Edward Unconditionally Common Powers 3 (21 page)

It was all Edward's fault. All of it. If he hadn't come to Spring Lake, if he hadn't been speeding, Jack would never have met him, never have felt the attraction, the hunger, oh fuck, the longing for Edward.

Jack didn't know what to do. He'd have to call Brian and talk to him. Do some damage control. Even if it meant admitting he was gay. Shit. If he had to, he'd beg Brian not to out him.

He slowed and drove through town to his house. Pulling into his drive, he parked and turned off the lights. Closed his eyes and sat. Thinking.

No, thinking was bad. If he thought, he'd just think about how furious, how hurt, how fucking jealous he'd been seeing Sammi kiss Edward. And he didn't want to think about how strong his feelings about Edward had become in such a short time.

He'd never been so at a loss and so on the verge of losing control.

He pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to block out the scene in the kitchen, but it was burned into his brain or on the back of his eyelids, wherever graphic scenes of destruction were stored.

He'd wanted to jerk Edward away from Sammi, rip him from Sammi's arms, and claim Edward as his own. Thank God, he'd had some control left. Not much, but enough.

Edward had come into his life only six days ago, threatening everything Jack had worked so hard for.

Yet why could Jack recall every moment that he'd spent with Edward, even the bad ones? Like the one in his office, when he'd made Edward cry or when Edward had wrestled him to the ground over the dog. And the good ones like tonight as he told the story of how they'd met, and Edward kept interrupting. Or when Edward had taken Jack's pain away, nearly died, and saved Jack's life.

And all Jack had ever done to Edward had been to hurt him.

Oh shit. He'd fucked up royally.

Jack turned the key, fired up the truck, and backed out of the drive.

Edward shut the door to his room and slumped against it. Winston hopped off the bed and danced around his feet. Edward glanced at the bed, wishing he could crawl into it and bury himself under the covers, but duty called.

Woof. Woof.

“Okay, boy. I know you need to go out. Just hold on.” Edward got Winston's lead and snapped it on. “Come, Winston.” He opened the door, made sure he had the key, and then left his room. The door shut, and he crossed the parking lot with Winston in the lead.

Fifteen minutes later, after he'd walked Winston, he unlocked his door and went inside, unsnapped the leash, and let Winston loose. Then he sat on the bed and yanked off his boots and socks.

Barefoot, he went to the bath to get ready for bed. He'd pulled his shirt out of his jeans and unbuttoned it when there was a knock on the door.

“Who could that be?” he asked his reflection.

His reflection shrugged.

“Winston, come in here.” He called the bulldog and then closed him in the bathroom so he wouldn't be a pest or run out of the room.

Edward went to the door and looked out of the security peephole.

Jack.

Hell and damnation. What was Jack doing here, and why did Edward's heart pound as if he were an excited schoolboy with a crush on his teacher? Edward leaned against the door, his mind racing. If he let Jack in, Jack would probably kill him for what happened tonight. If he didn't let him in, he would probably kick the door down, kill him, and then who would pay for that?

If he let Jack in, at least he wouldn't have to pay for a broken door. He'd be dead, but debt free. Not quite win-win, but it had its advantages.

The door jumped with another round of knocking, each thud rocking Edward's body.

“Go away.” Edward prayed Jack would listen; then he prayed Jack wouldn't.

“Edward. Let me in. We need to talk.”

Edward sighed. It was inevitable. Whether it was here or later, they'd have to have this out, whatever “this” was. He stepped away from the door, swung back the security latch, and opened the door.

Jack's face struggled to remain composed; Edward could see a small twitch in the corner of the man's mouth, and a vein throbbed in his temple.

“I want to apologize,” Jack said. His voice was all raspy and gruff and sexy as hell.

Edward stared up into his face, waiting. Jack scuffed his boot against the cement but didn't say anything else. He shoulders hunched, as if he'd curled up inside himself but still walked upright. Something ate at Jack. Served him right. As far as Edward was concerned, there'd been too many “somethings.”

“So which one are you apologizing for? Lying to me about being gay? Trying to steal my best friend away from me? Making me think I was nuts? Or manipulating me?”

Jack winced with each item Edward ticked off. “All of it, I guess.”

“Apology accepted. Good night.” Edward shut the door, but Jack's arm shot out and stopped it.

“Wait.” He licked his lips.

“There's more?” Edward arched a brow.

Jack stood there, looking at his feet. Maybe be was trying to figure out which one to shove in his mouth first.

Edward sighed. “Why are you here, Jack?”

Jack looked up, and Edward could see some internal battle being waged as demons danced in the depths of Jack's blue eyes.

Hell and damnation. Why did the man have to be so damned sexy? So in need of healing?

“Come in.” Edward reached out, grabbed Jack's arm, and pulled him inside. Jack stumbled on the threshold and caught himself on the door frame.

“Shit.” He stepped past Edward. Edward shut the door, catching a whiff of whiskey in the air.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not drunk enough,” Jack muttered.

“Why did you come to me?” Edward wanted answers, not excuses.

“You know why.” Jack's voice deepened; his eyes flicked up, smoldering as he gazed at Edward. No one had ever looked at Edward that way.

Oh fuck
. Edward felt like dessert, and Jack was starving.

Jack stood an arm's length away, his hungry gaze boring straight through Edward's body with laser-beam accuracy.

Direct hit to the heart.

Edward would deal with regrets tomorrow morning. Tonight, he would be bananas Foster. With a cherry on top. God, he hoped Jack liked whipped cream.

Edward stepped close, wrapped his hand around the back of Jack's neck, and rose up on his toes. “You're here because you want me.” He brushed his lips across Jack's, teasing him. “You need me.” Another brush. “You crave me.” He licked Jack's bottom lip.

Jack moaned and slipped one hand under Edward's open shirt; the warmth of Jack's palm singed Edward's skin. Jack slid his other hand around Edward's shoulders and pulled him against Jack's hard body. Edward's legs threatened to give way as he melted into Jack.

“Christ, I need you,” Jack whispered; then he crushed his mouth down on Edward's. The taste of whiskey and Jack went straight to Edward's head.

Edward's heart soared. Jack wanted him. He'd risked being seen coming to Edward's motel room. It was foolish and reckless and so fucking romantic, Edward thought he'd die.

Jack could do whatever he wanted to Edward; Edward just wanted Jack. Wanted his tongue, his touch, his cock. Edward's knees buckled under a wave of complete surrender.

Jack grabbed him, hands tightening on Edward's arms, lifting him, pushing him, forcing him backward. Edward's legs hit the bed, and with a hard shove from Jack, Edward fell backward.

Jack straddled Edward at the hips and flung wide the sides of Edward's shirt, exposing Edward's smooth chest and taut stomach. Edward had never seen such passion, desire, and lust, but it was all over Jack's face, in his eyes and in the heat of his demanding hands.

“I crave you, Edward.” Lowering his head, Jack nuzzled Edward's neck, taking deep breaths, sucking air in as he drank in Edward's scent. “You smell so fucking good, baby.”

Edward cradled Jack's head and buried his fingers in Jack's hair. Jack licked his neck and sent shivers down Edward's spine. His cock, trapped in his jeans, begged for Jack's touch.

Edward's hips surged up, but Jack's weight held him down, pinning him to the bed. Jack's cock, a thick lump in his jeans, rubbed against Edward's belly. The rough fabric abraded and heated his skin, yet the metal buttons were cold. His body didn't know whether to shiver or shudder.

For a starving man, Jack moved slow, taking his time, relishing his dessert. Edward had expected fast and furious, but so like Jack, even in his passion there was control.

“I tried. God knows I tried to resist you, Edward. But tonight, I couldn't stand it another moment.” The anger in Jack's raspy voice told Edward more than just his words had that he'd fought the attraction, struggled with whatever demons raged inside him, and lost.

Jack licked Edward's neck, below his ear, traced down his throat, nipped his skin. Tasting. Stroking, Using his tongue like a finger, teasing and prodding. Moving lower, Jack baby-kissed his way to Edward's chest, to encircle an already hard nipple.

Edward moaned, his fingers digging into Jack's scalp, guiding him to where the ache lay. “Oh yes.” Jack's warm tongue flicked against his nub, and as if there were a direct line from Edward's nipple to his cock, he felt the zap. It was such sweet torture, and Edward wanted it to last as long as they both could stand it.

Jack captured Edward's hands and held him down, fingers entwined, pressing him into the bed. Overpowering Edward as he feasted on Edward's body. Nipples, chest, belly, ribs, even under his arms, all were tasted, nipped, licked, and sucked in excruciating slowness as Jack, draped over Edward's body, fed on him like some incubus.

Edward would give Jack anything he wanted, whatever he needed. Tonight, Edward would hold nothing back.

Jack looked up as his tongue zigzagged down Edward's stomach. “You're so beautiful. Christ, you taste so delicious.” Their gazes met. Edward smiled at the desire he saw in Jack's darkened eyes. Had anyone ever lusted after him like this? Had he ever been so desired or felt so sexy?

Edward had had his share of lovers, anonymous and known, but none of their eyes had held the depth, the intensity, the sheer need, that Jack's eyes did right now. Edward ached with the realization that this was everything he'd been searching for and all that had been missing from his life.

And he'd only have it for this one night.

Jack slipped lower on the bed, between Edward's legs and flicked open the button on Edward's jeans.

“Did you pick these jeans out knowing they'd drive me crazy?” He nipped Edward's hip bone above his jeans.

“I didn't know you would be there.”

“Then who did you wear them for?” He laid a kiss beneath Edward's navel.

“For me.” Edward held back.

“Bullshit. You're aware of how fucking hot you look in them. You're a tease, aren't you?” He fingered the rip on one thigh, just above the knee. The soft, frayed edges tickled Edward as Jack's nail scraped his skin. “Was it Sammi?” His inquisitor was subtle, insistent, and ruthless.

Edward gasped. “I didn't know he'd be there.”

“Rush or Brian then? Tell me.” Again, the scratch of hard nail against soft skin. Edward shuddered, his resolve crumbling under his lust.

“Rush. I wore them for Rush.” Edward gave up his secret.

“Why? He's with Brian.” Jack nudged Edward's zipper down, each
click click click
like the report of a gun, loud and shocking.

“When I met him, he flirted with me. He said my butt was cute.”

“Your ass isn't cute.” Jack smirked. “It's fucking gorgeous. I couldn't keep my eyes off it at the traffic stop.” He rubbed his face over the bulge in Edward's pants and took Edward's zipper between his teeth.

Edward watched as Jack unzipped his pants. Jack's hands slid down Edward's arms to trap Edward's hands. So dominant. So alpha male. So in control. Edward wanted to be dominated, wanted Jack to manhandle him. To feel Jack's superior strength and be helpless against it. Helpless against the force that was Jack.

To be taken by such an incredible man as Jack.

Edward had never felt so turned on, so on the edge of coming, so in need of a fucking.

And his dick let Jack know all about it. It strained at Edward's precum-soaked black briefs, giving Jack all the proof he'd need.

Jack splayed Edward's pants, exposing the length of his cock hidden under the soft cotton fabric. Jack mouthed Edward's dick as he sucked it through the cloth.

Edward groaned and arched his hips, but Jack held him down as he nibbled along the length, reached the tip, and then with his teeth, lowered the waistband to expose the angry, red head of Edward's dick.

“Oh please, Jack,” Edward begged. Just one touch and he knew he'd be gone.

“What do you want, baby?” Jack's piercing gaze skewered Edward.

“Lick me. Suck me. I don't care, just touch me.” Edward didn't bother to hide the need in his voice; Jack could see it in his eyes, feel it in the trembling of Edward's body, and in the leaking of his cock.

God, if his balls were any tighter they'd be inside him. Edward hovered on the edge of coming, the slow fire tickling his spine, building, ready to explode.

Jack tenderly rubbed his face against the tip, his lips brushed over it in a caress, then parted as his tongue darted out to taste the fluid that dripped like pearls on a string from Edward's slit to his belly.

Jack took the head of Edward's cock in his mouth and sucked.

Oh sweet, merciful God
. Warm, wet, Jack was a haven, a home, a place where Edward felt safe and secure and, Edward's heart stuttered, loved.

Great shudders ran through Edward, and he bucked, cried out, and came, spilling down Jack's throat.

Jack leaned his cheek against Edward's belly as his moist mouth captured Edward's cum. Jack's strong hands had captured Edward's body. And his tenderness had captured Edward's heart.

Jack released him, gave a few quick licks to Edward's balls, then climbed back up to lie next to Edward. Cupping Edward's face, Jack kissed him, and Edward opened for him. Lazy tongues stroked each other, and hands relaxed but remained joined.