A/N: Mature content. 🤪🚻🤪

After four hours spent in a football stadium crowded with more than ninety-three thousand people, what I liked most about Gino's Restaurant was a tie between its location and how nondescript the interior looked. The sparse attendance of other customers at Jake's post-game restaurant choice eased a strain I hadn't realized was pent up in my shoulders. Even my cheeks relaxed as a smile spread across my lips.

He went lowkey.

For one moment, where Jake was any regular college-aged guy who took his mom out to dinner, a wave of appreciation swelled inside me while I parked my car on a sidestreet closer to UCLA than USC. By the time I stepped into the small, corner street stucco building with a warm, basil and garlic-infused smell, I'd completely snuffed out that feeling.

Doesn't matter. I'm still mad.

Thankfully, Mrs. Harrison decided the best meet up logistics were she waited outside the player's exit while I walked to my car, then picked them up curbside at the Coliseum. Jake signed a few autographs and snapped a few pictures until the last request ended, which hadn't bothered me except how the attention served as a sobering reminder of how many people worshiped the ground under his feet. A few times he'd lifted his chin over someone's head or shoulder, fixated his eyes on me, and mouthed 'sorry,' but I honestly couldn't have cared less.

Our car ride over here was mostly silent, aside from Mrs. H's backseat turn-by-turn directions, since Jake sat next to me and obviously decompressed. For as outwardly social of a guy he was, he slowly rode down his post-game highs, leaned back in my passenger's side seat, and sat with his eyes closed more than he'd kept them open.

The silence only prodded into my irritation that started at Mrs. Harrison's announcement that I was Jake's girlfriend. It grew and festered inside me the longer I sat in my car, to the point where I only grumbled a "Thanks," as Jake held open the door at Gino's.

Nothing in the L-shaped space stood out with familiarity, from the pale, light yellow walls with a stucco texture, dark mood lighting that cast more shadows than highlights on the square, wood tables topped with black linens and positioned around a corner bar. Two businessmen men in suits and loosened ties sat on aged black leather bar stools. They rested their elbows on the same wood-grained bar top as the tables and quietly nursed their problems away in solitude, one drink at a time.

Not even the small group of college-aged women who sat at two tables pushed against the front windows indicated this restaurant was special. Given how they clinked widely fluted cocktail glasses, rang out a hearty verse in 'Happy birthday' to one of them, and collectively laughed like they were the only patrons present, they didn't care about our presence here either.

"Hey." Jake's elbow nudged my shoulder as he came up behind me. I kept my gaze focused forwards, where Mrs. Harrison chatted with the host about which choice of the mostly open tables she wanted.

My chin dipped down, eyes traveled over my shoulder, and a weighted sensation filled my very empty stomach when I saw he wore a genuinely warm smile that none of me appreciated.

Correction, none of me believes.

My shoulder blades pinched together and spine straightened as he leaned over and swept his lips across my right cheek. Instead of the kiss I expected, he just trailed the tip of his nose around the shell of my ear and mumbled, "You okay? You're quiet."

Quietly contemplating the demise of your avocadoes.

A few silent bobs of my head followed, since half of me voted that I ripped Jake a new asshole and the other half wasn't sure why I was even upset anymore. Sure, I hadn't appreciated the girlfriend card laid out but technically Mrs. Harrison had played it, not Jake.

Let's not forget the asshole's loose-dick desperates.

Visually, Jake had cleaned up by the black suit and shiny black dress shoes he wore. In one stretch of his arms, he removed his jacket and revealed a wine red dress shirt underneath. A twitch pulsed the pads of my index fingers when I saw that the topmost button, near his collar, was open. Just a sliver of bronzed skin on his chest flashed, along with the divot at the base of his neck that peeked out above his white undershirt's V-neck collar.

Jake's dark brown hair was damp and slicked back but a few strands already hung down over his forehead and curled around his ears. The five-o-clock shadow from before the game was gone, replaced by smooth, evenly toned skin and a light shadow only from his jawline.

From Gino's entrance doors, we walked past walls adorned with a weird mix of USC and Sicilian-based decor, like a framed, nameless number three Trojans' jersey next to a yellowed, faded historical drawing of the island of Sicily near the host's stand. Most of the textured walls were covered with family pictures that centered around a short, round-bellied man with thick, bushy eyebrows close in color and width as his mustache.

His eyes, the color of warm caramel, sparkled within every picture, particularly the ones where his arm wrapped around a short woman with black hair bound up in a bun and grubby white apron tied around her neck and waist.

As we walked through what felt more like a family house than a restaurant, the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled up when Jake's hand lingered on my waist, his long fingers wrapped around towards my navel. His arm draped diagonally from my right shoulder to left hip and heat radiated through his shirt. A spicy mix of fresh aftershave, soap, and Jake's cologne hit my nose before his large, warm hand clutched my waist.

I know that smell...

"Gino, the owner." Jake's deep voice vibrated into my right eardrum as a fine sandpaper texture from his chin rubbed over my temple. Waves of warm breath passed down the side of my neck as his lips lingered.

"I got that," I mumbled, my eyes fixed on the picture. "Sicilian too."

"Mom likes it." He shrugged casually. "Even though she brings boxes of food with her every time she visits down here, we usually eat here after games."

"Containers," she corrected him over her shoulder with a smile. "And your housemates love me for it."

"No argument here," a grumble vibrated in Jake's throat column, now pressed into the back of my shoulder. After a few more steps, he pulled back from the close proximity and shot me a look of playful amusement.

"Not surprised." I smiled at the back of Mrs. H's head, who had football house den mother written all over her. She turned back again, her smile stretched wide and high up into her cheeks and a flash of amusement popped over the backdrop of satisfaction in her eyes.

She probably bakes them cookies and warms up their jockstraps.

I took another step behind Mrs. Harrison towards our table, but blood pressure cuff-like pressure squeezed around my upper arm stopped my foot mid-air. A quick glance down showed Jake's arm gripped me tight enough I was rooted on the spot but not hard that I felt any pain.

When I lifted my eyes, my mouth tightened at the concern I saw in his, which skittered my heart a faster beat. "I'm fine," I muttered in a flatlined tone.

"No you're not," he grumbled but released my arm. I quickly closed the gap behind Mrs. Harrison, who stopped and stood next to a square table surrounded by a sea of empty seats.

The table was cornered in by the restaurant's back wall and a thinner wall that separated the dining space from a hallway that led to the bathrooms. If the obvious 'Restrooms' sign hung on the wall wasn't obvious enough, the way Mrs. Harrison walked straight there with a casual, "Order me a water," thrown over her shoulder showed that we were as far away from the entrance and front windows as possible.

Jake gestured to a seat with one of his hands, then sat next to me. My butt hit soft, supple leather but I hadn't sat for two seconds before he pestered me again as soon as his mom's short frame stepped into the bathroom.

"What?" he muttered quietly.

"What what," I shot back in the same flat, bored tone of voice and reached for a menu from the stack the host had placed in the center of the table.

Without a blink, warm pressure from his palm compressed my left thigh and he blurted out, "Since we got here, you've looked like you want to rip my balls off."

I flashed my best flirty smile in his direction, then glanced away. "Is that what you'd like me to do?"

"Loaded question," he shot back with a harder squeeze that parted my lips. "Right now, I want you to be honest."

"Sure," I practically purred out. "Let's be honest, but please, let's wait until -"

"What would you like for drinks tonight?" A young, rail-thin waiter with brillo curls, dressed in a white shirt, baggy black pants, and enough acne I assumed he was a teenager blurted out, "Three waters Mister Harrison?"

"Yes please, Max," Jake grumbled.

"Have you thought about any appetizers?" the kid started without a look up from his pen poised over a white paper order pad.

"Number seven, please tell Gino we're here." Jake's odd response earned him a look, so I shot him one but he just smirked. "The usual, please, for three instead of two."

"Huh," waiter boy mumbled like I wasn't the only one who had no clue what Jake had just ordered, then nodded and bowed out.

I didn't have enough time to ponder the 'usual two' Jake casually mentioned because Mrs. Harrison reappeared and took the seat furthest from the hallway. While she removed her coat and hung it next to her purse on the corner edge of her wood chair back, I pulled out my phone.

me: Call your Mom in five minutes.

As I'd hoped, my phone vibrated with a quick response.

Ellie: Why?

me: Trust me. Just do it.

That should buy me enough time.

"Now..." Poor Mrs. Harrison folded her hands over the table and shifted her eyes between me and Jake, whose hand still sat clamped around my thigh like a vice grip. "What -"

"We need to talk," I blurted out, then placed my palm on top of Jake's, which still rested on my thigh, and spread my lips into the sweetest smile possible. "All of us."

"We do." She smiled politely and her eyes flickered brighter, like they'd done before every earlier line of questioning she'd fired at me during the game.

"Thank God," Jake grumbled and his free hand reached for his water glass.

"Aww," I cooed softly and internally high-fived myself for the way his eyebrows drew together as he took a nice, long, slow sip. "Be nice. I am your girlfriend -"

Cold, tiny sprinkles flicked into the side of my face as Jake spluttered and choked on his water. A red flush came over his face, his eyes watered gloriously, and he half-gasped, half-gurgled.

Like I'd expected, my sentence hung open-ended because Mrs. Harrison gasped and clutched both her cheeks in her palms. With a tight clench of his fingers into my thigh, Jake released a low grunt and, when my eyes flicked up to his, wore a closer expression to Edvard Munch's Scream than his mom's, even after her mouth dropped open.

"I mean..." I kept my gaze on Jake's and offered my palm up in Mrs. Harrison's direction. "That's how she introduced me, so naturally I assumed that..."

"I did but - Oh, Jake... It's true?" Mrs. Harrison's eyes flooded with an utterly pure happiness that felt like an internal gut punch. A heavy sensation sank my heart down to my stomach level because, truly, her feelings weren't the ones I wanted toyed with.

Mine neither, for the record but let's start with the asshole who wanted these distinctions.

"Mom..." he started in a slightly strained voice, but surprised me when he admitted, "Harper is -"

In a moment I couldn't have scripted better myself, Mrs. Harrison's purse erupted with a phone jingle. "Ellie..." She frowned down at the screen, then looked up at me and Jake with silent permission that she took the call. "I can call her back."

"No, go ahead." Mister Predictable finally released my thigh, scooted enough sideways in his seat that I had enough ass clearance, and swept an arm forwards. "Harper and I have to talk anyway."

With a slight lean towards me and one more thigh squeeze, which now bordered on painful, he emphasized, "Now."

A slight twinge of guilt twisted inside me at the bright smile that lit up his mom's face. "Hi Ellie!"

"We sure do, honey badger," I murmured, intertwined my fingers in Jake's larger hand, and dragged him down the bathroom hallway behind me.

We hadn't gotten more than two steps before my shoulders twitched with suppressed laughter because I'd almost forgotten how enjoyable uncomfortable Jake was. The surprise that shot through his eyes as I shoved him into the women's bathroom and locked the door behind me proved that he hadn't expected we talked in here either.

Let's see if he expects the next part of his punishment.

With a dark look in his eyes, he demanded, "The fuck is going on!?"

My eyes glued to his so he knew I was serious. "That's what I'd like to know because your mom introduced me earlier as your girlfriend -"

"Fuck." He groaned, palmed his forehead, and looked at me from under his pinky finger with exasperation, like I was insane. "I'll handle Mom. And Ellie too, since this obviously freaks you out so much."

I probably am insane.

As he dropped his hand, I tossed in, "I also obviously didn't appreciate the impromptu visit from your ESPN clambake -"

"My... Huh!?" Jake's forehead wrinkled as he mumbled out his thoughts. "I've never slept with anyone from... wait."

A giant index finger wagged in front of the tip of my nose. "Wait one fucking minute."

"Nope." Because he wasn't the driver of this conversation, I smacked his hand aside, stepped my chest flush against his extremely tensed sternum, then latched my lips onto the side of his neck.

Jake's skin, warm and scented like soap, rolled in between my lips and I sucked hard at a spot right above his shirt collar. As his neck muscles locked up with tension, I tugged gently with my teeth repeatedly in the same place and palmed the crotch of his pants. He grunted and shifted forwards but the softness my hand clutched showed I had work ahead of me.

The fucker only needed two words before my lips stopped their assault on his skin but not before a very visible, pink, puckered mark remained on the side of his neck.

"You're jealous."

I abandoned my vampire impression and pulled my head back until his shit-eating grin came into view. With his entire full attention on my lips, I parted them and gently flicked the tip of my tongue through the seam. The darkness in his eyes, irises rounded and pooled with heat, contrasted the way his lips curled upwards at the corners.

The sight of his stupid face, that fucking cocky smirk, fired off a chain reaction inside me and enraged was the best way I described how I felt the longer I stared at him. Venom soaked my voice when I spat out, "I hate you."

"No you don't." Jake flexed California-sized audacity with how loudly he laughed. His shoulders and chest shook, his head tipped back, and his throat column vibrated so hard that his slight Adam's apple bobbed. "Ha! Oh fuck, haha! You hate that you're jealous, of... of...."

The longer he laughed, to the point where his eyes teared over, my fingers twitched that I punched him right where I'd given him a hickey.

"I can't -" he drew in a shaky breath and dragged the pads of each index finger over his eyes. "Fuck, this shit's hilarious. My girlfriend is jealous... of something that didn't actually happen."

He really needs to stop saying the g-word.

My right index finger's knuckle cracked from how hard I clenched my fists. Right when my chest puffed up with a slow inhale, he snorted softly.

"And why are we in here? You think you'll just work me up, get me hard, and leave me like that?" his head tipped back and a few more loud laughs left his mouth. "Fuck, if you knew how many hard-ons I willed down when you ate dinner over in high school. Nice try, Mom's learned to ignore those."

"Oh no," I murmured, clamped my hands on his hips, and spun us around until Jake's lower back pressed against the vanity.

Jake's sharp inhale gave away his vulnerability as my hands roamed over the smooth planes of his chest, which had gotten broader over the years, down his tapered sides, and outlined the black leather belt on his waist. A quick jingle and zipper hiss later, Jake's pants and underwear pooled around his ankles.

"Harper -" he warned me as I wrapped both hands around him, which now wasn't completely flaccid but instead partially aroused as his dick pointed forwards at me.

Still, Jake at half-mast meant more work on limited time, so I outlined his tip between one hand's fingers and corkscrewed his shaft with hard twists from my other hand. "This isn't -"

"Tell me to stop and I will." I stood up onto my toes, dragged my lips up his jawline, over his cheek, and around the shell of his ear. The white-knuckled grip he held on the counters behind him and ragged breath in my ear fueled me further.

"Tell me you don't want this." A low groan left his thin lips as my hand cranked around him.

Full of cocky confidence, I dragged my hand down with each emphasized word, "Tell me you don't crave this, your mind hasn't already gone to picturing my lips wrapped around your cock, sucking you off until your toes crack from how hard they curl over, until you blow your wad in my mouth and I swallow you dry."

Jake's hands clenched the counters so tightly, I was surprised he hadn't broken off chunks of the granite. A slight red tint flushed over the center of his furrowed forehead and his chiseled cheekbones. His jaw was so tightly clenched, I knew he fought back against my words and the reactions they stirred inside him.

"You can't fight it." I ghosted my lips over his earlobes right when my index finger and thumb pinched his tip. "But no, I'm not going to just work you up and leave you hard and blue-balled."

With a hard stroke down, I emphasized the direct approach, "I'm going to suck you off."

My other fingers danced around the circumference of his head. "I'm going to leave you panting, light-headed, sweaty, and satisfied as fuck as you sit across the table without a fucking clue what conversation is going on around you."

With a slight pullback, my eyes studied him as I told him in a firm, steady voice, "And you're going to fucking stand here and take it without touching me."

"Harper," he growled out but I'd already lifted my hands to his hips, steadied my feet, and sank down lower.

No offense to Gino, but I pushed aside the bathroom floor's most likely disgusting existence. Right when my knees hovered six inches above the terracotta tiles, Jake's hand grabbed my shoulders.

"Wait."

My head snapped up but he just dropped one shoulder, took his folded over jacked, folded it again, then tucked it under my knees. In the oddly considerate gesture, the corners of my lips briefly flinched up.

Fucker almost ruined the moment when his finger dragged a path across my right temple, then tucked my hair behind my ear.

As I knelt down between his legs and grounded my palms on Jake's thighs, his full erection red, strained, and right in front of my face, I realized the unfortunate, honest truth.

Blow jobs are gross. They just are.

My mind thankfully distracted me from the obvious details as my head dipped lower and I worked in fast licks, slurps, sucks, tongue circles, and pursed lip pressure. Instead of Jake's trimmed hairs as his hips flexed slightly in sync with my movements, my eyes lifted upwards, all the way to where his head already tipped back, both hands again clenched on the counter, and eyes squeezed tightly shut.

My ego surged forwards as he tightened in my mouth, so I popped off and lowered my standards at the expense I tore Jake apart as I intended.

While I loved an earthy, natural, masculine smell, the smell of sweaty balls wasn't the greatest, and the man stink intensity depended on when the guy last showered. The view of the dimpled, wrinkled avocado pair as they hung heavy, bounced, and twitched close to my nose and mouth was... not attractive.

Just the mental reminder of a furball of pubes, even well-trimmed ones like Jake's, the saggy, puckered skin, and the feeling best described like my tongue juggled a rubber bounce ball choked my gag reflex more than any deep-throated cock. For my sake though, thankfully tonight we were on borrowed time so I only fondled his soft, warm sacs in one palm but mentally cataloged those future plans for the next time Jake pissed me off.

Despite the fact Ellie's phone call distraction was finite, stupidly determined that I not only made my point but hammered it home, I sat back on my heels. With a soft smirk at him from under my lashes, I gently kneaded his balls and asked in a coy voice, "Who's your girlfriend?"

Jake's chin dipped downward until his face, tortured in every possible way, loomed over me. His eyes were dark and hooded, faint lines creased between his eyes and curved the corners of his mouth, and a slight tremble quivered his lower lip.

By the silence that filled the airspace between us, Jake apparently wasn't going to offer the answer I demanded. So instead, I gave him a pass.

"Who's your fav-"

I hadn't even gotten out the entire word 'favorite' when he growled out, "You, Harper. Fuck, it's always been - oh fuck."

On the hard bathroom floors, the sting in my knees muffled by layers of Jake's coat, I closed my lips around just his tip before he finished his answer. For added measure though, as I lightly stroked my tongue over his slit, I extended one index finger lower into the tight skin between where my palm held his balls and Jake's asshole.

With one poke, the way Jake's body jolted like I'd electrocuted him was the only encouragement I needed.

P-spot for the win.

By the chorus of his low groans overhead and trembles in his thighs, Jake was putty just like I planned. While my tongue flicked just half an inch up and down, my fingertip prodded into his taut skin, just on the outside barrier of where his prostate sat. As my lips pursed in the tiniest of suctions on as little of his tip as possible, his large, muscular frame twitched and writhed under my mouth's control.

Compliments intermixed with swear words in the form of the dirtiest compliments that, in an equal mix of excitement and humility, shot bursts of pleasure between my thighs.

"Fuck, Harper, that's... fuck!"

Exactly.

I exhaled sharply at how darkly enraged Jake's eyes looked, the uneven red spots spread over his entire face, and his teeth clenched tight like he wanted to punch his fist through a wall. Visible even through his dress shirt, the strain in his neck, shoulders, and arms showed that the way his hands stayed on the counter, which I both respected and appreciated, tore into him.

While a deepthroat approach was quickest to the ejaculation finish line, truthfully though, after scrotum suction, I knew of only one other way that unraveled even the cockiest guy, bent his knees and curled his toes. So, with that end goal literally in the palm of my hand, I focused my last efforts on the sensitive skin around the flat ridge at the base of his pink, mushroom-shaped head.

Jake was no different, his head contained just as many sensitive nerves as the next dick and right now they worked in my favor. I dragged circle after circle with my tongue until my mouth filled with saliva and Jake's loud pants and low groans filled the airspace.

The ache in my knees served me a mental 'time's up' reminder. With a sigh, I sucked in my cheeks, took him to the back of my throat, then dragged him out against the palate of my mouth until the back of my teeth reached that very ridge. My lips pursed, I dragged him back in with a slight teeth scrape, and a tightening sensation pulled upwards where my palm gripped his base tightly.

A slight taste of his precum slid across my tongue on the next thrust as Jake's restraint broke. My shoulders flinched when his hands grabbed my head and his hips bucked against my movements. I glanced up and was rewarded by the dark storm of desire and lust that clouded over his eyes. He'd broken my no contact rule but had lost control, teetered close to the edge of his own restraint, and I lived for the rush of control I still had at that moment.

Next time I'm tying him down for that.

For now, I just popped off, leaned back, and reiterated, "Who's your favorite?"

Dark brown, near black, feral eyes peered down at me as his fingertips tensed into my skull and guided my mouth right back where he needed - yes needed at this point - me. When I resisted, he groaned out the wrong two words in a low, near threatening tone.

"My girlfriend."

Wrong answer.

My only response was my mouth enclosed around him again. "Mmm-mmm." My eyes rolled as my 'no' vibrated against his hot, tight skin. As alternated groans and curse words left the back of his throat, I hallowed my cheeks, relaxed my jaw, and choked him deep.

Even as his hips flexed against my movements, Jake was completely undone, under my control, my pace, and every part of me relished that control. His hands gripped my head tight but I guided the tempo as he clung onto me. With a flick of his shaft, his warm, hot essence coated my throat, then tongue on the withdrawal.

Just like my dignity, his cum was gone within one swallow.

With Jake's help, I rose off my numb knees and palmed my hands on the sink vanity. A few quick makeup touches and hair adjustments later, I looked almost completely the same but smirked at Jake's reflected appearance because he looked even better than I'd intended.

Jake's hair clung to his forehead in a few random places, his cheeks were flushed pink, and his eyes hazy. Dark, semicircular sweat marks sat below his neckline and both seams near his armpits and his shirt was so wrinkled that no palm smoothing ironed those flat.

My smirk widened as I tucked him back into his boxers, tugged his pants and belt back into place, then patted my palm onto his stomach.

"Can't wait to watch you handle this now, Jake."