“Nah,” he says. “I’m not from around here.”
“I swear I know you,” she whines.
“Can you bring us some potato skins?” I ask, changing the subject. “Extra sour cream?”
“Oh, sure, handsome. I’ll get right on it,” she purrs, stroking my bicep. “Holler if you need anything.”
She bounces off, and Xavi lets out a heavy sigh.
“She likes you,” he says, his eyes dark with irritation.
“Does that bother you?”
“I didn’t think it would, but I didn’t like her touching you.”
“Because I’m yours?” I challenge.
His smile is so fucking hot. “Something like that.”
“I’m going to reward that sexy mouth later. Jealousy looks really good on you.”
He darts his gaze over to where the waitress is talking to another group of guys before turning his attention back on me. He leans closer, wickedness gleaming in his eyes. “I’ll suck your cock so hard, you’ll forget your own name, much less what that bitch looked like.”
My dick strains in my jeans. “You’re poking the beast.”
“Good. I hope he bites.”
Oh, he fucking bites all right.
I stand up and lean in to whisper, making sure to grab his dick under the table through his jeans. “I’m going to go take a piss and settle my cock, boy. You’re going to get our skins to go. Then, you’re going straddle me in the cab of my truck while I fuck this hard cock with my hand and bite on that hot as fuck bottom lip. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good boy.”
I rip at his shirt and my mouth fuses to his once more. The truck cab is dark, and our breaths fog up the windows. His dick is freed from his jeans like I promised it would be. I jerk at him, hard and unrelenting. He cries out when I bite hard on his bottom lip, tugging it.
“Pull my cock out,” I instruct, my voice husky.
He fumbles at my jeans, then has my aching dick in his hot hand. Together, we jerk each other off, fast and frantically. It’s frenzied—reminding me of when I came out of the closet in high school and had my first encounter with a guy. Xavi makes me feel young again. Not some bitter, grumpy cop who likes to top broken boys like him.
“Fuck,” I hiss. “I’m about to come.”
He works me harder, and then I’m moaning. My nuts seize up in pleasure. A growl escapes him before his own cum spurts out, soaking my hand. Once we’re sated, I grab his discarded shirt and clean us up. I put him back in his jeans, and then do the same for myself. When he starts to slide off my lap, I grip his hips.
“I like you here,” I tell him, pressing a kiss to his chest.
He relaxes, then runs his fingers through my hair. “I’m not used to all this yet.”
“But you like it.”
“I do.”
I run my palms up the sides of his ribs, admiring his lean, muscular physique.
“Do you like being a cop?” he asks, his fingers scratching my scalp in an intimate way I’ve never experienced with anyone.
I don’t cuddle.
With Xavi, though, I want to cuddle the fuck out of him.
“Since I was a kid.”
“Now?”
I frown. I think about Frank Sanders. Shot in the fucking face by a man he pulled over for speeding. That shit disturbs me every time it happens.
“It’s not as satisfying as it once was,” I admit. I’m surprised to say those words. I haven’t admitted that to anyone, not even Ronan or Joshua.
“Would you ever do anything else?”
“I’ve had some offers to do private security. The older I get, the more I consider it. Money sure is better,” I say with a grunt. “Maybe one day.”
“I can’t imagine doing anything but singing from the fucking soul. Without my voice, I’m fucking no one.”
I grip his jaw, our lips nearly touching. “Your music is a major part of you, but it’s not you. You’re deep, and you wear your heart on your sleeve. I’ve seen the way you talk about your bandmates. There’s more to you than what you can do. I see you, boy.”
He doesn’t answer me, just kisses me hard. I can feel the smile against my mouth and vow to give him more praise. He fucking glows every time I give it.
Xavi Jacobs needs someone like me to pull him out of his hole, dust him off, and show him just how fucking amazing he is.
Not just someone.
Me.
I’m antsy.
And stressed as hell.
He won’t fuck me. I’ve been dying for it. Hell, he’s been prepping me for it. I think I’m finally over the mental block of being with a guy. With Blaine, it doesn’t feel gay or wrong, it just feels good. I wake up with his scent permeating around me and live to hear the deep gravelly timbre of his voice when he tells me good morning. I never knew I’d love such a simple routine—and with a man—but I do.