Dangerous (22 page)

“You didn’t,” Owen rasped. “Okay, you did, but in the best fucking way. You filled me with that big fat cock and turned me into an addict.”

“I’m the one who’s addicted,” Jeremy countered, pressing the pads of his fingers against Owen’s tight ass. “That’s why I let you take me blindfolded in the dirt. Why I beg for that damn paddle of yours. Why my mouth waters every time I see your delicious dick.”

Owen moaned when Jeremy pushed two fingers inside his snug hole.

“Yes.” He pushed back, his hands tight on the tub’s edge. “I can give it to you right now, Jeremy. I love it when you suck me off. I love fucking that hot mouth. I want it all the time.”

He did. In alleys and office buildings, the dock on the lake, and once in a damn movie theater. And Jeremy could never resist him. He’d dropped to his knees and take him anytime he asked. He thought about the airplane, trying to remember if that was the first time he’d turned him down.

“You want me to stop this so I can taste you instead?” Jeremy thrust his fingers deeper, curling them until Owen let out a soft cry.

“
No.
Fuck, no. Don’t stop. You know what I want.”

“You want this all the time too, don’t you? You like your handcuffs and toys but you fucking
love
having me inside you.”

“Yes, damn it. You know I do,” Owen admitted raggedly. “Please, Jeremy. Don’t tease me.”

Jeremy was too turned on for that. Something about this stark place made him feel wilder than usual. More aggressive. “I hope you’re ready for me.”

He guided his thick shaft slowly inside, groaning when Owen’s ass closed around him like a hungry fist. It didn’t matter how many times he’d had him, this first stretch always brought him right up to the edge. “God, Owen.”

“Yes,” Owen gasped. “
More
.”

“Don’t worry, you’re getting everything,” Jeremy ground out, pressing his hips forward. “Every fucking inch.”

“Put up or shut up.”

Jeremy tightened his hands on Owen’s hips and dragged him back onto his shaft with his next thrust, making both of them groan. “Don’t push me,” he warned. “I’m feeling some serious primal urges here.”

“Primal?” Owen shivered, looking over his shoulder, water dripping from his hair.

Jeremy could feel the sharp edge to his smile. “This place makes me want to do things to you. Bad things to this ass.” He thrust more forcefully, nearly all the way in, and they both inhaled sharply.

“Oh, you bastard,” Owen moaned. “You manipulative, tricky, ba—”

Jeremy dragged him completely onto his cock, his hips pressed against Owen’s ass as the man beneath him struggled to catch his breath. Fuck, that was good. He leaned forward until his chest was pressed to Owen’s back, one arm wrapped his waist and the other across his shoulders and chest, holding him still.

Slow, shallow thrusts at first, then longer strokes, just the way he liked it. The way they both loved it. Jeremy slid his hand down Owen’s tight abdomen, and then further.

“I think you like that idea,” he whispered, rocking his hips forward as he stroked Owen’s cock. “I think you want me like this. Wild for you. Only you, with no one to stop me from giving you what your ass is begging for.”

He was shameless. But Owen always brought this out in him.

“
Motherfuck
—yes. I want it. You’re in me so deep and I still want more. I’ll always…
Don’t stop.”

Jeremy was too far gone to play now. He had to have him. Had to come inside him and hear his cries. He started an unforgiving rhythm that made Owen shout his name. “Love fucking you, baby. Love you so much. Love how this tight ass takes me.”

The sounds of slapping skin and sloshing water couldn’t drown out Owen’s pleasure. “
God!
Fucking me so good I can’t breathe. Fuck, it’s so good.”

Jeremy felt Owen’s climax in his hand and then he was joining him, shuddering as the waves crashed over his body. Owen. Always Owen.

Love you so much.

Owen

“Son of a bitch.” Owen shoved his injured thumb in his mouth and glared at the offending hammer.

It was his own fault. He’d been distracted all morning. Stuck in a loop he couldn’t get out of. Probably because it was day ten of their fourteen-day vacation and he still hadn’t brought up the subject of his future with Jeremy. Mainly that he wanted one, and he wanted it on official, legally binding documents.

He’ll say yes.

Fuck Brady anyway for putting that in his head. It had sounded great at first. Exactly what he’d wanted to hear. But the longer he waited, the more he put it off, the more it sounded like a curse. Something he was going to miss because he was a tool who couldn’t just fucking ask one simple question.

What was stopping him? The issues his cousin had brought up—Owen’s inability to admit he was gay, and his surprise that some people, both gay and straight, were not as thrilled with his happiness as his family had been?

Well, fuck them anyway. He didn’t need people like that in his life.

It bothered him that people could be that ignorant, so he tried to avoid the subject altogether. But Brady told him it upset Jeremy. Made him wonder if Owen was in it for the long haul. And that was unacceptable.

He wasn’t as worried about people giving him the side eye as he was about Jeremy’s schedule the last few months. Between babysitting for Seamus, planning Tasha’s wedding and all his recent “work” phone calls, Owen felt like he was being avoided. Like Jeremy was pulling away.

Not during sex. Sex had never been their problem. But he couldn’t shake his fear that he could lose Jeremy and he didn’t know how to stop it from happening.

He would do whatever it took, though. He would even let Jeremy drive him up the wall with his version of a romantic vacation.

The first morning they woke up on a pile of their own clothes, Owen had cursed the crick in his neck, forgotten about how hard Jeremy had ridden him the night before and started to look for his phone.

But Jeremy had stopped him with a massage that brought him to his knees and, before he knew it, they were back on the floor pumping their way to climax inside each other’s mouths. While he was still recovering, Jeremy had suggested a shopping trip.

Since it was almost physically impossible for Owen to say no to him in that state, Owen had slipped on his jeans and grabbed his keys.

What Jeremy proposed in the car had sounded like an insane idea. A waste of vacation time and money. But as he spoke, he’d unzipped Owen’s jeans and fondled him until he’d had to pull over so he wouldn’t drive into a tree.

The same tree he leaned against while Jeremy knelt by the side of the road and sucked his cock until he came.

Jeremy Porter was a sneaky bastard, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He’d done everything but bend him over in the check-out line to distract him, and Owen was loving letting him but now he’d finally decided to give in. If this was what Jeremy wanted, what would make him happy, then damn it, that’s what they were going to do.

Wouldn’t the owners of the scary shack be surprised when they came back to find a real live cabin with a new paint job, a deck and a few necessary pieces of furniture?

He pulled his thumb out of his mouth and looked at the red appendage. He’d done a lot of complaining those first few days, most of it silent so Jeremy wouldn’t stop the full-body massages he was getting so used to. But Owen had to admit things were starting to take shape. He’d even gotten a welcome mat for the front door, after he’d fixed those stairs.

For his part, Jeremy seemed to be having a great time. He told Owen that it felt like they were creating something together, with Owen building things that he could help design and paint.

He was in love with an artist. A geek with broad shoulders, muscles for miles, a porn-sized cock and crazy ideas.

His only comfort was that even though they might be working on the cabin during the day, at night—and sometimes in the morning and on breaks in the afternoon—they were busy doing other things.

Being topped hadn’t been in Owen’s getaway plans. In fact he’d been imagining keeping Jeremy tied down for two weeks until he submitted to Owen’s true purpose—proposing. But he couldn’t find it in him to be sorry.

Jeremy’s sexual aggression had been his hottest wet dream come to life.
He’d
been the one tied up. He’d been the one begging for more when Jeremy took him up against the wall, his teeth digging into Owen’s neck.

Owen lifted his hand to the mark there, wondering how shocked the people who knew him from the BDSM club would be to hear about all the things he’d been willing, even eager, to do for Jeremy each night.

Master Finn, indeed.

He wasn’t that worried. He knew who he was and he’d accepted a while ago that what he had with Jeremy was unique. He didn’t know anyone else like them, anyone else who had what they had. They had a chemistry that burned so hot it seemed as if it would never burn out. But they also had a true, long-lasting friendship.

Before they’d started having sex, for all of his adult life, Jeremy was the person Owen had turned to when he needed advice. When he just needed to be himself. Jeremy was his go-to guy. Even before they’d fallen in love, he’d always been his. After? Well, this year had been the best of his life.

Before Jeremy started pulling away, everything had been perfect.

They’d gotten it back in the last ten days. Their connection. Their ability to just enjoy each other’s company in between dirty fucking interludes of bliss. That was worth a little hammer to the thumb.

He felt it throb when he thought about it and decided to go inside for a cold beer and a break. When he left earlier, Jeremy had been planning to paint so all the windows were open as he walked toward the front door. He stopped moving when he heard Jeremy’s voice.

“I won’t. I want to tell him, but I won’t.”
Pause.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about, I promise.”
Pause.
“I do too. Talk to you soon.”

For a minute Owen saw red, and then it felt like someone had hammered one nail into his head and another in his heart. He almost staggered from the surprise. They’d had a deal—no distractions, and that included no phones. Owen had hidden the damn thing in the trunk of the car, but Jeremy had obviously found it.

I want to tell him, but I won’t.

Was it the photographer he’d met at conference—George something? The one who’d been calling at least once a day since Jeremy got back? The one Jeremy lowered his voice for and left the room to talk to, sending irritated looks at Owen when he found him trying to listen in?

Owen had looked up George’s work online. Most of it was ridiculous nerd porn. Models dressed in sexualized versions of comic book superheroes and villains, with a lot of gender reversal. He might have found it interesting if George wasn’t the asshole trying to steal his man.

His picture and bio really stuck in Owen’s craw. He was a handsome, openly gay and unattached man with a killer smile, a man who bore enough resemblance to a movie star Jeremy thought was attractive to make Owen nervous. He also had Maori tattoos like Jeremy’s, only on his arm.

This was the man calling Owen’s lover. This man who went to the same conventions, knew the same people in the industry and made no bones about embracing his sexuality.

George was a threat.

When Brady was still living with them, he’d told Owen more than once that it was just work. Jeremy didn’t do nine-to-five. He was an artist. He kept strange hours from home and the other people in his industry did as well. His cousin was adamant that Jeremy was not that type of guy.

He wasn’t. Owen knew he wasn’t. But that insecure asshole inside him added it to the top of the proof pile, telling him Jeremy wasn’t as sure about their future as he seemed.

Ever heard of projecting, Numbnuts?

Fuck that bastard. He hadn’t come out to the ass end of nowhere so that hot, gay, talented George could steal his man before he had the chance to tell him how he felt.

In a small quadrant in a deep, dark corner of his mind, a little voice told him he wasn’t making any sense. That he should be more confident than ever that Jeremy was his. That he shouldn’t fuck it all up by making a jackass out of himself and saying something he was going to regret.

Owen gave that little voice the finger and slammed open the door. “What the
hell
, Jeremy?”

Jeremy had turned toward him with a smile, yellow paint on his cheek and phone in his hand, but he froze when he saw Owen’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Without a word, Owen strode over to him, grabbed the phone and flung it out the window. Jeremy’s eyes went wide and his lips parted.

Surprise
, Owen thought sarcastically. “Strip and get on the bed.” If Jeremy’s eyes got any wider they’d pop out. “Jeremy, take off your clothes and get on the bed. I won’t ask you again.”

Owen took off his flannel shirt and t-shirt, heading to the sink without looking to see if Jeremy obeyed. He washed the sawdust off, ran his thumb under the cold water for a minute and then searched for a towel to dry off with while he looked around.

They’d done all this in ten days. The kitchen was a warm gold with white trim and homey-looking curtains. The refrigerator was full of actual food, including produce, and there was a small table and two chairs where Owen and Jeremy could have breakfast before they started their day.

In the main room they’d just refinished the wood and there was an affordable but comfortably wide couch, an area rug and a coffee table—Jeremy had forbidden a television. The rest of the cabin was taken up by that giant copper tub…and the bed.

Owen had insisted on the four-poster and high-end mattress. The memory of that night on the floor was still too recent. He wanted something comfortable for his damn vacation.

The bed currently had another feature that drew Owen closer. Jeremy. Naked and kneeling. He looked more confused than guilty, but that wasn’t going to change what had to happen.