Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(68)
“Honestly?” He gave me a wry smile. “I found a sugar daddy.”
My eyes widened at that and he gave me a nod as if to say that yes, he absolutely was serious.
“After I left my family behind in Nebraska, I bought a bus ticket for Boston, and lived in hostels and bathhouses while I placed discreetly worded personal ads and trawled gay chat rooms until I finally found a taker. I didn’t like him much, but I could fake it. Definitely not how I would have chosen to lose my virginity under optimal circumstances, but I had my eye on the prize. And yes, before you ask, he was married and in the closet. For five years he helped with my bills and tuition, and in exchange I went along with whatever he wanted to do in bed when he ‘worked late’ three or four nights a week. Anything except barebacking, that is. That was my hard limit.”
“Wow,” I breathed, doing some mental math to readjust my thinking toward the arrangement Brendan had offered me. Things could have been a lot worse than what I’d turned my nose up at.
Jace shrugged. “By the way, PSA time: It’s a damn good thing I stuck to that limit, because by the time I graduated, I’d discovered the guy had also been indulging in anonymous hookups on Craigslist. He had HIV. When I found that out, I told him not to touch me again. Not because he was infected, but because he’d cared so little about my well-being that he’d been trying to pressure me into unprotected sex while he was taking those other risks. Anyway, he disappeared, but by then I’d gotten what I needed from him. I’m just lucky I dodged the bullet with regard to oral transmission of any number of things. We didn’t use condoms when I went down on him, but then, I didn’t let him come in my mouth, either.”
I nodded, processing this for a moment, then looked over at him. “Is that why you’ve never given me a blowjob?” That little act was becoming conspicuous by its absence from our sexual repertoire since we’d met up again. He hadn’t had an issue going down on me that first time together, but since he’d learned about Brendan? Nothing.
“Sorry.” He gave me an apologetic look, flushing slightly. “The taste of condoms—or maybe it’s the texture—makes me hurl every time. Even the non-latex ones still . . .” He shuddered, his throat working as if resisting the urge to gag even at the thought. “I’m not exaggerating. I have humiliated myself all over a guy’s junk making the attempt. But I tell you what, you test negative in another month or so, angel, and I swear I will suck you dry.”
He put such a growly, hungry emphasis on those last three words that I arched in my seat and needed to adjust myself in my jeans.
“Jesus,” I muttered, resting my head against the back of my seat and closing my eyes against the mental image. Recovering, I arched an eyebrow at him. “So, when do I get to see your test results?”
He grinned and made an ostentatious display of checking his wristwatch. “In about an hour and forty-five minutes, traffic permitting. Though, if you’d rather wait until I can return the favor, that’s fair.”
I thought about the sight of his cock, thick and dripping, and the feel of him in my hand, the scent of him, the taste of his pre-cum on my tongue.
“No. No, I don’t think I’d rather wait.”
“Oh, thank God.” He laughed softly. “Anyway, the point of telling you about my ex–sugar daddy was to say: Give yourself a break for couch-surfing. It’s not some scarlet letter on your chest, saying you’re a deadbeat. People have sunk a lot lower to try to reach independence, and if you’re a loser for sleeping on a friend’s sofa, what am I for letting a guy I didn’t even like pay my bills for five years in exchange for sex? If someone wants to help you, and if you know you’re not just taking advantage of them, then let them help. Forget that voice that says you’re a failure if you can’t do it all yourself. Listen to the people who are saying you can for once, instead of all the ones who have told you that you can’t. Think you can do that?”
I thought silently for a moment, then nodded. “I think I can try.”
“Good.”
Just like that, the atmosphere in the car shifted as he flashed his devilish grin and looked at his watch again. “One hour forty-two minutes . . .”
I let my head fall back and laughed.
If the wolves are hovering near your fragile heart
I’ll do my part
And in time I know you’ll learn
What you need to know
What you need to show everyone
—Casey Stratton, “The Window Will Close”
We didn’t end up going out again after we reached Jace’s apartment that afternoon, which was perfectly fine by me. I had no objections to staying in bed and taking advantage of the fact that I could go down on him without suffering the taste of latex. And he had taken a particularly evil delight in playing with my new nipple piercings. Not much—they were far too new for that. But every once in a while, he’d gently bump the end of a barbell with a fingertip, just enough to send a jolt of pain to tighten my body.
We came up for air when our cell phones chimed again, announcing that Zhen had been born healthy and beautiful—including a newborn shot of her in all her blotchy, wrinkled glory—and that Ling was doing great. We sent the requisite congrats and to celebrate, had Thai delivered, and snuggled on the sofa, pretending to watch a movie while using it as an excuse to make out (and it was some really f*cking good making out; Lord, could that man kiss!). Then we went back to bed.