I laughed at that. I had no idea what he saw, but he himself was as fine a specimen as I’d ever seen—all lean muscles and freckled shoulders and hard cock jutting from his body. “You’re the sexy one. How about you come over here so I can show you?”
“I’m here.” He kissed my jaw. “I’m in this thing, Nash.”
“Me, too.” I kissed him again, both reveling in and hating the emotions swamping me. His hand found my belt buckle, and for once, I didn’t feel my age. I felt seventeen again and perilously close to coming in my pants, from nothing more than kisses and the brush of his fingers.
He resumed his earlier determined path down my chest, laving a trail down my stomach to tease the waistband of my boxers before he shoved them and my pants down together. Urging me to sit on the edge of the bed, he sank to his knees in front of me.
“God, I love tasting you.” He ran his tongue all over my shaft but didn’t suck me in.
“No teasing,” I ordered, but he just laughed.
“But it’s so much fun.” Abandoning my cock, he nuzzled lower, showering my balls with attention.
“Ah…you don’t…” My word died as he sucked one into the wet heat of his mouth, fingers stroking the other. His touch was gentle, but it still sent sparks up my spine and down my legs.
“Mmmm.” He made happy noises as he switched sides, licking and sucking and teasing and generally driving me insane. Then he blew what was left of my brain cells when he lifted my balls and licked behind them.
“Fuck.” I needed to tell him to stop, but words were failing me, and when he urged me farther back on the bed, lifting my legs, I was powerless to do more than gasp. His mouth returned to that delicate skin behind my balls, flicking his tongue all over, lighting up some place deep inside me with the pressure of his mouth.
“Like that?” He grinned up at me right before he returned to his mission. His devious tongue kept going lower and lower.
I pushed at his shoulder. “You don’t have…” Damn it. My face heated. I’d showered before the party at Mom’s, but that didn’t make me any more comfortable with this.
“Want to.” On the next pass, his tongue skated over untouched nerve endings.
I’d done this for him a time or two, and I wasn’t squeamish about the act, but being the recipient was far different than I’d imagined, and I squirmed against the comforter. “Mase…”
“Let me.” His voice was more authoritative now, making a shiver race up my spine. His mouth returned to that hidden place, torturing me with little flicks and nips before kissing my rim in earnest. It was wet and hot and dirty as fuck and I loved it. Acting on its own, my hand fisted around my cock, squeezing hard.
“Don’t come. Not yet.” His husky command had me moaning even before his mouth resumed its assault.
“God. More.” I was shameless now.
“Finger okay?” He was already moving away from me, rummaging in his bag before tossing lube on the bed.
“I…uh…” Something in me had always resisted this path of exploration, not liking the weird quaking in my belly or the roller coaster in my brain. But as always, I was powerless to deny this man, so I nodded.
“I’ll stop if you hate it,” he promised, before returning to lick at my balls. Pretty soon he had me so worked up with his kisses there and lower that I forgot a good deal of my reservations. He added a finger alongside his tongue, and I moaned at the new, firmer pressure. Then the finger was back, slicker now, and I inhaled sharply.
“Just relax. It’s not going to hurt,” he soothed. And he was right—it was strange and slippery and intense in a way that nothing else had ever been, but it didn’t hurt. Pressing in a little deeper, he used his tongue on my balls again, distracting me from the invasion.
“Oh, holy fuck. Mase,” I babbled as he hit my prostate. I knew what it was, what it did, and Lord knew that I aimed for his often enough, but I’d never fully understood it until that instant when my spine turned to jelly and my insides went supernova.
Completely divorced from my brain, my ass rocked, riding back on his finger.
“Like that?” He sounded all smug.
“Uh-huh.” I was beyond coherent speech. All I knew was I wanted more of that sensation. It wasn’t like orgasm, exactly, and it wasn’t like being drunk. Drugged, maybe. I certainly felt high enough and crazed, like I no longer knew my own body or my own wants. “More.”
“Oh, yeah.” He rewarded my shamelessness with a long lick up my cock. The second finger was a bit more of a pinch and burn, but it still wasn’t painful and as soon as he started moving, the pressure against my prostate more than made up for any discomfort.
“Is this…what you…feel?” I panted. “This good?”
“When you fuck me? Oh, hell yes. It feels amazing.” Mason’s tongue danced all around my cockhead before he spoke again. “God, I want to fuck you, Nash.”
There was a question there, and I knew he’d be fine if I said no—he wouldn’t try to guilt me into it. But the raw enthusiasm in his voice got to me, made me want to try for him, even if I’d never really imagined myself in this position before. And frankly, although my mind was still trying to wrap itself around the concept, my body was one large nerve ending at that point and really liked the idea of a little more pressure inside me.
“Get…condom,” I ordered.
“Seriously?” Mason looked up from my cock, smiling widely. Something in my chest gave way, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I’d been right to put my trust in this man. Withdrawing his fingers, he wiped his mouth on a corner of the bedspread before claiming my lips with an insistent kiss.
“Get on with it,” I said as he pulled back to breathe. I’d always been the kid out at the lake who wanted to go first on the rope swing. Not because I had an excess of bravery, but because anticipation made me jumpy. Once I made up my mind to do a thing, I liked to do it.
Nodding, Mason took care of the condom, adding what seemed to be an alarming amount of lube. “Gonna make this good for you.”
“I’m not going to break,” I protested as he fingered still more lube into me. “Might be the first time, but I do know how this works.”
“Nash.” The look in his eyes was indescribable—tenderness and awe and something else, something new that I’d never seen before. It made me bold, made me open my legs more to him, pull them back to welcome him between them.
“This how you want it?” he asked, lining himself up.
“Yeah.” I appreciated the consideration, but I wasn’t tempted to flip over. Ever since that first time in my bed, I was more than a little obsessed with watching his face, and I wanted to see all this through his eyes. It should have made me feel exposed, but instead I felt surrounded in a way I never had. Safe. Protected, even. I couldn’t say I’d ever felt precisely like this before.
He pressed in, and it was a decided intrusion—still not painful, but my body tensed all the same.
“Relax,” he urged. “Breathe out. I know this part is tricky, but it gets better, trust me.”
I did. I took a few rattling breaths and willed my muscles to soften—summoning whatever magic Mason always conjured to make this easier. He rocked forward again, sliding a little deeper, and I groaned. There it was, the pressure I’d never thought I’d crave, but hell, I needed this, needed him filling me.
“That’s it. That’s it.” He stroked my abs, and sweat ran down his beautiful, straining face.
“More.” I was still a little tense, but my body was far ahead of my brain, demanding more of that delicious torment his fingers had created, curious to see what the combination of pressure and fullness could do.
A lot, it turned out. I moaned as his cock brushed over my prostate, a steady rhythm of thrust and retreat that had me writhing against the bed.
“Fuck. You feel so good.” Mason’s head tipped back, his neck a tight cord of muscles, his chest heaving. God, he was glorious. “Nash…”
“It’s okay. Go harder.” I could
tell what holding back was costing him, and grateful though I was, I really wanted to see him let loose, wanted to see him give in to his pleasure. Not that my own euphoria wasn’t great—I wasn’t close to orgasm precisely, more like I was riding waves of sensation, letting that pressure and fullness carry me to new places.
“Tell me…” His hips sped up, making lightning zoom up my spine with each thrust.
“Want it. Want you.” I moaned when his hand found my cock.
“Need you.” His eyes were glassy as they linked with mine, and I knew he meant more than just the sex. “Need you so much.”
“Me, too.” My throat was thick, other words clamoring to get out. I’d never felt like this before. Mason had managed to rearrange everything I thought I knew about myself and my life in a matter of months.
“Please…” I wasn’t even sure what I was begging for, just that I needed more.
“Not gonna last,” Mason panted, hand speeding up on my cock. “You feel too good. Want you to come with me.”
I wasn’t sure that was possible, but I moaned my encouragement. I loved the franticness of his movements, the brokenness of his groans, the tension in his grip on my leg and my cock. Not losing rhythm, he added some lube to his hand, and, suddenly, coming became more than an abstract concept. I secretly loved it slick and messy, something that Mason had picked up on because he noticed everything, every part of me, even the things I thought I’d long buried.
“Mase…I need…”
“That’s it. Let go. Let yourself go.” His eyes squished shut, the way they always did when he was close, and watching him had me riding the edge. Felt different, the fullness of his cock in me adding a new dimension to familiar sensations. It felt like I was shattering, like I’d fall to pieces when I came, but Mason was right there, ready to catch me.
Trust me. Lord, I did. I trusted this man like nothing else. I added my hand on top of his, the last piece of the puzzle, and I moaned as the climax swamped me. My body—my whole body—tensed and that was new, the way my ass spasmed along with my cock. I came in long ropes, hitting my chin and chest.
Somewhere in there, Mason yelled like he’d been gut shot and went stiff as he came. His cock pulsed deep inside me.
“Oh, my God, Nash.” He laughed as he pulled out. And, okay, that pinched. I tried to control the flinch, but he still must have noticed because he rubbed my chest. “Sorry. Too rough there at the end?”
“Nope. It was perfect.” My words were slurred, and I felt pretty confident that I’d fail a DUI test right then.
“That was…incredible.” Mason’s hands continued to stroke my chest and arms. “You were so… God. And we should shower. Maybe find a new blanket in the closet—”
“Mason.” I cracked open an eye.
“Yeah?”
“You fucked me stupid. How about you be quiet for a minute, let me pass out here.”
“Isn’t that my line?” He laughed and dropped a kiss on my cheek. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure.” I yanked him down next to me. “Just…be here.”
I didn’t really have to words to explain what I needed, but somehow he knew, wrapping himself around me, holding me close. “I’m here,” he whispered.
And in that moment, all my questions about how much longer we could keep this going fled. All I knew was that I wanted more of this feeling of him surrounding me, more of these unfamiliar emotions that seemed to fill up long-empty spaces inside me. I wanted—needed—this man in my life.
Twenty-One
Mason
“Hell.” Nash’s voice carried all the way into the bathroom where I was toweling off. He was understandably grumpy because it was after seven, almost eight actually, and this was a way later start than he’d wanted. I’d thought we both could use the sleep, and the early morning rubbing off we’d indulged in had been a nice bonus.
“What?” I grabbed a fresh shirt from my duffel bag.
“You paid for the drinks last night, right?”
“After all your manly man posturing, yeah.” I smiled, trying to get him to lighten up. “Seemed only fair since you got breakfast.”
“Hell,” Nash repeated. “I don’t have my wallet.”
“Think it got lifted?” Fuck. That really would suck.
Nash groaned and paced. “Not sure…wait. I took it out at Mom’s to put in new pictures of Trisha’s kids. Probably still on her sideboard. Goddamn it. I am never this forgetful.”
“Be easy on yourself.” I patted him on the arm, but he shrugged away from me. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
Like me. Like us. But I didn’t say that, not wanting to remind him of the spectacular distraction that was this thing between us. Hell, I’d found myself distracted, too, staring off into space for no reason, thoughts of Nash invading when I least wanted them.
“We’ll have to stop there on our way out of town.” Nash reached for his phone on the nightstand. “Fuck.”
“It’ll be okay,” I soothed him before pulling on pants. “We can make up time on I-5. And hopefully we’ll miss the worst of rush hour, leaving now.”
Nash grunted something unintelligible as he shoved on his shoes. Great. Grumpy cop all the way back to the coast. I couldn’t wait to spend five hours in the car with that.
We checked out, and I grabbed a coffee from the carafe in the lobby, as I figured the chances of getting Nash to stop for breakfast were nil. He drove north through the downtown traffic to a trendy northwest neighborhood. I’d never been able to afford rent in this area when I’d lived in the city, but I’d worked at a few nearby restaurants and knew it well.
Circling several blocks, he finally snagged a spot near a large brick apartment building as someone zoomed out of a space. Pre-war, it was four stories high with a narrow courtyard separating the two halves of the building. While way more urban than I would have imagined for Nash’s quiet mother, I could see the location being ideal for a retiree who wanted to walk to everything.
“I…uh…” He looked at the steering wheel, not moving to exit.
I sighed because I’d been expecting this all morning. “I can’t go up with you. I get it.”
I didn’t, of course, not really. We were in Portland, not Rainbow Cove, and Nash’s mother apparently knew he was gay. It made me feel all limp and small inside, like Nash was ashamed of me personally, not just uncomfortable with the world knowing he’d spent last night with a man. “There’s a bakery two blocks over. I’m going to get myself a decent latte and you a muffin or something.”
“Thank you.” Nash gave me a tremulous smile, and I knew I wasn’t imagining his relief.
I grumbled to myself the whole way to the coffeehouse—it was one of my favorite joints in the neighborhood, not quite as nice as their northeast location on Alberta, but I could count on the coffee to be hot, strong, and reasonably priced. I got Nash his usual black coffee and a marionberry muffin and myself a coconut latte and a scone. I figured we could flip for the food if the muffin wasn’t to his liking.
I slowed up as I approached the car with the food and drinks in tow. Nash’s mother had evidently walked him down—she was a tall, reed-slim older woman with ash-blond hair, and even though it had been years, I still recognized her almost regal posture. Another woman with the same hair and elegant mannerisms stood with them, probably one of her sisters.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I couldn’t go marching over there, couldn’t do that to Nash, even if part of me wanted to, wanted to force him to deal with the reality of what this thing between us meant. I’d introduced him to Cat and would happily share him with the rest of my friends, but he couldn’t even…
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I didn’t have a free hand to fish it out. Undoubtedly Jimmy or Dad needing something because God forbid I take forty-eight hours to myself. And there it was, the reminder that Nash and I both had shit that had to stay separate from each other, lines we weren’t prepared to cross. Nash wasn’t the only one unable to do the who
le meet-the-family thing. I wasn’t exactly going to bring Nash around for our weekly Monday-night dinner of tavern leftovers anytime soon. All I needed was Dad going off on one of his conspiracy theories or just outright blaming Nash for Freddy being locked up. Yeah. Not happening.
I could cut the guy some slack, even though I didn’t want to. I headed back the other way. Made sense that he wouldn’t want to be seen with a Hanks, anymore than I wanted to be associated with the law in my family’s eyes.
God, this thing between us had gotten so complicated. Last night I’d been sure we’d turned some sort of corner, crossed a threshold to a new place where we weren’t just fuck buddies who liked to cook and fish together. But it was all an illusion. We shouldn’t even be messing around, let alone falling in—
No. I was not in love with Nash Flint. I absolutely refused to be. I collapsed in a vacant metal chair outside the coffee place. I dug out my phone where, sure enough, there was a text from Jimmy about Dad not taking his meds because he was low on money for the refill. I texted Jimmy that I’d cover the co-pay tomorrow.
I had no room in my life for loving Nash, except that was exactly what I was doing. Somehow my life had rearranged itself around him, and that was dangerous, because what the hell was I going to do when he wasn’t in it anymore?
Buzz. The next text was from Nash. Finally free of family. Where are you?
Hah. Neither of us was going to be truly free of family, not ever. After a fast text, I made the second trip to the car, this time with lukewarm coffee and a way heavier heart.
“Sorry,” Nash said as I got in the car. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d moved the car farther down the block. God, was that what this thing between us was doomed to be? Stealth meetings and spy-movie theatrics to avoid detection by the people closest to us? Nash’s hard face and stiff shoulders shouted an unequivocal “yes.” Yes, this was the way of things.
Thank God Nash wasn’t a talker. He undoubtedly picked up on my black mood, but he didn’t press. He flipped on a Portland radio station and we were treated to several ads. One for a meal-delivery service caught my attention. I distracted myself from thoughts of Nash and where this thing was headed by brainstorming whether it would be plausible for the tavern to begin delivering to more than just a few customers at City Hall and the police station.
Trust with a Chaser (Rainbow Cove Book 1) Page 17
