40. Cade

CHAPTER 40

Cade

Aiden has created a chat.

Brooks, War, Gavin, Beckett.

Aiden: Lex and I are having drinks at the Port. Who's around?

Brooks: Lennox mentioned it to Sar. We're in. Should we make a reservation?

Gavin: Mills and I are out. We're taking Vivi to see Santa with Beckett and co.

Me: thanks for the invite, guys, but I'm in Bristol.

Aiden: Say hi to Mel for us!

Aiden: That was from Lex, but I second it.

Brooks: And Declan!

Gavin: Clearly, that was Sara.

Brooks: Hey, Brooks is nice. He'd say that.

Gavin: Hi, Sara.

Me: Sara, I'll tell them you said hi.

Aiden: War, you in?

War: Sorry, can't. Have fun.

Aiden: What are you doing?

Ten minutes later:

Aiden: War, why haven't you responded? The text says read…

Aiden: Hello?

Brooks: Not everyone is attached to their phone.

Aiden: It says read!

Beckett has left the chat.

With a laugh, I shake my head and navigate out of the thread to pull up a new one so I can shoot our right winger a text separately.

Me: Everything okay?

War: Went from a single guy with no family to responsible for three kids. How do you think I'm doing?

My chest tightens. The rest of the guys don't know yet, but War's life has gone through an enormous change over the last few months, and it all took a dramatic turn two weeks ago. It's not my story to tell, but he could use a friend. As much as I don't want to leave Dec's, I may need to head back to Boston to see if I can help him.

So many of our friends and colleagues have settled down recently, leaving only a handful of single guys who still go out after games. Daniel and Camden, the young fucks, scour the bar for their nightly conquests pretty quickly, then disappear. War seems to have lost interest in the meaningless hookups, and I have too, choosing instead to be War's sounding board. Guy needs it, and to be honest, it's felt good to be needed.

The more we talked, the more I realized that maybe I could see myself settling down with someone.

Me: want me to head your way? Happy to hang with you and the kids or watch them for a bit so you can get out.

War: Nah. I'm good.

Me: promise?

War: yeah, I've got a plan. I'll fill you in next week.

"What should we do until Melina gets home?" Dec asks, instantly garnering my attention like he does every time he walks into a room.

When I take him in, my heart trips over itself. Will I ever look at this man and not feel this way? God, I hope not. He makes me feel alive. Like I have a purpose. Even if it's merely to entertain him. The things I would do to make him smile…

I pocket my phone and focus on the man in front of me. War would tell me if he needed me.

Declan's fresh from the shower, his dark hair damp and his scruff neatly trimmed, wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and a long-sleeve Bolts T. I like seeing him in my team's colors way too fucking much.

"Want to watch football?" I ask. "Notre Dame plays at one."

It's just another normal Saturday. That's what I tell myself, anyway. So what if I was on my knees for him a couple of hours ago? So what if I know what his lips taste like? He's still Declan, my best friend, and on Saturdays, we watch college football.

If I don't focus on keeping things normal, I'm liable to beg him to join me in the bedroom. Now that I know how he feels rutting against me, I could spend hours doing nothing but fucking around .

We have a ton of shit to figure out first. Namely, how to be the people we were this morning while still being who we've always been, because I can't lose us.

He grunts. "That works. Should I order food?"

I give him a simple nod, and he's off to order. We don't have to discuss what we want, because we always order the same thing when we watch football. Overloaded nachos, wings, and beer. These are the only cheat meals I allow myself.

Declan may be disciplined in most things, but food ain't one of them. Ironic, since my food plans are about the only rules I do follow.

I pull two beers from the fridge and am popping the caps when he ends the call.

"Food will be here in about forty-five minutes," he says, taking a bottle from me.

"Fine by me. I feel like we just ate."

"I know I did."

Head thrown back, I bark out a laugh. Fuck, it feels good joking around with Dec. About sex, no less.

"You think she's having a good time?" I ask as I settle at my usual spot on the couch.

He's frozen in the middle of the room, surveying me, his expression unreadable. Damn, what I'd give for the ability to read him like Mel can.

With a sigh, he settles into his normal chair. "Yeah. I think spending time with the girls is good for her," he says. "She tell you how things are going with her family?"

"Not really," I admit, trying not to feel defeated. "Think she talks more freely with you."

"I've just been around more since she came to Bristol," he says, obviously trying to make me feel better by downplaying their connection.

"No. I think she feels safe with you."

I may wish she felt as safe with me as she does with him, but I can't fault him for that. And I get it. Declan's the protector. He makes me feel safe too. Always has.

"The night she came to see you at the game, her cousin tried to warn her about her ex. But she'd turned off the phone because her family was doing some annual Christmas thing. She was disappointed she couldn't be there."

My chest tightens with sadness. Fuck. I'd do anything to keep her from being disappointed or sad. "Any idea what kind of Christmas thing?"

He shrugs. "No."

For a moment, he's silent, and I figure that one-word response is all I'll get.

As I'm filing away the mention of the family Christmas activity, figuring I'll ask Mel later, Declan says, "You think she's happy?"

There's no fighting my smile. My best friend is a fool for her. I'm enthralled by Mel, yeah, but I've never seen Declan like this with anyone. "Yeah, I think she's happy."

"You don't think she—" He rakes a hand through his hair, grimacing.

I stay quiet, allowing him time to put his thoughts into words.

"You think she's okay with—" He points between us.

My smile turns into a grin so big, my cheeks ache. "I think she's more than satisfied."

He nods slowly, his expression guarded. "And are you…satisfied?"

With my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped between them, I lick my lips and nod. Damn. This man, who was always so confident, so put together, so straight, is being vulnerable with me, and it thrills me in the best way.

"Yeah, Dec, I'm satisfied."

He lets out a slow breath and settles deeper into his chair. I figure he's done talking. We've talked more today than we normally do in a month, but he surprises me with yet another question.

"Are we supposed to be, like, holding hands or talking about our feelings?"

I cough out a laugh. He's just as bad at this as I am. "I mean, I was really hoping to watch football, but if you want, we can."

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Fuck, I'm awkward. Just ignore me."

"The last thing you are is awkward, Dec. And it would be impossible to ignore you. "

His eyes light up. "Yeah?"

I laugh. "Yeah. But seriously, we can just be us. On Saturdays, we eat an absurd amount of food and watch football. That doesn't have to change."

He brings his beer to his lips and takes a long sip, studying me the whole time. "So," he says, setting the bottle down, "just when Melina's around?"

Does he think I'm setting boundaries? I don't mean to be setting boundaries. I just want him to be comfortable, but fuck, if he wants to hold my hand or talk, then what the hell am I doing all the way over here?

I set my beer down on the coaster on the end table and lean forward, elbows on my knees. "If Mel were here, I'd probably have pulled her onto my lap already and slipped my hand down her pants."

Declan nods like that makes total sense.

"And you'd be hard as a rock watching us, wouldn't you?"

With a heavy swallow, he nods.

"I'd get her off while I watched the game. Maybe you'd come over here, kiss her neck."

Declan adjusts himself.

Fuck.

He's hard, just like I am. I lean back and slide my hand beneath the waistband of my sweats. When I adjust my own dick, I position it so that the tip just barely peeks out. I'm that fucking turned on.

Declan's watching, his beer bottle dangling from his fingers and his lips parted. "You're hard." The way he says it, the deep rumble of his voice, the wonder in it, makes me want to stroke myself, but I don't know that he's ready for a move like that.

My heart thunders in my ears. "Fucking steel."

"If Melina were here, she'd already be on her knees." He says it so matter-of-factly, his focus fixed intently on me.

If I was any good at reading him, I'd think he's contemplating what it'd be like to do that himself.

"She would."

He zeroes in on the bulge in my pants like he's picturing it. Working through something. Then he meets my eye, his expression full of determination. "I'd like to try that."

Holy fuck. My cock pulses at the thought of Declan's mouth coming anywhere near it. At the image of the man I've been obsessed with for literal decades crawling over to me, settling between my legs, and taking me into his mouth.

I've dreamed of fucking those lips for years. Punishing them for their lack of words, the lack of emotion they show, their infrequent smiles.

I want him to smile at me more than goddamn anything.

"Okay." I blow out a breath and settle my hands on my thighs, taking a back seat, desperate for him to lead.

With a nod, Declan sets his beer down on his coaster. Then he's walking toward me. The sound of the coffee table scraping across the floor as he pushes it back is jarring.

He lowers himself to his knees at my feet. The sight is a complete mindfuck and has me weeping in my pants.

"You're going to have to talk me through this," he says quietly, his dark eyes locked on mine. "I've never done this before."

"Right. Yes," I hiss.

Fuck, this is good. We're communicating. While I assumed he'd never been with another man, I couldn't be totally sure. Not after the way he controlled every move in the bedroom last night.

Now, having the powerful man who tied me up at my feet, ready and willing to learn how to suck my cock, has me swelling with pride.

"You know what feels good, so I'm sure you'll do just fine," I say.

Declan smirks at that. "I like it rough. I like when Melina swallows me down, but damn, I loved fucking your throat today."

Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I have to look away as I smile, a low chuckle breaking free. "I liked that too."

Declan settles a palm on my knee, pulling my attention back to him.

"I like it rough too," I grit out.

Declan merely nods. "I kind of assumed that." Then, between one blink and the next, he morphs from the unsure man who's asked one clarifying question after another to the confident, dominant man from last night. His eyes have gone a little harder, his jaw set, as he considers me. Like he's determining exactly what I need, even as I'm stumbling through how to do this with him. How to teach him. What to do if he changes his mind after he starts.

"Take out your cock." His tone is so rough, so assertive, it banishes the racing thoughts in my mind. I pull my swollen dick from my pants, then cant up a little and slide my shorts and boxers down.

As I slip them over my ass, he takes over and drags them to my feet. Once he's removed them completely, he tosses them over his shoulder. Jaw working, he glances at my face, then back down to my groin. He takes a deep breath, readying himself, but before he can lean down, I cuff his neck and pull him close, kissing away my nerves and hopefully his too.

His tongue tangles with mine immediately, and for a moment, I'm lost to this connection. To his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his taste, and the sounds he makes as we war for control. He pushes up farther, wrapping one hand around my neck and trailing the other down my chest, toward my stomach. When he reaches my cock where it stands tall between us, he squeezes and rolls his thumb over the head.

I whimper into his mouth. Fuck. I'm done for. He's won. And all it took was one damn touch.

"Please," I beg, thrusting into his hand.

Nipping at my lip, he splays a hand over my pecs and pushes me into the leather cushion. His eyes remain locked on mine as he works his fist up and down my shaft. "That's right, baby. Beg for it," he demands. "Tell me how much you want me to suck this cock."

With my hands on either side of me, nails biting into the leather, I grind against his hand, desperate to get closer to his mouth.

He hits me with a fierce look and shakes his head, as stubborn as ever. "I need to hear it."

"I do. Please. Fuck, Dec, this feels—" My mind is a jumbled mess, and I'm coming apart at the seams. I'm so fucking gone for this man.

I want him in any way I can have him. Stolen moments on his couch, early mornings in his kitchen, late nights with Mel between us. I want all of him, but I'll take any pieces he's willing to give. If he wants me to beg, I'll gladly do it. "Please, Dec. Let me fuck your throat. Let me fill your mouth. Let me in ."

Breaking out in a sinful smile, he angles low. And when he guides me into his mouth, I see stars. He's warm and wet, and the way he suctions is just how I like it. Instinct has me reaching for his hair and pulling him closer. He gags in response, so I loosen my grip and back out slowly. His eyes are closed, and the muscles in his face are lax, like he's content to continue. My lack of movement hasn't stopped him from running his tongue along the bottom of my shaft, exploring me. Memorizing me. Learning me.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good," I encourage.

The words settle him further. He takes me deeper and rolls my balls tightly, just the way I like.

Probably the way he likes too. I make a mental note to try it next time.

"Fuck, you have no idea how many times I've thought of this." I suck in a harsh breath, losing myself in the moment, watching him take me, watching him enjoy himself. Witnessing the way he comes into himself, studying clues to determine what he likes.

And if I'm not mistaken, Declan Everhart, my grumpy asshole of a best friend, really likes to suck my cock.

"Yes, right there. Shit, I'm close." I can't imagine he's ready to dive in so thoroughly that he wants me to come in his mouth, so I flex my abs and pull back.

He doesn't let me go far. He grasps my hip with a controlled hand and holds me in place while he strokes me from root to tip and then hollows his cheeks and sucks hard.

There's no holding back. The violence with which he drags my orgasm from me is impossible to contend with. I pulse in his mouth, and he moans, deep and low, in response. God dammit. The idea that this man wants to taste me as much as I want to fill him has me exploding. With a hand in his hair again, tugging hard, I curse and demand he drink every last drop.

I'm still panting, and dots still dance in my vision, when he rolls his tongue across my sensitive crown and hums in satisfaction. "Yeah, I like that," he mumbles, settling back on his toes and looking up at me.

I can't help the laugh that escapes. "Fuck. Yeah. I liked that too."