55. Remy
55
Remy
“ F uck that’s hot,” Win hisses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
My brow lifts as he passes a mug of tea I brewed for him between his hands like it’s a game of hot potato.
“One minute it’s too cold, the next it’s too hot,” I scoff and plop into the corner of the couch again. “I see there’s no pleasing you, Prince Winston.”
He shoves his face into the steam. Inhales. Then sighs contentedly with this adorable little smile that makes my dick twitch.
“Smells good,” he hums. That sound goes straight to my balls which still ache with the reminder of what we just did.
We laid in bed for an eternity, drifting back into ourselves. Win's cum nearly dried on the sheets by the time I scooped him up (the fucker is heavier than he looks) and marched into the shower where I proceeded to kiss and clean every inch of his perfect body. Once I was satisfied, I dried him off and dressed him in some sweats, which I'm pretty sure were mine at some point, before leading him to the small living room to watch a documentary. (He won't shut up about this new deep dive into Appalachian Cryptids.)
Alright, I may be going overboard, but I can’t ignore this instinctual need to take care of him. It’s an urge I didn’t expect. I’ve never been much of a nurturer— just ask my cat— but where Win is concerned, I’m apparently a doting, down-bad bitch.
Oh god… I’m turning into my mother.
“What’s that face for?”
I blink my boyfriend into focus again. It’s rare to see him without makeup smudged around his eyes. He looks so delicate. Like his trademark liner is a form of armor, protecting the fragile vulnerability beneath. To have this version of him is a fucking gift.
“Nothing, love,” I sigh, my lips curving up. Around him, smiles are effortless. “Come here.”
Cautiously, Win wiggles back, holding the tea in front of himself like a live bomb until he’s settled between my legs. Then he melts. My fingers card through his damp raven hair. I kiss the top of his head and breathe in the sandalwood scent of his shampoo. Sweet. Fresh. Sexy.
Mine .
“I don’t wanna burn my tongue,” he complains, sticking the tip of said tongue into the scalding liquid. Instantly, he recoils, wincing. “Ow!”
“Do I need to blow on it for you too, your majesty?”
Grey eyes snap to me. Squint. Then twinkle with mischief.
“No, but you can blow on something else.”
I level a deadpan glare.
He grins like a deviant.
“Like you can actually come again right now.”
He sucks in his cheek, brows pinched in concentration. “I’m down to try.”
I bite his ear and whisper, “Don’t tempt me. ”
Goosebumps rise on his neck and bare chest. He bites that damn lip for the hundred-millionth time and my Pavloved dick starts to thicken. But the playfulness in his gaze dims, dark clouds sweeping in.
“What’s wrong?” I murmur, combing his hair back.
He stares into the depths of his tea. “I didn’t want to leave you.”
The confession is barely a whisper.
Seeing the brutal abuse he endured hurt me to my soul. Once it began, I refused to look away, no matter how violently it tore me apart. The second that video ended, Richard threw up in the wastebasket under his desk. I followed suit in the adjoining bathroom. After splashing my face and rinsing my mouth out, I sprinted to the guest house, guilt and fear threatening to stop my heart.
He kept this horrendous trauma locked inside a vault for six fucking years. I’d blamed him and hated him and yelled at him when he’d gone through that . And he just took it.
My arms tighten around him.
His finger taps the mug. “I was on my way to Kingsbury to wait by Jeanie until your bus got back. I wanted to surprise you and…” A jagged breath. “Hoped to lose my virginity to you. That night. But they…”
The bone-deep ache abruptly sharpens into an acute, stabbing pain. Swallowing the choked sob caught in my throat, I press my mouth to the top of his head. His hands tremble, the tea rippling.
“I couldn’t stay," he rasps. "They said they’d show anyone if I told. And what if they did it again? I was destroyed and so fucking terrified.. . I never wanted you to know, both out of shame and the need to protect you from the horrible truth. I couldn't pretend everything was fine either. I had to go, even if it meant breaking your heart. It was easier to lie to you than accept what had been done to me… so I wrote that awful note and drove th ree towns up before I had to pull over for a few hours to sleep. I probably should’ve gone to the hospital but I couldn’t face anyone. I muted all phone notifications except the GPS until I got to Dad’s.”
Carefully, I remove the mug from his hands and set it on the end table. His confession from last night resurfaces in my mind. His dad didn’t know. He didn’t even ask . The love of my life was silently screaming for help and in return was met with indifference. Anger and sorrow duel with grief and guilt.
Win twists in my lap, cheeks glistening as he cups my jaw. “I hated leaving you. Every day, no matter how much time passed, I thought of you. And even though it was hell to get here, I found my way back to you and I’m so fucking happy I did.”
A cry slips from my throat as I hug him hard. He molds himself against me like if he burrows into my body enough, we’ll merge.
“Me too.”