Total Fabrication Page 3

  And when we win this thing, Pratt Institute will have to accept Jace.

  We’ll go our separate ways, for real this time.

  I know Jace, I know he’ll never look back.

  But remembering our time together is all I seem to do.

  Something’s gotten into Blake. His gorgeous face is usually clear of emotion, chill, relaxed, the most easy going guy I know. But more and more lately he’s turned introspective, which makes him way too hard to read.

  I’m not used to it.

  I don’t like it.

  We pull up out the front of the three story row house, the façade still weeks away from being anything worth looking at. The scaffolding obscures everything but the front door, yet even with the metal frame and green cloth, I can already picture how amazing this place is going to turn out.

  The three row houses are classic Victorian, on a rare almost flat street just a few blocks away from San Francisco Pier. These babies are going to go for a fortune, and while Blake and I have done renos before, this is the biggest project we’ve worked on yet. Portland just isn’t in the same ballpark.

  Blake orders the pizza as we walk inside, and fucking hell pizza. We’re in San Fran-god damn-cisco and we’re eating the same shit we could be back home. I keep those thoughts to myself though, oddly surprised dinner wasn’t left up to me.

  We did a decent clean up of the site earlier, but all the front entrance and entertaining spaces are still empty shells littered with power tools and caked in a layer of dust that never seems to go away.

  But finally we have a bedroom. Just opening the door and looking around at the pristine, homey space relaxes me. No more sleeping on the couch, no more feeling bad that Blake insisted on taking the floor every night.

  My muscles are already sobbing at the thought of a proper night’s sleep.

  “Should be twenty minutes,” Blake says. “You want first shower, or …?”

  “You go, I had one before we left.”

  Blake shrugs and grabs his stuff before heading into the en suite. I know he showered earlier too, but he’s always been over the top about hygiene.

  I strip out of my clothes and walk into the dressing room to grab a shirt and pair of sweats. So far our clothes have been dumped unceremoniously on the floor, but over the next few days, I’ll get them all hung up properly. Finally.

  Damn, it’s so good to have the luxury of a bedroom.

  The shower cuts off and Blake yells out to me. I walk out to find the bathroom door cracked a little, his blue eyes peering out.

  “What’s up?”

  “I accidentally picked up your pants.” He tosses a pair of sleep pants through the crack. “Can you grab mine?”

  No babe, barely any eye contact. The cameras aren’t on us now, and it shows. Looking down at the material, I recognize my half of our matching pajama set. “How did you mix that up? You’re two sizes bigger than me, you oaf.”

  “I wasn’t thinking.” He relaxes his hold on the door and it creaks open a little, revealing a sliver of his chest. All I can make out is smooth skin, and a hint of the dark hair that lightly covers his pecs. My mouth goes dry as my cock tries to perk up.

  I quickly turn my back and go in search of his pants.

  Even months later, my body still reacts to him. And when Blake looks like that, I can’t exactly tell my cock down boy because it’d be as useless as a pig on lipstick. Or lipstick on a pig?

  Whatever. Useless. It’d be useless.

  When I pass his pants over, I refuse to look again, not that my memories are getting the message to let it go. All I can picture is him stripping off his towel, rubbing it over his heavy cock and balls, then bending forward to pull on his pants, that sexy ass sticking out and tempting me.

  The knock on the front door thankfully jerks me away from that line of thinking.

  We settle in the living room with our pizza, and I make a conscious effort to focus on the TV and nothing else.

  Not the way Blake didn’t need to ask what I wanted—cheese with extra basil and oregano.

  Or the way Blake smells after his shower—apple shampoo and cedar body wash.

  Not the way his thick thighs are spread wide, or the way he leans forward and folds the pizza slice before shoving it into his mouth, or the way he breathes heavier through his nose as he chews.

  And I definitely don’t notice the way his lips pout as he sucks the grease from each of his fingertips.

  Who am I kidding? I don’t even know what goddamn show is playing.

  He eventually folds the pizza box closed and falls back in the couch, rubbing a hand over his stuffed stomach. I know from experience he can put away a whole pizza and I can still trace the lines of his abs with my tongue.

  The memory comes with a ting of longing.

  Why wasn’t I good enough? Why didn’t we talk about our shit and move on from arguments like fully functioning adults?

  Maybe our break up was for the best.

  But as he yawns wide, muscle jumping in his cheek from his stretched jaw, I realize I don’t want it to be for the best.

  I want the arguments and the mess and having to make every decision over every little thing. Sure, I could do without all those things.

  But I can’t do without him.

  I love him more now than I ever did.

  And he seems more distant than ever.

  I’m wrecked. It’s been a big week with little sleep. Jace is leaning back against the couch, eyes heavy-lidded, making me think he feels the same.

  “Bed time?”

  Even saying those words sends a ripple through my stomach. The last time we shared a bed, I’d fucked him into the mattress. If I’d known that was going to be our last time together, I would have taken it slower, made it count.

  He hums. “I guess.”

  His cheeks color slightly and I wonder if he’s reliving what I am, or if it’s only just hitting him now that we’re going to be sharing a bed together. Sure, I could always sleep on the couch, but I’m not interested in having to explain our separate sleeping situations when the guys get here to wake us up tomorrow.

  “Alright, up you get.” I grab his forearm and Jace pouts out his pink bottom lip like he always used to.

  “But I’m tired.”

  I shrug. “Fine. You sleep on the couch, I’ll take that massive bed all to myself. Good talk.”

  “You’re an asshole.” He groans.

  I tighten my grip on his arm and yank him to his feet. “Or you can stop being a lazy shit for a hot second and get your ass to bed.”

  Something flickers across his face, and hell, that’s not the first time I’ve said that to him.

  The amount of times I’ve told him to get his ass to bed is ridiculous, and I’m willing to bet not one of those times was to sleep.

  Which I refuse to think about right now.

  I immediately step back.

  “You’re hot when you’re bossy,” Jace teases and when he slinks past me, I’m about a second away from swatting his ass. I rein it in though, because when I did it the other day, I just barely held back from squeezing it, and that was only because there were other people around.

  Alone? I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  After switching the TV off, I combine the leftover pizzas into one box, which I put in the fridge that’s currently sitting in an empty room that will end up being the kitchen. And even though I know what it’s supposed to look like, I’m not able to visualize it until it’s done.

  Yet again, I wonder what I’m going to do after this.

  Jace and I have flipped a few houses so we both have enough money in our bank accounts to live pretty comfortably for a while, but I’m not someone who can willinglyr be unproductive.

  With a steadying breath, I turn and make my way to the bedroom.

  The first thing I notice when I enter is the small amount of light from Jace’s bedside lamp, and the soft sounds coming from his phone. It’s a storm tonight, but I prefer the ocean,
and after we broke up, I missed the soothing noises so much I downloaded the same app he uses.

  Which I will never, ever tell him given how much I’ve teased him about the sounds.

  He’s in bed, back to the door, and as I cross the room to take the place beside him, my blood is pounding. The pulse hits my wrists, behind my ears, my chest, in such a solid way I’m surprised he can’t hear it.

  When I slide into bed, Jace reaches over and turns off the lamp, but hell, that doesn’t make things any better. Instead, all I’m able to think about is how warm his leg felt in the car, and how I used to love splaying my fingers out over his back and rubbing them over his skin.

  Jace shifts a little, sighing softly against his pillow, and I have to clench my fists to stop from reaching for him.

  He needs this breakup, I remind myself for the thousandth time. Staying with Jace wouldn’t be fair to him, or me, when, further down the road he realizes everything he’s given up for me.

  That doesn’t stop me from wanting him though. Jace is the sexiest guy I know. Light brown hair, hazel eyes, light scruff covering his face. All slim, smooth muscles. And once he gets going in bed … a shiver ripples down my spine.

  I’m half hard, and I know rolling toward him is a bad idea. There’s a little light coming through the window from the street lamps outside, which makes his face almost visible. He’s sleeping, I’d know that expression anywhere. I’ve missed it. His parted lips, relaxed forehead, that beautifully creative brain switched off just for a moment.

  Each breath is sleep drenched and steady so, as I’ve done every night once he falls asleep, I let my hand trail down my stomach to grip my cock. Most nights I have to rush through my jerk off session, but it’s still early, the bed is soft, and Jace’s warm body is stretched out beside me.

  And damn it, I won’t think of him. I slip my fingers under the waistband of my pants, pulling them down to hook beneath my balls and the second I wrap my hands around my dick, it’s instant relief, and yet nowhere near enough.

  I roll onto my back and prop my knees up, keeping all the action under the sheets. Just in case.

  My hand slides up and down the shaft and as I tighten my grip, I start to picture snippets of porn I’ve spent the last three months jerking off over, and not Jace. Not his smooth ass and perfect cock, the way it bounces and his thighs pull tight as he rides me …

  Oh, fuck.

  Tingles race through my balls and I try to keep my rapid breathing quiet but I’m in such a haze of lust I have no clue if I’m successful. Maybe I should feel bad for jerking off over the guy I left, but hell if my brain is stopping to catch up with that thought. Instead I’m bombarded with memories of his blissed out face, the needy little breaths as I plough into him.

  “Are you jerking off? Seriously?”

  My eyes fly open as I snatch my hand away from my dick. Jace hasn’t moved, just opened his eyes, and as I meet his stare there’s no way I can deny it. Not with my flushed cheeks and panting, not with the way all I can picture is him reaching over and taking me in hand.

  He narrows his eyes. “Not going to deny it?”

  “No.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “I haven’t gotten off in weeks and you can’t even wait until I’m asleep?”

  “I thought—”

  “At least in the living room, you were over the other side. I couldn’t hear … everything.”

  This time it’s my turn to be surprised. “You were awake then too?”

  I swear Jace’s cheeks get a little darker but I can’t be sure in this lighting. “Hard not to be, you grunt like a rhino.”

  I let out a shaky breath as my hand strays back to my cock. It’s aching and the way Jace’s voice hitches makes it throb with need. “So how long did you lay there listening this time?”

  “What?”

  “You just said I didn’t wait for you to fall asleep. Therefore you’ve been awake the whole time. Were you watching me, Jace?” And damn it, why is that thought so hot? I give my cock a solid stroke, and then another. My voice drops. “Do you want to?” I don’t try to hide the way my hand speeds up.

  He doesn’t answer, just lets his gaze fall on my arm, watching the way the bicep works up and down. Slowly, he props himself up on his elbow, focus slipping from my arm to my chest to my stomach, then flicking up to hold my eyes as he reaches for the sheets.

  I nod a little as he throws them back, exposing the tight grip I’ve got on my dick. He breaks eye contact as he turns to watch and it’s almost too much. I work my hand faster and faster, the occasional grunt taking over my shallow breathing. Jace’s face is heavy with lust as he watches, and it’s him lightly sweeping his tongue over his bottom lip that sets me off.

  Pleasure ripples from the base of my spine and into my balls, drawing them up tight. Then, a second before I’m about to blow, Jace moves.

  He pushes up from where he’s lying next to me, leans forward, and seals his mouth over the tip.

  “Nrghh.” I groan, and my free hand threads through his hair, holding his head in place as I unload onto his tongue. My dick twitches as Jace sucks, tongue lapping against my slit and I completely check out and just feel until my orgasm subsides and he’s swallowed every last bit.

  I’m still swimming in a post-organism high and don’t release Jace’s head, even when he sits up. Instead, I pull his face towards mine, but just before our lips can make contact, he turns his head.

  “That’s not what this was,” he whispers.

  My immediate reaction is to be hurt, but he’s right. We’re not together, we don’t get to kiss—not on the mouth anyway.

  “Fine.” Lightly grabbing his shoulders, I turn and lay him back again. “But now it’s my turn.”

  Jace looks like he’s going to object so I give him a second. Something twitches across his face and I know him so well, I’m expecting rejection.

  His expression relaxes. “Get going then.”

  Fuck yes.

  Blake doesn’t hesitate, he yanks on my sweats and dives down, taking my whole cock in one quick move. The man’s deep throating skills are incredibly, making it harder and harder to regret this decision.

  I know tomorrow this is going to hurt—and not physically because that would be okay—but I can’t bring myself to care. His mouth is on me again and no matter how conflicted I feel about that fact, I push away all the doubts and let go. Just enjoy the sensations of his throat tight around my dick.

  Blake massages my balls and works my cock, pulling off long enough for his tongue to trace every vein and groove before he dives on it again. There’s no teasing, no taking his time. His only aim right now is to get me off as quickly as possible, and damn, that might be sooner rather than later.

  My ass lifts slightly as I fuck up into his mouth, but Blake’s hands find my hips and push me back against the mattress, holding firm. I’m about to complain when his palms slide around to my ass, squeeze it painfully, and then continue up the backs of my thighs.

  “Blake …”

  With one solid push, my legs are spread, knees up around my chest, and Blake’s eyes are trained on my exposed hole.

  “Fuck …”

  I’m surprised he can even manage that word. His lips shine with spit, and I’m sure if I could see him properly, his expression would be pure lust.

  He ducks down between my legs and again there’s no hesitation as his mouth closes over me. His hand works my slick cock up and down and when his tongue flicks over my hole, it makes my eyes roll back in my head.

  He’s still wearing his shirt but has kicked his underwear and pants right off so every time I glance down I have a perfect view of his bare ass and suddenly I wish I was the one rimming him.

  He lets go of my dick and grabs both ass cheeks, spreading me wide. His tongue pushes against my opening and when he finally breeches me, I let out a low moan. My legs turn to jelly when his hand returns to my cock, this time with more purpose than before, and I try so hard to hold off the im
pending orgasm, but when he twists his hand over the tip exactly the way I like, I’m done.

  My whole body spasms and twitches as I spill out over his hand. He doesn’t let up as he jerks me through it, tongue spearing in and out until the shaking in my thighs stops and I left out a long sigh.

  Without a word, Blake climbs off the bed and disappears into the bathroom. The light flicks on, spilling into the bedroom, and I hear the water run for a moment before he’s back. I note the washcloth in his hand.

  “But … that’s for staging …”

  He still doesn’t speak as he cleans off my stomach and dick, then runs the warm cloth over my ass. He strips off my shirt that caught some of my cum and balls it up before dropping it to the floor. His whole expression has flattened into the indifference he wore so often towards the end, and a sliver of hurt starts to take over.

  Once he’s done cleaning me, he lobs the washcloth back into the bathroom where it lands with a wet ‘splat’. He flicks off the light, and I completely lose vision again in the sudden dark, but sense as he pulls on his pants and the bed dips as he climbs back in. Even without being able to see him, I’m sure he’s facing away from me.

  “Goodnight,” he mumbles, voice distance.

  “Yeah, umm … thanks.” What the hell else do I say? I can’t tell him it was incredible. I can’t tell him I’ve missed that. I can’t even tell him how desperately I wish I’d kissed him. It was so close, but my good sense won out just in time.

  Blake grunts in response but doesn’t say anything, and even though we’ve just done something that wasn’t supposed to happen again, the tension is thicker than ever. I feel like I’ve mis-stepped going down the stairs, and it reminds me of how often I felt like I’d disappointed him when we were together.

  It highlights that while tonight was everything I wish I still had it life, it was also a total fucking mistake.