“Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s fine if neither of you can go.” Nash stuffs what looks like half a slice of pizza into his mouth.
“I’m going. I won’t miss a single game if I can help it,” James answers, and I swear, despite Nash only giving a quiet thanks, his cheeks turn pink.
We finish dinner, then dive into cake.
“My mom used to tease me about how much Dakota and I ate as teenagers. I didn’t believe her until now.”
“I could eat more,” Nash admits. “Like, I’ll probably take a leftover piece of the cheese pizza to bed with me.” The bacon and pineapple pizza was demolished.
“Take whatever you want,” James says, then gives me a small shrug as if he’s not sure he said the right thing.
Once cake is done, James checks with the kids to make sure they don’t need help with homework. Both say no, Sadie saying she’s going to take a shower, Nash thanking me again for coming, before his phone buzzes. He grins at it, turning into a typical teenager and stuffing his earbuds in, heading to his room, face in his phone.
“I think people are messaging him now,” James says softly. “Like friends. He came out of tryouts with two boys, and he’s been texting. That’s new.”
“That’s because of you,” I say. “All the changes, them having a steady life, finding some kind of normalcy—school, basketball, art—that’s because of my good boy.”
He grins, shivers. I glance toward the hallway where the kids disappeared, take his hand, and tug him farther into the kitchen. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” I lower my voice. “You deserve to come tonight.”
He bites his bottom lip, shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Yes, please, Sir. But not here.”
“Walk me to my car.”
“But—”
“Now.”
James noticeably swallows, then nods. “I’ll be right back.”
He heads the direction the kids went, I assume to let them know he’ll be back. When he returns, he’s clearly trying to bite back a smile. It doesn’t stop while we put on our shoes, head down the hallway, and into the elevator.
“Why is the danger of getting caught so hot to me? At my age, I shouldn’t—”
I shut him up with my mouth, press him against the wall of the elevator, rutting against him as my tongue pushes between his lips. James grabs my hips, digs his fingers in, letting me have my way with him, feeding me moans I’ll always be hungry for.
When the elevator dings, I pull away, James breathless, trying to straighten his clothes. “It’s okay to enjoy sex, James. It’s okay to have kinks. Your age doesn’t matter.”
He nods as we get out. “Logically, I know that. Just my brain playing tricks on me sometimes. Plus…it’s new. Not the BDSM aspects, but the throwing caution to the wind—at the college, here—but again, because I trust you.”
I’ve never wanted someone to trust me more, never thought hearing those words would make me feel like a fucking king.
“Good. You can always trust me. I want to be here for you in everything.”
His feet stop moving, his body tensing.
“Don’t freak out. I’m not pushing you. I just want you to know how I feel.” The city is settling down around us, but still alive with cars on the streets, the sounds of music from some of them as they speed by. “Come on,” I say, not wanting him to respond here. “There’s a parking garage for your SUV, right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do you have your keys?” James nods, and I add, “Lead the way.”
I follow him to his SUV. The garage is full but quiet.
“In the back,” I say, and James obeys, both of us sliding in. “I’ll let you come, and then we talk.”
“Can I suck you first?” he asks, the lights from inside the garage shining into the vehicle.
“You want to blow me out here? What if one of your neighbors walks to their car and sees us? What if they know how fucking dirty you are? Know you’re my naughty boy who likes getting on his knees and choking on my cock? What if they know you like it when I spit in your mouth and make you my toy?”
