Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Craig

Hate him? What the actual hell was he even talking about?

My attraction to Jamie Hennessy was about as far from hate, as I was from winning a national speed-reading contest.

Dropping my hand from my muzzy head, I stared at him for what must have seemed like eons to the poor guy. The beer bottle in my hand felt heavier than it should, given it was two swigs from being empty.

"Do you plan to answer? Or are you just going to stare at me as if I have a marching band on top of my bloody head?" he demanded. Then, because he was so fucking adorable, he reached up to feel the top of his head as if he thought there might actually be a marching band residing on that perfectly combed chestnut hair of his. No matter the occasion, he was always wearing fashionable clothes, vests, ties, slacks, or casual flair, with his scruff just so, his hair gelled to perfection, which was the complete word for Jamie. Perfection. From his clothes to his accent to his sexy-as-sin glasses framing stunning blue eyes. The man was flawless.

"Hate isn't…" My throat was suddenly dry. I gulped the dregs of my beer. I'd had a few too many, but I wasn't driving because I'd been in a shit place after getting a call from my asshole ex- boyfriend and knew I'd be drowning my sorrows in water, yeast, hops, and malts. No person could make me feel like a dumb loser faster than Leon. "I don't hate you."

"No? We talked once, and now you won't even look at me." He listed to the left, and I reached out to steady him, dropping my empty drink onto the floor, which rolled away. He shrugged me off. "Don't touch me unless you plan to take me into my room and ravage my arse." He pressed his hands to his mouth as if those words were never meant to see the light of day. "Sorry," he muttered, then tilted his chin. "No, not sorry, I meant that." Then, he ruined the air of confidence with a hiccup.

All the oxygen left the second floor of Oliver's huge house. The noise from the party vanished. The area around us seemed to shimmer with something that was either a cloud of purple lust—and why lust was purple, I don't know, unless it had something to do with Prince, who was the king of passion and desire—or I'd knocked back way too many Blue Moons.

"Okay. I'll ravage your arse," I said softly, reaching for him, my fingers curling around the back of his neck to pull his mouth to mine.

He blinked in surprise, and I thought he might step back, but he came without any resistance, his lips so soft and warm and tasting of a top-shelf rye whiskey. The burst of cloves, black pepper, and cinnamon rushed in as his lips parted to allow me access. Our tongues tangled. His hands were everywhere. I cradled his skull in my palms. The few inches of height he had over me only added to the explosion of desire now flaming out of control in my veins. I loved being able to snuggle into a taller man. Not that I was super short, but in hockey, anyone under six feet was a hobbit.

His hands settled on my ass. I tipped his head to the left. He gave my cheeks a hard squeeze, moaned into my mouth, and then he dragged me up another flight of stairs and opened a door. Somehow, I'd credit it to my innate grace and athletics—not—we managed to stay on our feet as we stumbled through it. The room was a bit of a blur: windows, curtains, a dresser, a desk, and a big bed. The bed looked inviting, neatly made with rich blue coverings and fancy decorative round pillows. The room smelled of his cologne, a heady, clean citrus scent that enticed me. A small light on the bedstand was lit, casting our shadows over the wall as we bumbled around, unwilling to let go of the other to walk.

"God, you taste good," I huffed over his puffy lips. The scratch of his stubble on my cheek as I tongued my way to his neck was gasoline to a fire already out of control. The door closed behind us with a click. My hands carded into his hair. My teeth worked at his throat, nipping sharply, each little bite making him groan in pleasure. "Like man and… uhm… fuck words."

"Right, fuck words. Who needs words?" he huffed as he pulled at my belt, the brush of the back of his fingers over my erection sending hot spikes of want to my cock. "Words are for losers who use too many vocables to try to counter?—"

"You're talking too much," I snarled, sucking a hot path from his collarbone to his ear. God, I hoped two flights up was enough to stop anyone from hearing us, and I placed a hand over his mouth. "Shhh, everyone could hear."

"No one can hear us up here," he protested as I tugged in his earlobe with my teeth, my fingers keeping his head tilted just right for maximum neck ravaging. "I just talk a lot when I'm nervous or excited."

"Which are you now?" I eased back, releasing his lobe to stare at him. His cheeks were rosy under those short whiskers, his pupils blown behind glasses askew on his perfect face. Seeing him all rumpled and knowing it had been my hands doing all the rumpling made my dick even harder. But, if he were nervous or not feeling what seemed to be us falling into the nearest bed to fuck each other silly, then I'd back off.

"I'm incredibly excited ." He reached up to remove my hand from his hair and lead it to the bulge in his slacks. Fuck. He was rigid as a board. Was he cut or uncut? I couldn't wait to find out.

"Cool." I covered his mouth with mine.

He shuddered and sighed, then went back to getting me naked. My belt was ripped from the loops of my pants. I sucked on his tongue and then lapped deeply into his hot mouth. A wordy mouth. A mouth full of words that kept wanting to spill out of him like water from a fountain as he lowered my zipper. I rubbed the length of him with my palm. He began to melt into me, his knees buckling, and he went to his knees.

Feeling more than a little drunk and a lot worried about him passing out, I placed a finger under his chin. "Are you going to pass out?"

"Nope, I'm going to suck your cock."

Ah, well, that was fine then. He wet his lips. I nearly came right then and there. I threw a hand out to the nearest wall as he stripped me from the waist down in a blur.

"And what a lovely cock you have," he purred, taking my dick in hand and then gently rubbing his chin and cheek over the purplish head like a cat. The burn made me shiver, and my balls drew up.

"The things your mouth says," I panted as he tongued at my slit.

His yummy sounds as his tongue cleaned up my slick cock just about did me in. I thrust forward, fingers cupping his chin. He opened wide, his glasses now dangling from one ear. I plucked them from his face and dropped them to a dresser on my right as I fed him my cock. He took it all. Right to the root. My eyes rolled back. His mouth was capable of more than making words filled with intelligence and wit. His mouth could bring a grown man to his knees in seconds.

"Stop, I'm… fuck… too… close."

He pulled off, eyes now on me as my cockhead lingered on his lower lip. "I'm glad you let me know. I want you to come inside me."

"I… we should… I'm on PrEP and am negative and… Shit. Oh shit." He tongued the slit again, teasing a small droplet to appear that he then licked off. "I just… right, tested."

"Same." He rose, saliva glistening his chin and lips, and I captured his mouth again.

We kissed our way to the bed. A bed that I hoped was his. "Is this your room?"

"Yes. Mine." He then proceeded to strip off his clothes. His body was finely made and lithe, with some brown curls spattered over his chest, then thickening the farther down my eyes traveled. A thick uncut cock sprang free. I'd never been with an uncut man. I wanted to mouth his dick, taste and play with his foreskin, and get to know the feel of it between my lips. His hand wrapped around his prick. He eased the foreskin back and milked some pre-cum out. "Bed."

He stumbled over his discarded clothing, sniggered madly, and fell on top of me. I laughed at his arrival, then all the laughter faded as he wiggled around, his lips brushing mine, his cock rutting into my belly.

"Ride me," I grunted. "Ride me hard."

"So lazy," he replied as he settled on my thighs, his cock leaking over his fingers as he continued to stroke himself. "Making me do all the work."

"You can handle it," I countered.

He pinched my nipple as he smiled wickedly. "Oh yes, I'll handle it."

I watched, spellbound, as he yanked open a drawer on the nightstand with too much enthusiasm, sending the lamp to the carpet with a soft thud. "Bollocks, we'll worry over that later," he muttered as he fisted the lube.

I yearned to touch him all over but lay there, unable to move at the sight of him flicking open the lid and squeezing out a lot of lube, reaching down and starting to prep himself. I was stunned, unable to move, and did nothing but watch his sexy freaking fingers in his sexy freaking hole.

"That's a lot of lube," he said, his fingers coated with slick, and he stared at it as if he couldn't recall what he was doing.

"Are you okay?" I asked, and he removed his slick fingers from his hole, took hold of the tube with both hands, and squeezed a glob the size of an Easter ham onto my chest. I gasped in shock. Jamie splayed over me, lube smooshing out between us as if we were overstuffed Oreos. The sound was atrocious but hot. As was the slip-slide of his body over mine. I grabbed at his head to lead his mouth to my lips. He slithered off to the left with a snort of amusement, righted himself on top of me, and then eased his tight hole down over my cock. I forgot all about kissing him. I arched up, trying to get a hold of his hips, but was unable to. He winced and moaned as I dug my heels into the mattress, my fingers biting into the edge of the bed. His ass was magical. Hot as hell, tight as a fist, and slick.

"Fucking hell. Your cock."

"Your hole is so tight," I managed to croak out.

Dirty talk wasn't my forte. When I had a gorgeous man riding my dick, my brain tended to short out. Thankfully, having sex didn't require me to read a manual. Jamie and I were doing just fine. Better than fine. As he began to undulate on my cock, I boosted the word from fine to extraordinary. I slapped my hands on his chest so I could pluck at his tight, dark nipples. He went from sexy, polished intellectual to unfettered wild man in the blink of an eye.

"Keep that… doing that… fucking hell yes!" he shouted, his lean thighs powering him up and down like the pistons on a steamship engine.

Wow, my head was still with the ships to some extent. Super. I pumped up into Jamie to drive the niggling boat info from my skull and was pleased to see he liked when I did that. He liked it a lot. His mouth formed a perfect O , and his head fell back. I did it again with more energy, and his bouncing cock spurted as he roared his release. I took him in hand, stroking his pulsing dick, eager to mix the scent of his cum into the cloud of cologne, sex, and whatever floral smell was on the sheets.

"Did I hit your sweet spot?" I asked roughly.

"Yes, yes, oh fucking fuck yes!"

"Good to know." I pounded up into him, each glide into his snug channel rushing me closer to my orgasm. When it hit, and it hit like a shoulder check from a rampaging buffalo, I howled like a wolf. Jamie rode me slowly, rolling his hips, milking me with his constricting ass until I had to beg him to stop.

"That was just… yeah… perfect," he huffed, then fell over me, his nose buried in my neck, his softening cock pinned between us in a thick coating of cum and lube. I flopped an arm over his back, balls still pumping spunk into his ass, and smiled at the ceiling.

"Yeah, so perfect," I mimicked in a dreadful British accent.

He snorted like a pig and then promptly fell sound asleep. Not wanting to shift even if I could, I inhaled the scent of us as my eyes grew heavier and heavier. A short nap would be fantastic. Just a few minutes to catch our breaths, and then we'd do something about the cum gluing us together.

Yep, just a five-minute power nap, and everything would be all… sorted… out.