It's freezing out here, but my options are limited, as far as location is concerned.
Asa is looking around, checking every corner. I'm lighting a cigarette and setting it on the edge of the ashtray. He's leaning back against the tall wooden privacy fence.
"You have balls, I'll give you that," he says, watching me.
"Balls that you enjoy, if I'm not mistaken," I crack.
Asa dips his head in concession and laughs.
We're in my mother's backyard, on the side of the house where the fence begins.
"Obviously, if someone comes around from the front, they'd have to open the gate to see us," I explain, gesturing to the huge wooden door beside him. "If they're coming from the back, they'd have to open the back door, which has three deadbolts and sticks, so it makes this sound like a pterodactyl in heat."
Asa cracks up and I feel electricity chase down my back. I grin; his laugh is my favorite thing. Well, one of them anyway.
"You come up with the craziest shit, I swear. Three deadbolts?"
"You can take the Boricua out of the hood but you can't take the hood out of the Boricua."
Asa shakes his head, but he's smiling. "And the cigarette?"
"A decoy, Juilliard, keep up."
Snow is gently falling, and it glitters on his dark hair. His face is ruddy from the cold, and he's wearing my favorite pairs of jeans of his. I take him in; his boots, jeans, and heavy navy peacoat. He has black scarf that all but disappears in his hair, and there's no telling where his hair ends and the scarf begins. He's leaning back against the fence, relaxed like he always is, eyes half lidded. He always manages to look both rugged and classy at the same time. It's ridiculous how good looking he is. It still makes me want to throw a fit.
That murderous smile, the one that always makes me want to bite his lip blooms across his face. "Did you bring me out here to stare at me? Or did you want something?"
"Both," I grin wickedly.
He raises his eyebrows, "Oh, no, we don't have time for that."
"The fuck we don't," I say, and I close the gap between us, burying my face in his neck.
"Jonathan," he murmurs, but I can feel his hand already palming my ass, bringing me in. I normally hate it when people use my whole name, but it sounds so good in his mouth.
"That's me," I whisper against his neck and he shivers.
It's been three weeks since I've seen him last and I feel like I'm going to burst out of my skin. Since that first night, we had seen each only once more and it's driving me crazy. Today's a fluke. He's meeting my sister here to go out for lunch and I happen to be working on my mom's car.
Right now it doesn't matter, though. He's in front of me and I have him for at least fifteen minutes before we have to go inside and act like acquaintances. He pulls me in tight.
"I've missed you," he murmurs.
"Gay," I respond, but my face is hot. He chuckles.
I turn his face towards mine and press my mouth to his for a deep kiss and despite his earlier protest he returns my affection in kind. I can feel his arousal, my cock rubbing up against his through our jeans and I tug on his lip with my teeth before sweeping my tongue across it from corner to corner. He moans ever so softly against my mouth and grinds his hips against mine.
Fuck, I want him right now. I push against him hard with my entire body and he grabs the back of my head, his tongue exploring my mouth with more intensity. His hands are inside my coat, sliding under my shirt, and my skin prickles from his winter cold fingertips. I suck in a breath when those same cold fingertips and hot palms find their way to my chest, and my nipples pebble beneath his touch. All he does is brush his thumb across the barbell and I half laugh, half moan in his mouth. I can taste his smile.
Despite standing in the snow, I am sweating, and my skin feels so hot that I'm almost surprised it's not charred.
I twine my hands in his hair and grip hard at the scalp, the taste in my mouth never, ever enough. He kisses me like he's trying to taste every inch of me. It's fucking unreal.
I'm in my mom's backyard furiously making out with my sister's boyfriend. Nothing makes sense anymore.
"Jonathan," he manages to break the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. His voice is rough with arousal. I'm out of breath. I don't want to be done. I can feel my frustration rise. I can feel the precum wetting my boxers. I cradle his face in my hands.
"I know," I gripe, panting. I try to restrain my irritability. "We have to go inside."
"That's not what I was going to say," he growls, digging his fingers into my hair. I immediately yield at his touch. This man can subdue me in a way nobody ever has, and it has nothing to do with his physique. "I was going to tell you where to put those cock sucking lips of yours."
A groan comes out before I can catch it.Fuck fuck fuck. How are his fucking WORDS orgasmic, what the fuck is this? If someone referred to my lips as cocksucking two months ago they'd have been in for a dick slap themselves, but today it just makes the blood rush down into my prick.
I seize his mouth again, and slide my hand over the throbbing bulge in his pants. He responds by lashing his tongue against mine, and I feel his hand go around back and grip my ass hard. I quickly unbuckle his belt and reach in for my prize; it's thick and hot in my hand. He moans in my mouth and bites my lip.
"When?" I breathe hard, and start leaving kisses on his neck and throat. His cock throbs in my grip. I want to take it out so badly, right here in the snow. I don't give a shit if my knees go numb from it. "Please, Juilliard, I can't fucking stand it. Please don't make me wait."
I run my fingers along the vein leading from his balls up to where the ridge separates the bulb from his shaft. I smear his own arousal around the head and he thrusts his hips forward with gritted teeth and heavy breath. I am fucking drunk on this.
"When?" I demand again, giving his pole another squeeze and he shudders and catches my wrist. I stop. I can feel the tension eking out of the moment, and that flare of anger comes up again in a flash.
He slides my knit hat off my head and my hair explodes out like a party popper. He runs his fingers through the tight curls and grimaces.
"I don't know," he finally responds. "There's midterms this week and I have rehearsal for the upcoming concert. I've barely had enough time to see Veronica as it is. Winter's rough."
I close my eyes and take a step back, zipping my coat, remembering where I stand on the list of priorities. I don't know why it stings the way it does, though, mine aren't much different, Tara, Mom, work.
He sees my expression and winces, tucking himself away, buckling his belt. "Listen, I didn't mean--"
"Hey, man, no sweat. I know how it is," I play it off like I don't want to puke. Like I cannot physically feel the rejection. I can tell by his expression that he doesn't buy it.
He reaches for me, but I don't feel like dealing with this. I avoid him and sidestep, pulling out my weed and loading the one hitter.
"Jonathan," he starts but I interrupt him again.
"I said it's no big deal. I'll trade you this for my hat," I offer him the first hit with a strained smile. He looks at me with those stupid fucking beautiful eyes. I look away.
He sighs and tosses me my beanie and I pull it on my head. I hear the prehistoric door squeal and screech open and we freeze.
His eyes widen...and he starts cracking up.
"Damn, you weren't wrong, that really does sound like a dinosaur!"
"Like a velociraptor in labor," I confirm and peer around the corner.
My mom's head is poking out. "Oye, ¿ustedes quieren café?"
I look at Asa, "You want coffee? Mom's asking."
