Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Am I supposed to pretend like I don’t hear him? How long is this gonna last?

When I was his age, I couldn’t last more than three minutes. Nicky was going on twelve minutes. He was really drawing out the fantasy. There was a loud thud against the door, his hip, or maybe his shoulder? It sounded like he was about to burst through the door and fall face-first on the floor with his pants around his ankles and his cock in his hand.

Do not think about his cock!

Pink and smooth, cut, not too big, maybe about five or six inches. A thick patch of dark curls, or maybe he buzzed them short?

Stop it, Cass!

Nicky moaned, loud and long, followed by a grunt. The tip of his cock was probably wet and glossy with his precum. Clear, salty fluid, a swollen crown, engorged veins.

Fuck, I bet he tasted unforgettable.

His moans grew louder, and my hand moved down inside my briefs of its own accord. My cock was thick, warm, and hard as a fucking rock. Because I’d been listening to my ex's son jack off for the last thirteen minutes, not even seven feet away, behind a door as thin as cardboard.

Hooking my thumb around my shaft, I cupped my balls in my palm, moving the entire package up and down together. Nicky had small hands. I bet he could only do one at a time. My nuts would fit perfectly in his palm.

Fucking cut that shit out right now! Think about Sam’s hand.

Sam had huge hands, like me. Rough and calloused, they felt fucking amazing when they squeezed my balls. He had a tight, strong grip, and would jack my cock without mercy.

Nicky would probably be more gentle since his skin was soft and smooth.

You’re going to fucking hell, but since you’re already on your way, you might as well enjoy this.

Shit, what if I had both their hands on me at once? What would that feel like? A small, soft hand milking my balls, a big rough one handling my dick, jacking me relentlessly until I explode.

Ungh…fuck, that feels good. Nicky banged into the door again, followed by a grunt and then more moaning. I didn’t know what was taking him so long, but I was getting close. Just thinking about his coconut-scented sunblock, his soft curls coarse with seawater, the flush of his sunburn that brought out the freckles on his face and shoulders—slender shoulders, soft skin, never been touched by a man’s hands. He would moan like he is right now, he would beg, he would?—

Thick white seed pulsed from my cock, soaking my hand and coating my knuckles. The release was intense, and it felt amazing. And still, Nicky struggled to bring himself off just feet away.

If only I could help him.

No! No line crossing! A fantasy is one thing, but a helping hand is another. There will be no helping hands on this voyage. No line crossing. By the time we return to Cooper’s Cove, Nicky will still be my ex's son, an untouched virgin, a young man I love very much, and sometimes fantasize about in my darkest desires, but that’s all.

Another bang, this time into the wall, and then I heard my name.

“Cass,” he moaned, sounding like he was falling apart. Nicky repeated himself, calling out to me, for me, and then I heard the trickle of water from the sink.

My nuts spasmed, sending a latent pulse of cum jutting forth.

Damn, I can’t believe he was thinking about me .

But then again, I was thinking about him, so it wasn’t completely bizarre.

No, it was totally fucking bizarre!

Before I could finish berating myself, the bathroom door opened, and Nicky, now fully dressed, tiptoed into the room. I hastily wiped my hand on a balled-up T-shirt on the end of my bed.

“Sorry, I lost my balance in there. Must be the rough seas.”

We were anchored in the bay where the water was calm and smooth as glass. Nicky climbed up the ladder on the end of my bunk to get to his bed, and I caught a glimpse of his skinny, bare legs.

“Sounded like you’re gonna be bruised up tomorrow. Maybe we need a bigger bathroom? Did you at least wash your hands?” I enjoyed teasing him. He was finally at an age where we could laugh at these things.

“Oh, God,” he whined. “You knew what I was doing?”

“I think every boat docked in Carlisle Bay knew what you were doing.”

Nicky hung his head over the side of the bed, his dark curls flopping all around his face as he hung upside down, peering into my bunk. “Can we pretend like you didn’t hear anything?”

“Which part? All of it, or just the last part?” Yeah, Nicky, I heard you say my name. Twice. I didn’t say that last part to tease him, more like pushing him, daring him to tell me why .

Two bright spots appeared on his cheeks. Was it possible he wanted me to know? Was Nicky developing an interest in me?

“Promise me things won’t be weird between us.”

“Nicky, things will never be weird between us. It’s perfectly normal to fantasize about things that you know will never happen.” Hopefully, I stressed that last part enough for it to sink into both of our heads.

“Is Sam coming back tonight? It’s getting late.”

“Sam is probably buried balls deep in some local boy right now.”

“Doesn't that bother you?”

“Why would it? Sam doesn't belong to me like that. We're friends first, then business partners, then lovers. We established our priorities a long time ago. He's always been there in the background, he'll always be there by my side, but Sam doesn't come first in my life. The sun doesn't rise and set on his shoulders for me.”

His entire face was starting to turn red from hanging upside down, and I patted the mattress next to me, inviting him to come sit. Nicky climbed down the ladder and perched on the side of the narrow bed.

“I hope someday I meet the man who can change all of that for me. The man who was meant to be the love of my life. But I promise it's not Sam. I love him, but I'm not in love with him.”

Nicky touched the shell necklace hanging around his neck. “I want that. I want to be somebody's sun someday. I want to be first.”

He bit his bottom lip, and I was reminded again of just how soft and sensitive he could be. It was in the dreamy look in his eyes, and the wistful note in his voice.

I slid my hand over his bare thigh and squeezed. “Someday, you’ll find the right man, and you’ll be his sun.” Sun, not son , Cass.

“What if I already found the man I want, but he doesn't want me back?”

He said man , not boy, not guy. Someone older, more experienced, and more mature than he was. Was he talking about me? Impossible. He couldn’t be. He fucking better not be.

“Come here. Can I just hold you?”

“Yeah.” Nicky curled up in my arms, spooning his back to my chest. He barely took up any room at all.

I buried my nose in his hair and breathed in his tropical-scented shampoo. I’d always felt the need to protect Nicky, from life, from bullies, from accidents. Did I now need to protect him from myself? How was I supposed to do that? Not even ten minutes ago, I had my hand down my pants with his face on my mind.

“It feels so good to have you in my arms like this.” I didn’t even deserve to touch him. “You know what you deserve? Someone who isn't afraid to give you what you want. That's what you deserve, Nicky. ”

“Cass? Are you afraid?” His voice sounded small and scared.

My heart beat loud enough for him to hear, and I swallowed hard. “Fucking terrified.”

As I lay there, with my arm wrapped around his slender waist, I listened to his breathing even out, and every memory I had of him played through my head like a movie. Report cards and school plays, skinned knees, and missing teeth. Giving him twenty bucks to go see a movie with his friends on the weekend. Taking him for his driving test in my truck. I had so many memories with him, good memories, and I was content with my role in his life as a father figure. Why was all of that changing now? If I wanted some young little thing to play with for the summer, I could find them on the islands easily. It had never really been my thing. Guys closer to my age and built more solidly— that was my thing. Why Nicky? Why now?

I realized he wasn’t getting up and climbing back into his bed. Nicky was asleep in my arms, and I refused to move him. Just for tonight, one night , I was selfishly going to hold him close to me and steal all the best pieces of him. I would commit them to memory so that I would never need to cross a line again.