Page 11

CHAPTER 11

MALCOLM

Oh. My. Oh. My.

I had an intense conversation with myself all the way home. It went something like, What were you thinking? How could you? and That was incredible. And blowjobs are kind of great, and making out was fun…and he liked it.

Me too.

Me too.

But that didn’t mean it should happen again. Today’s visit was supposed to have been a good-bye, a fare-thee-well, an adios , au revoir , but by some strange magic, it had become something else. My head was spinning.

Jett Erickson was bisexual, and he was attracted to…me.

I didn’t know what to do with that information. It was a lot to ponder. I’d been nursing a crush for weeks, prolonging our association to spend time in his orbit. I’d learned hockey rules, for Pete’s sake. There was no rhyme or reason for me to know the rules of a darn face-off, but I did. It was useless trivia in my circles, but I’d hung on Jett’s every word because under his gruff persona, he was funny and charming, and I was smitten.

It didn’t seem possible that he felt the same.

Reality check, Malcolm…he doesn’t. No. Not likely.

It was more likely that Jett viewed me as a friend who happened to be gay and might be interested in a feel-good sexual exchange. The real question was…did I want another meaningless sexual encounter with a man I was dangerously infatuated with or should I do the sensible thing and sever ties to avoid future foibles on my part?

My indecision was a sure sign that my brain and body were working on different frequencies. If I’d been in my right mind, I would have set us both straight, pun intended, and steered us toward safer waters. But that ship had sailed the second we’d kissed. Or was it the second I’d rubbed against his huge erection and?—

No. Stop. Cease and desist.

The answer was clear as day. Nothing good would come of this. I had to stay away from Jett Erickson. Far, far away.

That was my intention, but then he texted and I lost focus again.

What time are you done with class?

Four p.m ., I replied.

Come over. We should talk.

On the surface, that was a reasonable statement. We’d been under a strange spell yesterday, but today would be different.

It would.

Just you wait and see.

* * *

It wasn’t.

It was worse.

Jett met me on the pathway leading to his apartment building, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He wore a navy sweater with dark jeans. His hair was windswept and wild, his gaze locked on his cell. I stopped short and concentrated on breathing. My pulse was speeding, and I already felt light-headed…and he hadn’t even noticed me yet.

He glanced up and the slowest of smiles crept across his face, blinding me with all that masculine loveliness. “Hey.”

“Hello.” I bit the inside of my cheek—an old nervous habit, but I didn’t feel nervous. No, I was too excited, too aware, and energized in a way I rarely was around other people.

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember my apartment number, so um…yeah.” He gestured to his building. “It’s this way.”

We wordlessly climbed the stairs to the second floor. A door slammed from somewhere above, and music eked into the hallway along with the smell of microwaved popcorn. We were surrounded by signs of life, but it was all static outside this bubble of us.

Jett opened his door and motioned for me to enter first. I rehearsed my speech one last time, turning just as he dropped his backpack on the floor. His nostrils flared and his hands were balled into tight fists. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was hanging on by a thread.

Like me.

My heartbeat was loud now. Too loud. And words dried in my mouth, forgotten and useless. I tried, though.

“I think we…I…”

He inclined his chin and took one step toward me. And another. I couldn’t think with him standing so close and looking so…like himself—a little roguish and a lot like a fantasy come to life.

“I know what you’re going to say, and you’re right. But…I want to kiss you. Just one more time. Is that okay?”

I whimpered unintelligibly and, in a moment of sheer madness, launched myself at him.

Jett grunted, falling against the nearest wall with a thud and pulling me along, his mouth fused to mine. Our tongues twisted and tangled, picking up where we left off yesterday. I stood on tiptoes and tugged his neck to compensate for our height difference. He chuckled, switching our position and caging me between his arms, our noses brushing as we panted for air.

“That was an enthusiastic final kiss,” I managed.

His gaze lowered to my mouth. “You taste good. I want—can I touch you?”

“I…yes.”

I know, I know…that wasn’t smart, but I wasn’t feeling particularly smart. I was feeling daring and rash. I didn’t want to play it safe or be reasonable. I wanted him. And at that very moment, I wanted to be ravaged and wrecked.

And he knew it.

Jett yanked my sweater over my head and unbuttoned my shirt, pausing to nip at my collarbone while his talented fingers made quick work of my belt and my zipper. He stepped aside to pull his sweater and T-shirt off before crashing his mouth to mine again. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere—caressing, squeezing, fondling.

The press of his warm, muscular body was an unexpected rush. My cock ached, throbbed, and did its best to peek out from the elastic confines of my underwear. I was hard as a rock and willing to do anything for friction. Anything at all.

Just when I thought I’d have to beg, Jett undid his belt and pushed his jeans and boxers out of the way, stumbling backward in his haste. He regained his footing, kicked his shoes off and flashed a pirate’s grin as he continued to his knees.

Yes, Jett Erickson, Smithton’s fierce forward, was on his knees for me, licking his lips like a hungry wolf and staring at my cock. Message received. I was his next meal.

“I’m going to suck your pretty dick. If you have any objections to that, now is your chance to speak up.”

“Um…your knee is h-hurt,” I stammered.

“Fuck my knee.”

With that, he opened his mouth wide and swallowed me whole. I dropped my head, eyes glued on the action. I didn’t want to miss a thing because truly, there was nothing sexier in the universe than the sight of my cock between this man’s lips.

Okay, wrong. My cock in his mouth while he stroked himself was even better.

I flattened my palms to the wall, keening through gritted teeth in an effort not to come too soon. I wasn’t going to last long. He knew what he was doing—how to grip another man, how to stroke, how much pressure to apply, when to ease off. He had experience. A lot of it. I might analyze that detail later, but not now.

“I’m—you should…I’m gonna?—”

He ignored me, releasing his cock to clutch my ass cheeks and give me his full attention. I didn’t stand a chance. I cried out, thrusting my hips as my orgasm ripped through me.

I came to with Jett licking his lips, jerking himself furiously. I got on my knees in front of him and pushed him to sit before quickly moving south to return the favor. I didn’t have to do much. He came with a gasp, smacking his head against the wall.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” I whispered after a long moment.

Jett draped his forearm over his eyes. “I know.”

I peeled myself from the wall and redressed, muddling through a new exit plan. At this point, discussing yesterday’s blowjob mishap seemed futile. I wasn’t sure what to say now.

“Is your knee okay?”

“The same as always. I should ice it, but it’ll be fine.” Jett winced as he sat taller, unbothered by his nudity or the fact that his bare extremities were in contact with the cold floor. I studied his gorgeous spent penis resting in a thatch of neatly trimmed pubic hair, his thick muscular thighs and the scar that ran jaggedly along his lower torso. He caught the direction of my stare and glanced at the old wound. “I got sliced by a blade in a fucking scrimmage in juniors. I think the stitches were a shit job, ’cause it never healed the way the doctor said it would. Want something to drink?”

“Um…water, please.”

“You got it.” Jett slipped his tee on and rooted around for his boxer briefs, then stood. “You’re staring at my junk, Maloney.”

I nodded matter-of-factly. “I am.”

“Wanna talk about this?”

Yes, absolutely. This could not continue. No way, no chance.

I watched as he gracefully stepped into his briefs, one sculpted leg and the other, pulling the fabric over his ass and snapping the elastic at his waist. He was perfect. He could have been a fitness model or an underwear model or?—

Oh.

He was staring at me, perhaps waiting for those elusive words of wisdom.

“Talk?” I choked out. “No.”

Jett nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll get us some water.”

He sauntered into the kitchen a few feet away, pausing to turn on the TV. An old Star Trek: The Next Generation episode popped onto the screen, and darn, it was a good one featuring a battle with the fearsome Borgs. So when Jett returned with two water bottles and asked if I wanted to stay, I caved.

We sipped water and watched two reruns, commentating on the frightening list of side effects on a pharmaceutical commercial and the aerodynamic likelihood of the Borg’s cube-shaped ship being viable in space.

“It’s feasible.”

“Yeah, fucking right. A square ship could not fly in the real world,” Jett argued.

“Aerodynamics don’t apply because there’s no air in space…in the real world. There are different rules in space.”

He cocked his head as if grappling with a new concept. “I don’t like it.”

I snickered at his put-upon expression, shushing him at the end of the commercial. He shushed me from his end of the sofa, and shot a faux-grumbly glance my way.

I smiled, feeling unexpectedly content. It was really…really nice.

And it was us pretending nothing out of the ordinary had happened when everything had changed.

Tomorrow, I’d do better.