by Cate Ashwood
John nearly jumped when the patio door slid open. His head swam with the movement of turning around so quickly.
“What are y’all doin’ in here?” Andy asked as he stepped inside. “Best get yourselves some food before it’s all gone.” He grabbed the bowl of potato salad and the plate of biscuits from the counter. “C’mon, now,” he said with a nudge for John.
John and Matt grabbed the rest of the food and headed to the porch.
When he got near Chloe again, he could see Jay sitting next to her. For some reason that guy always set his teeth on edge. Jay just lingered a little too close to Chloe, always had, even in high school. He knew Chloe could handle herself, and that Jay was mostly harmless, but he also knew that Jay had a bad habit of getting girls drunk and sleeping with them. Or he used to, at least. Maybe being a cop had given him a conscience. And maybe the girls had always been willing anyway, but in John’s view, it was taking advantage and it didn’t sit right with him.
“How long you gonna wait around on Turner, here?” Jay asked, glancing at John as he stepped closer. There was a glint in Jay’s eye, part challenge and part playing around. “Need a good man to take care of you.”
Maybe Jay didn’t know Chloe as well as he thought he did.
“I don’t need a man—or anyone else—to take care of me,” she said, edging away slightly. Chloe never did have much of a problem with Jay, didn’t mind hanging out with him if there was nothing better to do, but telling her she needed a man wouldn’t win anyone points with Chloe.
John set everything on the table and stepped closer to Jay. “Are you seriously tryin’ to pick up my girl when I’m not even fifteen feet away?” Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the fact that it was Jay, but for whatever reason, John suddenly felt like a good ol’-fashioned brawl.
Jay must’ve been in the same mood. “I don’t see a ring on her finger, son.” Jay’s condescending tone had John balling his hands into fists.
He was vaguely aware of the others getting quiet, mostly out of curiosity probably.
Carl said eagerly, “Y’all gonna put on a floor show tonight?”
Chloe shot John a warning look, sharp enough to make him stand down. As drunk as he was—as stupid as he was—John still managed an easy smile as he wrapped his arm around Chloe’s shoulder. “Must drive you nuts to know I don’t need to put a ring on her finger to get her.” Then he said something he probably shouldn’t have. “I don’t even need to get her drunk first.”
Jay narrowed his eyes, and John could see he’d hit a nerve. He wanted to tap it again, but Chloe laughed, as if they weren’t on the verge of World War Three. “Unless you two are gonna whip ’em out and finish this pissin’ contest, you both better shut the hell up.” She pressed another beer into John’s hand and added, “Cool off your hot temper and eat some food.”
“She sure told you,” Carl said, laughing as he scooped some potato salad onto his plate.
John laughed with the others, letting the tension break, but a muddled-up knot of emotions welled in him. Frustration, maybe even a hint of embarrassment for acting like some redneck asshole. He even felt a little guilty for saying that to Jay, though someone probably should’ve a long time ago. But still, making accusations—or at least insinuations—in front of all of their friends wasn’t right, and he knew it. When he glanced at Matt, he felt even more foolish.
Chloe was right. He did have a hot temper, always had. It had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count. Now, though, it just made him feel like a foolish little boy.
After the conversations picked up again, Chloe went back to the table, dishing up two plates—another for herself and one for John, he assumed. He leaned closer to Jay and said, “That was shitty of me, man.” He put his hand out and Jay took it, shook it firmly. “I’ve just had a few too many is all.”
“I hear ya,” Jay said as he leaned back against the railing behind him. “I shouldn’t pick at ya like I do, so I guess we’re even.”
John didn’t know if he and Jay could ever really be friends, but the urge to knock him on his ass was gone. “Works for me.”
Andy laughed. John hadn’t realized how close he’d been standing, close enough to overhear. “Thought you two were about to kill each other for a minute there.”
“I was starting to wonder that myself,” Matt said. “Thought we might have to drag you both down to lockup for the night.”
“Nah,” Carl said, working on a corncob. “Just let ’em loose on each other, then turn the hose on ’em.” He wiped his face on a napkin and added, “That’s what John’s momma always did.”
“Shit.” Jay laughed, a genuine one, no malice hidden there. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“I damn near had too,” John said. When Matt quirked a brow, sent him a questioning look, John explained, “We were, I don’t know, maybe fifteen? Pissed off at each other over somethin’ or other. Jay swung at me—”
“Oh no,” Jay said, still laughing, but obviously feeling the need to correct the story. “You swung at me, bubba.”
“Fine, maybe so.” He looked at Matt again and went on. “We were in my momma’s kitchen and she chased us out into the yard, beatin’ me with a broom, tellin’ us if we were gonna act like animals we’d do it outside.”
Jay could barely talk from laughing so hard. “John here was on top of me, ready to break my nose, and all of a sudden, he just freezes. Water sprayin’ all over both of us and his momma standin’ there yelling, ‘You two idjits need to cool off!’”
“Jackasses,” Chloe said as she thrust a plate of food at John. “That’s gonna be me one day. You’ll be fifty years old, and I’ll be the one hosing you down.” She rolled her eyes, but she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead too.
John glanced at Matt again, even as Chloe scrunched up against John’s side and tucked into her food. He wished he could be alone with Matt, find out what he thought of all this mess—all of John’s mess. Then again, what was the point? Not like John had much room for anything more than a few quick fucks with the guy. Trouble was, he liked Matt. He liked the way he smiled, the sound of his voice, the stories he told when the guys were all sitting around together. John liked the way he rolled with things. Maybe he was a little like Chloe in that respect. Matt seemed as quick as her, as good at the charade as she was.
Or maybe that was whiskey and wishful thinking.
SOMETIME AFTER eleven, the crowd started to thin. People helped clean up as they passed through the house, and since Matt had been smart enough to use paper plates and plastic cups, there wasn’t much to do. John was still a little buzzed, and he walked over to Chloe, trying to put his keys in her hand.
“Oh hell no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll wrap that damn thing around a tree if I try to drive it.” Matt was near Andy, saying good night to him and his family. Chloe hugged Andy and then turned to Matt. “You mind if I leave him here till he sobers up?”
John thought for a moment. He’d slowed down in his drinking shortly after he started eating, but yeah, Chloe put a fresh beer in his hand every time she turned around. She was usually the one to put the brakes on if he didn’t think to do it, but not tonight. All of a sudden, he thought he loved her a little bit more.
Matt paused before answering, then caught John’s eye. “Yeah, no problem. He can sleep on the couch.”
There were still several people standing around, able to hear. She was a fucking genius.
Chloe came back to John and wrapped her arms around his waist like she always did. He kissed her, sweet and simple on the lips. “I love you,” he said—not for show at all, not this time.
Her face lit up with a knowing grin. “I bet you do.” She kissed him again, hugged him tight. “Jay’s drivin’ me home. Don’t be a dick.”
Christ. Way to spoil his mood. “You still got your revolver?” He was joking. Mostly.
Chloe rolled her eyes. “It’s probably got a Tic Tac stuck in the barrel, but yes, it’s
in my purse.”
“Loaded?” Not that she’d need it.
“What would be the point if it wasn’t?”
“Ya know,” he said, just loud enough for the guys heading out to hear. “Just gimme a bit here, and I’ll be good to drive.”
Andy had almost made it out the door, but he turned and said, “Nope. We don’t wanna scrape you two off the highway tomorrow.”
Chloe added, “It’s stupid to make you drive me home when Jay lives less than five miles from me.” She pulled away, clearly set on her plan.
“Call me when you get home,” he said. “I’ll just sack out here, I guess, and head home in the morning.”
“I’ll text.”
Jay set his hand on the small of her back as he ushered her out the door. John stood there, torn. He didn’t much like it, but he knew better than to argue with Chloe. Worst-case scenario, he supposed, Jay would hit on her and she’d shoot him somewhere between Matt’s place and hers.
“We’ll come by after church and pick up the smoker,” Glen said. “Maybe around noon or one.”
Matt nodded, clearly eager to get everyone the hell out of his house but too polite to say so. “Just let yourself in on the side gate if I’m not around.”
“Well, yeah,” Glen said, laughing as he pulled his keys out.
Christy, Glen’s wife, snatched them from his hand.
“I only had three beers, baby, I’m good to go,” he said.
“Six. I counted.” Christy looked at Matt and added, “He’d be dead already if it weren’t for me. Doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose.”
John couldn’t help but chuckle as he sat down on the sofa with another beer. He wasn’t going anywhere for the night, so he figured he might as well.
“He’s shot himself in the foot,” Christy told Matt. “Twice.”
“Woman,” Glen said. “Do you really need to share that story every time you meet someone new?” Glen didn’t sound angry, just exasperated as they walked toward the door together. He paused and glanced at John. “We can drop ya off at your place if ya like.”
John tried to keep his features even, but he didn’t know how well he did. “Nah,” he said, letting his head tip back on the couch. “I’d have to get out here tomorrow and pick up my truck. Easier just to stay for a bit.”
“True,” Glen said as Christy dragged him outside by the arm.
Matt closed the door and locked it, leaned against it for a moment as he looked at John. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve stumbled into an episode of The Twilight Zone.”
“Lived here all my life and I feel that way sometimes too,” John said, sinking deeper into the couch.
“I thought it was just because I’m an outsider,” Matt said as he pushed away from the door. He went around the living room, closing curtains and checking locks before he came to sit next to John.
John turned toward him and stretched his arm out along the back of the couch. “You’re not an outsider anymore,” he said, catching Matt’s eye. “This little do tonight was their way of telling you they like ya, think you’re one of ’em.” He could tell by Matt’s expression that Matt liked hearing it.
“There’s still a lot I don’t know,” Matt said, his voice hushed as he leaned closer.
The air between them seemed to spark, light up the night like the thunderstorm rolling in. John knew exactly where this was headed, and he liked the slow, steady burn of it, the heat charging through his blood as Matt slipped his hand up John’s thigh. “You wanna show me your bedroom?”
“Not yet,” Matt whispered before closing the space between them and taking John’s mouth in a long, deep kiss. He pressed closer as he slid his tongue past John’s lips, moaned softly until they were both breathing harder.
John skimmed his hand under Matt’s shirt, moving slow, grateful that they had all night. He nearly dropped his beer when Matt licked the outer edge of his ear, caught it in his teeth. At almost the same moment, a flash of lightning struck somewhere outside and it lit the entire room, a quick white strobe, followed by a loud clap of thunder.
As if the storm had woken something in Matt, he pulled back, grabbed John’s beer and set it aside, then stripped John’s shirt off before leaning close for another hungry kiss. There was a sudden sense of urgency between them now. That slow burn John had appreciated earlier turned into wildfire, eating him up inside, eating Matt too if he had to guess. They tore at each other, biting, nails digging in, shoving clothes away as quickly as they could.
The sound of a heavy rain started on Matt’s tin roof, lending its tight tempo to their dance. “How many times do you think we can make each other come in the next twelve hours?” Matt asked, his voice rough and needy, breathless.
“I don’t know,” John said as he pushed Matt’s jeans down his thighs, almost disappointed that he had on a pair of briefs underneath this time. “I’m fixin’ to find out, though.” He shifted his position under Matt just enough to trail his tongue up Matt’s throat as he wrapped his fingers around Matt’s cock.
“Shit.” Matt breathed the word, almost a hiss as he thrust against John’s grip.
John kicked his shoes off and let go of Matt to shove his jeans the rest of the way down when he felt a small vibration. Earlier he’d taken a mental note of how long it would take Chloe to get home, but Matt had been able to distract him from even that. He pulled his phone out, sitting half-naked on Matt’s couch, and paused just long enough to read her text. “She got home okay,” he said as he tossed his phone aside and pulled Matt to him again. His jeans were still down around his ankles, his shirt off, and Matt was in a similar state, but John couldn’t care. Matt stretched out over him, their rigid cocks grazing together, bellies smearing with precome as they moved. Another minute or two like that and John could come all over him. “You gonna let me fuck you tonight?” he asked. So smooth, and ever the gentleman.
Matt pulled back, a playful, devilish grin on his face. “That’s probably the closest I’ll get to a serenade from you, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much,” John said, panting for breath as he kicked the rest of his clothes off. “You gonna stand up and walk to your bedroom, or am I gonna carry you?”
“Neither,” Matt said as he straddled John’s legs. “For now.” He wrapped his hand around both of their erections, squeezed them, and started to stroke them together.
Damn it all if John didn’t want to just stand up and drag Matt down the hall, but he couldn’t do it. Everything Matt did to him felt too good, made his heart beat too fast.
Chapter Eight
MATT WAS soaring—out of his mind, high with desperation, just fucking flying. Their encounter in Jacksonville had fucked with his head, made him crave a man he’d spent all of two hours with. Matt couldn’t have imagined he’d ever see him again, and here he was, pinned beneath him in his living room.
Naked.
Hard.
Panting.
So fucking desperate.
Matt leaned in and kissed him roughly, wanting to take him apart and put him back together again. He was so needy. Every second they were able to spend like this—exposed and unrestricted—made Matt want more. Unlike Jacksonville, tonight they had all the time they wanted. There were hours before sunrise, and yet Matt knew he would blink and the night would be over. He wanted to make the most of every single moment he had with John, to draw them out, make them count.
John moved beneath him, their cocks sliding together, precome slicking the way as they ground against each other, indulging in the contact their bare skin provided. The sensation of John’s hands, grappling at Matt’s sides, his rough fingertips sliding along Matt’s ribs, made goose bumps rise on his skin and his hips snap forward, increasing the pressure between them.
He could feel the urgency building deep inside him, the need to come surging up and washing over him. Everything felt too good, the raw friction of their cocks working together, the rough sound of John’s breathing, Matt’s own broken gasps as John slid
his hands down, digging into the muscles of Matt’s ass, holding him open. He could feel cool, climate-controlled air against his exposed flesh, and then John’s fingers were there, in the cleft of Matt’s ass, stroking at his hole.
It wasn’t enough pressure to breach him, just enough to drive him fucking crazy. Matt grunted, legs spreading wider, hips pushing harder. Reaching up, he tightened his fingers into John’s hair and pulled his head to the side, giving him better access to John’s throat. He latched his mouth there and sucked, just hard enough for him to pull a rumbling groan from John but not hard enough to leave any lasting evidence.
“You’re gonna make me come,” Matt protested against the wet skin of John’s throat, his words overwrought, voice gruff. He already sounded fucked out and used up, and they’d barely gotten started. He’d be surprised if he was still able to walk come morning.
“That’s kinda the point, isn’t it?” John’s breaths were coming in pants, and Matt knew he was just as close. He raked his teeth along the curve of John’s shoulder before replacing his teeth with his tongue. His skin was salty, perfect, and Matt wanted to taste him everywhere.
“Not like this.”
John pulled him down, speaking in hushed tones against Matt’s ear. “No?” He reached up between them, rolling Matt’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger with just enough pressure to sting. The sensation went straight to Matt’s dick. “You sure you want me to stop?”
“Fuck me,” Matt mumbled, lost in John’s body beneath him.
“That’s the plan.” He was resolute and sounded so fucking sure of himself. “Get up.”
John pushed on Matt’s shoulders, and Matt obeyed immediately. There was never any question how this encounter would end, and Matt was suddenly impossibly eager to get there.
As John stood up, Matt turned him around and pulled John’s back to Matt’s chest, walking them forward in fumbling steps toward the bedroom. He slid his hand down John’s stomach.