by Ily Jacks
By the next morning, I’m up before Declan. I take a long, hot shower to soothe my bruised rib cage. Once dressed, I make coffee and sit at the table with a leftover donut from yesterday morning. Declan appears a few minutes after eight with hair as damp as mine. Startled to see me, he doesn’t respond to my good morning.
“I’m not usually a morning person,” I say and sip the hot coffee. “I’m assuming you aren’t either.”
“No, not particularly. How are you feeling?”
“Well enough to help out at your place.”
“Good to hear,” he mutters, pouring coffee into his Branson, Missouri coffee cup. “I don’t have much for you to do, but I guess you can help the girls with cleaning tables and washing dishes. They hate sweeping, so they’ll try to get you to do that too.”
I stand up and walk to Declan who keeps his distance. My hand caresses his face, and I watch his jaw twitch with tension.
“I promise I won’t embarrass you today by saying anything inappropriate or checking out your ass,” I murmur while fighting a smile. “You don’t have to worry.”
Smirking now, Declan shakes his head. “What ass? I come from a long line of flat-ass men.”
“I don’t.”
“I noticed.”
“I knew there was a reason you let me ride bitch on your bike.”
Declan’s dark gaze searches my face with an intensity I nearly shrink under. Lifting my jaw, I refuse to be intimidated by his size, lust, or judgment.
He sets down his coffee and leans forward. I expect him to kiss me, but his lips remain out of reach. I’m startled when his hand grips my ass, and he tugs me against him.
Gasping, I look up just in time for Declan to steal my breath. I moan into his mouth and reach around to explore his supposedly flat ass. The flesh feels perfect under my curious fingertips which slide from his backside to his powerful chest. I feel his nipples under the tight tee and playfully pinch them.
Declan ends the kiss too quickly, but I refuse to let go of his chest. He nearly growls when I stroke his nipples.
“Now I’ll need to jerk off before work,” he growls.
“I can help with that.”
“Show me.”
I hesitate only a moment before reaching for his jeans. Declan grabs my hands and steps back. His dark eyes stare into mine, and I’m stuck between rejection and feeling challenged. His gaze flashes to my erection before returning to my face.
“I want you to show me on you. Jack off so I can see you come on my floor.”
His gruff words send a heat through my body. Soon, my erection rests against my belly, begging for freedom from my sweats. I don’t look away from Declan as my hand sinks into my pants and strokes my cock.
“Do you like watching men jack off?” I ask, almost tauntingly. Instantly, the power has shifted from him to me. I have what he wants, and I see his breathing speed up at the sight of my hand moving inside my sweats. “How many men have come on your floor?”
“None,” he says, nearly choking on the word. “Show me.”
Declan’s gaze is glued to where my cock remains hidden. He doesn’t seem to breathe until I lower my sweats enough to reveal the swollen head of my erection. Swallowing hard, Declan stares unflinchingly as I stroke my shaft while my other hand caresses my balls.
Cum leaks from the head of my cock and Declan licks his lips without thinking. He’s entranced by my hand rhythmically stroking my thick length. When I slide my finger over the head of my cock, soaking it with cum, Declan’s breath speeds up even more, and he adjusts his jeans.
“I want my hand around your shaft,” I murmur, stroking my cock faster at the thought of his jeans around his ankles. “I can’t wait to taste every drop when you jizz in my mouth, Declan.”
His hand goes to his erection again, and I can’t fight the pressure in my balls. Thick cum spurts onto the floor. I stroke faster, squeezing my balls and milking every drop for him.
Declan leans against the wall as if his legs won’t hold him up. His hand rips at his button and fly, desperate to find relief. I kick off my sweats in a smooth movement and dart toward him and onto my knees. The moment his massive cock finds freedom from his boxers, my mouth is waiting.
I grip his shaft and balls before he can tell me to stop. Taking charge, I want him to come in my mouth. He can’t weasel out of his desire this time. Declan is at my mercy as I fist his cock rhythmically while sucking hungrily at the fat head. My tongue teases his slit before sliding him deeper until the back of my throat squeezes his tip.
Declan’s moans echo in the apartment, goading me to suck him harder and deeper. Unrelenting, I want him to come in my mouth. Nothing will stop me until my tongue is drenched in the heat of his jizz. When his balls ride up higher in my grip, I know he’s close to letting go. My lips wrap tighter around the cock’s tip, sucking it and the top inch of his thick shaft until the back of my throat is coated in the first spurt of cum.
His hand grips my hair, holding me still while more jizz fills my mouth. Declan groans my name while I suck him dry. Not until his cock softens in my grip do I relent enough to look up and find his waiting gaze. I lick my lips before teasing the slit of his cock in the hopes of one more drop of his salty semen.
“Adam,” he says in nearly a growl before grabbing my arms and lifting me to my feet.
Fearing violence, I flinch yet don’t attempt to stop him. Rather than hitting me, he covers my lips with his and tastes his pleasure on my tongue. Still holding his cock, I take mine in my other hand and rub them together. Declan has a few inches on me at full length, but he’s spent while my erection throbs painfully.
Declan grips my jaw, kissing and nipping at my lips. He pauses long enough to glance down at where my hands frot us steadily. Smiling, he leans his head back for a moment and sighs. Then his lips find mine again, and his tongue owns my mouth.
I come first, spurting jizz on his cock and thighs. Declan watches me with an almost innocent gaze, fascinated by how I command pleasure so easily. I smile at his expression before returning my cock to our frotting dance.
“I want you to come again,” I tell him. “Cover my cock with your jizz.”
Declan rests his forehead against mine, and we stare into each other’s eyes as I bring him closer to orgasm.
“I’ve never...” he says before groaning and unloading the first hot wad on my stomach.
“I know. Just let me make you feel good,” I whisper, stroking another spurt of cum from him.
Kneeling, I want to taste him again. Declan shudders when my lips pull at his crown and force more jizz from his balls. I drink it down, loving every drop. This man fights to keep his distance, wanting to remain a mystery to me. Now I understand why. He’s not only hiding his desires from his club brothers. Declan hides from himself too.
Two nights ago, I tempted him enough for him to lower his guard and bring me to his home, but he remains afraid. As I lovingly suck his soft cock, I hope he’ll embrace what he truly wants. No, what he desperately needs. Based on the way he tenderly cups my face and watches me taste him, Declan realizes there’s no going back for either of us.
♂◈⊙◈♂
Declan regains his cool indifference as soon as his cock returns to the safety of his jeans. I try to embrace him, but he dodges my hands and starts putting up his damn walls again. I step back and slowly slide my sweats over my hips. Declan’s gaze catches the sight of my cock disappearing, and I notice a flash of lust in his dark eyes. Those walls won’t protect him for much longer.
“You shouldn’t come to the restaurant,” he says and turns on the sink.
I watch him wash his face and neck, trying to cool down a body still glowing from two orgasms.
“Why can’t you trust me to behave?” I ask, sounding more irritated than I feel.
Declan glances over his shoulder and exhales deeply. “It’s not you that I don’t trust.”
Instantly grinning, I can’t believe how badly this man has me und
er his skin. I’ve been forgettable to countless men over the years, yet the most amazing man acts addicted.
“Kill the smirk,” Declan mutters, drying his hands and heading for the front door. “Your shit still stinks.”
Following him, I laugh at his irritation. “Such poetry.”
“Look,” he says when I stand in front of the door, “you’re, well, you, and I’m not accustomed to dealing with you. Until I am, it’s best if you don’t come around people who expect me to put on a show, you know?”
“Sure,” I say and place my hands flat on his powerful chest. “Will you have lunch with me later?”
Declan’s desire still irritates him, yet he cups my face and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.
“I’ll bring up cash in an hour or so for you to buy clothes and shit with. Don’t go too far off this road, though. Haystack isn’t a dangerous town, but people aren’t friendly. If you get lost, you might stay that way.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” I say and Declan’s free hand pats my bruised rib cage as his rebuttal. “I’m usually smoother than that night.”
“Good thing you fucked up, or we wouldn’t have met,” Declan says and instantly frowns at how vulnerable he sounds.
His dark expression is too sexy, forcing me to adjust my hardening cock.
“You better leave before I beg to suck you off again,” I say, and Declan shivers at the thought.
I hope he’ll yank out his dick and tell me to go for it. He’s clearly considering making such a move. Shaking his head, he opens the door and calls for Abbott before forcing his way past me.
Leaving angrily, Declan might as well scream he’s obsessed with my body. I watch him go and inhale the clean morning air. I can’t believe only two days ago I didn’t know Declan or Haystack Forks existed. I’m amazed by how quickly a life—or a man’s bad luck—can change.
A chilly breeze forces me back inside the apartment where I lock the door. In the kitchen, I clean up after our sticky fun and then consider watching TV. Bored of staring at a screen, I consider glancing in Declan’s room and feeding my curiosity.
“Don’t be a dick,” I mutter to myself. “It’ll mean more when he asks you to his bedroom if you don’t go spying on him now.”
I sit on the couch and look out the window. The living room faces an alley and past it is a line of small, brick stores. I can’t tell what any of them sell except the one at the end with a weathered beauty parlor sign.
Haystack Forks isn’t anyone’s idea of a dream destination. If I stopped here while hitching rides, I’d have considered the small town a dump. Surface stuff makes the town feel like a dead end, but now I only see possibilities.
Declan says the town isn’t friendly, which suits me. I don’t want everyone knowing my business. Of course, in a larger town or even better a city, I would have the anonymity I desire. Those bigger places don’t have Declan, though.
♂◈⊙◈♂
Returning with Abbott after her walk, Declan drops off cash and a phone. I try to get him to stick around, but his walls have returned. I know they won’t last. Not when he can barely make eye contact with me because he distrusts his feelings.
I change into my jeans and shirt since Declan’s sweats and shirt hang off me. Once dressed in my clothes, I shove the cash deep into one pocket and the phone in the other. I take the spare key Declan showed me the day before and then leave behind a snoozing Abbott.
The morning remains chilly, and I tighten my raggedy jacket around me. Hurrying down the alley, I plan to hit the CVS a block from the apartment and then the Goodwill. If I don’t get lost, I should be back before Declan returns for lunch.
School buses pass me on the road, and I think of Declan’s kids. I’d never given a single thought to having any myself. Hell, I was just hoping to survive to twenty-one. I can’t even imagine Declan living with a wife and kids. Was he repressed with Maura too? Did he keep those walls up with his kids? Playing family man suited him for a long time. I wonder why he finally walked away. Even more curious, did Maura know her husband craved men?
I pick up a shaver and cream, deodorant, and other hygiene products. Feeling overly confident, I add a bottle of lube to my basket. Who knows what Declan might crave tonight.
The gum-snapping girl ringing up my stuff glares at me through her black-lined eyes. I ignore her irritation but notice her checking me out as I leave. Apparently in this Podunk town, staring hatefully at someone is a form of flirting. No wonder Declan thinks he’s swooning when he acts apathetic toward me.
The Goodwill store is packed with old ladies who decide to help me find what I need. They like searching for deals but don’t need anything for themselves. Ellen finds two pairs of jeans and a bunch of socks for me. Tess locates several sweaters and T-shirts, but Andie hits the motherload with a dark brown jacket that doesn’t make me look homeless.
After thanking them for their help, I leave the store with my new wardrobe and hurry back to the apartment. Something about the darkening skies and a few angry drivers speeding down the road makes me feel unsafe. My rib cage aches, and my left leg throbs from the bruise on the thigh. I left the apartment feeling like a virile 20-year-old and now return with less stamina than the Goodwill ladies.
Abbott jumps up when I enter and stares at the door. I guess she needs to piss, so I find her leash before wobbling my ass back down the metal stairs. The dog is a greyhound, and I expect her to want to run, but she only sniffs around the dumpster before squatting for her pee break.
I can’t help wondering about a future with Declan. He has a deeply entrenched life in Haystack Forks, and it’s difficult for me to imagine fitting into it. Then again, I remind myself I’ve known him less than forty-eight hours and I ought to put the brakes on my forever thinking. Why can’t I just fucking enjoy this sexy, deceptively sweet man and the fresh start I’ve stumbled into?
Abbott finishes pissing and wants to get out of the misty day. We’re halfway up the stairs when a familiar car pulls into the alley and parks. I keep walking upstairs and unlock the door. Even recognizing Maura from yesterday, I assume she’ll bypass me and head around to the front of the restaurant.
Instead, the brunette hurries up the stairs and smiles at the dog.
“Declan’s in the restaurant,” I tell her while standing in the doorway.
“I know. I came to talk to you.”
When I don’t respond, Maura takes a step forward and forces me to step back. We do this dance until she’s inside the apartment and the door closes behind her.
“Now that wasn’t too difficult, was it?” she asks and walks to the couch. Sitting down, she’s joined by Abbott and then gestures for me to sit too. “Don’t be moody, Adam.”
“I know what you’re going to say,” I mutter, sitting down. “Don’t worry, though. I care about Declan, and I’m thankful for everything he’s done for me.”
“You might have many skills but reading minds isn’t one of them. I’m not here to warn you off Declan.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To give you pointers.”
“Oh,” I mumble, overwhelmed by all the women helping me today.
“You’re young and probably don’t have a lot of experience in relationships. I was like that once, and I wish someone gave me a beginner’s guide to Declan back then.”
Dumbfounded by her offer, I take a moment to react. “Thank you.”
“First thing to know is Declan doesn’t do well when put on the spot. If you push him to open up and share something he isn’t ready to share, he’ll shut down. It took me a long damn time to figure out how he was looking at me and nodding, but he wasn’t really there. The man just digs deep into his head and goes on autopilot.”
“I notice he doesn’t like when I ask him questions.”
“He’s private. As a kid, he was shy, and he doesn’t have many friends. Just imagine this shy, hulking kid passed around from foster home to foster home because he intimidated pe
ople. Our son is big like Declan, but he’s friendly and smiles a lot. If he were quiet like his dad, I can see why people would make assumptions. It’s not right, but life isn’t usually fair.”
Imagining Declan as a sad, nervous kid hurts me deeper than memories of my crap childhood. He can seem like a scary guy and likely made a fearsome teenager. Sure, looking like that probably kept people from fucking with him, but it also kept them from getting close enough to really know him.
The night at the gas station, I assumed Declan was a roughneck. I hadn’t wanted to rob anyone that might be traumatized by the experience. It was a dumb consideration since robbing anyone was bound to upset the victim. Still, I made assumptions about Declan, just like everyone else.
“When I was pregnant with Emma,” Maura says, “I wanted Declan around constantly. I was miserable and scared and hormonal like a motherfucker. I needed my husband at my side, and Declan stayed next to me whenever he wasn’t working or with the club. I told his president not to keep him too busy so I wouldn’t be alone. Poor Declan put up with my clinging shit, but he was miserable.”
Maura wipes at her jeans and shakes her head at the memory. “He didn’t talk. He didn’t watch TV. Declan just sat next to me, hour after hour, and hid in his head. People would visit, and he would sit there with me. He never tried to weasel out of staying with me, but one day, I finally saw him clearly and knew I was torturing him.”
I study Maura’s face and imagine Declan kissing her rather than me. They make sense on paper, which is probably why they married and had kids.
“I talked to the president’s old lady, Iggy, and we got the guys to put together a man cave for Declan while he was out of town. A room for him to go when he needed a break from me and eventually the kids. I swear I’ve never seen him smile as much as he did when I showed him the room. It wasn’t so much that he wanted away from me or that he needed a private space. It was that someone cared enough to do something special for him. Declan’s gotten better at expecting shit for himself, but it’s not easy. On the inside, he’s the kid feeling like he’s imposing on others. We were married for ten years, and he still has trouble telling me when I'm bossy. When he cares about you, he starts putting you before him and forgets how he deserves happiness too.”
