Troublemaker (Goode Boys Book 1)

by Sean Ashcroft

  Aiden moaned around me, low and needy and sincere, like he was getting off on this, too. Getting off on me, on sucking my cock and turning me into a whimpering mess.

  My fingers tightened in his hair, and a jolt of pleasure hit me as he sucked harder, the barest scrape of teeth making me hiss, teetering right on the knife edge between pleasure and pain.

  He was good.

  Not that he needed to be. I was weak against this, so turned on by the thought of him enjoying it that I knew I’d never hold out long. Not with Aiden making happy noises around me, swirling his tongue around the head of my cock, dipping into the slit, sucking and swallowing like he couldn’t imagine having more fun.

  And Aiden felt so fucking good, sucking on me like I was the most incredible thing he’d ever had in his mouth, low moans punctuating every rhythmic stroke, heat and pleasure and need building and building inside me as he worked my cock.

  My hips jerked as the first warning signals that I was about to come went off all over my body, heat and tension pooling at the base of my cock, everything between my belly button and my knees tightening.

  Aiden glanced up, checking in on me, so pleased with himself that I felt a rush of embarrassment at being so easy to get off, but it was gone in the next moment when he swallowed me down, humming around me as his throat worked, cheeks hollowed, pressure increasing until it was more than I could take.

  My fingers tensed in his hair, and that only made it worse, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat, a rush of precome spilling down it, swallowed eagerly.

  Before I could stop myself I was coming in his mouth, the first wave of it catching us both by surprise. Aiden swallowed again and again, and every time his throat tensed it set off another spike of pleasure, my hips rocking as far as they could under Aiden’s grip as I came and came and came, so long I wondered if it was ever going to stop.

  My head banged against the wall as the last few waves of my orgasm rolled through me, thighs trembling with the strain of coming so long and hard so suddenly.

  When I finally made myself look down, Aiden was licking me clean like a cat at a bowl of cream, eyes hooded, tongue sticky.

  He sat back, meeting my gaze, the look in his eyes so satisfied that if I hadn’t just come, I would’ve been hard all over again, begging for another round.

  “Armchair,” he said.

  Making this the second time I’d wondered if I was having a stroke on this trip.

  “Armchair?” I blinked at him.

  Aiden turned nodding to the armchair set in front of the fire. “Armchair,” he repeated. “Sit.”

  I stumbled my way over and collapsed into it, pants and underwear caught around my thighs, lungs still burning for air.

  Aiden followed me over and dropped into my lap, surging forward to kiss me, fingers tangled deep in my hair to hold me in place, the taste of my own come still lingering in his mouth.

  I’d never actually come in anyone’s mouth before, and I wasn’t entirely ready to process how hot it’d been.

  The rustling of fabric caught my attention between kisses, and I looked down just in time to see Aiden pull his cock out of his underwear, the head glistening with precome, making the two ball ends of his piercing glint in the firelight.

  Aiden pecked the tip of my nose, drawing my attention back to his face.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Just let me kiss you while I finish.”

  He caught my mouth again before I could object, but I wanted more than that. I wanted to touch him, make him feel as good as he’d made me feel, and while I doubted I could suck his cock without careful instruction, I could do this.

  “Let me,” I murmured between kisses, brushing my fingertips against Aiden’s knuckles, silently pleading for him to let go so I could do this for him.

  Something in his face changed, eyes darker than before, lips gently parted. He nodded, letting me curl my fingers around him, and leaned in for another kiss, softer and sweeter than before.

  I was starting to get the impression that Aiden really, really liked to be kissed.

  He curled his hand around my shoulder, rocking his hips in time with each stroke, setting the pace for both of us.

  I’d expected to have a thousand questions, but I didn’t. This was so easy between us, so natural. Aiden wasn’t intimidating at all once you got to know him. Under the leather jacket and the tattoos, he was the sweetest person I’d ever known.

  Having him rocking in my lap, gasping for breath as I worked his cock, felt like an incredible privilege I hadn’t even come close to earning.

  His breath hitched as he came, the sweetest catch in his throat as he spilled all over my hand, stilling at first and then rocking his hips to chase the last few waves, biting down on my lip.

  The soft, satisfied sigh he made as he finished was going to stick in my brain for the rest of my life.

  Aiden rested his forehead against mine, panting to catch his breath, wriggling his way out of my grip as his cock softened in my hand, a high flush on his cheeks.

  “Oversensitive?” I asked.

  He nodded, taking a deep breath and then exhaling slowly and holding still for long moments.

  It took me longer than it should have to realize that I was seeing him overwhelmed.

  By an awkward handjob from me?

  That seemed impossible.

  “I’ve had a crush on you since I was fifteen,” Aiden admitted softly.

  Kieran had been right. I owed him an apology for doubting.

  “Never quite got over it,” he added, pulling back to look me in the eyes.

  I swallowed. There was so much in his eyes, so many unvoiced feelings that it was hard to look at him and equally hard to look away.

  “I really hope I’m living up to your expectations,” I said, still processing the idea that Aiden had been interested in me. All those years ago.

  “Exceeding them,” Aiden said, grinning broadly at me, eyes softening.

  No one had ever looked at me like this. I hadn’t known anyone could.

  “You said you quit smoking for me,” I said, not quite ready to face up to all the feelings going on right now.

  “You said it was disgusting.” Aiden shrugged. “Wanted you to like me, so. I quit. That day. You never even noticed, which is rude,” he joked.

  “I thought you’d just stopped smoking around me,” I admitted. I had noticed, but I hadn’t dreamed he might actually stop because of me.

  Aiden kissed the tip of my nose again, which I was starting to think he was a little obsessed with.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For, uh. For standing up for me earlier. Can’t’ve been easy.”

  That was the thing. In the moment, it had been easy.

  My hand landed on his knee, stroking up and down idly while the thought of what I’d done swirled around in my head. We were both still dressed, coats included, but I wasn’t inclined to move anytime soon.

  “She was wrong,” I said after a moment, telling myself more than Aiden. He knew that, he was the one who’d been in tears over it.

  Some part of me had known, quietly, that my mom was wrong about a lot of things, but it’d always seemed easier to just agree. To go along with it, not rock the boat, because it didn’t really matter who was right or wrong, it mattered…

  It mattered whether or not I was loved. Wanted. Whether my family liked me or not.

  “Deep thoughts,” Aiden said, kissing between my brows this time. Right where there must have been a crease from frowning. “I am a troublemaker,” he continued. “She was right about that.”

  “I’ve never been in trouble before now in my entire life,” I said. Now that I said it, it sounded… pathetic. Cowardly.

  If you never got in trouble, you were standing idly by while things that shouldn’t have been happening went on around you. Today was just the first time I’d stopped standing by.

  I didn’t have to. I could’ve apologized to my mom, sent Aiden home, and been insta
ntly forgiven because I was doing what she wanted me to do.

  But I wanted to stand up for Aiden, because he’d been nothing but kind to me and he didn’t deserve anything but kindness in return.

  Aiden grinned at me. “First time for everything,” he said. “We can sit and write lines if you want.”

  “Tempting,” I said, meeting his eyes again, sliding my hand further up his thigh.

  My other hand was still a sticky mess.

  I’d just come my brains out with another man—because of another man—and then jerked him off, too.

  And I liked it. This was the most comfortable I’d felt after sex in my life.

  Because I’d picked Aiden. Based on what I wanted, not what I thought would make my mom happy. I knew she was mad at me for this.

  Aiden produced the handkerchief I’d given him earlier from his coat pocket, wiping us both down with a clean corner and then hesitating before he set it on the floorboards beside the chair.

  “I’m keeping it,” he said. “I just definitely need to wash it first now.”

  I laughed, and the urge to kiss him again welled up under my lungs.

  Aiden moved easily, giving in as soon as I touched him, kissing soft and slow and sweet as heat pooled in my stomach again.

  He hummed happily into my mouth, the sound vibrating in my chest. This was so easy.

  It shouldn’t have been, it had no right to be, but here we were.

  “Go to dinner with your dad tonight,” Aiden said, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “Take a shower, take a nap, and then go talk to him. You both need that.”

  He was right. Even more so now that I’d gotten into my first ever fight with my mom. First real fight, first time she’d told me off for something and I’d kept doing it anyway.

  “You don’t think he’ll be disappointed to see me instead of you?” I teased as Aiden ran the pad of his thumb behind my ear, tucking my hair back into place.

  “He’s so proud of you,” Aiden murmured, looking me over like maybe he was proud of me, too. “Trust me. He won’t be disappointed.”

  I let my eyes fall closed while Aiden stroked my hair, promising myself I’d get up in a minute but reluctant to leave the new, exciting comfort of being with him.

  I had no idea what the hell I was doing, but it didn’t feel wrong. Not even a little bit.

  16

  Aiden

  I woke with a start while Carter was in the shower, the sound of the spray just barely trickling through the closed bathroom door if I listened carefully.

  My phone screen was lit up with a text notification.

  What time was it?

  I’d cleaned up with a wash cloth and practically collapsed on the bed, today’s emotional rollercoaster wearing me out so badly that I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t fall asleep again if I didn’t sit up.

  Hell, even then, I wouldn’t have made any guarantees.

  Dragging myself away from the comfort of the mattress, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand on my side of the bed and squinted at it, eyes not quite ready to focus yet.

  Unknown: hey Aiden, it’s Hallie, I had to beg Carter for your number and I just wanted you to know that whatever my mom says, you’re welcome at my wedding if you still want to be there. Carter too, obviously, but I’ve already told him that. You drew me the most beautiful rose when Mark broke up with me in eleventh grade and left me crying in the hallway, remember? I know we were never really friends, but I regret that so much now and it’d mean a lot to me if you ignored my mom and showed up anyway. Peace?

  I read the message over a few times to make sure I was getting it right, smiling at the memory of the one nice thing I ever remembered doing for Hallie. That she remembered it was a surprise—I’d forgotten until she mentioned it—but I suppose it might’ve meant a little more to her than it did to me.

  I just hadn’t wanted to see her sad, and some part of me always thought it’d be nice to be friends, too.

  Maybe we still had a chance to do that. As different as our worlds were.

  No more different than mine and Carter’s.

  A twinge of anxiety hit me in the gut as I thought it. I knew better than to think I could keep Carter, I was smarter than that. At the end of this wedding—or maybe sooner, depending on what he decided about attending now—he’d go back to New York, and I’d stay in Slow Falls, and if we saw each other again it’d only be by accident.

  I bit my lip.

  Was I okay with being Carter’s bisexual training wheels?

  Yeah. It took me a second or two to decide, but yeah, I was okay with a short fling that taught him something new about himself, scratched an itch I’d had for a long time, and gave us both something to look back fondly on.

  I’d have to talk to him about it, but I got the feeling it was just what he needed, and that he knew it now.

  I saved Hallie’s number in my phone and opened a new response.

  Peace. I don’t know what Carter wants, he’s in the shower and I think he needs some time to cool off, but if he’s still planning on going and he wants me with him, I’ll be there. Always thought you were cool :)

  The water in the bathroom shut off, and I sat up to attention, waiting for Carter to emerge in nothing but a fluffy white towel.

  My jaw dropped as he came through the door without one—or at least, drying his hair with it instead of wrapping it around his waist.

  Throat dry, all I could do was stare at him while he wandered over to his bag, lifting it onto his end of the bed to go through it, towel draped casually over his shoulder, all like I wasn’t even there.

  “Hi,” I said, voice rasping, in case he hadn’t realized I was.

  Carter glanced up at me, gray eyes warm in the low light of the cabin. It was dark in here, darker than I’d thought, the sun already setting outside.

  “Hi,” he said back, biting his lip.

  How was he real?

  He was beautiful, all long stretches of perfect skin, lean and just muscular enough to fill out his frame, nothing too much, nothing too little.

  I’d been toying idly with the thought that it’d be nice to ink him, but I wasn’t sure now that I could’ve concentrated all that well.

  “You’re naked,” I said, the most sparkling conversation I was up to right now.

  Carter laughed, extracting underwear and socks from his bag. “I know. That’s why I’m getting clothes.”

  “You could stay naked,” I offered, hopeful, imagining Carter coming to lounge on the bed beside me so I could look at him, maybe reach out and trace some of those perfect lines with the tips of my fingers, feel the muscles shifting under my touch, hunt for sensitive spots no one else had ever found.

  “Tempting as that offer is,” Carter began, picking out a shirt, impossibly soft-looking midnight blue sweater, and sensible charcoal pants. “I don’t think they’ll let me into the restaurant if I’m not wearing pants.”

  “I feel like the sign usually mentions shoes and shirt. Nothing about pants.”

  Carter smiled, smoothing the sweater out with nervous fingers. “I think the pants are implied,” he said. “But you’d know more about the limits of the rules than I would.”

  “I know if I see one of those signs I’ll hate being in whatever place has it up.” I shrugged.

  “So that’s a no on taking you somewhere nice sometime?”

  “Might have to rethink what nice means,” I said. “But it’s not a no. I’d dress up for you.”

  I already had dressed up for him, and he knew it. He must have known it.

  If I could be any more obvious, I wasn’t sure how.

  I watched him dress, mouth going dry at the unspeakably erotic sight of him pulling on a pair of business socks. I had no idea why that, in particular, did it for me, but it might’ve had something to do with Carter’s miles and miles of legs.

  Or I some kind of weird, unexplored kink I had for socks.

  “You gonna be okay for dinner?” he asked as he threw his sh
irt over his shoulders, nimble fingers buttoning it up at a speed I could only have dreamt of.

  He’d had a lot more practice than me, I supposed.

  “Or should I bring something back for you?”

  “Umm.”

  I was so busy staring at the soft, touchable sweater in his hands and imagining running my fingers over it while it was on him that trying to focus on anything else was a struggle.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said eventually as my brain finally deciphered what he’d been saying, instead of rolling around like a happy puppy in the sound of his voice. “Worst case scenario, we’re not so far from civilization that no one delivers.”

  This was nice. It felt so normal to sit on the end of the bed and watch Carter dress, relaxed and unhurried, like this was any normal afternoon and he was about to go… out for business drinks, or whatever it was he did of an evening when he wasn’t snuggling on the couch with me.

  Temporary, my brain reminded me. We weren’t doing the long-term thing. We obviously weren’t doing the long-term thing.

  Carter would learn the ropes with me and then go find someone who wore button-down shirts every day and understood what an annual report was for.

  Which was fine. Different worlds. We would’ve driven each other nuts after a while anyway.

  I stood as he shrugged his coat on, gathering phone and wallet and patting himself down as though he might’ve forgotten something.

  Why was I standing?

  I wanted a kiss goodbye. I expected a kiss goodbye, even if this was only a temporary experiment, a springboard for Carter to go find the man of his dreams—or the woman. His problem wasn’t that he didn’t like women, his problem was that he didn’t get to pick them for himself.

  After this, who knew? All I wanted was for him to be happy.

  Carter paused in front of me, fingers running through his still-damp hair, eyes warm and soft.

  Oh fuck.

  Why did he have to be so breathtakingly gorgeous? I didn’t deserve this. I was a good person, deep down, and this kind of torture was unfair.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked, and I could’ve melted into the floorboards, a happy pile of goo who just wanted affection all the time.