of spiked punch. The punch was free; everything else they’d have to pay for. Jerry sipped. Pretty sweet, but not too bad. More people had hit the dance floor, and they had to skirt around the edge to get back to their table.

  Jerry set down the remains of his punch. “Shall we sit for a while?”