Bad Attitude (23 page)

“Thought you liked my fat cock. Now you’re screwed.” Jamie smiled. “Or not.”

“I’m good,” Gavin said, though there was a slight catch in his breath as Jamie stroked harder.

“Yeah. You are.”

Gavin blinked and that split second when Gavin’s guard was down, Jamie got it. At least he got what the hell was going on tonight.

Sitting up, Jamie dragged Gavin until he was on his back in the middle of the bed, then put his ass up on a pillow. “Comfy?”

“Uh.”

“Relax.”

In Gavin’s mind, if ever there was an expression guaranteed not to induce a lessening of tension at such a moment, it was
relax
.

That Jamie had something in mind was obvious from the way he grabbed the lube and pumped it all over his fingers. Gavin propped himself on his elbows to watch, but as Jamie slid the first two in, Gavin flopped back with a groan.

Yes, the stimulation was good, not as full and pleasant as a cock in him, but if Jamie started sucking him, it would be fine. After, Gavin could invent some sort of reason to leave and put some distance between himself and this evening.

First, he’d tried to secure Jamie’s attention at the party and failed miserably. Now, he felt like an idiot for having proposed going bare. No matter how gently Jamie had declined, he still had insisted on getting the last word, still insisted on things on his terms. Even now he seemed willing to take his time, when all Gavin wanted was to get off and get gone.

Jamie’s eyes were another touch on Gavin’s skin, an intent look scraping his body, probing like the searching stretch and stroke from those fingers. At last Jamie started rubbing steadily against Gavin’s gland. His legs dropped open wider, a soundless breath pushing his lips apart, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Open your eyes.”

Easier said than done. Gavin couldn’t have said why he complied, why he wanted to meet Jamie’s stare. It felt as if his eyelids were weighted with lead, but that was nothing compared to the way Gavin’s balls felt, heavy and full as Jamie did nothing but move his fingers. The tension was building in him, nowhere to go, just pools of tingling heat in his ass and balls and a desperate ache in his dick.

He might not be able to see what Jamie was up to, but he could feel it. Jamie’s fingers slid out, more lube, then…Gavin tried not to tense as Jamie tucked three back inside. It didn’t hurt, but there was a lot of pressure, a solid, angled push of it on his skin from where Jamie’s knuckles worked the rim.

Gavin shuddered at the contrast of the sharp, scary stretch and the soft kiss on his inner thighs, a whisper of warm breath on his balls, a hot, too-quick lick on his shaft. His hips were rocking, though Gavin couldn’t remember when he’d started doing that. He wanted it over, wanted pressure and friction on his dick to release the terrible weight of need in him, and at the same time he wanted to stay here, see how much his body would yield to Jamie’s insistent, steady push inside.

Even without words Gavin knew where Jamie thought this was going and wondered if they would get there. It wasn’t fear of pain that kept Gavin rooted in his head instead of giving in to the sensations of his body. It was yielding this way, knowing that if they went further, he’d be giving a piece of himself, opening more than his body, exposing himself to much more than physical hurt.

Jamie’s fingers seemed to come from all different directions when they swirled against the gland inside, sending constant shocks of pleasure that were almost like the warning before Gavin came but not strong enough, not big enough, to send him over.

He wasn’t moaning, but his breath tore at his throat, harsh gasps that seemed timed to the movement of Jamie’s fingers inside him. Gavin swallowed and pushed the words past his dry lips. “Have you…ever?”

“No. You?”

Gavin shook his head. “Not sure—”

“Relax. I got you.”

That was more literal than figurative at the moment. The fact that Gavin could still think right now, with Jamie’s hand making Gavin’s nervous system go crazy with all the pleasure neurons it was firing, when he felt so amazingly stretched and full and aching to know if he could take a little more, that he was able to keep a part of his brain on something else was a mark of how seriously fucked up he was.

Jamie squirted more cool lube over them both, and Gavin tensed.

But the pressure didn’t increase. Jamie kept moving the three fingers that were inside until Gavin felt the burn of knuckles sliding past the rim, back and forth. The solid rub on his gland built up endless waves and shocks of pleasure, everything tinged with the hard edge of fear and expectation.

He needed, God, he needed, but when he reached for his dick, Jamie’s hand caught his and stopped him.

“Just concentrate on this,” Jamie said, as if there was something else Gavin could possibly be aware of than most of a man’s hand in his ass. “Open up for me, babe. I won’t hurt you.”

Easy for Mr. Control Freak to say. Most muscles healed faster than heart tissue. And what if he couldn’t—if he disappointed Jamie?

“Look at me,” Jamie whispered. “Yeah, like that. I want to watch how you feel. Show me, babe. Want to see everything.”

His fourth finger teased, a promise and a threat. Gavin had never gone this far, never felt so torn open and exposed, and it wasn’t only what Jamie was doing with his hand, but what he was demanding with his eyes and his voice and his presence, making Gavin come to him, making Gavin want it. His whole body shook, striving to reach for what Jamie held just out of reach.

Then it wasn’t.

That fourth finger burned, stung, took him to the edge of what he could stand, and Jamie held his hand there while Gavin’s body fought to accept it. Maybe it would be too much. If it hurt too much, Gavin could quit. But it didn’t.

“Push with me.” Jamie’s voice was whiskey and honey, smooth and rough and hot and sweet.

There wasn’t much Gavin could do. He was suspended on that knife edge, but he took a deep breath and tried to take Jamie in.

“Fuck.” Jamie’s cry was as raw as if it were his dick involved, and that made Gavin want to stretch that little bit more.

A bright spasm of pain the first time Jamie’s knuckles dragged through the tight ring, but then he was so full, and the tiniest movement rubbed him everywhere, made every part of him alive with pleasure.

The feeling Jamie pushed into Gavin with that impossible pressure finally dragged Gavin out of his head. He was flying, lost in a space where all he could do was feel, be. Take what Jamie poured into him. Good, so good, pleasure exploding with every pulse of his blood, every flash of electric sensation. He’d swear he’d been coming forever, but then it really hit, bigger, longer, hotter than he could take, his dick pumping, burning. A flash to consume him from the inside out.

When the last little bit of it had been wrung out of him, his body clamped down and he slammed back into himself in time to hear Jamie gasp in pain.

“Take a deep breath and let it out,” Jamie whispered.

Gavin nodded, but he knew there was no way to do this that wouldn’t hurt like hell. Didn’t matter. He didn’t regret a second of it. A hum still buzzed in his balls, a sweet pulse of it in his dick and an incredible echo of sweet soreness in his ass. If he went off the bridge in this minute, he wouldn’t fight it. Because he was never going to feel better than he did right now.

Jamie curled up behind Gavin, wrapping him in a hot embrace. The heat sinking into his bones was good now that sweat had cooled him to almost a chill.

“Jesus, Gavin. You are fucking amazing.”

Gaze fixed on the wall, Gavin tried to laugh. “You would seem to be in the minority with that opinion.”

Jamie grabbed his shoulder and pulled Gavin onto his back, forcing eye contact. “You know, I get it now. What, you think your money and your dick is all you’re good for?”

“Other than the boat ride, you’ve shown a marked lack of interest in anything to do with my nonphysical assets.”

Jamie’s lips twisted. “Listen. You said I’m the only guy you’d brought back to your house.”

Gavin nodded.

“Well, you’re the only guy who’s meant anything to me since—for as long as I can remember.”

Gavin tried to summon his bored facade to shield himself with it, at least until he could convince himself he didn’t care, but instead, he wished Jamie would say more. Incredibly, he did.

“You ignore all my bullshit or you stand up to me. Usually that would make me want to deck you, but I don’t. And you look out for people who don’t have anyone else, like those kids with their car or the people dying all alone in that place. Yeah, you give as good as you get in bed, and damn that’s sweet, but that’s not all of it.”

Gavin failed utterly to convince himself that he didn’t want to know what “it” was. But Jamie didn’t offer anything else, and Gavin was too afraid to admit what might be going on inside him. What if it was, really was, as Jamie termed it, the L word? What did that mean anyway?

“You too.” It had been so much easier when Gavin thought he understood the rules.

“Wow. A swing and a miss for Mr. Walking Dictionary. Don’t strain yourself, babe.”

No matter how familiar Jamie’s disappointment felt, it provoked an unexpected reaction. Gavin was angry. At Jamie for changing the game, at himself for not knowing how to play.

He pushed Jamie onto his back, grabbing his shoulders and pinning him against the sheet. “What the hell do you want from me?”

Jamie’s muscles shifted in something like a shrug. His blue eyes glared right back. “More’n you want to give, I guess.”

“Your hand in my ass wasn’t enough?”

“I loved it, but that wasn’t for me, babe. Wanted to do that for you.”

Gavin felt heat and a prickle behind his eyes. He hadn’t cried when his mother died, and he absolutely would not do it here. He let Jamie go. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because that’s not how it works.” Jamie rolled off on the other side of the bed.

Gavin heard the water run, all the noises that told him Jamie was in the bathroom, yet Gavin couldn’t shake the idea that he was all alone. Left behind.

When Jamie came back into the room, he didn’t get on the bed, but flipped out the lights and stood there.

“I—I could leave,” Gavin said. As he waited for an answer, there wasn’t room in his chest, as if Jamie had somehow reached up and filled more than just Gavin’s ass with his hand.

Jamie sighed. “Do what you want.”

Gavin’s muscles tried to gather themselves, move him out of the bed and into the dark.

“I like you here.” Jamie came toward him.

They lay on the bed with an ocean of space between them.

“Thank you,” Gavin whispered into the dark.

“For fuck’s sake.” Jamie flung an arm over Gavin’s chest.

Gavin pulled Jamie closer, until he was lying on top. After a thick swallow, Gavin brushed a kiss into Jamie’s hair. “I like being here.”

Chapter Fifteen

The insistent bleating of his phone dragged Gavin from a solid sleep. It wasn’t an alarm though. It was a call. He staggered out from sheets that smelled of sex, and no matter how much he wanted to slide back in, let the smell drag him under again, he knew he had to find his phone in case there was an emergency with Lily.

He finally tripped over his jeans and got a hand on his phone in time for it to stop buzzing and chiming.

Missed call: Chip.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Jamie sounded instantly awake, alert, though it was barely four a.m. Because of experience with his job or because he hadn’t been sleeping?

“My brother called. It’s probably something with Lily.” But Gavin hesitated before retrieving the voicemail.

“I guess he never calls with good news.”

“No. Do you talk to your family a lot?”

“Some. Usually when my sisters call they want something. Broken pipe fixed, car help.”

Gavin sat on the bed. Jamie wrapped himself around him from behind. It wasn’t only the smell of sex, but of them, together, a lure he almost couldn’t resist.

“You want privacy?” Jamie asked.

Normally Gavin would. Especially if any one of the disasters he imagined were waiting in that voicemail.

Jamie started to push away.

“No.” Gavin caught his wrist. “Stay. Please.”

Jamie settled back, keeping an arm around Gavin’s waist. “You really worry about her.”

“Yes. I know she’s not my mother. But she’s always been kind, and—” Gavin swallowed. “We thought my mother was pregnant at first. With the cancer. She had had a lot of trouble with Honey, and a miscarriage after that.”

Jamie tucked his chin over Gavin’s shoulder. “That sucks.”

“My father.” The familiar frustration and shame soured his empty stomach. “I don’t know whether it’s the professed Catholic bullshit about welcoming children or the determination to prove his virility.”

Jamie nodded against Gavin’s cheek. He would have expected Jamie to say it wasn’t his problem, or that the cross and saint he wore around his neck would lead him to defend the faith. Yet he only held Gavin, provided a solid wall for him to lean against as he pressed the button for the voicemail and put the phone to his ear.

“Gavin.” Chip’s voice was clipped, devoid of concern or emotion, but then it usually was. “I know it’s early, but I thought you would want to know. Beach woke up.”

Gavin eased himself into the faux Barcalounger next to Beach’s bed. Jamie had asked with half concern, half smug pride if Gavin was sore, and he was definitely moving and sitting with care. He’d explained, “Not really sore, more that it echoes. Suffice it to say, yes, you’ll be on my mind the rest of the day.”

Jamie had grinned and given Gavin one of those long kisses. “We can take it easy tonight.”

Chip had warned Gavin that Beach would probably drift in and out for a few days, so Gavin finished a couple books on his phone while answering Beach when he woke up periodically to ask, “What happened?”

Around seven that night, it seemed to stick. Beach was far more alert than he had been, absorbing Gavin’s version of events and asking a few questions. Gavin only mentioned that there had been an accident on the bridge, that they had both gone in, that Beach had been in a coma to relieve pressure on his brain.