Page 44 of The Jock
“I’m not. I’m not a good man. I broke your heart. And all I want to be good at is loving you.”
Justin sighed. Wes waited for him to say,Well, that ship has sailed, or,You weren’t, and we’re past when that matters now, or even,You’re just going to have to get over that, aren’t you? He closed his eyes. Braced his soul.
Justin’s cell phone buzzed for the eleventy billionth time. He cursed and dug it out of his back pocket. Wes’s stomach lurched as Justin swiped his phone screen on.
“Raf? I’m fine.” Wes heard Rafael shouting about where Justin had disappeared to, how frantic and upset he was, how he’d feared something had happened. “Something came up,” Justin said. “An emergency. Look, I didn’t mean for—” His lips thinned, and he closed his eyes as Rafael went off again.
“Raf, I can’t do this right now.” Justin hung up in the middle of Rafael’s tirade. He turned off his phone and shoved it back in his pocket. “There.”
“You should go find him. You are here with him.”
“Do you want me to go find him?”
Wes’s fingers curled around Justin’s biceps. He dragged Justin closer, until he could feel the shape of Justin’s ribs against his own, feel the heat from his belly and the sharp lines of his hips. “No,” he growled. “I really don’t.”
“I don’t, either.”
Wes’s gaze focused on Justin. There was so much in Justin’s tear-soaked eyes: hope and fear and shadows of doubt mingling with curls of anger. Wes leaned in—
“I’m not kissing you. You just puked.”
Wes chuffed out a tiny, broken laugh. He still leaned in but moved past Justin’s lips until his face was buried in the crook of Justin’s neck, his lips on Justin’s pulse, his nose in the curve where his shoulder and his neck met and his trapezius fluttered. He could smell Justin’s shampoo, the aftershave he’d put on earlier, the scent of his skin, clean and sharp. He breathed in, his arms sweeping up Justin’s back, palms molding to muscles he never thought he’d feel again.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Justin whispered.
“Yes.”
* * *
They endedup in Wes’s truck, screaming out of town on a two-lane country highway, passing the suburbs that had grown up around the city and the university. Past the exurbs and farther, almost an hour out, until they were in the rolling Texas hills, grassland and prairie as far as the eye could see. Wes took the next exit, a farm road disappearing into the black night, a ribbon of black undulating through the hills. As soon as he turned off the highway, the road turned to caliche, and his tires chewed gravel as he bounced a half mile into the darkness.
Justin held his hand the entire drive, both of his hands wrapped around Wes’s on the bench seat, holding so tight Wes’s knuckles were aching by the time he jerked the truck off the road and threw it in park.
Before they’d driven off, he’d gargled and rinsed his mouth out with a warm bottle of water, spitting into the gutter.
So there was nothing to stop him from sliding across the bench seat and taking Justin into his arms, nothing to stop him from sliding his big hands through Justin’s wrecked pompadour, the style ragged after Justin had run his teary fingers through the strands. He pulled Justin almost into his lap, his knee bumping the dashboard and his elbow banging the steering wheel. “You have to tell me not to kiss you,” he said. “You have to stop me if you don’t want this.”
Justin grabbed his T-shirt in both hands and yanked him closer. “You damn cowboy. I never wanted you to stop. Kiss me, damn it, and never stop.”
He seized Justin’s lips with his own, kissing him deeper than he had in Paris. Their tongues tangled, each of them seeming to try to race into the other, try to make up for the days and nights they weren’t wrapped in each other’s arms. Justin’s fingers dug into the muscles of Wes’s chest, and Wes twisted his fingers in Justin’s hair.
Justin peeled his own shirt over his head. Wes got his T-shirt down one arm but left it hooked over his elbow. He couldn’t bear the separation from Justin, couldn’t bear for his hands not to be touching Justin’s warm skin. He ran his palms up Justin’s sides, over his trembling ribs, around to his back and then down the furrow of his spine. Justin arched against him, pressed his chest into Wes. Wes nibbled across his pecs and bit down on the hard nub of his nipple, and Justin’s arms flew around his head, holding him to Justin’s body.
He got their jeans open with one hand, got their cocks out and together in his palm. They were both rock hard. Wes hadn’t had an erection since he’d told Justin to forget he existed, and now here he was, aching and quivering and shaking as Justin rocked his hips, drove his cock into Wes’s tight grasp.
He couldn’t last. He whimpered, mouthed his way from Justin’s chest up his neck to his jaw, his lips, and poured himself into another deep kiss, trying to tell Justin with his body how much he loved him, how much he’d missed him. He squeezed their cocks together, twisting his grip and stroking his and Justin’s precome over their heads. He couldn’t hold back, and he whimpered as his orgasm tore him apart, as his come spilled between them, hot over his hand and Justin’s cock.
Justin grinned, kissed Wes a dozen times more, and then dipped his fingers down to collect Wes’s come. He sucked his fingers into his mouth, licking up Wes’s release and hollowing his cheeks. His eyes flashed.
Wes grabbed Justin and spun him, taking him down to the bench seat on his back. He rose between Justin’s legs, tugging down his jeans and briefs. He ran his tongue from Justin’s balls to his swollen purple head, wrapped his lips around Justin’s cock, and sucked him as deep as he could.
Justin keened, and he tried to spread his legs wider. His jeans were still tangled around his thighs, and all he could do was jerk his hips and thrust his cock into Wes’s mouth. Wes groaned, and he popped off Justin’s cock to say, “Do that again. Don’t hold back. Please.”
“Jesus,” Justin hissed. He slid his hands into Wes’s hair and gripped his skull, and when Wes swallowed, Justin thrust his hips up and held Wes in place, sliding his cock all the way down Wes’s throat for the first time.
Wes gagged, and Justin tried to back away, but Wes kept sucking. Hollowed his cheeks and went deeper, harder. “Again,” he gasped. “Don’t stop.”
He held Justin’s stare as he sucked again, and as Justin started thrusting all the way into Wes’s throat each time. Saliva flooded Wes’s mouth, trickled from where his lips were wrapped around Justin’s shaft.
