Chapter 7
EZRA
We spent the night cuddled in the same bed again. At some point, I’d snuggled against his chest, my fist curled into his thin white T-shirt, and that’s how I woke up. Samael was already wide awake. When I looked at him and apologized, he smiled tenderly and mouthed that it was okay.
I enjoyed the casual hug too much, though.
My cock swelled in the pajama pants I’d borrowed and I turned my back to Samael so he wouldn’t feel it.
He’d already said he wasn’t gay, even if the first night proved otherwise.
What was a hand job to him anyway? Obviously, nothing important because he hadn’t attempted to touch me sexually since.
“Okay?”
I winced at his strained voice. “I’m fine.”
“Ezra.” He wrapped his fingers around my arm and tugged so I had to turn to look at him. His frown meant his eyebrows dipped low, mouth twisted in confusion.
“How much does talking hurt?” My change of topic made him frown even harder.
“A lot,” he mouthed. His hold on me loosened.
His curly, brown hair was swept to one side from where he’d lain on the pillow and it was the most adorable thing I’d seen.
I couldn’t break my gaze away from the blue depths of his eyes.
I was nothing more than a man lost in Samael’s gravitational pull.
“What happened?”
He shook his head, and I took the answer for what it was. Like me, Samael didn’t want to talk about his past. I didn’t blame him. He wasn’t going to open up to me if I wouldn’t do the same for him.
I shuffled closer until my bare chest touched his clothed one. “What happened the other night—”
Samael twisted and shoved himself out of bed.
I watched him go, feeling lost as he headed to the armoire to pull out clothes.
Shame flooded me. I was an idiot. I was pushing a man who gave me a place to stay because I wanted to get off.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up back on the streets again—or worse.
I licked my dry lips and slid out from under the blankets.
He passed me clothes that looked like they’d fit me better than the ones I’d chosen yesterday.
As I turned to go to the bathroom, he grasped my arm and tugged me close.
He carded his fingers through my hair and scraped his nails against my scalp, making me arch my back at the sudden sharp sensations of pleasure that danced up my spine.
His lips hovered over mine, but he didn’t kiss me, and I didn’t lean any closer to him for fear it’d break the moment.
“Shower.”
I nodded because I didn’t know what else to do, but I didn’t move until he nudged me.
I forced myself to walk out of the room toward the shower, ignoring the feel of his hot stare on my bare back, only broken when I put the barrier of a door between us.
I sucked in a deep breath as I leaned against the wood, closing my eyes.
Everything about Samael taunted me, from his gentle blue gaze to his sweet smile.
I could still feel his hand on my cock, stroking me until I’d unraveled and became a boneless lump of limbs.
Fuck. My cock jumped at the memory and I pulled it out of my pajama pants, wrapping my fingers around the hardness in a firm grip.
I tilted my head back and kept my eyes closed as I imagined it was his hand working me.
My palm was smaller, but it did the job.
Everything inside me tingled and the excitement shot straight down to my balls, making them heavy.
I slid my thumb over my slit, teasing the head of my cock before I began a furious jerking pace.
Stars danced behind my closed eyelids and pressure built at the base of my spine. Everything was so sensitive. The slightest touch had groans and whimpers slipping from between my lips. When I pinched my nipple with my free hand, I flew so high on pleasure that it felt like I was floating.
It was all over before it even began. My cock jerked in my hand and streams of cum shot from my slit across the bathroom floor, some gathering on my fist. I arched my back, riding the waves of ecstasy until it felt like my bones had dissolved again. I slid down the door and landed on my ass.
I grinned before I could stop myself and stared down at the cum on my palm. Fuck, that was awesome. When was the last time I’d jerked off like this? Who the fuck knew. Living on the street meant getting off was the last thing on my mind.
A knock on the door made me freeze, but then the sounds of Samael’s footsteps walking away kicked my lungs into action and I exhaled, long and harsh. How much had he heard?
It didn’t matter. I rose tiredly, got rid of my pajama pants, and moved to the shower. I’d need to clean the tiles on the floor before I went to the kitchen, too.
Half an hour later, I was freshly washed, the floor was clean, and I’d managed to muster the courage to walk toward the dining room where Samael was already sitting at the table. He was dressed for the day and sat hunched over his iPad, fingers stroking his chin as he stared at it with narrow eyes.
Curious, I sidled closer and took a look at the screen.
It was a news article about a convicted rapist who’d been released on bail.
I’d heard the stories, only because they were printed on newspaper stands.
According to the reports, the rapist was a college guy who’d found an unconscious woman who’d had too much to drink and brutalized her until another woman came along and scared him away.
This kid was rich and white, though, and that meant a few nice words put him in the good books with a judge, who released him because he’d never done anything wrong and he had his entire life in front of him, as though that meant something.
It didn’t, not to the woman who’d been raped, at least.
The moment I’d heard the story, nausea had curled in the pit of my stomach. I’d listened to some of the worst stories while living on the streets, but this report had been as bad as any of those.
“It’s sick, right?” I sat down beside him and touched his arm. Samael’s gaze slid to meet mine and his lips pressed together. “Can’t believe he got away with it.”
He held the iPad tighter before he dropped it on the table. It clattered and the noise made me flinch. He grabbed his notepad and wrote on it before passing it to me.
You want to know who’s next? He’s next.
My eyes widened. “You mean you’re going to—”
“Yes.” He winced and wrapped his hand around his neck, as if to stifle the pain from speaking. “He’s next.”
“Oh.” My heart thumped loudly in my ears and I swallowed around a lump that had formed in my throat. “Can I help?”
My words made his gaze whip to me, eyes large and surprised. “Help?” he mouthed.
I nodded furiously, an excited tingle taking over my body. Curling my hands into fists at my knees, I grinned and leaned in closer. “Yeah. I’d really like to. Please?”
“No.” He shut off his iPad and stood, but I followed him.
“Why not?” I grabbed his arm so he couldn’t walk away from me.
He glanced down at my hold before his stare slid up my arm and to my face.
I had no idea why I wanted to help, but the thought of making an asshole like this college kid pay thrilled me in ways I hadn’t felt in a long time.
It should’ve terrified me that I wanted to kill another human being.
It didn’t. “I can be useful. I’m smart.”
He nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose, then grabbed my arms. We stood there for a few moments, him holding me while he stared into my eyes. I didn’t dare break the eye contact until he sighed and reached for that notepad again. I really needed to learn to sign language.
You don’t know what you’re asking.
“I do and I want to help. I want you to teach me.”
Why?
His gaze felt like it was melting my insides, and I shivered under its intensity.
I moved a little closer until I was in his personal space, our chests nearly touching.
I tilted my chin up and swiped my tongue across my bottom lip.
“I don’t know why, I can’t explain it, but I’m not afraid.
I’ve been on the streets for six years. I’ve seen the shit normal people do to the homeless, the worst of human nature, and maybe I’m sick and tired of assholes getting away with being cruel.
The cops do nothing, and if they do, the courts don’t.
How is that fair? It’s not! So, maybe I want them to get what they deserve.
I want them to suffer like we do because of them. ”
By the time I’d finished, my chest heaved and it felt like I’d run out of air in my lungs. I straightened my spine because I wasn’t going to back down on this.
To my surprise, Samael smiled, then mouthed, “Okay.”
“Really?” I grinned, resisting the urge to bounce on my toes. Fuck, I hadn’t done that since I was twelve and Mom agreed to let me go to the mall on my own to meet some friends.
Yes, but you always do what I say. No arguing. We can’t rush this. It takes time, precision. All right?
I held the notepad a little too tight and it nearly crumpled under my hand. When I realized what I was doing, I passed it back to him. “Yeah. When do we start?”
Not yet. You need to learn things first.
If I was the type of guy to pout, I might’ve done just that. I huffed instead and crossed my arms. “Like what?”
He held up his palm and I took that as a sign to be patient. Mom used to do the same thing when she got frustrated. He scribbled something else on the paper and flashed it at me.
Later. We need to go out to Dalton’s farm today.
A tingling fear buzzed inside my chest, the familiar tendrils of anxiety weaving through my limbs, but I pushed it aside. If I was going to die, then so be it. Survival was difficult already, maybe I was tired of fighting the streets. I merely nodded. “All right.”