Cards on the Table - lanyon Josh (книги бесплатно без регистрации полные .TXT) 📗
«Probably, but he's figured out a way to make a living at it. And, like I said, I think he's harmless.»
«Don't underestimate a potential threat just because he's an old man. If he was capable of killing once, he's still capable.»
I looked up, surprised at his serious tone. Jack carried in coffee and dessert plates on a tray, and I had to bite back a smile. The tray struck me as farcical. Not that Jack wasn't civilized, but the bruise on his cheekbone from Mr. Clean's fist sort of undermined the cosmopolitan effect.
I took the dessert plate he handed me and said, «And I've talked to a lot of people who were on the periphery of Eva Aldrich's world, read every article on her I could find.» I tried the strawberry nut crisp. It seemed to be a baked mixture of fruit and mashed up pecan cookies and nuts topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. «This is really good,» I said thickly, and swallowed.
Jack smiled at me, a slow smile – that endearing dimple appearing unexpectedly. I suddenly ran out of things to say, and we ate our dessert in silence but for the scrape of forks on plates.
Finally I glanced at the clock on the bookshelf and set my empty plate aside. «I should go. It's late and you're working tomorrow.» «I go in late tomorrow.» «Yeah. Well, I still should go.» He studied me without speaking, and then put his plate down.
I stood up and he stood up. «Thanks for dinner,» I said. «And, now that I think of it, thanks for saving my ass earlier.»
His eyes were so dark and intense I could hardly look away. I felt crazily self-conscious. «You don't have to go, Tim,» he said. «Why don't you stay?»
Chapter Seven
I wasn't exactly sure if it was excitement or anger, but my heart was thudding so hard I could hardly get the words out. «What are you doing, Jack?» «Asking you to stay the night.»
Come to think of it, it was mostly anger pounding through my veins and tightening up my throat. I got out a reasonably calm, «Why? You already said you weren't interested. You made it clear.» «I know.» He shook his head. «But…»
«But what?» I didn't manage to control my temper quite so well that time, and I saw his eyes glint.
Jack said quietly, «I know how this seems, but I'm not playing games with you – I like you a lot, Tim. That hasn't changed. I still find you very attractive. That hasn't changed either.» «What has changed?»
«I was mad that you didn't tell me about your seizures. I think that's the kind of information that needs to be shared with a potential lover, but…more than that, it seemed indicative of some other problems.»
«What other problems?» Then I put a hand up. «Never mind. I don't give a fuck what you thought my other problems were.» I turned and headed for the door.
«Wait!» He caught my arm as I yanked open the door. It was a hard grip, but it gentled almost at once into a caress sliding down my biceps and forearm and then reluctantly releasing me. Goose bumps prickled all down my skin; I felt that touch in every pore, every hair on my arm. My heart slowed, the beats heavy against my ribs. «I keep making it worse,» Jack said. He sounded so rueful, I hesitated.
Seeing my hesitation, he put a hand on my shoulder, drawing me back inside and shutting the door. The warm weight of his hand slid down my back and drew me close. Our lips touched – he tasted like coffee and strawberry nut crisp. «Stay,» he whispered. * * * * *
The waterbed gulped as we settled on the comforter, and I had to bite back a nervous laugh. The first night I'd had a lot to drink, too much. Tonight I was cold sober and very conscious that this was probably a bad idea.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head. Jack's shirt was already off, his tanned chest lightly furred in silky black, his nipples brown and flat. He reached for the top of my jeans about the same moment I brushed my fingertips against his nipple. He smiled and I smiled, lightly pinching the tiny buds.
«Oh, yeah,» he murmured. He undid the buttons of my Levi's and his hands slid knowledgeably inside the encasing denim. «Use your tongue, Timmy.»
I fully intended to, but paused, closing my eyes and savoring the feel of Jack's big hand feeling me over. I savored his warmth through the soft cotton of my briefs, and then his fingers slipped through the fly. I pushed my hips into that exploration and moaned, my dick coming up hard and a little painfully in the binding Levi's.
«Lift up,» Jack ordered. I raised my hips and he tugged on my jeans and briefs, helping me maneuver out of them. He kicked his own off in a couple of quick, limber twists, and I reached for him, the mattress sloshing beneath us. We kissed long and deep. I could feel the tension quivering through his lean body, echoing my own aching need. I dragged my mouth away, gasping for air.
«Jack, you're sure about this?» I didn't want to know if he wasn't, so I was a little startled to hear my voice.
«Hell, yes,» he rasped. His eyes looked unfocused as they found mine. «Why? Changed your mind?» I shook my head and he captured my mouth again, hot and hungry.
One thing about Jack, though, he wasn't selfish. His hands were everywhere, lingering, exploring, fingertips teasing, tracing my mouth, ears, eyes; palms stroking my ribs and sides; hands cupping and caressing balls and buttocks, all this attention leaving me breathless and distracted. I tried to respond in kind, licking his nipples, nibbling his ears, sucking his lower lip. «Mm. Nice. You taste sweet,» he whispered.
No way was this going to last long. I hadn't been with anyone since Jack, and that had been over six months ago. His legs wrapped around me, I rocked against him, belly to belly. Caught between the press of our bodies, our stiff cocks poked and scraped against each other – part pain and part pleasure. It quickly switched from a gentle seeking for rhythm to something electric and a little desperate, bodies arching and grinding and thrusting toward release.
Jack came first. He gave a little shout and then semen shot between us, sticky and wet. He laughed, and I remembered that about the first time. He laughed when he came – a genuinely joyful sound.
Noticing that I was still writhing beneath him, he wrapped his hand around my straining dick, pumping me once, twice.
I sucked in a ragged breath and then I was coming too, Jack's hand slipping on wet heat. Sweet pulsing relief rippled through me, sharp peaks of pleasure like sound waves singing through my nerves and muscles. It was good, but it didn't last nearly long enough.
Relaxed to the point of inertia, I rolled over beside Jack, listening to his breathing settling back to normal.
«That was great,» he said drowsily. He kissed my ear – I think he was aiming for my temple.
«Mmm,» I murmured. And it had been great, but I still felt a little let down. Probably nothing more than physical exhaustion; it had been a long damn day, and it was liable to be a long damn night – which was the last thing I needed, and more than likely to tempt fate.
But Jack turned his head on the black pillow and studied me with peaceful gray eyes. «Okay?» «Yep. Great.» «Okay if I sleep?» So it had just been a mutual jerk off. I nodded wearily, sat up.
His hand smoothed over my back. «Hey.» He drew me back down. «Where're you going? There's room in this birdbath for two.» I hesitated, remembering the last time – wondering if he'd forgotten. «Turn the light out, Tim,» he said.
I turned the light out and gave in to the tug of his hand, settling down beside him once more.
«Night,» Jack said, his breath light and warm against my face. Judging by the sound of his breathing a few moments later he must have plunged instantly into sleep. «Night,» I murmured, and dived in after him. * * * * *
I opened my eyes to a long row of pristine and beautifully pressed shirts hanging in an open closet. It was clearly not my closet. There was a shoe rack on the floor beneath a second row of trousers and pants, and one of those belt caddy things. Jack actually hung up his Levi's.
