Chapter 13 DIEGO
After we fucked on his couch, Taran pulled me into the shower with him and lathered me up all over with his big, strong hands. He took out the plug, and I cleaned it while he slid soapy fingers over my hypersensitive hole, not so much teasing as taking care with me. Taking care of me.
“You okay?” he whispered, barely audible over the shower.
“Mmm-hmm.” I leaned into him heavily, rubbing my face against his tit. “I’m a very, very happy fucktoy.”
He chuckled and kissed my forehead. His cock was mouthwateringly swollen but lazy between us. I slipped my hand beneath it to hold his heavy balls, curling fingertips behind to stroke his taint.
He shifted, parting his legs slightly, and sighed into my wet hair.
I glanced upward, trying to read his face, “Are you okay?”
“Never better,” he replied immediately, a slow, hot smile forming on his wet lips. “I just sometimes think…”
“What? Go ahead.” I grinned, thinking he was going to suggest something else mind-blowingly dirty. I was still reeling from the last one, so obviously I was ready for another.
“I wonder if there’s a world where it’s always been like this,” he mused.
I stopped playing with his balls, more out of surprise than anything else. “You mean…?”
He chuckled, glancing away and then back up through his eyelashes. “Sometimes it feels like it’s always been like this. And then I think, no, you just wish it was. And then I start wondering if we’d…”
My throat tightened. It was close, dangerously close to what I’d confessed to Toni last night. “If… we’d gone to the same college?” I suggested.
He sighed, and I realized it was a sigh of relief. He said, “Or something. Like, is there a world where we didn’t… I don’t wanna say I wasted eight years, but sometimes…”
I love you. I love you I love you I’ve always loved you I never stopped loving you.
I closed my eyes and put my face in his neck. He put an arm around my waist and pulled me hard against him, his whole, beautiful body against me, warm and strong. Hard with wanting, even when he was being the gentlest, kindest, most loving fucking guy in the world.
I leaned into him. “A world where you’re a Pittsburgh Steeler and I’m your famous A-List WAG?”
“A world where Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift are queer as fuck.” He chuckled.
“Bro, we’d be so much more interesting than them.” Which was saying a lot, because I happened to enjoy a little Taylor, thanks very much.
“I’d rather just you and me, like we are now,” he rumbled, the words vibrating through my chest. “Which wouldn’t happen, if we’d never gone through all that other stuff, I guess.”
“Yeah, and I’d have to go to football games, which would suck,” I quipped.
He nuzzled my cheek. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Are you kidding? I’d have to out-fashion all the other WAGs every fucking week. I’d be petty as hell about it. I would be there.”
He chuckled and kissed my forehead again.
“But this is better,” I said after a long, quiet moment. Then I pulled back and looked him in the eye. “This way I don’t have to share you with anyone, let alone a whole fucking football team.”
“You want me all to yourself?” His smile went playful, dimple out, eyebrows high.
“It feels so stupid to even have to say it, at this point.” I sighed. “Obviously, you’ve been my exclusive monogamous obsession-slash-boyfriend for months now.”
He cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. I licked the water from it. Then sucked his thumb into my mouth.
“You can call me what you want to call me,” he murmured. “As long as I know how you really feel.”
I’d felt like I was floating all fucking night, so I guess that was just the last straw. He hadn’t just fucked my brains out; this man had sweet-talked, cared for, and utterly charmed me into stupidity. And I loved it here.
Why had I ever given a fuck about something like a title?
Whether he was a labels guy or not, why had I been afraid to tell him what I wanted from him?
A huge bubble of feeling welled up inside me, and I knew, I fucking knew that if I didn’t find a way to let some of it out, it’d fucking explode, and I’d wind up crying on the shower floor.
So instead, I sucked his thumb deep into my mouth, then pulled it out with a wet pop.
Looked him in the eye and saw the electric blue spark there that said he wanted me.
So I grabbed him by the waist, sank down to my knees, and channeled every bit of that enthusiasm, affection, adoration into playing with his asshole while sucking his gorgeous cock.
I was hard as fuck as he toweled me off and patted my ass to send me to bed. “Grab the plug,” I told him as I flopped into his fancy, cool sheets and inhaled the scent of him from my pillow.
“We’ll use the better lube.” He came out of the bathroom naked, towel over his broad shoulders, pink nips hard, dark hair wet and fresh. His cock hung heavy, as relaxed as it’d been all night after shooting a load directly down my throat.
He went to the bedside table and pulled out the oil-based lube. “This is okay with toys, right?”
I nodded and stretched full body, trying out the aches and pains of being so very well used.
He eyed me with a smile but then turned speculative. “You really want this back in?”
I rolled over, popped up onto my hands and knees, and nodded over my shoulder. Licked my lips, arched my back, and said, “Gimme.”
He crawled onto the bed. Kissed my ass cheek, then the small of my back. Ran his fingertips down my crack, making me shiver.
“Goose bumps…” he said thoughtfully.
I bit my lip to keep from begging for it. It wouldn’t give me that nice, full feeling, or the wet, hot one his release gave me, the one I craved constantly. But it felt good, like a reminder of what was coming, a little promise. ”Unless you wanna fuck me right now…”
He slipped the well-lubricated plug into my hole carefully, then patted my ass.
“Come here.” He sprawled out on his side and held out an arm.
I slotted myself into him, my back into his front, and he buried his face in my wet hair and spread his palm wide against the flat of my belly.
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against my back, and I found myself breathing with him.
He brushed his fingertips through my sparse happy trail, back and forth.
His other arm slipped over my shoulder, just beneath my pillow, and curled upward to hold my tit.
His thumb traced the line of my pec, circled my nip, drew strange shapes on my skin.
I was so fucking horny, I couldn’t think; I was so satisfied, I felt drunk. Suddenly, in spite of the heavy ache in my balls and the impatient twitch in my ass, I never wanted to fucking move again.
At some point during the night, Taran’s massive hard-on pressing into my backside became too insistent to sleep through. I reached behind me, wrapped a hand around it and squeezed sleepily.
He pulled the plug out of me and, before I even had time to miss it, took me without a word.
Just his hand against my belly and his breath in my ear as he worked me from the inside out.
The plug’s little promise, the full force of his constant hunger for me, had me panting in seconds.
He was gentle this time, slow and deep like that night on the couch.
I came almost unexpectedly, suddenly, shuddering and clenching around him.
He moaned and fucked into me hard, holding me tighter and tighter as he unloaded inside.
As he rocked his hips slowly in the aftermath, making me shake with pleasure-bordering-on-pain every time his fat cockhead stroked my prostate, I thought, “Fuck, I love you.”
And then I realized I hadn’t thought it. I’d said it.
He gave a little chuckle, and I could feel his smile against the back of my neck.
I flushed, too weak to struggle or come up with an excuse. I just wriggled and said, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
He laughed harder, and between that and my wriggling he pulled out, leaving a trail of cum and lube across my ass.
I was still trying to catch my breath, but I managed another panicked, “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s fine.”
“No! Oh my god, it’s not.” It was the oddest sensation to be so absolutely mortified but also so floaty and happy and well-used. “Taran…” I rolled over and buried my face in his armpit. That’d make me feel better.
He resituated his arms around me, chest still bouncing with laughter. “If I pump enough cum into you in one night, you just come out with some wild shit, huh?”
I let out an ugly snort of laughter, then inhaled his armpit to calm myself. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but I still just felt so… loose. “Yeah. Guess you made it to the fill line finally.”
“Good to know.” He kissed my forehead.
I fucking loved the way he always kissed my forehead.
I fucking loved…
Yep. Even after multiple orgasms and loads taken, I was still in love. Shit was real.
And then, his lips still warm against my forehead, he said, “I do love you, though.”
I froze. My eyes burned.
“Don’t say anything,” he murmured. “I just wanted you to hear it. I mean, you make a great cum dumpster, but—”
I burst into laughter. “I do.”
“But you’re so much more,” he said with another chuckle.
When we both settled down again, my body still thrummed with the endless stream of sex, praise, pleasure, affection, love from him tonight. Never in my fucking life had anyone made me feel so thoroughly wanted but also appreciated.
Never in my fucking life had I believed that anyone really loved me. Not platonically and certainly not romantically, even though plenty had claimed to.
But I believed Taran.
***
Okay, I was a liiiiittle bit stiff the next day, not gonna lie.
And pissing kind of crooked—which Taran assured me was also a problem for him.
However, is there anything better in the whole world than waking up on your twenty-seventh birthday feeling insanely well fucked and in the arms of the boy you fell in love with ages ago but thought you’d lost forever?
I’ll save you the time of trying to find an answer, because no, there isn’t.
He made a massive breakfast—which was good since we were both fucking starving, not to mention thirsty enough to drink a whole bottle of orange juice between us. Then, since he’d taken the day off for me, we went to my place to start the long and involved process of getting ready for the party.
I tried on outfit after outfit for Taran and Shortcake, who sat on the couch and patiently judged each ensemble for almost an hour.
I drank a ton of water, took a nice long shower, did a face mask and then eye gels.
By the time Toni appeared, I was working on my makeup, and Taran had been ready for a half hour.
“You two look pretty fucking smug,” she commented.
“Do we?” Taran asked innocently. “What’d you end up doing last night?”
Toni rolled her eyes. “Watching preseason football talk with my dad. Fucking gouge my eyes out.”
“For an organization with limited product availability, the NFL is really good at generating endless content,” he commented.
Toni frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Those guys can talk for days about the same game. Pull out useless stats that no one ever asked for and convince people they were clamoring for them all along.”
“Explain,” she demanded.
Which led to Taran giving Toni an education about consumer behavior and how the NFL are evil geniuses. I watched them as I fixed my eyeliner, smiling to myself because I could see it on her face—finally, Toni was letting herself be charmed too.
I should’ve just left them in a room together alone instead of having her meet us at a crowded festival. He would’ve charmed the shit out of her in fifteen minutes, given the chance.
***
The Firebrand would never be called minimalist, in terms of décor, but my friends and co-workers had decked the place out even more.
Fairy lights everywhere, including draped over some of the vintage horror film posters and ghosty witchy shit on the walls, and centerpieces on all the pub tables featuring stand-ups of cheesy pinup boys from various fabulous artists.
The place was closed, technically, but open for the party tonight.
The music was louder than usual, the people were all familiar faces—some I was surprised to see, some who were clearly wondering where the fuck I’d been on all their favorite hook-up apps lately.
The number of knowing looks I got after introducing new people to Taran was so fucking satisfying, honestly.
Like, Oh, yeah, if I had that I’d stay home too, girl.
To my surprise, there were a few different game stations set up (throw the ring around the dildo, pin the tail on the pinup girl), and even stations for oracle card readings, palmistry, and permanent jewelry that were all Bryn’s doing.
They also created drinks in my honor, including the Thirsty Bitch (tequila, soda, grapefruit sugar around the rim), the WAP (gin, lime juice, cranberry juice, honey simple syrup, grapefruit bitters), and a Red Bull-based mocktail called Main Character Energy that I ordered immediately.
Learned my lesson last time I spent all night at the Firebrand. Not trying to be sloppy on my birthday.
“I can’t believe all this,” I told Bryn, trying to orient myself. “Where did you find a card reader?”
“Okay, first of all, half of my friends do oracle pulls daily, so put some respect on my witchy name,” they replied. “C’mon; try her out. She’s good.”
I kept meaning to, but then I’d see someone new, want to show off Taran, or get pulled into a conversation, or hear a song that I had to dance to.
Taran even humored me on the dance floor a few times—to upbeat club tracks and a slow dance or two.
He was the perfect boyfriend, there when I wanted to show him off, able to entertain himself when I was being a social butterfly and thanking everyone for coming out.
I couldn’t have been happier.