Chapter 14
Korren
I dream I’m driving through a one-way tunnel, and it keeps getting darker and darker, and I’m searching for the brakes but they aren’t there and I can’t slow down.
I hear the truck driving the wrong way toward me from far off, and there’s nothing I can do to avoid it.
I fumble with my seatbelt, but my hands are slippery with sweat, and I can’t get it off.
The truck is coming closer, the lights suddenly cutting through the darkness and blinding me.
I’m thrashing around now, trying to free myself, and I finally get the seatbelt off but it’s too late because the truck is hurtling around the corner and—
“Korren!”
Who’s that? I didn’t have anyone in the car with me, did I?
“Korren, wake up!”
At the same moment that I recognize Dex’s voice, I realize I’ve been flailing around in my sleeping bag, which has slid off the mat onto the hard ground.
I freeze. My heart is still pounding wildly in my chest, and as my terror subsides, shame floods in to replace it.
“Korren, are you all right? You were yelling—”
“Get the fuck away from me,” I snap. My limbs are starting to work again, so I get to my feet and stumble into the bedroom, where I sink down in the farthest corner between the bed frame and the wall.
Wrapping my arms around my legs, I press my face into my knees, still trembling from the aftermath of the dream.
I don’t think I can do this. I’m ready to give up on this whole fucking challenge.
But then I think through where that will leave me—homeless again, unable to keep this job once winter comes, back to hitchhiking who the fuck knows where and curling up in my tent each night to sleep—and I can still feel the hollow ache in my stomach that became my constant companion toward the end.
That was a fucking dark place, and I’m scared enough of going back there that I realize I can’t back out of this.
No matter how much I hate this, I have to win.
I hear noises from the main room, and the light comes on, spilling through the doorway of the bedroom. A couple minutes later, Dex appears with two glasses holding a few shots of something dark and syrupy-looking.
“I know you said you don’t believe in sweet drinks,” he says, holding one out for me as he approaches, “but this is pretty fucking delicious. Blueberry liqueur. My uncle makes it from the wild blueberries around here.”
I really could do with a drink.
Reluctantly I reach out a hand and take the glass. It does smell good, and when I take a sip, it slides down my throat like syrup. I decide I’ll make an exception for blueberry liqueur, because it’s hardly a drink anyway, more like an ice cream topping.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
Dex chinks his glass against mine and then sinks down onto the bed frame nearby. Fuck this. I wanted time to myself.
“D’you want to talk about it?” he asks.
“No.”
We drink in silence for several minutes, and it goes down so smoothly that I’m surprised when I reach the bottom of the glass.
“More?” Dex asks.
I nod.
He brings back the bottle this time and gives me a more generous pour, which is probably a bad idea since I’m already feeling lightheaded. But I can’t turn it down since it’s helping crowd out the mess in my head.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No.” I pause. “Wait, there is. You can move out of this cabin and give it to me so this whole fucking embarrassing ordeal never happens again.”
For a moment, I almost think I see a flicker of hurt in Dex’s eyes. But I must be mistaken, because it’s gone a second later.
Then his grin is back. “All right, then. Give me a dare. Something that’ll distract you.”
I must be getting drunk, because I hear myself talking before my mind has processed Dex’s words. “Give me a hand job.”
Shit. Did I really just say that?
Dex laughs. “Fine. You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to scare me away.”
My drunken mind somehow interprets that as him begging for more.
“Get on the couch,” Dex orders. “I can’t reach you down there.”
There’s something sexy about him ordering me around. I climb shakily to my feet, the room tipping around me, and stagger back toward the couch. I turn off the light on my way past, trusting the moonlight to show the way, because I’d rather not look at Dex while he’s touching my cock.
I almost miss the couch on my first attempt, but Dex grabs me by the shoulder and guides me down. Then he’s crowding in beside me, his whole leg pressed up against mine, one hand fumbling at my fly.
“Should I kiss you?” he asks huskily.
“Fuck, no.” I hate the catch in my voice.
His hand brushes against my cock through my pants, and I realize I’m already hard as fuck. It’s been a really, really long time.
When Dex frees my cock from my pants, I close my eyes and try not to think about the fact that it’s a man wrapping his hand around its length. Except that his palm is callused and larger than any woman’s, and something about that is hot as fuck.
He strokes me slowly at first, his thumb sliding over the slit, and a pathetic groan slips out of my mouth.
By the time he starts stroking faster and harder, my cock is throbbing for release.
I slide down lower on the couch, thrusting my hips into the rhythm, fucking his hand with a desperation I didn’t think myself capable of.
I’m trying so hard not to think about what I’m doing that my mind is just a blank hum of pleasure.
Then, too soon, I come with a burst of ecstasy that sizzles through my body. I push hard against his hand, chasing the last of the high, and somehow find my hips lodged against his chest.
I open my eyes in surprise. Dex must’ve gotten off the couch at some point to kneel between my legs, and now I’m pressing my balls into his waist, cum smeared down the front of his shirt.
“Sorry,” I say breathlessly.
Dex laughs and unwraps his hand from my cock. He takes a moment longer to disentangle himself from my legs, and I tuck myself back into my pants with all the dignity I can muster.
That was way better than it had any right to be. I’m still definitely not gay, but sexuality is a spectrum, right? I guess a bit too much alcohol nudges me slightly in the other direction. Or maybe it’s just been a really fucking long time since I slept with anyone.
Either way, I’m out like a rock for the rest of the night.