Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Jimmy
Lucien didn’t say a word during the ride to his house.
Neither did I.
The air in the truck felt charged, like right before a thunderstorm.
I gripped the steering wheel too tight, trying to keep my breathing quiet.
The headlights washed over the old houses lining the street, and each one blurred a little around the edges, like I was driving through someone else’s dream.
When we pulled into his driveway, I killed the engine and just sat there. Lucien’s place looked different than it had before—still elegant and a little haunted, but now it felt like the safest spot on the map. My heart was a mess of panic and hope, two wild animals fighting for the same space.
Lucien glanced over at me, his expression unreadable in the dash light. “Come on,” he said finally, voice low. “It’s quieter inside.”
I nodded and climbed out. My legs didn’t want to move right. The entire way up the walk I kept rehearsing what I needed to tell him—I lied to you, but not about how I feel. The words got stuck somewhere behind my ribs.
He unlocked the door, pushed it open, and gestured me in. As soon as it clicked shut behind us, Lucien wrapped his arms around me.
The hug came out of nowhere, hard and real. He held on for a long moment, whispering, “I’m so damn happy you’re safe.”
That cracked something open inside me. “Thanks,” I mumbled. I wanted to cry, but the tears were stuck in my throat.
He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Come on. Sit.”
We moved into the living room and sat side by side on the velvet couch. I couldn’t stop fidgeting—hands clasped, unclasped, a nervous rhythm that betrayed me. Lucien’s gaze was steady, gentle but unflinching.
He reached for my hand. “Tell me what you meant,” he breathed. “When you asked if I’d still want you here.”
My throat went dry. I bit my lower lip—because once I started talking, there’d be no taking it back. Then it all came spilling out, the way it does when you’ve been holding your breath too long.
“My father…” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s Calvin Tanner. Reverend Tanner. The televangelist.”
Lucien’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t move or speak.
“He sent me here,” I went on. “To spy on the Temple. To… dig up dirt. He wanted me to prove that you were dangerous. That all of you were.” The shame of it came roaring up, and I forced myself to look at him.
“But there wasn’t any dirt to dig up. All I found was kindness.
And peace. And people who weren’t afraid to think for themselves. ”
Lucien’s frown was small, thoughtful—not angry, but it made my pulse stutter.
“And you,” I whispered. “I found you.”
The words hung there between us, fragile as glass. “I realized I’ve been living a lie my whole life. Pretending to be someone I’m not—just to please my father. So I left. I can’t live that way anymore.”
Lucien didn’t answer right away, and the silence nearly killed me. The room seemed to shrink, every heartbeat too loud. I panicked.
“I—I found a studio apartment near here,” I blurted. “Small, but nice. And I got a job selling guitars and giving lessons at this shop on Grace Street, and—”
Lucien’s hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me forward into a kiss.
It wasn’t a small kiss. No, it was much more than that. It was relief turned into heat—his mouth covering mine, both of us clinging like we’d been waiting for this breath, this heartbeat, since forever.
When he finally broke away, Lucien’s eyes were wet. Tears ran down his cheeks, catching the light.
“I was so damn worried about you,” he whispered. “And now you’re here. You made it out of hell, Jimmy. I’m so proud of you.”
That undid me. I’d spent my whole life chasing approval from a man who’d never give it, and here it was—gentle, unconditional, freely offered. I could barely breathe.
Lucien cupped my face, thumb brushing my jaw. “You broke free from a place that told you to be ashamed just for being alive,” he said. “Now you have the rest of your life to be who you are. No one owns you anymore.”
I nodded, but I could barely hear him. All I could think about were his lips, his breath, the way the world felt right when he touched me.
Lucien’s eyes locked with mine.
And this time, I moved first.
“I want you,” I murmured, my voice shaking but certain. “More than anything.”
He didn’t make me say it twice.
Our mouths met again, hungrier now—need and gratitude and pure, unfiltered wanting colliding all at once. I lost track of where I ended and he began.
When the kiss broke, he stood, breath ragged, and took my hand. His palm was warm and firm around mine.
“Come upstairs,” he whispered.
I followed him without hesitation.
The bedroom light was low, gold spilling over the edges of the bed.
We were still kissing, the kind that makes you forget everything that came before.
Shirts came off, hands found skin, the air thick with wanting and disbelief that this was real.
Lucien broke the kiss, panting softly, forehead resting against mine.
“Jimmy,” he breathed. “You’ve been through so much. Are you sure this is what you want?”
I didn’t answer with words. I answered with my body.
Grabbing Lucien’s face in both hands, I kissed him like a man starved—like a 28-year-old virgin who’d finally stopped being afraid of heaven or hell, and only wanted to feel alive.
Lucien’s hands fell to my ass and squeezed, and a low moan came from within me.
I felt his erection pushing against my lower stomach, and my knees grew weak.
Lucien suddenly pushed me away, and I gasped.
“Jimmy, I don’t want to push you into...”
I placed my index finger over his mouth, and whispered, “I’ve waited a long time for this moment.” Glancing down, I felt heat rush to my cheeks. “28 years, to be honest.”
Lucien’s eyes widened. “You, um, you’re a...”
“Virgin,” I met his gaze. “Please don’t freak out or anything. It’s just I’ve never been able to...”
Lucien cut me off with a kiss—this one softer, reverent, like he was holding something precious. When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine.
“I’m not freaking out,” he breathed. “I’m honored.” His thumb traced the line of my jaw. “And I’m going to make sure your first time is everything it should be.”
My heart hammered so hard I thought it might crack a rib. “I trust you.”
A smile stretched across Lucien’s cheeks, and he guided me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed, and I sat, looking up at him. The lamp cast shadows across his chest, highlighting every curve of muscle, every breath.
Lucien knelt between my legs, hands sliding up my thighs. “We’ll go slow,” he murmured. “And if you need me to stop—”
“I won’t.”
He smiled at that, a little sad, a little proud. “You might. And that’s okay too.”
Lucien placed his palm on my bulge, his lips pursing. Then a low groan came from him. “You are trusting me, like, that is such a privilege.” He rubbed my dick through my jeans, and this time I groaned. “I’m going to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before in your life.”
He got to his feet, and moments later his clothes were on the floor. His smooth tan skin glistened with sweat. And his cock — jeez, it felt weird even thinking that word — was thick, and long. Lucien stepped forward, grabbed my hand, and wrapped my fingers around his girth.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, and gently squeezed. Lucien let out a sharp inhale, his abs tightening under my touch. His hand covered mine, guiding me in slow, deliberate strokes. “You can touch me however you want,” he said, voice rough. “No rules here. Just you and me.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse roaring in my ears. The weight of him in my palm was intoxicating—real, alive, mine. I tightened my grip experimentally, and Lucien’s breath hitched. A thrill shot through me. I’d never touched anyone like this before.
Then he lifted me to my feet, and his fingers were at the button of my jeans, popping it open with practiced ease.
The zipper came down, and cool air hit my skin.
I gasped as he hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging my jeans and briefs down in one smooth motion.
My cock sprang free, achingly hard, the tip already wet.
Lucien’s breath stuttered. “Fuck, Jimmy,” he whispered, like he was looking at something sacred. His thumb brushed over the head, spreading the slickness, and my hips jerked involuntarily. “You’re perfect.”
I whimpered, my face burning. No one had ever looked at me like that—like I was something to worship.
Lucien dropped to his knees, and his mouth followed the path of his thumb, lips parting as he took the tip between them.
The wet heat of his tongue sent a jolt down my spine, and my fingers tangled in his hair.
“Lucien—oh God—”
He pulled back just enough to smirk up at me, dark eyes glinting. “You taste even better than I imagined.” Then he took me deeper, hollowing his cheeks, and my vision blurred at the edges.
I was going to come. Right here, right now, from just his mouth.
“Wait, wait—” I gasped, tugging at his shoulders. He released me with a wet pop, licking his lips like he was savoring me.
“Too much?” He asked, voice thick.
I shook my head, breathless. “No, it’s—it’s too good. I don’t want to finish like this. Not yet.”
Lucien’s smile was slow, satisfied. “Lay down.”