9. Jacob

Chapter 9

Jacob

What am I doing on the deserted towpath of the Leeds-Liverpool canal on a Sunday morning? I could lie and assert that all of Archer's talk about jogging yesterday inspired me to take it up. Bullshit. I'm here, hoping I'll casually—or not so casually—bump into him while he's hot and sweaty from running, with his T-shirt sticking to his chest. I hum and savour the mental image.

I shouldn't be here.

I thought I'd got over my lust for Archer until yesterday. Every time we touched was electrifying. I enjoyed talking to him, even when he made me choke. He's made it clear—repeatedly—that he's still interested in me. Would it hurt to indulge my desire?

He's my stepbrother.

Biologically, that might not be an issue, but socially, it's taboo. And while Archer doesn't seem to give a shit what anyone thinks, I do. Yet despite that, I'm here, stretching my legs, glancing up and down the towpath, waiting until he'll jog around the corner.

Time drags on. I amble away from the centre of Leeds. If nothing else, I enjoy the pretty views, the fresh morning air, and the peaceful twitter of birds. I've never walked along the towpath, which is overhung by trees. The farther away I get from the city, the denser the foliage becomes, and more paths cut through the trees.

Did Archer take a different route today, or did he decide to lie in, as it's Sunday? I shouldn't be here. What do I think's going to happen if I bump into him? I turn around and walk towards Leeds at a faster pace.

Swift footsteps pound behind me. I ignore them. Archer isn't the only person who'll go jogging on the towpath.

Someone taps me on the shoulder. My heart leaps into my throat.

Archer passes me, turns to face me, and jogs on the spot. His face is pink, his hair damp and pushed back. A V of sweat has formed on his grey T-shirt. His tight shorts show off his powerful thighs. My mouth waters.

He grins. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Fancy that."

"You weren't hoping to meet me, were you?"

I lift my chin. "Why would you think that?"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe because I told you my running route yesterday, and now here you are."

"Here I am."

He stops and stretches. "I'm glad you came."

I can't speak. A lump has formed in my throat. He's stunning, sassy, sexy, and fuck do I want him. I step forward, cup his jaw, and peck his lips. He tastes of mint. His upper lip is damp with salty sweat.

"You can do better than that," he whispers.

I can. I want to. I will. I grab the waistband of his shorts, pull him against me, stroke his jaw, and kiss him hard. I pour weeks of frustration into the kiss. He settles his hands on my hips and battles my tongue with his. He whimpers and moans, spurring me on to kiss him longer, harder, deeper. I don't ever want the kiss to end. I'm a trembling, quivering wreck. My lips tingle. Warmth travels out from every point of contact with him, flooding around my body, rushing towards my cock, which stiffens. So does his, pressing against me.

I have to breathe.

He chuckles. "Where's a balloon sword when you need one to hide your hard-on? That was a nice surprise." He licks his damp, swollen lips.

I still can't speak. What am I doing? Giving in. I can't think beyond the moment and my pulsing desire. I want him. Why didn't I go to his flat and tell him that? Why did I seek him out here?

Things can't get out of hand. They're already out of hand.

I kiss him again. I'm caught in a fever dream. Desperation and need drive me to tangle my tongue with his. Press my lips against his. Devour him. Savour him. Touch him. Taste him. He brushes his fingers back and forth over my hips and inches my T-shirt up, finding skin. I shiver and tear my lips from his.

"Jacob," he whispers.

I smother his lips again. I need him, but I can't let myself stop and think. This is why I'm here on the towpath. If we were in his flat, we'd be on his bed. I'd be taking his clothes off. I'd be drowning in the beauty of his naked body, and that would be a mistake.

I pull away and wipe his saliva from my lips.

"Jacob?" He touches my shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"What for? Never apologise for a kiss like that. Fuck, it was good."

I hunch my shoulders. "I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have kissed you."

He steps in front of me and cups my cheek. "I wanted you to. I want a lot more."

"So do I, but we shouldn't."

"Why?"

"You know why."

He nuzzles my jaw. "We're consenting adults who aren't related. We can do whatever the fuck we want, Jacob."

"Aren't related by blood. We are related."

"Only because Mum happened to marry your dad five seconds ago."

"It's been a little longer than five seconds."

"Barely."

"It matters."

"Why?"

Why does it matter? Why can't I be like him and decide it doesn't? I hate being so uptight, but it's the way I've been raised.

"Barry isn't going to adopt me. Mum isn't going to adopt you."

I release a strangled laugh. "We're a bit old for that."

"Exactly. Now, come back to mine, and I'll give you that blow job I promised you."

"You remember that?"

"I never forget sexy promises." He nips my lower lip, kisses me hard and fast, and then whispers a four-digit number into my ear.

"What's that?"

"The security code to my flat. I'm going home to shower. I'll leave my front door unlocked. If you want me, come get me." He gives me a soft and sweet parting kiss and then jogs away.

I don't move until he's out of sight. I walk in the same direction. I have to go this way to get the bus to go home. Who am I kidding? I'm not going home.

My pulse races as I slip through the door, which Archer left unlocked as promised. The shower is running. I imagine him standing naked under it, rubbing shower gel over his skin as the hot jet of water massages his muscles. Do they ache from running? Should I join him in the bathroom or wait in his bedroom?

The shower stops. I hold my breath, unable to move in any direction. A small voice tells me to leave, but the desire flowing through my body overpowers it. I want Archer. He wants me. Why shouldn't I have him? The many reasons pop into my mind. I strangle each one. I don't want to think about them. I want to give in to temptation. I keep my gaze trained away from the picture of Archer and Molly. I can make sure I never look at it. If I do, I'm likely to dash out the door like I did the first time I came here.

The bathroom door opens, and Archer steps out, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His hair is damp and messy. Beads of water cling to his smooth chest and washboard stomach.

He grins. "You came."

"Yes."

"I'm glad."

He takes my hand and leads me into his bedroom. "Tell me what you want."

"You."

I kick the door shut, drag him into an embrace, and kiss him fiercely. He winds his arms around my back, holding me as tightly as I'm hugging him. Our kiss is desperate and intense, full of clashing teeth, twining tongues, and needy moans.

I press my face against the crook of his neck. "I want you so badly."

He chuckles and slips out of my grasp onto his knees. He pulls my joggers and underpants down, allowing my hard cock to spring free.

He licks his lips. "I've been looking forward to this."

"Archer—"

"Ssh. Let me fulfil my promise to you. Don't think, Jacob. Just enjoy."

He holds my hips, guides the head of my cock to his lips, and licks the pre-cum from the tip.

I shiver and moan. "So good."

He laughs. "I've barely started." He slides his hot mouth over the head of my cock and twirls the tip of his tongue along my slit.

I grasp his shoulder and tangle my fingers into his damp hair. Resisting the urge to close my eyes, I meet his intense stare. He bobs his head towards my root, taking me deep. The ridges of the top of his mouth caress my length. He uses his tongue to lick and flick and hollows his cheeks beautifully. He works his mouth back and forth, paying delightful attention to my slit whenever he pulls off a little. He groans, slurps, and moans around my length. He's stunning and so fucking good at giving head I'm practically delirious within seconds.

"Archer." I tighten my grip on his hair and shoulder. My balls draw up. Pressure pushes on my groin. I don't want to come, not yet, but I'm incapable of fighting the inevitable. "Archer, I'm going to?—"

He smiles and sucks harder. My cock twitches in his mouth. I release a deep, throaty groan as the pressure escapes me, and my balls empty their load down his throat. He sucks and swallows until I'm dry and then carries on lapping, holding my cock in his mouth until it softens and slips out. He drops his arms, rocks onto his heels, and grins. His lips glisten with traces of cum.

"You're fucking gorgeous," I whisper.

"Yeah? You too. And your cum tastes amazing."

I'm overcome by a need to taste myself on his lips. I drag him to his feet and crash my mouth to his, kissing the remnants of my salty cum away. With our lips locked, I unwrap his towel and let it drop to the floor. I gather his pre-cum onto my fingertips and spread it over his hard length, then grasp it and stroke it from root to tip, slowly and firmly.

"Oh, fucking hell, Jacob, that feels so fucking good."

I nuzzle his nose. "You and your dirty mouth."

"Bet it's your new favourite thing."

"Fuck, yes."

I kiss him again, my lips and tongue moving with renewed vigour, and whack him off. I quicken my pace, revelling in the wet thwack every time I complete a desperate stroke. I don't release his lips until his cock jerks and his hot cum splatters my T-shirt. He presses his forehead against my shoulder, panting and moaning through his orgasm. His fingers dig into my hips like he's clinging on to me for dear life.

"You made my legs wobbly," he mutters.

I tip his chin with my fingertips and press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Your bed's right there."

"So it is."

We flop onto it, locked in each other's embrace. We kiss each other breathless and then kiss some more. When we're too exhausted to do that, we lie still, his head on my chest, my chin nestled in his hair. I don't care that my joggers and underpants are twisted around my ankles or that my T-shirt is covered in his cum. The only thing that matters is the beautiful man in my arms, the silky smoothness of his skin, the quick patter of his heart, and the soft puff of his breath against my chest.

"What now?" His voice trembles.

I stay quiet, not wanting to think about that.

He brushes his fingers over my side. "It's okay if it was a one-off. I understand."

I tighten my grip. I don't want to use him like that, but I'm afraid that's exactly what I'm going to do. "What do you want?"

"In a perfect world?"

I nod.

"To keep seeing you. To keep fucking you. I can dream."

I twirl my finger over his shoulder. "I want to keep fucking you too."

He half turns and rests his chin on my chest. "Secret fuck buddies?"

I stiffen. "Is that what you want?"

He shrugs. "I'm not so fussed about the secret part, but I think you are, and that's okay."

"I didn't?—"

He puts his finger over my lips. "You're worried what people will think about us sleeping together. Don't deny it."

I can't.

"So if it's the only way to keep doing this, I'm all in for secrecy."

"Fuck buddies."

He kisses my nipple. "Yes."

"In secret."

"Uh-huh." He licks my nipple, making it hard.

I groan.

"Ready for round two? My arse is desperate for the attention of your fingers and cock."

"It is, is it?"

"Yes! You've kept me waiting for three weeks. Three weeks! I've never gone that long without sex."

I raise my eyebrows. "You haven't hooked up with anyone else?"

He sighs dramatically. "No. I couldn't get a certain crazy-haired, uptight guy out of my head. Have you?"

My heart flutters. My breath catches in my throat. "No."

"Aww, aren't we a pair of cute, lust-struck guys?" He straddles me and kisses my jaw and neck. "Fuck me, Jacob." He nips my earlobe and sucks it into his mouth, then whispers into my ear. "Do you ever bottom? 'Cause, if you do, I'm gonna want to take a turn fucking your pretty arse."

I shiver. "Sometimes. Not often."

"Let me know when and if you're up for it. No pressure."

I grasp his hips. "Not now. Now I want to be inside you."

"Then what are you waiting for? Fuck me."