Ex-Daredevil

by Zoe Lee

  But of course I couldn’t just be nice and easy, so I commented with a smirk, “My cousin is going to laugh his ass off at me for messing up the jump and the landing so badly.”

  “I won’t forget how terrifying it was to watch you hurtle towards my car anytime soon,” he said in a hard tone, his frown back. “What you did was incredibly risky.”

  Something about that made me pause. I had meant to get a rise out of him, because the bantering was sexy and I wanted to keep it up while I had the chance. But it had been a long time since anyone fussed over me. My family knew I wasn’t an idiot with a death wish, and my friends and coworkers were usually skydiving with me. So something warm and fuzzy stroked along my nerves and made them purr at the idea that he was worried about me.

  But I crossed my arms and gave him a serious look. “You don’t need to lecture me. I’m fine because I took classes and this was my thirteenth solo jump. I’ve never come that close to being hurt before doing any so-called ‘dangerous’ activities.” When he sighed like I was just making up excuses, I pressed, “All sports are risky and can cause serious accidents.”

  Finally his eyes came back to mine and the frown eased up. “My friends would laugh their asses off too in this situation—once they knew I was safe in one piece.” It wasn’t quite an apology, but I didn’t expect or need one. “Not that I’d ever do something that idiotic.”

  The precise way he pronounced idiotic did something to me, setting off flashes of images of how much fun we could have, rolling around for dominance. It didn’t bother the heat brewing in me that he seemed like the kind of man who preferred to get to know a partner over time and then make a level-headed decision to progress their relationship by having sex. Because right now, there was curiosity and attraction sharp on his face.

  This was a moment in time, perfect and full of magnetism, and I was going to use it to my advantage to try to make my fantasies come true, for an afternoon anyway.

  So I laughed, because I had a fun, sexy laugh, and asked breathlessly, inciting him, “How do you know you’re alive—or smart—if you never do anything dumb?”

  He gave me a stern look. “Are you always so blunt and unapologetic?”

  There was admiration buried somewhere under the sternness, so I fired back, hoping the banter was doing it for him too, “Yeah. No point in lying or avoiding shit, especially with strangers I’ll never see again. There’s no reason to apologize for honesty either.”

  “Okay,” he murmured. “I have an unexpectedly similar philosophy that trying to lie or obfuscate is rarely worth it, but for very different reasons, I’m sure. So I can respect that.”

  “Here you are,” our server said, coming up and laying out our dishes.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I echoed sincerely, picking up my burger and sinking my teeth in to take an enormous bite. “Mm, that’s delicious,” I mumbled once I’d devoured it.

  Eliott swallowed hard and jerked his eyes to his plate, concentrating on eating. He was slow and precise, like I guessed he always was. The truth was, it was oddly alluring.

  “Does your cousin live around here, or did you come just to skydive?” he asked.

  The question was stiff, like he was trying to drag me kicking and screaming back to really neutral topics. But there was strain under it, too, something fierce flaming in his eyes.

  I looked back at him like he was the dessert course, my body coiling in sexy tension, preparing to strike if he gave me any indication he was up for it. To encourage him, I shoved my plate aside, the paper placemat dragging and moving his water too, and leaned in.

  I smirked when he involuntarily leaned forward too, our eyes locked.

  “Do you know why else I skydive?” I whispered, even though no one was nearby.

  He definitely knew because he tried to stop me by saying flatly, “I don’t care.”

  “The thrill is sexy,” I purred as if I hadn’t heard him, because I knew as well as he did that he obviously did care. “It makes me feel sexy—it makes me want sex.”

  Chapter 3

  Eliott

  “Jesus,” I muttered, totally unused to such obviousness outside of clubs or hookup apps, not that I had availed myself of either thing very often at all. I didn’t mind forward or aggressive men, in theory. But I did have an issue with a meaningless fuck—which this would be, if I answered his look with an action of my own. “I don’t like this idea.”

  “No?” he asked, his smirk twisting into a knowing thing.

  My thoughts, which were usually disciplined and singular, split into several avenues of conflicting impulses. An animalistic avenue pointed out that flaming hot men never just wanted to fuck me and I deserved some fun. A judgmental avenue pointed out that smart men shouldn’t try to think so hard when their cocks were diverting their brain’s blood supply. A sly, self-serving avenue suggested that while a random fuck didn’t seem romantic, it could be a step closer to someone; I had to get out there if I wanted to find someone.

  I clenched my jaw and revised judiciously, “It’s a great idea, but I don’t just… screw.”

  He looked shocked by this, incredulous at the very least, and pursed his lips. He wasn’t quite insulted, I evaluated carefully, but he was probably feeling something in the vicinity, and no matter how crass he might be, I didn’t like offending people. “But I—”

  “Do not finish that, or I’ll have to kick you in the balls,” Gavin threatened.

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” I replied, straightening up. “But I’m still going to explain.”

  He raised his shapely eyebrows and mimicked my pose.

  I tried to keep my head, but it was impossible once he licked his lips provocatively. Uncomfortably barbaric thoughts filled my head at the movement, and I was aware of my failing willpower. Watching his breath quicken, I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

  The heat exploded and I rushed to my feet, murmuring darkly, “Damn it to hell.”

  In a flash, he was out of the booth with barely a glance around to be sure no one noticed and started towards the short hallway that led to the restrooms. A second later, he caught my wrist to pull me along, as if he knew he’d leave me too far behind if he didn’t.

  As soon as we were in the men’s room, I backed against the door to close it, reaching behind myself to engage the lock. Gavin pressed his body against mine and our hands landed on each other’s hips as we stared until he dove in and kissed me. It wasn’t aggressive, as if he were staking a claim or proving a point, but it was confident.

  I twisted to put him against the door, pinning our hips together, and wedged my hands under the soft cotton of his tight tee shirt. He moaned with startling softness into my mouth as our tongues stroked, grasping my shoulders, and I scraped my thumbnails over those tight, tiny nipples. In reaction, his teeth scraped down my neck and muffled purrs in my throat as my thumbs stroked where his ribs blended into his abs.

  With a groan, his hands scrambled to push his loose, worn jeans down without needing to undo them, revealing an unexpected dark blue thong barely containing his cock.

  Whatever shred of civility was left in me flew away at the sight of it.

  I went to my knees and opened my mouth over the thong, finding it messily sticky with his precome already. Dimly I heard his nails scratch the door in reaction when I sucked at the fabric and his cockhead straining beneath it. The taste was very bitter, which seemed fitting. I pulled off only far enough to peel the thong down to under his shaved balls, then snaked my tongue all over him, from the root of his cock to his slit to his balls.

  I switched to swallowing him down fast and urgent as I undid my pants, my hindbrain screaming at me to get inside of him, even though it was impossible without any supplies.

  A succession of violent shudders moved through him, contained enough that the door didn’t rattle rhythmically in its frame. I was disappointed when he didn’t simultaneously shoot in my mouth because I needed to taste him so
badly. I surged to my feet and kissed him hard and deep, then carried him to the sink, where there was just enough counter space for him, his face red and eyes hazy as they burned a path over me.

  He opened his thighs, his jeans hanging off one foot, and wet his lips with his tongue again. I had to move in, my hips cradled by his thighs, and kissed him. He echoed my kiss like he was feasting on me, making little greedy noises.

  Without any of my usual slow methodicalness, I pumped his cock. Once his copious precome covered my palm, I made a slick vise around both of our cocks and our bodies worked us together with wild, hard thrusts.

  In what felt like no time at all, Gavin dug his hands into my upper back and shook as he came fiercely, his sneakers digging into the backs of my thighs. When he went limp, burying his sweaty face in my neck and licking it sloppily, a volcanic orgasm coalesced in my balls. I erupted over my own hand, growling out my completion.

  A second later, my mind cleared and I was looking down at myself, barely naked, my cock still dark pink and hard, my hand covered in our combined, melting sperm.

  Horrified, I couldn’t move, and definitely couldn’t look at him. I wanted to say something, like maybe apologize, I thought dimly, a dull roaring in my head.

  But he slid off the sink, his knee scraping the outside of my thigh. He edged around me to jiggle his thong into place and tug his jeans back on over his shoes.

  Shattering the silence, my phone rang.

  But my hand was still covered in sperm and I said elegantly, “Uhh.”

  His fingers were trembling as he sent them into my pants pocket and took out the phone, an unknown number flashing. He swiped right and said, “Hey, cuz, what’s up?”

  That spurred me into action, using my wrist to lift the sink lever up to turn it on.

  “I’m just about to settle up,” he replied to his cousin, his voice a little winded but probably not too obvious over the area’s weak cell reception. He angled in front of the mirror, smoothing out a bump in his braid, while I tried to fix myself up. “Hang tight for a minute and I’ll be right out… No, they don’t have milkshakes to go.”

  He ended the call and looked at me.

  I cleared my throat and smoothed my hands down the front of my slightly rumpled tee shirt, feeling like some sort of lunatic. I unlocked the door and opened it a crack to make sure that there wasn’t a line of men waiting impatiently or something. But it was clear, so I gestured to Gavin to go first. He sauntered off, looking for all the world like nothing had happened, his hips moving side to side with more of a bounce than a sway.

  I took thirty seconds to avoid suspicion and dwell over what had just happened. I imagined how great he must smell, the faint, earthy sweat from the skydiving enhanced from our exertion. Then I shoved distance between my consciousness and the new memory, strolling smoothly back to the booth, where he had our bill in hand and boxes for the food.

  We went up to the cash register and I handed her my card without comment.

  “Do you want any dessert for the road?” she asked. “It’s after two, so they’re half off.”

  My face went hot while he snickered and answered, “Sorry, I already had dessert.”

  Then he flung open the door and sauntered outside casually, without checking if I was ready to go. Outrage flooded me and my jaw clenched so that I wouldn’t curse him out where everyone in the diner would be able to hear.

  Once I was outside too, I hissed discourteously, “Are you going to just go without saying thanks for the help or the lunch? That’s how you operate?”

  He stepped off the curb, swung around on one sneaker, and moonwalked across the empty handicapped parking space, laughing at me to my face as he went. “I thought you didn’t want to want to, but we were on the same page,” he shot back pretty mockingly, deliberately taunting me, careless of who I was or how I felt.

  It infuriated me even as the sheer irreverence turned me on all over again.

  In completely new territory, I fell back on my work skills and gave him the cocky, broad grin I’d only used during contract negotiations before.

  “Well then,” I remarked, “all I have to say is, You’re welcome.”

  There was no gasp of outrage, no slap aimed hard at my face; Gavin just saluted me, swung around again, and headed towards a hulking, screaming red muscle car.

  I better get tested, was all I could think, like an ass, as he slid across the hood like a stuntman and climbed into the car through the open window of the suicide door.

  Chapter 4

  Gavin

  “Welcome to Extravaganza,” said an adorable young teddy bear wearing a shirt with a herd of majestic ponies galloping towards me. “May I help you find anything today, sir?”

  I gave him a dazzling smile. “Hi, I’m Gavin. What’s your name?”

  Looking surprised by the question, he adjusted his glasses and told me, “It’s Ralph.”

  Spreading my arms open wide, I flourished my long shopping list. “Ralph, I hope you get commissions at this fancy party store, because I am here to buy so much stuff!”

  He snort-laughed into his hand and then went around me to get a big bright red cart. “Okay, Gavin. What are we planning today? Baby shower? Sleepover? Craft party?”

  “The most precious four-year-old in the entire Chicagoland area, possibly the whole Midwest, is having a Unicorn Pirate Royalty Tea Party,” I proclaimed. “Not only are other four-year-olds invited, but so are their parents, uncles and aunts, and rock star godfathers!”

  “That does sound epic,” Ralph laughed.

  I nodded seriously. “It’s my job as one of the godfathers’ personal assistants to get tons of everything. I’m talking crowns, glitter, pirate swords. I’m talking unicorn paper plates, red and black streamers, all of your top-shelf plastic tea cups and teapots. We’ll need paper tablecloths, those tower things for tiny sandwiches or cupcakes, and a ‘Happy 80th Birthday’ banner, a joke for the adults. I’m under orders to make sure it all clashes.”

  “This girl sounds amazing, and so does your boss,” Ralph said as he steered down the first aisle, apparently deciding the best plan was to go aisle by aisle to get it all.

  “Not a girl, but they are amazing,” I corrected, not defensive but still inflexible.

  Ralph gasped and apologized, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m new to the city and no one talks about anything where I grew up, so I’m learning as fast as I can.”

  “Thank you,” I told him, giving him a reassuring smile because he looked so upset about his mistake. “Grab those confetti poppers, will you? You’re like a foot taller than me.”

  “Sure thing,” he said, reaching up.

  “Now, not to make it awkward before we even get to aisle three,” I said as I scooped up all of the plastic pirate swords, “but my cousin would think that you’re just his type. I know you don’t know me, definitely don’t know him, but I’m just throwing it out there.”

  Adjusting his glasses, he stammered, “I-I…”

  I picked up a fairy wand, flicking the switch so it lit up, and tapped his arm. “Don’t worry, Ralph. You can say you’re not into men. Or blind dates. As long as you don’t sneer.”

  Snatching the wand from me, he twirled it in the air just like a fairy godmother. “I hate sneers,” he said fervently. “And I—well, I do… But I’ve never been able to, you know…”

  “It’s okay, it’s my turn to apologize because you don’t have to say anything,” I told him in my firmest tone. “But, just in case, how about I give you my card? If you want to talk, or you want the name of some good groups to join around town, you just let me know. And if you happen to also like bearded, squishy firemen, I’ll set you up with my cousin.”

  He flushed a little, but took the card very carefully.

  “Now, let’s find those crowns, Ralph,” I declared.

  Off we went, as I told Ralph about the time my cousin rescued a family of turtles.

  Once I was done, I went to my b
oss’s house and hauled it all inside.

  “It’s just me!” I shouted. “All the party stuff and your car keys are on the table!”

  “Thanks!” he shouted back from somewhere upstairs. “See you tomorrow!”

  Done for the day, I ambled towards the train station, swiping left and right on potential hookups. The first gay dating app had released when I was about twenty, always broke and living in the coolest gay area in Chicago. It had been a second feast before I’d even got through a fraction of the first. I’d tried it all. Gorged on men who were nothing but a tight set of abs or a cocky smile. Gobbled up newbies. Guzzled way too many straight guys begging for another guy to suck them off. Stuffed myself full of bears and leather daddies.

  I had slowed down and lost some of that desperation, but I still loved meeting men, whether it was through an app or work or at a store or in line somewhere. I wasn’t shy or indecisive and I didn’t give a shit about being cool or making a fool of myself. It was fun to scope out men at a bar or be a little bitchy and judge them just by their profile pic. Flirting was an art too many guys had lost and I loved it. Asking someone out was a blast. I never took it personally when I got turned down because we can’t all be everyone’s type.

  But tonight’s menu was unappetizing.

  They were too young, or had too many eggplant emojis in their bios, or they were into something I wasn’t, or I got the cheater vibe off them for whatever reason.

  Which all sucked, because I was in the mood for a great big meal.

  Actually I’d been hungry since I sauntered away from Eliott, a judgey stranger who knocked my socks off in a bathroom. The whole thing should have been just spontaneous, easy fun, with the added bonus that I’d gotten under his skin before he got into my pants.