"That is interesting," I said under my breath, waving to her in response.
"I'm just glad she's found her own man and stopped pining over mine," Cole said.
I swiveled away from Annette and Jackson to face Cole. "What?" I asked.
He lifted his beer to his lips, smiling. "You heard me," he replied. "You know I'd bite your neck and piss a circle around you, too."
My heart slammed into my throat so hard I was certain I'd choke on it. "Yeah," I said. Then, quietly, "It's nice to hear you say it, little prince."
21
All Night In
v. Having no night watches.
Cole
Tonight was similar to the last time we walked through the woods under the close-aired darkness. Similar yet loaded with difference. We walked hand-in-hand now, not rebelling against our connection but accepting it, cultivating it, sharing it. We didn't need alcohol to loosen our lips and embolden our actions. We knew the path would lead us home, and from there, it would take us to bed—together. It was good, and this was right.
We stumbled down the path—not as a result of liquor, though it had some hand in this—clinging to each other as we broke out in fits of riotous laughter. "I couldn't tell whether JJ was going to hop over the bar and drag us out by the scruff or launch into a slow clap," I said.
"Such an odd moment," Owen said with a chuckle. "Did you see the look Brooke-Ashley gave him? She rolled her eyes so hard they still haven't come back around."
"True story," I murmured. "It was nice of the O'Keefes to drop by and say hello, even if they were a little awkward about it."
"Yeah, they're kind people," Owen replied. "They've had a few tough years, and they've struggled, but they'd still give you their last slice of bread if you asked for it."
I still didn't understand this town or the people in it, but neither were a puzzle in need of solving.
Owen turned, pinning me with a fierce stare. "But I don't want to talk about them anymore," he said.
"Okay," I replied. "That's fine. Maybe you can compliment my ass some more. That's what you're supposed to do on a date."
"I don't want to play pretend anymore," he said, his words quick and sharp. "I want to be real with you now."
"We are real," I said, confused. "Of course we're real. This entire night has been real. We weren't pretending to be on a date, Owen. We actually were on a—"
"I don't want you to go," he interrupted, "when the summer ends."
Boom. Just fucking boom went my heart.
"Say something." He stepped closer, pressing his chest to mine. If his declaration wasn't enough to stun me into silence, his cock, hardening under his shorts, did the trick. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"I—ohhh—yeah," I stammered, widening my stance and arching toward the firm ridge of him. He rocked against me, grinning as I groaned. "I can't think when you do that, baby."
"Try, for me, baby. Try. Promise me you'll stay." Owen's hips were bucking against me in a lazy rhythm. We groaned at that, and I was ready to come all over us. It could have been the friction, but it was mostly his words. "Say something," he repeated, the order taking on an edge of anxiety.
"Yes, I want you," I replied with a needy groan. The dry friction of his clothing-covered dick rubbing against mine made it impossible to do anything other than sink into these sensations. "Of course."
"That's right," he said, growling.
"I want to stay," I continued, the loose tooth of my life outside this town wiggling under these words. "I want to stay here with you. But I should tell you—"
"The only thing you have to tell me is how you want me fucking you," he said as he pushed me against a tree.
A gasp burst from my lips as the trunk bit into my back. With a shaking hand, I reached for Owen's jaw. I canted his face up, wanting to see the wild in his eyes. "Not this time," I whispered.
My hand still gripping his face, I stepped away from the tree. I curled my fingers around his belt and jerked his hips flush with mine. I wanted him like nothing else. So much that it hurt. But I also wanted this—him, us, these woods—and I couldn't bring myself to stop.
"What do you think you're doing, McClish?" he asked.
My eyes drifted shut while I basked in the pleasure of his shaft rubbing against mine. Even through layers of clothing, the sensation was unreal. "Could I make you come?" I asked. "Just like this?"
Owen's hand shifted from my waist to my backside. He held me, squeezing just a bit. "You could smile at me, and I'd fall apart," he whispered. His fingers skimmed down my ass, pressing and rubbing like a dream. "I think you know that."
"I don't," I said, my voice tight as I held back a groan. With all the strength I could gather, I positioned him against the tree, pecked a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and dropped to my knees. "My turn."
This time, I handled both his button and zipper without incident, and yanked his boxer briefs down. He loved it when I played with him a bit, teased, but I'd do all that some other time. Tonight, I was hungry for him. Hungry for a piece to call my own.
Owen's hand skimmed up the back of my neck. "Baby, no. You don't have to."
"I want to," I said, my eyes trained on his thick shaft. With his thighs trembling and flexing under my hands, I dragged my tongue up his cock. He was hot and delicious, and I wasted no time taking him in my mouth.
"Goddamn," Owen hissed.
I pushed a finger inside him, just past the rim, and he howled. Actually fucking howled. His hips jerked away from the tree trunk, thrusting into my mouth. His hands were in my hair and his thigh was stiff under my free hand. He was leaking and twitching in small, quick pulses. Just like waves at low tide.
I kissed down his length and across his sac. "Good?" I asked, glancing up at him.
"Would it be cliché to tell you I love you right now?" he asked. "Because I do. I really fucking do."
My world lit up then, a riot of heat and joy, and a fullness, like being swaddled in a tight embrace. The words were burning on my tongue, but I couldn't offer them in return until I was certain he meant them. Owen wasn't one for hyperbole but I had to be sure.
"No clichés," I replied, smiling against his thigh. "My blowjobs are that good."
"Get up here," Owen ordered, hooking his hands under my arms and urging me off the ground.
When I pushed to my feet, he took my face in his hands and kissed me hard. He nipped at my tongue, bit my lip, and I bit right back. His pants were still tangled around his ankles, and I stole this opportunity to slide my fingers along his seam.
"I want to fuck you right here but I don't think tree sap makes for the best lube," I said.
I felt Owen smile against my neck. "Let's not do that," he said. "The tree sap lube, that is. I quite enjoy natural products, but that's over the line for me. The rest of it sounds great."
I rubbed my free hand up and down his chest, pawing at him. "You want me to fuck you?"
"The answer to that question has always been yes," he said. "Always will be."
After another biting kiss, I turned him around in my arms. My hips rolled against his backside, my cock right between his cheeks while I stroked him. I was cross-eyed and crazy with lust, and this close to spitting into my palm and fucking him raw.
Rarely did I feel the desire to take a man like this, but with Owen, I had a desperate, panting need that I felt rising up from deep within me. I wanted to have him, be with him in every place possible way, brand him as my own.
"That settles it," I said. "I'm taking my man home now."
22
Outward Bound
adj. Leaving the safety of port, heading out to open ocean.
Owen
This was the night.
The one when I came out—all the way out—to the town.
The one when we made a tradition out of blowjobs in the woods.
The one when I confessed my love for Cole and didn't have a nervous breakdown when he laughed off my words.
And a
lso the one when Cole led me into the bedroom, stripped me naked, and guided me to the bed so he could tease me with his tongue for approximately nine years while I dissolved into a bright, shimmering disaster of love and need and hope. Now, I was gasping and quivering, on the verge of goddamn tears as he pushed inside me. It wasn't pain that dampened my eyes but an ache, a spasm far inside me that only grew as I watched his cock sliding into my body. I loved this man, I loved him more than I understood.
"How's that?" Cole asked, shifting his hips a bit as he inched in. His eyes were hooded, his teeth pressed into his lower lip, his breath coming in shallow pants. "Tell me it's good because you feel amazing."
"Good, good," I said, gasping as he stretched me. My cock was weeping all over my belly but I couldn't focus on anything but the glorious pressure between my legs. "Keep going. You're doing great, baby. You're perfect."
He stared at me, smiling like he knew a secret, and I was absolutely helpless. But I was the one with the secret. My sweet, silly man with his clumsiness and his arrogant streak. He was everything to me, and I was dying to be everything to him.
Cole ran his hand up the back of my thigh, pushing it closer to my chest as he seated himself. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. For a moment, neither of us moved. He blew out a breath and gripped my thighs hard, as if he needed an anchor to hold himself back. I didn't want that.
"Come here," I whispered, beckoning him closer. His dick was inside me and somehow, he was too far away.
Cole nodded and positioned my legs around his waist. "Oh, fuck," he murmured, his eyes rolling back as he found a rhythm. "I mean it. You're amazing. I'm never bottoming again."
"That's not an option," I said. I reached for him, first grabbing his flanks, then his shoulders, and finally lashing my arms around his torso when we were chest-to-chest. My lips found his neck, and I breathed a content sigh because I had him. Inside me, around me, everywhere. "I love fucking your ass. You're not taking that away from me."
"And I love you," he started, "so I won't."
A laugh burst from my lips, unbidden. He was thrusting into me now, slow and hard, but that pleasure was a distant second to the one seizing my heart.
"You made me wait," I said, smiling up at him. "You walked me home, licked my ass for half-a-fucking-hour, and waited until you were balls deep inside me to say that." I arched up to meet his lips, hoping my kiss would tell him how much he pushed me, and how much I needed those pushes. "I love you."
Cole grinned, nodding. "I know," he said, reaching between us to wrap his fingers around my cock. "Would it be cliché of me to come right now? Because I'm damn close."
I shook my head, the words tangled up in a knot of emotion heavy in my chest. I loved this man, and he…he loved me, too. Those words weren't ones I'd heard before, it wasn't a feeling anyone had reciprocated.
The fast slide of his hand over my length kept me on the edge but it was the blissful sighs stuttering past his lips as he slammed into me that did it. That pushed me over, broke me apart, and patiently sewed me back together again.
Tonight was the night but that didn't mean it was the only night. This could only get better.
23
Rogue Wave
n. A large, unexpected and suddenly appearing surface wave that can be extremely dangerous.
Owen
It was late September, and I was in Portland for the monthly meeting of the Maine Lobster Conservancy's board of directors. It was true what they said about the squeaky wheels getting the grease, except this squeaky wheel had been nominated for a board seat after complaining about the issues long enough. I still preferred the ocean to the office but it was rewarding to know that I was making some small difference.
But this meeting couldn't adjourn quickly enough. Tomorrow marked the eight-week anniversary of Cole's arrival in Talbott's Cove, and we were starting the celebration with a special dinner tonight.
These weeks had been nothing short of magical, and I wasn't the kind of guy who threw words like those around. With Cole, I felt things I'd never before experienced. I wanted things, too. Things I'd never thought available to me.
Love. Family. Forever. And I really wanted it all with him.
So I was laying it all out there tonight. I was loading him up with the best steaks and wine I could find, and I was telling him that I wanted to make this official. It was time for him to move in, all the way. We could convert one of the extra bedrooms to a proper office. He could get rid of his place in California. Obviously, he could run his business from Maine. He'd managed just fine for almost two months.
He'd move in, we'd fix up an office, and we'd have a life together. And maybe…maybe we could plan a trip down to Cape Cod next summer to exchange vows. A visit to P-Town would do him good.
That maybe had my heart plotting an escape from my chest because maybe had to be yes. Had to be.
Cole was in charge of dessert tonight. I was hoping that consisted of nothing more than a dollop of whipped cream on my fiancé's dick.
Repairs finished on Cole's boat early last week, but that event came and went with little fanfare. It was an amazing craft—now that it wasn't on the fritz and running aground—and we took it for a sail down to the Isle of Shoals over the weekend. It was a nice break from our usual routine, one we needed. Life was great, but it was busy. The lobster season was hitting its peak, and Cole was spending more time on work projects when we weren't hauling in traps.
Even though it meant a decrease in our time together, I understood that Cole needed to work. That he'd been able to spend the summer working my decks was a gift, one I knew wouldn't last forever. He had a conference call a few days ago, and though I didn't mean to eavesdrop on the entire thing, I found myself addicted to his authoritative tone. It didn't matter what he was saying. I liked in-charge Cole. I wanted more of him.
Instead of staying to talk shop after the meeting, I hustled out and headed to downtown Portland. My grocery list was long, and I had exactly seven minutes to find everything I needed and get on the road if we were going to eat before Thursday Night Football kicked off. It was situations like these that made me reconsider Cole's desire to install one of those DVR things.
He was gentle like that, always nudging me to try new things but never forcing. He didn't care that I hated bourbon or reading books on electronic screens, or that I preferred the butt plug in his ass. I wasn't as gentle. The solitary life I'd once considered adequate was now filled with affection and laughter, but that hadn't beaten the cranky bastard out of me.
Perhaps that was why I was sighing like a moody teenager and drumming my fingers on the grocery cart while the woman ahead of me handed the cashier a wad of coupons thicker than the Bible. Food, our future, football, fucking. That was the plan for tonight, and Coupon Cathy was screwing up my schedule with her thriftiness.
Craning my neck to find a quicker line, I found myself staring at the last person I expected to find in Portland: Cole. Except it wasn't him, not the Cole I knew. It was a polished-up, slick-haired, fake-smile, suit-and-tie version of him with "Where In The World Is Cole McClish?" printed across his chest.
Why is my man on the cover of a magazine and why the fuck are people wondering where he is?
I snatched the magazine from the rack and flipped to the article about Cole while I steered my cart to the short order line. I didn't care whether I had many more than ten items. If the cashier noticed, she didn't care either. Maybe I was the one who didn't notice as the only thought in my head was an infinite loop of I thought I knew him while I read.
Paying, leaving the store, getting into my truck, driving home—I remembered none of it. I did, however, remember every word of that cover story about Cole. I couldn't handle this. I'd given this man everything, all of me, and I'd thought I was getting all of him in return.
But there was always more to Cole's story. Secrets, histories, situations I didn't understand and couldn't bring myself to explore. But I'd convinced myself reality
wasn't too far divorced from the fantasy. He was wealthy and accomplished, and held enough sway to take the summer off without issue. I could handle that. His reality was a slim fraction of the one I'd imagined, one that foreclosed all possibility of a future for us.
There was no place for me in a world that involved epic fortunes.
I was a tough guy, a strong guy. Being a lobsterman did that to me, and being alone for all these years did it, too. I didn't consider myself sensitive or delicate, but everything about this fucking hurt. Throughout the ride back to Talbott's Cove, I kept a fist pressed to my chest to hold back the rising ache.
He was on the couch when I arrived, his long legs stretched out, computer on his lap, glasses perched on his head. I was all out of words, and couldn't offer more than a slammed door in greeting.
"Hey, what's…" His voice trailed off when I turned the magazine toward him. "Oh, shit."
"That's it?" I barked. "All you've got for me is oh, shit? You're a fucking billionaire and you've invented, like, the entire internet, and you never thought any of that was worth mentioning? You didn't think I deserved a heads-up on that one?"
Cole closed his computer and stared at the floor. Seconds that felt a whole fuckton like hours passed without a word.
"I'm sorry." He stood, wincing at the magazine as he approached me. "I didn't mean for it to happen like"—he glanced at the magazine that hung from my hand like an old-timey wanted poster—"that. But you said you didn't want to know. I tried to tell you."
Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped thinking of him as a fantasy. I allowed myself to forget the corners of his life he kept from me, and in that forgetfulness, I believed he could be mine.
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