Jason smiled. Shipka’s eyes lit, although there was a trace of doubt in his expression.
“That you have,” Jason said. And when Shipka continued to eye him with that mix of wary longing, he reached for Shipka’s belt and drew him in.
Chapter Twelve
“You’re wonderful,” Shipka whispered, breaking off his sucking and licking to find Jason’s mouth.
Jason smiled bleakly and returned the kiss, tasting himself on Shipka’s lips. Well, that was fitting. If “wonderful” meant lying there and accepting the attention Shipka was lavishing on him, yes, he was Mr. Wonderful personified.
They had moved to the bedroom, neutral territory for both of them, and the darkness made it easier. Easier to be selfish.
In fairness, he had tried not to be selfish, tried to give as well as receive. But Shipka was a man on a mission, and that mission was to woo and win Jason with his sexual prowess.
Shipka’s mouth brushed his Adam’s apple, nuzzled Jason’s ear till he shivered, traveled pleasurably, deliberately down the length of Jason’s body until it closed once again on the head of Jason’s cock. He sucked strongly, wetly, hotly, and Jason groaned his appreciation.
Better than doing it himself, that was for damned sure. The tight, tight knot of tension in the pit of his belly eased. They were both getting what they wanted, right?
Or maybe not. What Shipka wanted probably didn’t exist. And what Jason wanted… Well, it wasn’t that Jason wanted this so much as he didn’t want to keep hurting over what he couldn’t have. He needed to stop wanting Kennedy. Needed to stop missing him. How the hell could you miss what you had never really even had?
This was about exorcising a ghost.
Besides, it was nice to be wanted again.
Very nice…
Shipka’s mouth moved hotly down the length of Jason’s cock, nosed and nuzzled his balls. Jason lifted his hips, closed his eyes, though it was too dark to see anything really. The occasional gleam of eyes or teeth or pale skin. The room smelled of musty sheets and musky sweat. Familiar and unfamiliar.
Hot sweat prickled all over his body, his heart thundered in his ears. Flashpoint. His eyes opened to stare into the void as orgasm drew up, poised to strike.
“Going to come,” he warned, and Shipka mumbled acknowledgment and withdrew to courteous if not safe distance.
They definitely did not know each other well enough to exchange body fluids. The fact that they were not using protection didn’t change that. That was about not being prepared rather than intimacy.
Orgasm was simple biology, a release that was almost convulsiv
e, a huge, wet stream over his belly. Afterward he felt weirdly emotional, trembling and hollow, but better. Right?
Sex had to be pretty damned awful not to feel good at all. This felt great compared to lying awake all night. Even after orgasm, Shipka continued to be appreciative and attentive. There was nothing to not like here.
Except that Chris Shipka wasn’t Sam Kennedy.
He did not sleep well.
He was out of the habit of sharing a bed with a stranger. Not that there had been any understanding with Sam about seeing or not seeing other people. No promises. No commitment. But somehow Jason had stopped finding time for other possibilities.
Last night’s sex had been good—especially good after eight months of nothing but his own right hand for company—but somewhere along the line he had lost the ability to fall into deep sleep beside someone he didn’t know and didn’t trust.
He was awake before Shipka, showering while the coffee heated, and drinking his first cup while staring out the dining room window, watching a red fox hunting along the hedge that separated this property from its neighbor.
There were no messages on his phone. He was three hours ahead of the West Coast and had not expected to hear from Kennedy in any case, so in that he was not disappointed.
When he heard sounds of stirring from the bedroom, Jason popped the mini blueberry muffins in the microwave.
Shipka finally appeared, rumpled and unkempt in jeans and unbuttoned flannel shirt. He was barefoot, and his curly, brown hair stood on end. He was smiling and cheerful, exuding a surprisingly sexy contentment.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Okay,” Jason said with unnecessary briskness. “How do you like your coffee?”