Page 17

17

TRINSKY

T hree days in bed with a man. That was a new one.

Truthfully, I’d never spent an entire day in bed with a woman, either. It had always been about the act. Do it and be done. I wasn’t into cuddling, and I’d never dated anyone who’d seemed to want that from me anyway. My former girlfriends were short-term, mutually beneficial arrangements—sex and arm candy for official engagements.

None of them had met Eddie or my mom. None of them knew that I superstitiously only used blue-and-white striped beach towels, even though I owned red and white, and yellow and white. None of them knew that I secretly had perfected the art of making brownies from scratch and that I really despised whipped cream.

But Jake knew.

“What did whipped cream ever do to you?” he asked, waving at me in the mirror above us.

I waved back at him, loving the sound of his laughter. He had a great laugh—rich and hearty. And I’d grown very fond of his sexy body too. I studied his biceps, his flat stomach, and flaccid penis in our reflection. He was a work of fucking art.

Geez, what were we even talking about? Oh, yeah…

“Whipped cream is disappointment in a can.”

Jake guffawed, exposing the cords of his neck as he threw his head against the pillow. His joy was contagious. I wanted to laugh too, but I was the one telling the joke…or was I? I was happy just to be here with him.

“What does that mean?”

I rolled to face Jake, hooking my leg over his. “It comes in a fun container. You give it a shake, aim it at your slice of apple pie or a bowl of strawberries, and you think, ‘Sweet, this is gonna be tay-stee.’ Instead, it’s like eating feathery foam. Fuck that. Give me ice cream.”

Jake snickered. “Says the man with a can of whipped cream in his fridge.”

“That’s for Eddie, but I bought it a few months ago. It’s probably expired.” I widened my eyes comically. “I have an idea.”

“No,” he deadpanned.

“It’s a good one, Jakey.”

“I doubt it, Mason.”

My smile threatened to crack my face in half. “I like the way you say my name. Like you’re sort of annoyed, but maybe…not.”

His lips twisted with amusement. “What’s your bright idea?”

I gave his balls a light squeeze. “It’s better if I show you instead. Don’t go anywhere.”

I headed downstairs and grabbed the whipped cream and a couple of water bottles. I set my stash on the nightstand next to Jake, who glanced up from his cell with an eye roll.

“Trinsky…no whipped cream,” he warned, typing away.

I gave a thumbs-up, plucked two towels from the bathroom, and hopped onto the bed, hands raised in surrender. “You sure? I’ll put a little on your dick and suck it off. Or…you can do me.”

He winced. “I need BJ practice, huh?”

I mentioned we’d been in bed for three days, right? Okay…that was a slight exaggeration.

Jake had gone back to his hotel to sleep, but we’d hung out at my place all day. We hadn’t planned to be together…it was an organic thing. He didn’t have anywhere to be until his agent showed up, and it had been easy to talk him into coming over. My house was a little ridiculous, but it was private.

Privacy was crucial. Neither of us was George Clooney famous. I could usually go anywhere in LA and maybe get stopped by an occasional hockey fan for a selfie and an autograph. I always got more attention in Denver, and no doubt it was the same for Jake in Boston. However, Jake and I hanging out together anywhere in the country would be a real story. Especially now that we were in the midst of a “rivals playing nice” campaign.

We didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves, and it was easy to lay low at my house. I had plenty of diversions to offer—a well-stocked kitchen, an endless supply of video games, every cable subscription service known to man, and…the beach.

Jake had worn his ball cap and hidden with me under an umbrella, debating our teammates’ stats and new league policies. We’d talked about our mutual friends—how funny it was that Denny’s marriage to Hank was no longer big news. We’d discussed our volunteer pro colleagues who’d sign on as counselors for the Elmwood Juniors’ this summer and how excited his little brother, Nathan, was that his favorite hockey heroes were coming to town again.

He'd asked about Eddie a couple of times. What were his friends like? What did he do during the summer? Was he coming by to visit again? I’d answered, but I hadn’t supplied details. It wasn’t something I did.

But I could discuss baseball. And Jake was a huge fan. He loved his Red Sox, and I loved my Dodgers. A built-in rivalry gave us another thing to spar over. Of course, I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him if he’d rooted for the Dodgers’ true rivals, the Giants.

“Fair. Same deal if you were a Yankees fan,” he’d countered, smiling at me before gazing out at the ocean from the beach chairs we’d lugged from the house. “My dad took me to a lot of Phillies games when I was a kid, so I’m sort of a Phillies fan too. Mom still gives my dad a hard time for that, even though he was literally born there.”

“Your mom is kind of a hoot.”

Jake’s forehead had creased in confusion. “I forget that you’ve met my mom. It’s weird.”

I’d chuckled. “And your stepdad, and your dad and his husband, and your brother and sisters. I know the whole brood. And check this out…I was standing in line at the ice cream parlor last summer behind your first-grade teacher, who told the whole damn store about the time you’d worn two different sneakers to school and you were so worried the police were going to arrest you for it.”

“Ouch. That’s a rough memory.”

“Why? It’s cute.” I’d reached out to tweak his nipple.

Jake had growled and swatted me away. “I get that it sounds cute, but my parents divorced when I was about five years old and even though they’ve been friends ever since, it was unsettling for me. I was one of those super-sensitive kids who worried about adult shit I had no control over. If I was with my mom, I worried that my dad was lonely. If I was with Dad, I’d worry Mom would forget to take out the bins on trash day. Stupid stuff kept me awake. I think it was ’cause I noticed how different they were. My mom is very practical and kind of ballsy. She’s tough but kind, and lives life out loud, no regrets. Dad is this uber-friendly man who goes out of his way to be helpful. I was really young when I realized he had more to lose.”

“How so?”

“Because he was the only out gay man in town. And assholes judge. I overheard Mrs. Alberts whisper that it wasn’t right for a gay man to be raising a child on his own. She said it was scandalous. I had no idea what the word meant, but the way she’d clutched her pearls, it had to be bad. She also said someone should take me away…bless my little soul. Or something like that.”

“That bitch,” I’d growled.

“I know, right? Until that day, I’d always liked Mrs. Alberts. She was this deceptively sweet old lady who carried a red purse with her everywhere and smiled at everyone. I vaguely remember Crabby Annie being nearby and telling her that if anyone should be taken away it was Mrs. Alberts’s good-for-nothin’ son-in-law for stealing petty cash from the town council.”

“That sounds like Denny’s grandma, all right.”

Jake had smiled. “She’s awesome. Anyway, it was the first time I realized we were being judged, and it frightened me. For Dad and me. So the day I put on two nonmatching shoes on his watch, I was a fucking basket case…scared out of my mind that someone was going to take me away from him.”

“I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“Yeah, but it was a long time ago. It’s just one of those odd memories that pinballs into other ones that make you sad, though. I’d been so distraught that the school called my dad at work. He’d brought the other half of each shoe for me to choose from and he’d smiled indulgently, as if it were kind of funny. But Dad’s sort of shitty at hiding emotion, and I could tell that episode freaked him out too. He went through a period of being Super Dad—more so than usual. He served only the finest meals, arrived early for carpools and practices, and I think that was when he started volunteering at church. I think he wanted to befriend the enemy after I told him what Mrs. Alberts had said. I sensed his fear and I just…wished I could do something for him. Anything.” Jake had shaken his head as if to clear unwanted images.

“I don’t get it. What was he afraid of? No one was really going to take you away, were they?”

“No, but raising a kid in a small town where everyone fucking knows what you eat for breakfast, and your first-grade teacher still recalls an embarrassing event that took place twenty-five years ago makes you feel like a fish in a glass bowl. There’s a decent chance my neighbor, my old hockey coach, and the kid who sat behind me in geometry in junior high heard that story too. It’s not a bad thing, but it’s a thing. There’s nowhere to hide in Elmwood.”

“Maybe not, but it’s still a good town,” I’d said after a moment.

“It is, but it’s not perfect. Everyone’s fighting their own battles…same as in the suburbs or the city.”

I’d dug my toes into the sand and probably changed the topic. I didn’t do heart-to-hearts well. I could listen and sympathize with other people’s stories, but I didn’t share my own, mainly because my life wasn’t relatable.

There was no overly involved dad, no amicable divorce, or cute hometown shenanigans in my past. Not even close. There was a time I’d have laughed at his version of a tough memory. Must have been nice to have two pairs of shoes to mix up.

But I didn’t have to compare notes or win a contest here. I could picture a six-year-old Jake scared shitless that his mistake would cost his father something irreplaceable. Moreover, I could tell that the experience had possibly been one that had shaped Jake’s persona on and off the ice. He was measured and controlled like no one I’d ever met. He was a fierce protector who gave everything he had to the people and the sport he loved.

Huh . I supposed this was me, setting aside my preconceived notions regarding the guy I couldn’t in good faith refer to as my nemesis anymore.

This was me realizing I wanted to know more about what made Jake Milligan tick.

This was me hoping for something I couldn’t quite label. For now, I’d call it discovery.

And since this chapter in my life was destined to be a short one, I wanted to make it count. I wanted to explore every inch of Jake…and his body. I just wasn’t sure how much he’d give me. Till he went home to Elmwood or after summer camp was over? The way I saw it…I either had two days or six weeks.

And how far was Jake willing to go?

The past seventy-two hours had been…magic. He’d let me map out every inch of skin…every nook and crease and secret place, including his hole.

As I’d explained to him, I’d had anal sex with women and I’d given and received a rim job or ten. The action was familiar. It was doing it with or to a man that was new. I wasn’t sure he’d be willing to let me do anything that intimate, but I was a big fan of taking chances.

So yesterday, when I’d pushed Jake’s knees to his chest to feast on his cock, and had somehow ended up licking his entrance, it hadn’t been an accident. It had been a calculated risk. I’d wanted him to know how good it felt. And if it interested him in the idea of going all the way…even better.

Time was ticking. If we were going to fuck, it was gonna have to happen soon.

But we were discussing BJs and whipped cream now…not my dick in his ass. Damn .

“Everyone needs BJ practice,” I replied, waggling my brows lasciviously.

Jake was great at blowjobs, by the way. We’d taken turns sucking each other to oblivion in the shower, in bed, and in the kitchen. We’d tried sixty-nine this morning, and that was…wow. And watching the show in the tacky mirrored ceiling had only added to the experience.

Jake nodded. “Okay. Just let me finish this text.”

“Who is it?”

“McD. He landed in LA ten minutes ago.”

“Oh.”

Jake tossed his cell onto the nightstand. “I know. I got out of dinner with him tonight, though. He’s meeting a new client and…I’m old news now. I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“You’re not old news.”

“Technically, we both are. And we’re lucky. We’ve been on Stanley Cup winning teams and have played to packed arenas. It’s more than a lot of hockey players get.”

I furrowed my brow. “You’re talking like someone who’s contemplating retirement.”

Jake chuckled. “Not tomorrow. I’ll be on ice next season for sure. I’m thinking about the future.”

“That’s very grown-up of you. And now I feel kind of silly with the can of whipped cream I brought to paint your cock.”

“You’re not putting that stuff on me.”

I dropped the whipped cream next to him, spread out a towel, then lay down on it. “Okay, you do the honors.”

“You want me to spray this stuff on you and…”

“Lick it off,” I finished.

Jake hummed thoughtfully and sat up, studying the ingredients listed on the canister. “Cream, water, sugar, nonfat milk, maltodextrin. What’s maltodextrin?”

“It’s multiple dextrins,” I guessed.

“Malto, not multi.”

“Jakey…who the fuck cares? It’s going on my dick.”

“I care. I’m the one who’s going to suck it off your dick,” he retorted.

“Whoa. Did you see that twitch? My cock heard your message and approves. Get to it, Milligan.”

“Yes, sir.” He shook the can as he kneeled between my legs. “Let’s make sure this thing works.”

He squirted a dallop on my stomach.

“Shit, that’s cold,” I griped.

Jake dipped a finger into the white glob and licked it like a porn star. “Are you sure you want me to put that on your dick?”

“Less sure about that, but damn…you look so fucking hot with your fingers all slick with cream.”

He snorted. “You’re fucking nasty.”

“I know. I have a filthy, dirty mind. Clean up the mess you just made. Lick me, baby.”

I thought Jake might take exception with the offhanded term of endearment, but he let it slide and bent to swipe his tongue through the whipped cream. He didn’t lick it off, he spread it till it covered my abs and the tip of my cock.

“How’s that?”

I chuckled. “It’s everywhere now. Even on your nose. C’mere.”

I pulled him against me and rolled us so I was on top. And yeah, there was whipped cream everywhere. We laughed at the mess between us, licking each other’s lips, cheeks, and noses. I nipped his jaw and traveled the length of his body, twirling my tongue around his navel before swallowing his cock in one swoop.

Jake moaned somewhere above me as I worked him over, sucking and licking his pole like it was my job.

I wanted more, though…remember?

I reached for the well-used bottle of lube on the nightstand and slicked my fingers. I returned to cock-sucking duties, teasing his hole with the pad of my fingers as I did my best to deep-throat him. I was getting better at it, but multitasking was the key here. I wanted Jake blissed out and relaxed.

Two fingers in, he was there, legs spread wide, back arched, fingers in my hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted.

I kissed his inner thigh and added a third digit. “Is this good?”

“So good.”

“Can you take more? Do you want my cock?”

Jake froze and leaned on one elbow, his eyes searching mine. “Yeah, but I’m…I don’t know. You have to go slow.”

“I will,” I whispered, withdrawing my fingers. “I promise.”

I grabbed a condom, added more lube, then lined my cock at his entrance and pushed.

I moved a centimeter at a time. So slow, it was painful…but worth it. I’d never been more in tune with a lover’s body. Seriously. I studied his expressions, measuring his every inhale and exhale for clues as I coached him to relax and coached myself not to slam home and plunder his hole like a Viking berserker conquering something that wasn’t supposed to belong to him.

And that wouldn’t have been right ’cause being with Jake like this—inside him, surrounded by him—felt like a gift. He wanted me, he trusted me. Me.

My arms trembled on either side of his head now. I was balls deep in a hot, tight channel, sweating bullets as he squeezed my cock in a vise grip.

He licked his lips. “It hurts.”

“I know.” I pressed a chaste kiss on Jake’s brow. “It’ll feel better when I move. Can I?”

“Yeah. Just…”

“Slow. I got you.”

I pulled out almost all the way, and surged forward again. Jake’s breath hitched and his groan oozed with cautious pleasure. I curbed the inclination to ask if he was okay and followed my instincts. I thrust a little harder on the next pass, rolling my hips as I captured his mouth.

He moaned, lifting to meet my next thrust and the next as he sucked my tongue and grabbed my ass for purchase. Our steady pace fell apart in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t get enough of him. Every push and pull sent shivers all over my body. I was a tingling jumble of sensation, and Jake seemed to be right there with me.

“Christ, you’re so fucking big,” he gasped, snaking his hand between us to grip his cock.

“Too much?”

“No, it’s good. Keep going. Mmm , that’s it. Yeah…fuck, yeah.”

Holy shit, this man was killing me. I pistoned my hips…fast and steady.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” I panted.

“ Ungh …I’m—oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

And that was the end of me too. I roared through an epic orgasm, bucking and pounding into Jake’s ass, clinging to him like a damn koala in a windstorm.

I couldn’t move, which seemed to be a recurring post-sex theme with us.

“Are you okay?” I mustered the effort to brace my weight on my hands so I didn’t squish him.

Jake flashed a megawatt smile and nodded. “I’m unbelievably okay. That was…incredible. And damn it, I wish you could see this view.”

It took a second for me to figure out what he meant. I followed his gaze to the mirrored ceiling and…my tongue almost fell out of my mouth. I rolled sideways, pulling Jake with me, still impaled on my cock.

“Fuck me. Look at us.” I lifted my leg and tilted my pelvis. “I wish I had a bionic penis. I don’t want to stop fucking you.”

“I think Viagra helps with that.”

I glowered as I slipped out of him and tied off the condom. “I do not need Viagra, smartass.”

Jake snickered, hooking his leg over me to keep me close. “No, you don’t. That was amazing. Seriously. I loved it.”

I beamed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can I…you know…”

“Fuck me?” I supplied, pulling his chin as he started to glance away, his cheeks pink. “Are you embarrassed? Hey, you’re not allowed to be embarrassed with me. We’re in this together, you know?”

Jake’s eyes softened as he combed his fingers through his hair, regarding me with a funny look I couldn’t read. “For a big hockey jock, you say some sweet things…Mason.”

My heart flipped and somersaulted in my chest. Maybe it was the compliment or the way he said my name. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it, so I reverted to normal defense tactics.

“Dude, you’re crusty all over. I guess this is why whipped cream is a no-no. You look like you got hit by a cum truck.”

“Ew, that’s disgusting,” he huffed, tugging at the towel wedged under my ass.

“That probably won’t do any good. You need a shower and?—”

“Food.” Jake lunged for me, fusing our mouths. “Feed me. I’m hungry. And then…round two.”

I blinked, my gaze locked on his ass as he sauntered to the bathroom.

So…let’s get something straight, pun intended. I’d just had amazing sex with a man. A man I was supposed to hate. And it had felt so good, I couldn’t find it in me to consider possible repercussions. But I wasn’t na?ve. There’d be eyes on us soon, and I knew this could be a PR nightmare. Or career suicide. This was the kind of thing that would make a sane person panic and swear it would never happen again.

Fuck that.

It might not be smart, but that had never stopped me. Besides, this felt like the best thing that had happened to me in a long time.