Better Be Sure: Harrison Campus Book #1

by Andy Gallo

  Ed was beautiful. His body arched and jerked, and his corded muscles tightened with every gentle thrust in his ass.

  “You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” Ed groaned.

  Jack kneeled between Ed’s thighs. With an eagerness that robbed Jack of breath, Ed bent his knees and canted his ass. It was almost enough to make him come without touching himself. Jack tugged on his balls to keep from losing it too soon. He grabbed the lube again and used a healthy amount to open Ed up. It’d been a while for the both of them, and Jack wanted Ed writhing in pleasure, not pain.

  Ed clenched around his fingers. “Fuck me, Jack. You’ve got to fuck me.”

  Jack crawled up and slicked on the condom, coating himself in more lube. He sucked on Ed’s lips and down his neck, intense arousal shuddering through him. Ed panted in his ear. “Please.”

  “You’re so hot. I want to touch every inch of you.”

  Ed latched on to his earlobe and sucked. A pocket of sunlight hit Jack’s eyes, blinding him, doubling the sensual feel of Ed’s mouth on him.

  A wild urge overcame Jack, and he grasped Ed’s thigh, pushing up. He squeezed his shaft and dragged his throbbing cock to Ed’s entrance. He trembled as he tried to rein himself in, tried not to thrust home in one mighty stroke.

  Ed pumped his cock as Jack pressed into him. He groaned as the sensitive head of his cock entered Ed’s warm, tight channel. His toes curled, one hand death-gripping Ed’s thigh, the other balling the bedspread. Tight end, all right.

  Ed gripped his shaft as Jack slowly pushed all the way in, pleasure tightening his sac, almost unbearable.

  Ed moaned and arched, wordlessly begging for more. Jack loved how confident Ed was, how he lost himself in pleasure, grunting, begging, tweaking his nipples and tugging his cock. He wasn’t shy, knew what he liked, and went for it. It was the hottest abandon Jack had ever seen. The most intense sex he’d ever had.

  He swiveled his hips, torturously withdrew, and surged forward again. Ed twisted his face and bit the edge of the pillow. His “more” was muffled but no less understood.

  Jack thrust into Ed in earnest, the sounds of their slapping skin filling the room. Sweat beaded over his chest and his backside as he buried himself in Ed over and over, while light breezes softly cooled him again.

  Ed hooked a hand under his knee and lifted, and Jack sank deeper into him. The pleasure burned. He slowed his thrusts to long, languid strokes and the flex of his hips. He wanted Ed to feel every inch of him; he wanted to feel every inch of Ed.

  Ed cried out when Jack’s seeking thrusts quickened to right out plundering Ed’s prostate. He’d stopped to fist his stiff cock, holding himself open and working with Jack to increase the hard rhythm. “So close.”

  Jack’s muscles strained as he evoked stuttering gasps out of Ed. Every nerve ending was on fire, orgasm building, tightening on the edge of thundering out of him.

  He grunted as he rocked into Ed.

  “Jack, I’m—” Ed clenched around Jack’s cock as he shot ribbons of come over his chest and the underside of his chin. Ed’s debased, broken moan had Jack chasing his orgasm.

  Three strokes and his orgasm plowed through him. He felt it in his cock and balls, the backs of his legs, the heels of his feet, the curve of his shoulder, and his nape. He threw his head back as Ed flexed and wrung him for every drop of come he had.

  A rugged laugh swept through him as he collapsed against Ed’s sticky chest. He sealed their lips together in a kiss.

  “That was amazing,” Ed whispered, face flushed, eyes half-lidded in contentment.

  “I don’t even have words for how incredible you are.” Jack nuzzled into Ed’s neck before he pulled out and took care of the condom.

  He made quick work of tossing it in the trash and finding a cloth to clean them up. When he’d wiped Ed’s chest clean and licked off the dribble of come at his chin, Jack wrapped himself around Ed, arm stretched over his waist, a leg tucked around one of Ed’s. He absorbed the warmth of Ed’s flank against his stomach and chest.

  “You’re still smiling like you’re hiding something,” Ed murmured, peeking at him out the corners of his eyes.

  Jack smiled harder. He felt like he was soaring on one of the butterflies that constantly fluttered in his chest. Ed had shown up at Marcus’s game when he didn’t have to. When he’d known it was a sure thing that Jack would return.

  That had to mean something. Mean what they had was more than just insane sexual chemistry.

  “Did you ever tell your parents about Becky drinking?”

  Ed rolled onto his side and leisurely lifted onto his elbow, squeezing Jack’s leg between his. “Where did that come from?”

  Jack rolled his shoulder. “She tried so hard to get you to keep it secret.”

  Ed eyed Jack’s grin before lifting to meet his eyes. He swallowed. “Yes, I told them. They needed to know.”

  Jack listed forward, rolling Ed onto his back as he kissed those swollen lips. “This has been the best day ever.”

  A soft laugh tickled over his chin. “It’s not finished yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Struggling to put the cufflink on his right sleeve, Jack came close to slapping the pair on the desk and going without them. He hated tuxedos in the best of times….

  And this was hardly even a good time.

  He grumbled until the tiny silver stick finally cooperated. He twisted it closed. At least the tux fit well. Marcus’s too. And he had to admit, Marcus cleaned up well. Nessa would be pleased.

  He stared at the shiny rented matching shoes. Uncomfortable was a kind description, but Marcus insisted they get them. Given what was about to unfold, would anyone really remember if he wore black soccer sneakers with his tuxedo?

  His sigh consumed his entire body. Fine. He slipped his feet into the tight shoes. Marcus would fuss all night otherwise.

  The house felt weirdly quiet. Most parties had the guys bouncing around. Tonight they were either taking their dates to dinner or getting ready. Either way, it helped. He didn’t need a walk of shame down to his public humiliation.

  Halfway down the stairs, Jack heard the doorbell. “I got it!” he shouted. Not that anyone would care.

  “Brittany?” She wore a pale blue dress with her hair pinned up. “Wow. You look amazing.”

  It didn’t happen much, but he had her at a loss for words. “Thanks, Jack. You look pretty hot too.”

  “Yeah, like anyone cares.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Where’s Seth? I thought you went to dinner.”

  “We did.” She passed by, and a breath of summer air breezed over him as he closed the door. “He and Billy needed to get something. They said it was a surprise.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Yeah, why not?” Brittany looked around the foyer and peeked into the great room, which had been hastily cleaned after the victory party last night. “Seth said it was nice. He didn’t lie.”

  The way she smiled when she mentioned Seth had Jack biting back a grin. So his girl was serious about her new guy…. Nice.

  Jack followed her to a small table and held the chair for her. The raised eyebrow she gave almost got a smile. “Did you want something to drink?”

  “No, I’ll wait.” Flicking a speck of glitter from the white tablecloth, she looked tense. “Where is everyone? It’s almost eight.”

  Jack flipped a chair around and sat facing her. “No worries, I’m sure everyone will be here at eight so they don’t miss the main event.” He hitched his thumbs toward his chest and tried to laugh, but it came out as shallow as it felt.

  A frown cut Brittany’s brow, and her voice came out soft. “I’m sorry you have to leave the house. I know how much it means to you.”

  “It’s okay, really.” He blinked at the silver and crystal decorations and shrugged. “I mean, Marcus and I got to stay in our dad’s room for a year. We’d be moving out after next year anyway.”

  “That’s a good way to look
at it.”

  It wasn’t, but it was the only way Jack could face this night. Losing to Harper sucked. Worse, the douche would be smug as shit next year.

  But worst of all was the horrible ache in his chest at losing Ed.

  “Hey.” Brittany nudged him. “Don’t give up on him. It’s only been a couple of days. Give him some time and then he’ll listen.”

  “Right.” Jack shook his head. “You don’t know him like I do. Why would you think that?”

  “Because I know what good people do.” She sandwiched his right hand between hers. “You did nothing wrong. If he’s as good a guy as you say, he’ll believe you when you look him in the eye and tell him the truth.”

  Jack barely heard Brittany, lost in a wave of thoughts. “You know what sucks? I was so sure my dad would have approved of me picking Ed over a room.” He snorted and stared at the tablecloth. “He would have picked Mom over the house.”

  Brittany hooked a finger under his chin and twisted his head up. “I know it seems hopeless right now, but don’t give up.”

  “Sometimes….” Jack blinked back the tears, palming the ring at his chest. “Sometimes the people you care about don’t come back.”

  She stared down her nose at him. “You are the sweetest guy. I can’t believe I just said that, but it’s true. You were trying to do right by Marcus. Ed will see that you were caught in the middle. And if he doesn’t, I’ll… I’ll….”

  “Geld him?” A tiny smile cracked his frown.

  “I was going for smack some sense into him, but gelding works too.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “If he breaks your heart over something this stupid, he won’t need his bits anymore.” Her gaze shifted from his face to over his shoulder. “Seth and Billy are here. Oh.”

  Jack glanced back and saw Billy and Seth dressed to kill, grinning like they’d won the lottery. His smile died when he saw who was behind them.

  “What’s he doing here?” He pointed toward his friends, then turned around to face Brittany.

  Brittany’s face had clouded over, and she glared at the boys. “I had no idea they were bringing him.” She shook her head. “I… I hoped Seth was getting something special for me.”

  “I did,” Seth said. He held out a long-stemmed red rose. “We picked him up on the way back.”

  “Hey, Jack.” Brant gave Jack a nervous smile. “Billy asked me to come.”

  “As his date?” Jack eyed Billy up and down. He had no idea his gaydar was that bad. “Really?”

  “No, Jackson, I asked him to come as your date. My girl will be here soon. She’s a friend of Vanessa’s and she’s smoking hot.”

  Jack glared at his fraternity brother. “Can I speak to you?”

  “No, we can talk here.” Billy crossed his arms, not backing down. “Look, I joined this fraternity because of you. I don’t want you to go. And no one, other than Greg and Darren, wants Harper to stay over you and Marcus. This way he goes and you stay.”

  Jack’s gaze landed on Brant in his navy suit, pale blue shirt, and matching tie. He looked good, but…. He glanced at Brittany, and she raised her eyebrows. A clear why not go for it?

  As if sensing Jack’s weakening resolve, Billy moved closer and grabbed his arm. “What Harper did was shitty, and it’s so like him too. But it’s also why he needs to go and you need to stay. No one else stands up to him like you and Marcus. Since this isn’t breaking any rules now, why not?”

  “Murphy.” Jack turned to the sound of Harper’s call. Flanked by his usual accomplices, he walked directly toward Jack. “Enjoying your last dance with us?”

  “You’re such a tool,” Jack muttered.

  “A fucking gold medalist at it,” Billy added.

  “Fuck off, Dorgan.” Harper never shifted his attention from Jack. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure you’d have the balls to show up. Thought you’d slink away from public humiliation and never show your face again.”

  “Why? Is that what a snake like you would do?”

  Harper laughed, and something in his hand caught in the light. Jack looked down just as Harper moved his hand behind his back. “You act like I’m the bad guy. All I did was tell your boyfriend the truth.”

  Jack held his breath, struggling against the rage building inside him. The truth was Harper—damn him—was right.

  “To show I really am sorry for my little slip of the tongue, I brought you a going away present,” Harper said, and revealed what was in his hand. Jack froze. The ’89 picture. Out of its frame. Corner crumpled in Harper’s grip. “Thought you’d want to take this with you. I’m afraid the frame broke. I took it down to wrap it for you and it slipped.”

  The taunt stung, and Jack pulled the photo out of Harper’s hands and flattened the corner against the table. His lip wobbled and he sucked it in, biting down to keep his eyes from tearing up.

  “That’s a low blow,” Seth said, “even for a lowlife like you.”

  “Oh my, the pet monkey really seems to have grown some balls.” Harper seemed pleased with himself.

  “You know—” Brittany tried to move closer to Harper, but Seth pulled her back. “—since you’re such a prick, maybe I ought to cut yours off so you can show it to everyone up close. Oh wait… I’ll need a magnifying glass to find it.”

  Harper turned bright red and shrank back. “Keep the mini-Bobbit on her leash, Murphy.”

  Staring at his father’s face, Jack barely heard the back-and-forth. Harper knew Jack couldn’t take the picture with him; it belonged to the house. This was just another way to rub his loss in his face.

  He blinked at his dad with his arm slung around Mr. Reynolds. Sean Murphy looked like the world was his to claim. And he had.

  Until it ended abruptly.

  His father had hated violence. He’d never hit Jack and always taught him to find another way. Tears welled and his face tingled.

  “Douche bag.” Billy poked Harper. “Shouldn’t you be packing? You’re standing next to Jack’s date.”

  Through blurry vision, Jack caught Harper’s angry glare that morphed into shock as he saw Brant snidely smiling at him. His stunned silence continued as he scanned the group. Finally he shook his head.

  “No way.” He searched for support from Greg and Darren. “A real date, not some guy Billy-boy found on the street.”

  “You weren’t kidding when you said he was an asshole,” Brant said to Billy.

  Harper glared at the newcomer. “Fuck off, dickhead.”

  Jack snapped out of his haze and stepped forward. He put his free hand on Harper’s chest and pushed him back. “Back off, Harper.”

  “This doesn’t count.” He pointed to Jack and Brant, panic audible. “I told you….”

  “Who gives a fuck what you say?” Jack inched closer. “You don’t get to say what counts and what doesn’t. Brant’s my date. You lose. End of story.”

  “No fucking way. A date is not a friend!” Apparently, just as Jack predicted, Harper wasn’t prepared to lose. “That doesn’t count.”

  “Yes, it does.” All eyes turned to Darren. Rather than back down under Harper’s angry glare, he stood his ground. “People bring friends as dates all the time.”

  The room swelled as more brothers and their dates showed up. They gathered in groups, watching the drama. Jack noticed Marcus and Vanessa come down the stairs. Marcus stared at him, but Jack shook his head. He didn’t need to drag down Marcus’s night with his troubles.

  The stare-off continued, but Darren never gave an inch. Finally Harper spun away. “How do we know he’s even gay?”

  “Right,” Greg said on cue. “Bringing a straight guy isn’t getting a date.”

  “That’s a first.” Brant snorted. “No one’s ever asked me to prove I’m gay.”

  “Why does it matter if my date is gay?” The tacit admission that Brant was his date wasn’t lost on Jack. But having Harper on the ropes meant at the least, Marcus didn’t lose too. “The bet was if I got a da
te you’d move out. I have a date.”

  Harper must have sensed an opening. “If he’s your date, kiss him.”

  That was unexpected. Jack’s mouth went dry.

  “Why am I not surprised you’re trying to weasel out of the bet,” Billy taunted. “Admit it, you’ve lost. Do you really want us to push you out kicking and screaming like a girlie-man?”

  “Eat me.” Harper flipped him off. “If you weren’t a stupid little twit you’d know you can’t force me out.”

  “You admit you lost, but you’re not leaving? Surprise, surprise.” Marcus suddenly appeared next to Jack.

  “You wish, Reynolds. I don’t accept this”—Harper pointed to Brant—“as a date. If Murphy had a date, a real date, one he’d kiss, then I’d admit I lost.” He crossed his arms defiantly, but his usual swagger had disappeared.

  “Even though everyone else, even Darren, says it counts as a date?” Brittany asked.

  Harper’s confidence seemed to grow the more he repeated himself. “A real date means you kiss.”

  Everyone stared at Jack. One kiss and he could get rid of Harper. Even he’d have a hard time staying after he refined the terms. He looked at Brant, who gave him a “why not” shrug.

  Jack glanced at Brittany and remembered her words. It had only been two days. Claiming Brant as his date might not hurt his chances at making up with Ed. But a kiss?

  The doorbell rang, and more couples pushed into the room. Unsure what to do, he avoided everyone’s gaze and stared at the picture. He picked it up, carefully pinching it at the sides. Man, it would feel good to get rid of Harper. Never have to deal with his shit again.

  Jack felt the burning urge to rise to Harper’s bait—but all that had gotten him so far was zilch. Worse than that. Marcus was right. He had to think past the urge to have Harper out of the house to who else that might hurt.

  He stared at the picture. Days after it had been taken, Sean proposed to his mom. That’s what had mattered to him. What he’d have told Jack was most important.

  “I don’t need to play by your rules, Harper.” Jack turned toward Brant. “I appreciate you coming to fill in as my date, but I’m not going to use you like this. I want to patch things up with the guy I love.”