Risk Everything on It

by K.A. Mitchell

  Frustration and worry—an all-too-frequent combination around Joaquín—ground Oz’s teeth together hard enough to make the muscles around his skull ache. He rubbed his scalp. “Let’s not wake them.”

  Joaquín’s expression turned back into his familiar smirk. “Just like old times.”

  He stood close enough to Oz that the whisper brushed across his cheek, stirring a different kind of familiarity Oz was trying to forget.

  “C’mon. I’ll help you transfer the car seats.”

  “And make certain hecho a la perfección.” Joaquín shook his head but followed Oz downstairs, through the kitchen, and outside.

  Oz rubbed his arms. He should have grabbed a jacket. He leaned into the backseat of Joaquín’s Accord to unlatch Regan’s car seat and found himself staring at Joaquín’s face from the other side.

  Joaquín pressed in farther, catching Oz’s mouth in a kiss before Oz backed off, lips tingling and nowhere near as pissed as he should be.

  Part of him wanted to avoid temptation, fling the seats into the back of the Explorer, and slam into the house, but he couldn’t. What if one of the girls got sick or hurt in the night and he had to rush them to the ER?

  He forced himself to latch down the seat, keeping his head down, intently aware of Joaquín’s actions on the other side of the car.

  He stepped back and clicked the door locks.

  Joaquín shut the back door and came over to where Oz was standing, his arms folded.

  “Does always being right keep you warm in bed, mi amor?” Joaquín brushed his knuckles against Oz’s cheek, then stepped away.

  Chapter 8

  BEING RIGHT might not keep Oz warm, but he had other ways, thanks for asking. Like the one he was about to enjoy that very night. Lube and towel at the ready, phone fully charged on the nightstand.

  Over the past week, he and Jax had never talked about a reason for it—that a late-night ring, even on vibrate, might come at a bad time in Oz’s world—but Jax always waited for Oz to call. Maybe he’d surprise Jax and call early. No, he wanted to make sure Jax was ready with whatever he was planning to show off. God, Oz really hoped it was the dildo he’d suggested last time.

  “Daddy?” Ayla tapped on his door. “Daddy, I had a bad dream.”

  “Be right there, sweetie.” Oz gave a longing look to his phone and slid out of bed, hauling on pajama pants and a T-shirt before opening the door. Oz knelt and pulled her into a hug. She was damp with sweat, face wet. As he held her, she started hiccupping. “It’s okay, baby. You’re all safe.”

  He held her tight against him. Always so brave, so old for her years. Regan had the health issues, scary high fevers, and infections as a baby. His big, strong girl had to do too much by herself.

  He should have gotten them into pajamas when they got home. They were both probably cold. And their teeth. Who knew how much sugar they’d had at a Halloween party?

  “What do you say we brush our teeth together and you can retire Storm for tonight so she’s ready for trick-or-treating tomorrow?”

  He had her washed and brushed and curled up next to him on her bed before he asked, “Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?”

  She nodded against his shoulder. “We were at the party, and I couldn’t find Papi. Everybody had costumes and scary masks on, and I was holding Regan’s hand, but then she wasn’t there, and they told me Papi was gone and that you weren’t coming to get us and—” Her breath shuddered.

  “I will always come to get you. Always. Anywhere. Anytime. I promise.” He squeezed her close.

  “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”

  “Absolutely. How about we read a book?”

  “A video?”

  “A book,” Oz said.

  Ayla’s door had been three-quarters shut. Now it swung open, revealing a rumpled fairy on the other side. “I want a book too.” Regan ran in and climbed up on Ayla’s bed.

  Oz kept his arm tight around Ayla. “Ayla gets to pick it out. And you need to be in your jammies with your teeth brushed first.”

  He’d really screwed up everything tonight. How many articles had he read on how important routine was, especially for children who’d experienced early abandonment? Regan might have been an infant, but Ayla had been almost two. Old enough to remember that her birth mother had left and not come back. Even if she couldn’t verbalize it.

  But he’d been pushing toward those selfish minutes with Jax, and he’d put the girls to bed in sweaty clothes and given Ayla nightmares and then allowed Joaquín to be a distraction.

  Ayla pulled out Ten Little Dinosaurs and Goodnight Moon from the bookcase. Back on Ayla’s bed, Oz propped himself up against the wall and tucked them in close on each side as he opened the first book. Regan yawned as she repeated the rhymes in Ten Little Dinosaurs, then was asleep before the good-nights started. After he finished the book, he whispered, “Be right back,” to Ayla and carried Regan to her bed.

  When he sat back down next to Ayla, he whispered, “Do you want another book, baby?”

  “No. But I like being the baby sometimes.”

  Oz lifted her into a hug. “You are always my baby.”

  “Can I be your niña too? Like Papi says?”

  “You got it, mi niña.”

  She giggled and corrected his eñe. She’d always been able to roll her r’s to infinity too.

  “Mi niña, tan sabia. So very wise.”

  She slid back down into the bed, curling up but keeping his hand until she fell asleep.

  Oz left their doors ajar, clicking on both the hall nightlights and the one in the bathroom, then claimed his phone from the nightstand and sank down the wall outside Ayla’s room.

  One text. Jax. The earlier excitement had bled out, leaving the text to be read as another responsibility Oz had on his plate. Reluctance made his thumb hover over the screen, and then he swiped to show the message.

  Ready when you are, stud.

  It dragged a smile to Oz’s lips. He sent back Unavoidable delays at the ranch. May need to reschedule.

  Okay.

  Oz could almost hear Jax’s amiable voice in his response. The phone buzzed against Oz’s palm again.

  Just so you know I’ll probably be *up* for a while.

  Oz shook his head but was unable to resist sending back You suggesting that’s my problem?

  I don’t know, is it?

  There was a picture attached to that. A bright blue dildo, veined, details on the head to make it lifelike despite the color. Jax’s hand around it for scale.

  Oz wanted. Wanted to see Jax’s face when he put it inside himself, wanted to watch it stretch his hole. Wanted it all.

  You play dirty.

  Thank you.

  Oz weighed the likelihood of Ayla tapping on his door again against the need making his mouth dry.

  You could start without me.

  Jax texted back. I can wait. I’m a big boy.

  In all the right places.

  Ayla had never had two nightmares in one night before. Oz could keep his pajama pants on.

  As soon as he closed his bedroom door, he started their video chat. Jax’s connection opened with a view of him sliding the dildo over his lips.

  Oz sagged against the door as blood rushed to flood his cock. “Damn. Warn a man.”

  Jax’s chuckle was low and somehow filthy enough to tickle Oz’s balls. “Thought maybe you had a limited window of opportunity.”

  “Hit the ground running?”

  “Something like that.” Jax shifted the camera so it panned over his chest. “Tell me if you see anything you like.”

  Dark belly hair, such a contrast to his smooth chest. Oz imagined the soft, crisp feel on his hand as the image moved down Jax’s treasure trail to his semihard dick. Oz’s fingers curled, as if that velvet softness were coming to life against his palm.

  Then the camera was back on Jax’s disappointed face. “Nothing?”

  Oz straightened and pushed away from the do
or. “I’m sorry. What was the question? I think my brain fell into my pants.”

  “I’ll let you make it up to me.”

  “Let me, huh?” Oz leaned back against the pillows, rubbing himself through his fly.

  Jax’s smile was wide, as if Oz’s challenge was exactly what Jax had been waiting for. “Oh, I think you already know what I’d let you do.”

  “Yeah? What if I told you to suck that dick for me?”

  “This one?” Jax held it close to the camera.

  “Show me.”

  Jax wrapped his mouth around the tip, then drew it out to show his tongue lapping under the head.

  “Best get it good and wet. You know where it’s going next, don’t you?”

  Jax groaned around the dildo, the sound shooting straight to Oz’s balls. Drawing his dick out through the fly with one hand, he clicked down the phone volume with the other. “C’mon, suck it.”

  Jax’s throat worked as he sank down halfway, then deeper, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. The sound vibrated in the tiny speakers.

  “Pretty.”

  Jax pulled off, then licked the head, clear blue eyes staring straight at Oz from three thousand miles away. “I was hoping blue was your favorite color.”

  “It is right now.”

  A couple of sucks and some suggestions from Oz later, Jax grunted in frustration. “Having a waterproof case doesn’t mean it doesn’t get slippery from lube. I get the—” A deeper, rougher grunt and a blur of skin in the camera. “—angle right?”

  “Just let me watch your face as you put it in.”

  “’Kay. Hang on.”

  “Just the tip.” Oz gripped his own cock harder.

  Without the attempt at a close-up, Oz could see Jax’s arm angled between his legs as he held the camera overhead. His teeth sank into his lower lip, and his dick jerked.

  Oh yeah, Oz knew it was in. Yeah, it was in.

  Oz gave himself a couple of quick strokes. “How’s that feel?”

  “Good. Need more.”

  “Pull it out again. Then rock it. Stretch yourself good.”

  “Fuck.” The sharp edge in Jax’s voice made Oz glad he’d turned down the volume.

  “Wait a little for me.”

  Jax panted, then whispered, “Show me.”

  Oz tipped the phone so Jax could watch the slide of Oz’s dick through his fist.

  “Jesus,” Jax said. “You look—”

  “Gonna shoot when you shove it in. Listening to you fuck yourself for me.”

  Nothing but shared breaths for a minute, that and the sound of Oz’s fist on his dick.

  “Do it, Jax, shove it in deep. Take it all.”

  Oz lifted his head, focusing on Jax’s face. His mouth opened, eyes closing as a long moan escaped his throat.

  “Fuck yourself. Fuck yourself hard.” Oz held the phone closer.

  That was the sexiest whine Oz had ever heard. It drove him higher, the edge tingling just in range. He kept his eyes focused on the screen, hungry to see the physical sensations show in the shifts of Jax’s jaw, the flush across his cheeks, the dark shine of his eyes.

  “Oh, fu—” Oz hit the point of no return, balls hot and tight, pleasure spiking, then cascading over. His body jerked as his dick sprayed solid blasts of good, sweet come.

  His balls empty, muscles melting, he lifted the phone again. “Are you sitting on that dildo?”

  “Yeah.” Jax rocked, heavy-lidded eyes angled toward the camera.

  “That was fucking hot. I might have hit the ceiling.”

  Jax grinned, then his lips rounded into an O.

  “Wanna watch you come.”

  “Good. ’Cause I was planning on that happening… pretty… damned… s-s-soon.”

  Oz pressed on the top of his groin. That sexy stutter.

  “Can I—? Show me your—” Jax panted.

  Oz dragged a finger through the come on the tip of his dick, stretching it.

  “God, yeah, wanna suck that off.” Jax strained toward the phone with his tongue swiping his lips.

  “I’ll suck you off. My mouth all hot and wet. Feel that, Jax? Your ass all full and your dick in my mouth?”

  The screen blurred. Jax must have dropped the phone, but even with the volume so low, Oz heard him come apart. Come long and hard. So much sweet need and satisfaction in that rough, drawn-out groan.

  “Fuck, that was good,” Jax said as his breathing evened out. He was closer to the phone, but must have forgotten about the camera because there was nothing but patchy darkness on the screen. “But I’d rather have things up close and personal. Hope we can make it work next week.”

  “I’d like that too.” Oz wiped up with the towel and then switched off the light, before stretching out and lifting the phone to his ear.

  “I was better prepared this time. Towel, lube, everything but you.”

  “You should write that down. Could be a next big hit for—” Oz’s contemporary music knowledge had been a bit stifled by aggressively cheerful kid tunes and Disney soundtracks for the past few years. But Katy Perry was starting to edge her way in. Oz found himself relieved he hadn’t had to explain what a ménage a trois was since Ayla sang it as “Malalah.”

  Jax covered. “Nah, I think I already heard it on Spotify.”

  “Must be a West Coast thing.”

  “Yup, we’re all about surfing and sunshine and lube.”

  “Is the weather really all it’s cracked up to be?”

  “It can be. Warm and sunny every day. But we chill it to the sixties for Christmastime.”

  Oz considered that. Endlessly perfect weather. He hated being cold, but that just seemed unnatural. Though from the engineering side of things, there wouldn’t be as much strain on bridges without road salt and freezes, and now hurricanes and floods, but there was that added special factor of frequent earthquakes. Guess everywhere was a trade-off.

  “Must be pretty late there,” Jax said.

  Oz had been so lost in thought Jax probably figured he’d fallen asleep.

  A glance at the phone showed Oz it was edging onto 1:00 a.m. Even assuming the girls slept in a little, there were errands and then trick-or-treating with Moms and possibly his sister, Angela, if her oldest boy hadn’t decided he was too old for it.

  “I do have a long day tomorrow.” But despite having been burning nervous energy from the moment Joaquín picked up the girls until Oz had them tucked into bed, and the sweet, postsex relaxation, he wasn’t in any big hurry to get off the phone. He held it away from his ear, hoping for another bit of face-to-face.

  Jax shifted the phone so his face and shoulders were back in the screen. His hair stuck up, damp, a little sweat soaking into his temples. Ridden hard definitely looked good on Jax.

  Not bad work for being on the other side of the continent. A warm wave of pride had Oz crossing his legs as he settled himself deeper into the mattress. “How long do you think you’ll be in New York?”

  Jax’s dimples vanished, and he tugged at his ear. “It’s a bit up in the air. I’m hoping it turns into something a bit more regular. I wish I could be more sure about it.”

  Terrific. Joaquín-level vagary. Just what Oz needed more of.

  Jax went on, “I’ve booked the hotel for the first through the sixteenth. I’ll be working lots of hours, but I hope we can make something work in there.”

  Okay, that was a little more specific. “I’ll work on it from my end too.”

  “Yeah.” Another ear tug. Then Jax swallowed hard. Whatever he was trying to spit out was choking him. Maybe he’d forgotten Oz could see him. “So.”

  Oz waited.

  When it came, it was pitched low and deep, a rumbling whisper. “Are you… married?”

  From the hesitation on the last word, Oz knew Jax wasn’t asking about Joaquín or marriage to any man.

  Shit. That was what Jax thought of him? That Oz was one of those motherfuckers on talk shows, playing around with dick on the side while his wife and kids were
home, oblivious? Nice to know.

  “No.” Oz put all the ice he had into that answer. “Why, are you?”

  If Oz wasn’t so pissed, the shock on Jax’s face would be comical.

  “No,” he blurted, like it was a complete impossibility, like running that down-low game was beneath his white-boy morals.

  Jax’s expression shifted, and now he looked as shamed as a kid caught flat out with cookie crumbs all over his face. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Stupid. I shouldn’t have pried. Never mind.”

  It wasn’t like Jax could take it back, apology or not. But at least he’d offered. And he was right about the last thing. It didn’t matter. Whatever filled the time when they weren’t actually fucking, this was still just sex. Adult fun and conversation.

  No way was he complicating Ayla and Regan’s lives with another dad to break their hearts. But if that was what Jax thought of Oz, why would Jax care?

  “What if I was?”

  Not an ear tug this time. Jax’s eyes darted to the right. Easy tell for a lie.

  “I don’t know.”

  JAX STARED at the phone for a while after Oz hung up. Yeah, that honesty stuff was great. Why the fuck had he listened to Dane? Hadn’t Jax learned that life was always sweeter when you didn’t rock the boat?

  So now he knew. But really, hadn’t he known already? He didn’t know Oz that well but was sure he wasn’t the kind of guy to use people like that. He had kids, and the question avoidance was about leaving the kids out of grown-up playtime. God knew Jax wouldn’t have wanted details on what his folks were doing. It may have worked in the early seasons of Family Daze, but encounters between parental-figure fuck buddies and kids didn’t play as well without scripts and a laugh track.

  He just hoped he hadn’t completely screwed the pooch on this one. He’d leave deep, honest questions out of it from now on and hope Oz still wanted to see him when he was back in New York in a few days.

  Chapter 9

  JAX’S FIRST call was at 6:00 a.m. the day after he got back to New York. The main cast on Dead Man Talking was pretty tight, but civil enough; the PAs were sweet, if stretched thin; Hanson Rede was incredible to work with; and the catering was a slice of heaven that made the extra cardio and ab work worth it.