Silent Is The Heart

CHAPTER 22

Easton

I’m at a loss as to what just happened. First, I was laughing at how ridiculous he was over that movie. Next, he was prying my soul from my body with that hurt look on his face. Of course, I feel something. I can’t be around him and not feel or not be around him for that matter.

I can’t believe he knows . Now that he figured out what a heartsick fool I was, I’m helpless to turn off whatever is showing in my eyes. It’s a miracle he didn’t realize it sooner, to be honest. I’d say it’s mortifying, but the reward is far from anything to complain about. My knees are still shaking. He kisses like each touch of his lips mean something. Aaron Manicki knows a game I’ve never played, and it both excites and terrifies the hell out of me. I only know one game and kisses in the past have only meant I wanted to get off.

When he stops at the side of his bed and turns to me, I nearly swallow my own tongue. Now what?

I… I don’t think I can fuck him. Is that what he wants?

God, I can’t believe I just thought those words, but I mean, it’s Aaron . It’s dreamy smiling, puzzle-loving Aaron, not I left town and now I’m back with an electrolarynx Aaron . Things are…different. This would mean something. What happens when you fuck someone and it means something? I fantasized plenty about something meaningful with him, but fantasy is less discombobulating than reality.

When his palms glide down my stomach, I forget whatever the hell I was thinking. His warm breath hits my lips. There’s nothing I can do to stop myself from tasting them again, so I don’t even fight it. Each little puff of air of his I steal, each of mine that I hand over willingly to him, sinks me deeper into this blissful quicksand of the unknown.

His fingertips dip into the front of the waistband of my jeans, loosening my button. God, yes. I want them off even if just to feel all my skin against his. I’m glad he’s not being reserved for once because I don’t know what my problem is. It’s like I’m afraid if I move too suddenly this will all end. I have no choice, though, when my jeans pool around my ankles.

Stepping out of them, I stare at his fingers working his sweats down over his hips. My heart wallops against my ribcage. He didn’t just grab his sweats; he’s taking his boxer briefs down with them.

I’ve seen so many dicks in my life, one more shouldn’t be fascinating, but it’s Aaron’s. It’s hard, adorned with a thatch of dark hair at the root, and bobs as it slips free of the fabric. He flashes me a self-conscious smile. Shit. I’m gawking.

Right. We’re doing this.

I want to do this. Whatever the hell this is. I just… have to show him my hard-on now too. Why does that feel like more proof of my former infatuation? He clearly doesn’t mind.

Stripping my underwear over my hips, I let them fall and kick them off like I’m ripping off a bandage. Nice finesse, Easton.

I feel like a piece of artwork up for criticism as he takes me in from head to toe. I don’t even think I was this self-conscious as a virgin. If any of my former conquests were watching right now, they’d be struck speechless or laughing their asses off.

I watch the way his thigh muscles and stomach flex as he backs up onto the bed on his knees. My legs move dumbly and I join him, colliding with the force field of his body heat. His touch is so soft, guiding my elbow all courteously, but it might just be an excuse to touch me. I’m looking for my own excuses, still baffled that he’s reciprocating. Gripping his sides, I give them a squeeze to show more participation. There’s a thin layer of ‘love’ to them that I want to knead like clay. My cock brushes up against his and kicks because I haven’t embarrassed myself enough tonight already.

“Well,” he whispers, “what do you think?”

Think? I’m not capable of that right now.

Leaning down on his forearm by the pillow, he pats the top of his comforter. “Want to see if you got your money’s worth?”

Oh… His comment earlier about the bed.

Right.

Settling down next to him, maybe someone else might feel some sort of benevolence over him since I did buy this stupid thing, but it’s just the opposite for me as he leans over and starts kissing his way down my arm.

“It’ll work,” I croak, which sounds way too much like the slut that I usually am. “I’m not the one who has to sleep on it every night.”

I’m about to reach up when he rises to his knees, but I’m at a loss when he bends further over me, placing kisses on my shoulder and back. I stay put in my awkward pose, half-leaning forward on my side. Foreplay —I should tell him he doesn’t need to bother, but I’m so anxious that prolonging things for once doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

Reaching out, I trace the side of his thigh, the soft hair there adding more realism to what’s always just been a fantasy. Running my hand up his hip as his feathery kisses pepper their way down my spine, I gulp against a lump in my throat when my fingertips reach the curls of his groin. Gliding my palm down his cock, I revel at the resistance of it against my hand because of how hard he is.

I did that. That’s for me . Un-fucking-believable.

The satisfied sound he lets out makes my blood burn hotter. I feel his hand go to my hip and nudge.

“Turn over?” he asks.

I have so many questions, but I comply, settling onto my stomach. His body heat covers me like a blanket. It’s so strange, like being… found. When his lips brush against the back of my neck, I close my eyes at the shiver the chaste contact sends through me. How can so little evoke so many sensations?

Moving lower, he traces the lines of my back with his nose and lips, stopping occasionally to place more kisses. His palm runs down the outside of my hip, a slow, delicate caress that doesn’t end when he reaches the middle of my thigh. He returns with a brief detour of his fingertips over the globes of my ass.

I’m fucking dead. Kill me now.

He wondered what I thought of his bed? Well, I want to tell him it’s going to have a six-inch-deep puncture in it if he keeps this up.

“What are you doing?” I laugh.

His stomach settles onto my ass, his chest fitting against the small of my back. Trailing his open palm up my ribcage, he whispers, “Making up for lost time,” and presses another kiss to the center of my spine.

Fuuuuck .

This is not going to end well… for me , but… I want it. It’s normal to want something you’ve never had, right? Freaking extended foreplay. Who knew?

Biting my lip, I bury my face in his pillow. It reeks of Aaron’s delicious scent and isn’t helping matters, but I let my body go lax like dead weight. I couldn’t move if I wanted to right now, save for the urge to rut into his mattress.

His fingertips dust the edge of my nipple as his tongue flicks the space between two of my ribs. I grunt against the urge to shudder.

I was wrong. He’s not sweet. He’s cruel as shit. How long do I have to lie here like this?

Those fingers move lower again, right to the hollow between my hip and thigh. He finds an opening and takes it. When his weight lifts an inch, I follow like a marionette. As soon as his hand wraps around my cock, he settles back onto me, effectively imprisoning my dick in his grip. My ass bucks backward into the hardness pressing against it. With nowhere for me to go, all that does is leave me gulping for even more air. God, it’s like being owned. Owned by Aaron.

Wouldn’t you love that? Some depraved, obsessed voice in my head whispers.

He gives me a stroke and I whine, fisting his pillow. Turning my head, I hope for a kiss. Something. Anything to put me out of this fast-building hysteria of arousal. His dick is like an afterthought to him though, leaking against the base of my ass, wasted. My ring flexes, begging, like it wants to grab him and pull him in.

I’ve messed around plenty of times with my ass. It’s always a bit painful, but with enough enthusiasm, and if you get the angle right, you can rock your own world. I’ve never trusted nor given a damn enough about the guys I hook up with to want that from them. It’s on the tip of my tongue, though, to beg Aaron for it right now, to discover what it would feel like to have him inside me. To be full of him .

He’s a bottom, I can just tell, and I think I’ve made it obvious enough that I’m a top, so I doubt that’s going to happen. I just need to try not to lose my mind for a few more minutes until he’s ready for me to give it to him. I don’t get many complaints, but if he’s left disappointed, I’ll never forgive myself.

“I was so afraid you’d leave,” he mumbles against my cheek, swirling his thumb over my cockhead.

“No,” I promise, but it comes out as a groan when his stomach undulates against my ass, forcing my dick through his grip.

Finally, he gives me his mouth. Our kisses are soft and sweet, hungry, and all-consuming. I need air desperately, but my lungs only want his. I can’t stop. My toes go rigid and a wave of heat pummels through me, immersing my legs like I’m being dipped in a vat of hot water.

“Wait,” I gasp, tearing my mouth away from his. “Stop, I—Shit!”

He stops, but it’s too late. I can feel myself pouring over his hand between my stomach and the comforter. Body rigid, I try to think the pleasure overload away.

What a joke. Who can fucking turn off an orgasm like a faucet? It’s futile when he gives me a few more languid strokes, making me convulse again.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

I can’t believe I came already. That’s never happened. Nothing like the guy you’ve been obsessed with for the better part of a decade finding out about it and then premature ejaculating on him the first time he touches your dick.