Surrender

by Kelly Fox

  Jake smirks in that way I can’t get enough of. “Right, as if he hasn’t told every single one of you how much he loves me.”

  I remain unconcerned. “Guilty as charged.”

  The guys start in on five-dollar bets for who’s top and who’s bottom, and whether or not we’ll get married within the next year (I can’t wait to bottom for Jake, when he’s ready for that, and I’d marry him right now if he let me, so Roly’s probably going to lose another ten bucks).

  Nick finally brings it back around to the subject at hand, asking us, “Do you want to tell us where you are going to stay, or is it a secret?”

  “Oh, I think we need to let you know where we are, just in case. We’re staying at my business manager’s cabin out by Fredericksburg.”

  Roly’s head jerks up. “That’s Heath, right?”

  I nod slowly, and Roly bites his lip before saying, “Well, good. Heath’s a good person, I’m glad he’s able to help you all out.”

  I agree, checking out Nick and Elijah’s apartment, enjoying how calm and lovely it feels in here. “I guess I should call him first, huh?”

  Jake reaches over and kisses my cheek. “Yeah, baby. I think we should.”

  Hitting a few quick buttons on my phone, I put the call on speakerphone.

  A gentle, deep voice answers. “Jean-Pierre, how are you doing, buddy?”

  “Heath, my friend! I have you on speakerphone with me, Jake, Nick, Elijah, and Roly.”

  There’s a hesitation on the line, and then Heath responds, “Why am I on speakerphone?”

  In addition to Heath’s uncertainty, the darkening flush along Roly’s skin is more pronounced.

  “We had a violent incident at the gym, and Jake and I need a safe and quiet place to stay for a couple of days.”

  “Shit, Jean-Pierre. Are you okay? Is someone after you? Was it that weird stalker guy with the stuffed giraffe?”

  Nick mouths giraffe? and Roly and Elijah start to giggle. This has been a weird day.

  “Pretty sure there isn’t someone after us, but being able to stay at a place that won’t leave a paper trail would make us feel better. I hate to ask, but I would like to stay out at one of your cabins by Fredericksburg if it is okay with you.”

  Several seconds pass.

  Heath’s voice is quiet on the line. “Jean-Pierre, are you okay? Do I need to set up a bodyguard for you?”

  “No, my friend. As it turns out, Jake is a pretty badass bodyguard,” I say, winking at my boyfriend. “But thank you for asking. We are quite safe now; this is just an extra precaution. And frankly, I wouldn’t mind some alone time with Jake.”

  “Sealed the deal, I take it,” he says on a small chuckle.

  Jake leans forward into the speakerphone. “Tell the truth, Heath. How many meetings did the three of you have before he made his move?”

  Heath’s laugh is generous, warm, and contagious. “Just the one, Jake. Just the one.”

  I feel affronted. “I was trying to make sure that this is as comfortable for you as possible. I’m a famous man. Life can get hard for those who love people in the public eye.”

  Jake leans up and kisses me softly on the lips, causing more uncomfortable shifting. “I know, and I love that you and your team are trying to make this as easy as possible for me.”

  Heath sounds both amused and disgruntled. “Okay, okay, y’all are going to put me into a sugar coma, and I’m not even living there yet. And yeah, sure, mi cabin es su cabin. I’m clearing my reservations for the next two weeks—do you want a big cabin or a cozy cabin?”

  “Heath, you don’t have to go through so much trouble for us.”

  “Yeah, I do. Please, it’ll make me feel better to know you don’t have to worry about any weirdos wanting to stay near you.”

  I rub my eyes, suddenly exhausted. I hate having to inconvenience other people, but this is the best idea for everyone. “Yeah, okay. A cozy cabin sounds good. We’ll stay away from the city and try to stay out of the news cycle.”

  “Sure thing, JP. Feel free to use it for as long as you need it. I haven’t had a chance to take any of the folks I’ve dated out there, so you may want to get supplies.”

  Heath sends me the details on the cabin, and I share it with our family, then warn them on pain of death to stay away.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jean-Pierre

  We arrive at the rental, and it is so quaint that I put my hand to my chest. “It’s funny, you’re driving in the middle of the brush, wondering if we hadn’t made a mistake, and then all of a sudden is this beautiful cabin with trees all around. Texas is kind of magical, no?”

  Jake’s eyes light up, and his mouth hitches up into a half-smile. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Texas through somebody else’s eyes quite like this.” He pauses and takes in the combination of stark brushland and beautiful cottage. “Yeah, Texas is kind of magical. And this place at night? The stars will be beautiful.”

  I hadn’t even considered that, to tell you the truth, and the idea of kissing Jake under the stars makes my heart pound in my chest. “I’m so glad that we stopped at the Walgreens on the way in.”

  Jake laughs, “Yeah, sunscreen, lube, and Topo Chico. That was a fun purchase.”

  “You know if I went in and bought those things, it would be all over the news. And anyway, it’s a drugstore, that’s what they sell.”

  Jake sets the bag of newly acquired clothes on the barstool and wraps himself around me. We’d had a small incident at the shop with a fan who’d gotten overly aggressive and tried to take a photo of me in the dressing room, but Jake pulled his bodyguard act again, and the fan quickly backed off. It was a good thing, because if he’d come in thirty seconds earlier, Jake’s pants would have still been around his ankles.

  Whether or not he’d caught us, with how I feel about Jake, coming out is going to happen sooner or later. And the way he fits right up under my chin like he does right now, kissing on my neck… it’s worth whatever discomfort is required.

  I love the press of his warm body against mine as we walk into the studio space—the kitchen is on the left, the living area in the middle, and a huge king bed is off to the right. The door to the right leads to the bathroom, and that’s pretty much it. Even though the footprint is small, the ceiling is gabled, giving us a sense of space and lightness. I like this magical little cabin and already have plans to come back.

  Jake breathes the country air more freely, and I thrill at the relaxation of his shoulders. He gets a little nervous when he sees that the curtains in the living area are gauzy and see-through, and even though we are the only ones out here, I find some old quilts to supplement the window treatments.

  Wordlessly I walk Jake backward toward the bed, smiling down at him as he smiles up at me. When we reach the soft surface, he breaks contact and removes his T-shirt while I remove mine. He fingers the black chain and looks up at me with desire in his eyes. We embrace again, kissing, deep and slow, his skin on mine a firebrand. Soon, I’m unbuttoning his pants and stripping his pants with his underwear, plopping him on the bed unceremoniously. He laughs, taking care to remove my pants as well.

  I push him down, kissing, kissing, kissing him. I pull away and stroke his unruly hair. “It’s been an intense couple of days, and I just want you to know that we don’t have to do anything.” I’d be a liar if I said that I didn’t want to explore his body again and again, but I wanted to give him options.

  “Oh Jean-Pierre, I want to go all the way with you,” he says, smirking.

  Brat.

  To be honest with you, it goes straight to my balls.

  Jake

  Jean-Pierre looks like he could eat me alive, and I’m here for it. He’s the largest man I’ve ever been with, and weeks ago that would have been a terrifying thought, but…

  He crawls over me, caging me against the bed, running his fingers through my hair, his locs spilling all around us, creating a dreamlike space between the two of us. “Jake, are you s
ure you’re okay? We don’t have to do this now.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, incredulous. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  He growls without malice and bites my nipple. “Ask nicely.”

  I blink up at him. “Jean-Pierre, please, please please please, fuck me now.”

  He grumbles under his voice, then says, “First, we shower.”

  I’m about to complain but then think about all of the places I’d like to lick and be licked. We’re not doing any official power exchange tonight, so I race over to the bathroom and slide into the large walk-in shower, laughing as I hit the taps in the hopes that it’ll get warm quickly. I’m leaning against the wall to catch my breath when that large wall of man lifts me into the air, and I squeal like a little girl. He walks us into the not quite warm enough shower, and I squeal again, effectively losing every last ounce of street cred.

  Jean-Pierre is laughing directly at me. “Jake, I love this little squeal of yours. I’m going to make it my mission to have you make that sound as often as humanly possible.”

  I shake my head and scrunch up my face. “No! I’m your raven! Grr, I’m very angry and dark. Angry and dark people do not squeal. It’s unbecoming.”

  He tightens his grip around me and kisses me, a slow, hot exploration of my mouth that has me panting within seconds.

  “You like dark things, yes. But… you are not dark. You’re an overgrown twink, just waiting for somebody to see it.”

  He’s set me down so that my feet are now on the ground, and I blink up at him. “You think I’m a twink?”

  Jean-Pierre rubs his thumbs along my chin. “To me, you are a beautiful, dark cloud of a twink, and you are mine.”

  A giggle erupts from my chest, and damn it, he might be right. I think about all of the times I wished I was smaller so that I could fit just so against a larger man, and the despair I felt when I realized that it was nearly impossible.

  I study Jean-Pierre’s gorgeous face, and he’s a lesson in opposites. His skin gleams in its darkness because it contains the sun, his smile splits like lightning across his face, and he is more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen before. And here I am, this pale thing with dark inclinations. Scout once said that my twin and I were photo opposites of each other, but I think she’s wrong. I think that’s me and Jean-Pierre, and when I lean against him under the rain shower, our fit could not be more perfect.

  He ties his locs back so that they don’t get too much water on them, then takes the shampoo, pouring an inordinate amount of it into the palm of his hand. “Mon ange, how many people are you planning on shampooing? It’s just me in here with you, you know.”

  He laughs and blows the extravagance of bubbles in my direction, then begins to wash my hair more gently than I thought possible with his large, skillful hands. “How am I supposed to know? I don’t use shampoo. I go to my lady once a week, and she cares for my scalp and hair.”

  “You pay someone to wash your hair?” I ask, arching my brow as I scoop up the bubbles dripping down to my shoulders and touch them to his nose.

  He smiles at me and caresses my face with his soapy hand. “Jake, you drool over my hair all the time. You like it, no?”

  I bite my lip. His locs are sexy.

  He returns my arched eyebrow. “Then don’t make fun of how I keep myself beautiful.”

  I nod, twisting my mouth to avoid smiling. “You can also use that as body wash,” I say, laughing at the comically large amount of lather already going everywhere. I stop laughing when I see how he’s watching it slide down my body.

  He sways forward and grumbles into my ear, “You will pay for laughing at me.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be squeaky clean when I do,” I respond, laughing harder.

  His large hands trail down my neck, and I feel my heartbeat kick up, pounding against my ribs as his hands move up and down my arms and under my armpits, so delicate. Satisfied that he’s not injured the broken place, he moves over my torso, tweaking my nipples as he goes. He has so much shampoo that it’s still dripping when he gets to my hips. He ignores my cock for now, scrubbing my legs, lifting one foot at a time to get under and between the toes.

  Taking the excess soap from my torso, he scoops the lather downward, toward my rigid length, and—thank fuck— finally stops ignoring it.

  He strokes me up and down, lubricated by bubbles upon bubbles. I lean my forehead to his chest as he grips my balls with one hand while stroking upward with the other, bringing me to the brink of orgasm. When my balls start to draw up and tighten, he stops. God, he’s fucking with me, and I love it. I don’t even have to look up to see the broad grin on his face; I can feel it in the way his jaw and neck and back muscles move. He smiles with his whole being.

  Tentatively his soapy hands roam over my ass, separating the cheeks as one large middle finger works its way through the valley, stopping at the puckered entrance. He growls and pours out a little more of the shampoo, swirling it around the tips of his fingers before once again tapping at my entrance with his large middle finger.

  His fingers are thick and talented, and he swirls his soapy digit up and in. My breath catches as he inserts his finger to the second knuckle and grazes my prostate. I shift forward with a grunt.

  “Do you like that, Jake?” he asks, his voice soft, his finger searching, hitting that zingy bit of real estate again and again, causing me to jerk in pleasure and sweet agony.

  Breathlessly, I answer, “Yes, mon ange. Yes, you are doing wonderful, miserable things to me.”

  He goes to pull back, and I grip his arm. “No, please stay.”

  For a few minutes, his searching digit explores, satisfying both his curiosity and my need to have that particular button pounded over and over again.

  He lets more shampoo dribble between my cheeks, dripping down to where his fingers are playing, and soon the second digit joins the first. He’s prepping me with more tenderness than I’ve ever had before. This gentle giant of a man is softer than all of the men who came before him, which makes letting him take me in hand that much more appealing. Soon, he breaches me with a third finger, and I give up another groan. He pauses, letting me pulse around his digits. “Jake, are you all right?”

  I nod into his chest, loving this intrusion, loving how my body feels around his fingers. His work against my prostate has spun me up, and now I want more than just his fingers. “Jean-Pierre, I think I’m clean enough.”

  He hums darkly. “I wasn’t going for clean.”

  I protest as he turns off the water, once again layering us in a chill that requires my proximity to him to be warm again. I’m beginning to suspect that he’s using his furnace-like heat to get me to do his bidding. Jean-Pierre takes the towel and dries me again with such tenderness that my heart aches to think about what he’s lost. His touch is so reverent… I love this man from my fucking toes to my hairline.

  His grin widens, the smile on a joyful man more beautiful than I’ve ever been with. He rubs his thumb along my cheekbone, then presses his lips to mine, at first soft and plush and decadent. Kissing me as though that is the only item on the agenda. Kissing me as though he didn’t just have three of the thickest, longest fingers in my ass. Kissing me until I can’t imagine anything else feeling as good as I feel right now.

  His fingers leave my body, and once again I am airborne and being placed delicately on the bed. Under him, caged by him, protected by him as his soft lips brush mine tentatively, then dive in. I’m so horny and hard, but this kiss… this kiss could go on forever and I’d have very little to complain about. I feel every electron in my body firing up as his arms circle me, as he lowers his body to mine, pressing me into the mattress. I check to see if any panic is there, and that voice is silent as the night. I have only him here with me.

  I groan when his beautiful, full lips move to my neck with soft, open-mouth kisses, sucking gently and with purpose.

  I give myself up to him freely as h
is mouth moves to my collarbones, sucking and nibbling and creating fire wherever it goes. Over my shoulders, down my chest, stopping first on one nipple to suck and then the other, the action sending electricity downward past my stomach straight to my cock. He shifts his rigid length alongside mine, rubbing our hard pricks together in a pleasant slide.

  I check in again, just to make sure there’s no residual panic waiting in the shadows for me. But again, nothing. Only desire, only want, only fantasy.

  His mouth continues to move south, and those beautiful, full lips kiss and suck my balls, nipping at the tender joining of my hip and torso before finally, finally taking in the first half of my shaft.

  Jean-Pierre moans, suckling gently, up and down my cock.

  He pulls back from me for a moment, his locs splayed on my torso, their soft-wiry texture playing havoc on my skin, my peaking nipples. He sees my face, sees how much I am with him, and nods slightly to himself, smiling as he takes my length again.

  Some people, I suppose, are just born to suck cock, and, lucky me, Jean-Pierre Sehene is one of those people. Maybe it’s the confidence he brings to the basketball court; maybe it’s the confidence he brings in life. But he is taking me like he knows exactly what to do, like he knows exactly how to pull ecstasy from my body.

  Small whimpers and groans rumble up from his throat as he continues to suck me down. After a few moments, he pulls away, licking the underside length of me, spearing his tongue between my hood and head, then lapping my balls as though they were a delicacy.

  “Jake, spread your legs for me. Feet flat on the bed.”

  Fuck, I love directions. Lying on my back, I tease him by slowly spreading my legs, displaying myself to him. His debauched raven.

  A guttural sound resonates in his chest as he dives in, taking my balls into his mouth and releasing them with a satisfying pop. Within seconds his tongue has found my entrance and is pushing against it insistently. I’m suddenly very grateful for the tons and tons of shampoo that he used on my body, and that he prepared me so thoroughly.