We buy burritos and eat them by the lake. After that, we go for ice cream at one of the many places on Main Street. Jamie wants to talk about coaching, apparently. So we do.
“A lot of these kids still don’t understand ‘first touch,’” he theorizes. “If there was one thing I could have ’em take back home, it would be that. In a high-level game, you only get one chance at the puck. If they waste time repositioning, it’s over.”
“Uh-huh.” But every time he says “first touch” my mind is on an entirely different kind of touching. He’s talking a lot with his hands, and I’m fixated on his biceps, and the fine blond hair on his arms, which I now know is very soft to the touch. I think about removing that T-shirt to kiss his chest, and my dick begins to grow heavy.
Wearing these nylon athletic shorts? Not smart. And horniness isn’t even my only problem.
Last night I’d asked Jamie if he was freaking out. Funny, I’ve now spent an entire day doing just that.
The guy is fucking with my mind. First he acts like nothing happened. Then he ditches me so he can take a “nap.” But no way was he doing that. I mean, I wasn’t born yesterday. When I got back to our room and saw him standing there all guiltily, it was obvious what he’d been doing. The fucker had jerked off.
I would have been happy to help him out with that, but clearly he’d rather go solo than let me touch him again.
Except…then he’d checked me out. Again, not born yesterday. I saw the way he was looking at me before we headed out.
Jesus. Good thing he’s not a traffic cop, because he’s sending enough mixed signals to cause a ten-car pileup.
I’ve played it cool, but inside I’m a wreck. Because once was not enough, and yet I haven’t a clue what Jamie’s thinking.
No clue.
Shoving the last of my ice cream cone in my mouth, all I want is to drag him back to our lair and do very dirty things to him. But is that even in the cards? I know two things so far. First, Jamie Canning can get hot for me. I saw it last night. And second, he’s not horrified by what we did.
That’s amazing, and I feel like pinching myself that I had even one awesome night with the love of my life. But it doesn’t guarantee me a fucking thing. He owes me nothing. He could tire of this little experiment. He probably already has.
It’s terrifying. Because I want another taste. Hell, I want to gorge myself on him. I’m a glutton for Jamie Canning.
“Wes?”
“What?” Oh, shit. I’ve been staring at him, and I have no idea what we’re talking about.
“I asked if you wanted to swim. It’s still hot.”
“Uh.” I really just want to go home and get very, very naked. “I’m not wearing a suit.”
His eyes narrow. “Who are you?”
Right. When you spend your life giving zero fucks about appropriate attire, people notice. “Okay,” I concede. “Let’s swim.”
Jamie’s phone makes a trilling noise. “Oh. Hang on two minutes? If I don’t answer, they’ll keep calling.” He swipes the screen, but holds the phone away from his body. “Hey guys!”
A chorus of voices pours from his phone, which is on Skype or some shit. “Jamie!” “Jamester!” “Hi baby!”
I’d forgotten about this. Jamie’s whole family has a big meal together on Sunday every single week, and apparently it’s a family sacrilege to miss one. So while their youngest was away at camp, he got these calls every week. Probably when he was away at college, too.
“You need a haircut,” a female voice pipes up.
“Yeah,” he concedes, running a hand through his golden hair. I’m jealous of that hand. “What’s new in Cali?”
I listen while his family all tries to talk at once. “Guess who’s knocked up again?” a male voice asks.
“Language!”
Apparently Jamie’s sister is pregnant again. And one of his brothers got a promotion. Another brother broke up with his long-time girlfriend.
“I’m sorry about that,” Jamie says.
“We’re not!” a sister cries.
“Fuck off!”
“Language!”
Suffice it to say that Jamie’s call from home is nothing like mine.
“So, son,” an older voice booms. Jamie’s dad always manages to sound commanding without coming off like an asshole. My father could take a few pointers. “What have you been up to this week?”
I snort so hard that Jamie’s eyes flick over to me before quickly moving back to the screen. “The usual,” he says, giving me a kick under the table. “Lots of ice time. Went hiking.”
Sucked off my gay friend Wes.
He keeps his eyes firmly on the screen so I can’t really tell whether he’s sweating this part of the conversation or not.
“Sounds good,” his father rumbles. “Your mother is busy in the kitchen, but she said to tell you to make sure you come home before you head for Detroit.”
“I’ll try,” he promises. “It depends on whether Pat can replace me for that week.”
“Your mother also reminds you to try to get enough fiber and eat organic.”
There’s a boom of laughter from the phone at that.
Jamie grins. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Be good, Jamie!” “Love you!” “Wear your cup!” More snickers. More endearments.
And then Jamie ends the call, tucking his phone into his shirt pocket, shaking his head. “Sorry about that.”
“No big. Still want to swim?” Please say no.
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
The town beach is at the southern end of Mirror Lake, really close to the dormitory. Everything in Lake Placid is close to everything else. This town was a summer resort for rich people well before it was a winter sports destination. So we pass all manner of attractive old buildings on the short walk to the little beach.
Jamie kicks off his flip-flops and strips off his shirt. He walks into the water, where his shorts start to cling to his body even before he’s submerged himself.
I follow him, of course. He could lead me anywhere right now, and I wouldn’t argue.
The cool water feels great, though. When I’m up to my thighs I dive under, chasing Jamie out past the sandy area. There’s a floating raft a hundred yards out, and we swim to it.
Jamie is smiling at me when I break the surface. With one palm I splash him a good one, then dive under again to escape retribution. Passing him, I make for the far side of the raft.
When I come up to take a breath, a big hand pushes me under again. So of course I’m coughing when I bob up a second later. “Fucker,” I sputter, even though we spent the better part of our summers trying to drown each other every afternoon after practice.
He’s got an elbow on the raft now, too, which prevents me from dunking him. Figures. So I do the same, coming to perch beside him.
Our shoulders are touching. All he has to do is turn his head and his mouth would be inches from mine. And then all I’d have to do is lean forward and his mouth would be on mine.
But he doesn’t turn toward me. He just stares straight ahead.
Fucking hell. I can’t take this anymore. I need to know where we stand. Because the thought of spending even another minute guessing what this guy wants from me is absolute torture.
Under water, I reach out and touch his belly with my fingertips.
Jamie’s eyes widen. But he doesn’t say anything. I hitch myself over to be a little closer. Then I flatten my palm on his cool, wet skin, my pinkie finger breaching the elastic of his shorts. I don’t think anyone can see what I’m doing. But Jamie’s eyes do a circuit of the lake. He’s worried.
Fuck, I don’t want to freak him out. “Feel like going home now?” I ask. It’s code for, are we going to fool around again? If we’re not, I wish he’d just tell me. Put me out of my misery.
He licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says. Then he knocks my hand away. “But cut that out, or I won’t be able to get out of the water.”
I obey immediately.
Five minutes later we’re walking into the dormitory, our clothes dripping on the old tile floors. But that’s how people roll around here in the summertime. The place is mostly quiet, which means the kids are all at dinner.
Without a word we walk into our room and shut the door. The first thing I do is drop my shorts and boxers to the floor where they make a wet slap. Jamie follows suit. Then we’re both just standing there, starkers, staring at each other. His eyes are startled, and my heart quakes with the fear that he’s about to say, “I can’t do this again.”
“We have to be quiet,” he says instead.
My smile is the size of Mirror Lake. “You can bite the pillow when I make you scream.”
He takes a stuttering breath when I move closer to him, and I instantly freeze.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “You’ve kinda been running hot and cold on me all day.”
He nods. “Needed to get some things straight in my head.”
I snort at his choice of words. “Straight, huh?” I offer a pointed look at his very noticeable hard-on.
His mouth twitches. “My dick and I reached an understanding.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?” I ask curiously.
He shrugs. “We both like you.”
Fuck yeah.
I erase the rest of the distance between us. I’m hardening already, which is no surprise, because I’ve been thinking about this all day. My hands land on skin cool from the water. I brush his nipples with my fingertips, and they stiffen immediately. His ear is right beside my mouth, so I stick my tongue in it, making him gasp.
“Get on my fucking bed,” I whisper.
Two seconds later, he’s there. And I’m stretching out on him like a blanket, and jamming my tongue into his mouth. Jamie moans, but I’m too wrapped up in the taste of him to worry about it. I have my fingers in his hair and his hot, hard body under mine and it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
He’s not hating life, either. His hips roll beneath me, his cock bumping and scraping against mine. It aches. My balls are tight already. Rubbing off on him feels amazing, and I love that his sweet mouth is a prisoner of mine. But I don’t want to come yet.
So I force myself to pull back. When I look down at Jamie, his eyes are glazed with lust, and his lips are swollen and red. I make the sign for “time out.” He tips his head back into the pillow and sighs, and I can’t help dipping down to kiss his exposed throat.
I love you. The words are always right there on the tip of my naughty tongue. I swallow them back like I need to and say something much more practical instead.
“Have you ever been acquainted with your prostate?”
He shakes his head.
“Do you trust me?”
Jamie nods immediately, and my heart constricts. I must be insane to push him like this, but the things I crave are at war with my better judgment. So now I’m getting off the bed to dig in my duffel for the bottle of lube I keep in there.
His eyes follow the bottle when I sit back on the bed. He’s probably seconds away from saying, “Hang on, that’s just too gay for me.” So I lean down and take the tip of his erection in my mouth.
“Fuck,” he gasps, arching his back.
Once again I am socked with the certainty that I’m the world’s most manipulative bastard. But I’m trying to blow his mind, and I’m hoping that’s enough justification. I torture him with my tongue until he’s practically levitating off the bed.
“Lift this leg,” I whisper.
Drunk from my teasing, he hikes his knee without complaint, and I position him so I can reach his crease easily. I dribble some lube onto the fingers of one hand. Then I drop my head and take his cock in my mouth. When I start sucking, he gasps. But when I slide my fingers between his ass cheeks, he goes silent.
For a moment I don’t know what he’s thinking. I release his dick and place a kiss on its tip. “You okay?”
He takes a slow breath. “Yeah,” he says as I tease his hole. “It’s strange.”
“Can you take more?” If he says no, I’ll drop it.
“Okay.”
I apply some more lube and then penetrate him with the tip of my finger. “Relax for me, baby.”
He tries. So I reward him with some kisses right where he wants them. “Mmm,” he says. “That I like.”
I give him some more. Since I’ve weirded him out with the ass play, he’s not teetering on the edge anymore. I lean down, sucking and licking and just generally bringing out my A game. And at the same time, I’m working a finger slowly toward his prostate.
When I finally get there, everything changes.
“Ohfuckohfuck,” Jamie whispers, his thigh muscles trembling.
I rub his prostate again and give another good suck.
He moans, and I reach up with my free hand to cover his mouth. “Shh,” I remind him. “Don’t make me stop.”
He shakes my hand off his mouth. “It’s… You’re… My feet are tingling.”
That’s a good sign.
Smiling, I resume my wicked ministrations, my finger sliding inside him in time to the long, lazy strokes of my mouth. Jamie begins to shift his hips, thrusting into my mouth. And it’s not just his dick he’s thrusting. It’s his ass, too. He’s bumping it toward me, seeking me out. Jesus. He’s trying to fuck my finger.
“You doing okay?” I murmur.
“More than okay.” His voice is a choked whisper.
He’s squeezed his eyes shut. A flush rises in his cheeks, his brow drawn together as if he’s in pain. But I know pain is the last thing he’s feeling right now. His dick grows impossibly hard in my mouth, and I groan when his ass bears down on my finger.
“Wes…” He breathes out my name, his thighs quivering as he lifts his hips again. “You’re making me crazy.”
That’s what I like to hear. His arousal surrounds us like a thick mist, pulsing in the air, in my cock. I slide the pad of my finger over his prostate again, and he croaks out a curse, and I’m loving it. “Has anyone ever told you before that you’re sexually adventurous?”
One eye opens. “All the time,” he mumbles, and I experience a jolt of jealousy, wondering which lucky girl helped him discover it. Jamie groans again. “Keep doing that. Please…don’t stop…”
This guy is under the impression that stopping is even an option. I would, of course, if he asked me to, but as long as he’s begging for my mouth? For my finger? Nothing short of dying will stop me from giving it to him. I’ll give him every fucking part of myself, serve it to him like a feast at a banquet.
Jamie Canning has no idea the kind of power he has over me.
