Chapter 12
Rhett
Last night, there’d been no yelling between Ledger and his godchild, letting me sleep fitfully. When I woke, I felt ready for another day.
Holy shit, was I wrong. Work had been rough.
Thank god it’s over.
My body aches from long hours of manual labor. I think even my toes are screaming in protest. Turns out one of the engines needed a complete overhaul in our semi, so tackling that today was a bitch.
I don’t usually mind hard labor. It lets me channel my energy away from my personal shortcomings into something more productive during the day. By the end of a shift, if I’m achy and exhausted, I almost feel proud of myself.
But today has been a different story.
I left the shop on edge, feeling jumpy and paranoid.
It felt like waking from a nightmare that has you bolting upright in your bed, searching for the monster you know is lurking in the shadows.
That wariness beat out the self-loathing I battle daily, and it overshadowed the frustration grinding through a work day.
It’s because of her. Blair.
She’d come into the garage, after a nudge from Wes, in an attempt to make herself useful. Without question or hesitation, I sent her packing the minute my eyes landed on her. After learning why she’s here from Wes last night, I’ve decided to make it my mission to stay the hell away from her.
Unfortunately, after giving her the boot, Ledger came by and dragged me into my office.
“This is the best place for her to be during the day,” he told me with a glare. “Now find her something to do. She’s bored.”
I understand the thought process. Working with me in the garage would make sense for someone trying not to be seen by too many people.
There are only six mechanics I manage, and they’re kept pretty busy so they don’t have time to be nosy.
So, I gave Blair to my assistant manager, Colly, to handle.
She’d given Blair some busy work while the two of them chatted.
I should’ve been relieved that Ledger’s godchild was no longer mine to deal with.
But being in proximity to Blair is a nightmare.
Her presence is a constant reminder that this life I’ve made for myself at Gnarly Pines could shatter at any minute.
Her trouble could lead the authorities straight here.
Then, maybe one of them would ask too many questions about the rest of us, and that would be it, my cover would be blown.
I can’t be caught. But the chances are so much higher now with her around.
Blair’s going to ruin everything.
It wasn’t until dinner, while I glared at the meal she and Wes had put together, that I realized I hated her existence. Once I came to terms with that, I decided the best way to deal with her was to not think of her at all.
Right now, that’s particularly easy, given that my cock’s stuffed down Santi’s throat. Blair is the furthest thing from my mind, as I’m trapped between Santi’s lips, being caressed by his warm wet tongue, and strangled halfway down his throat.
I lean back against my headboard and watch through hooded eyes as my cock completely disappears in his mouth. His throat constricts as he swallows. The move grips me so fucking perfectly, that I can’t stop my hips from flexing upwards.
I groan as Santi’s head bobs, sliding up and down my shaft.
“Fuck, Santi,” I croak.
His tongue traces the veins that wrap around my dick and my hips rise once more, seeking the pleasure that’s building painfully fast. Fuck, this isn’t how I want to cum.
Down his throat is nice but I need to sink my dick deep into a tighter hole.
I grit my teeth and grab the back of his neck to pull him off me.
“Hey!” Santi protests, scowling up at me. “I wasn’t done.”
“Take your clothes off,” I command, already moving to do the same.
The only light in my bedroom comes from the television, which continues to play the show we started watching, but has long been forgotten.
It casts colors and shadows across Santi’s lean body as he jumps to his feet and strips off his tattered t-shirt and athletic pants.
His dick springs free, hard and weeping.
I eye it for a moment, my mouth watering as I stare.
Santi notices where my attention has fallen and he grabs his dick to give it a stroke.
“Like what you see?” he asks, his brow quirking upward.
The flirty smile he shoots in my direction is my favorite of his. It causes his cheeks to dimple and those dimples… fuck I can’t get over them. My cock twitches and my throat squeezes tight. The momentary warmth that spreads beneath my skin vanishes, as unease chases right behind it.
I don’t want to feel anything for anyone. I don’t deserve happiness—even if it’s fleeting. Guilt threatens to consume me but my disgusting need for the man before me momentarily outweighs the guilt. Scowling, I step forward, grab him by the neck, then roughly throw him onto the bed.
“Face down, ass up,” I snap.
Santi laughs lightly before stretching out so that each of his limbs reaches a corner of the mattress.
I eye up his lean, hard body. He’s flawless.
My heart flutters with weak excitement, too weighed down by years of grief to do much more than that.
Quickly, I grab the lube from the top dresser drawer and join him on the bed.
I coat my fingers sloppily as Santi pulls his knees beneath him and shoves his ass up in my direction.
As he tucks his arms beneath my pillow, he turns his face to the side to look back at me and asks, “What, no sweet words or cuddles first?”
“Fuck that shit,” I growl. “The only thing I’m giving you is a full load and a sore ass. Filthy little sluts like you don’t deserve more than that.”
Santi chuckles as a shiver visibly runs down his spine. I grin, though it feels feral. He loves degradation just as much as he loves taking it up the ass.
I run my hand down his back, chasing the shiver as I use my other hand to sink two fingers into his tight ring of muscle. The mewl he lets out causes my dick to twitch with anticipation.
“That’s right, slut, I’ll give you what you need,” I praise.
“You’re a whore for this, you know. You smile and wink at me all day just hoping that I’ll fill you up, don’t you?
You probably think about my cock more than you do about the job you’re getting paid to do.
Are you a horny bitch, you filthy slut?”
Santi gasps as I pump my fingers in and out before twisting and curling them.
“Fucckkkk,” he hisses, pressing back into me.
“You know I only fuck you because you’re the sole piece of ass so readily available. If there was anyone else, I’d never even look at you,” I hiss. “You’re just so damn needy.”
It’s a lie. I’ve not touched a single person—not a man or woman—since meeting Santi.
I’ve been able to fight off physical desires in the past. Hell, it was easy back then.
Given that my body’s will to live was at an all time low, just eating was something I had to force myself to do.
Erections were certainly not happening. But with Santi?
He breathes life into me, whether I want it or not.
He’s a warm breeze in an otherwise frigid world.
The response to his presence is an inability to fight the connection that draws the two of us together.
Santi hums. “You’re right, I am.”
I slap his ass hard, pressing into the spot to increase the burn of the sting. “Shut up, slut.”
He laughs breathlessly as I pull my fingers out of him. Quickly, I lube my dick up, then position it against his entrance.
“Does my pretty little whore want this dick?” I ask softly.
Santi nods eagerly. “Yes, please, Rhett.”
“I want more than that, slut. Tell me how much you need me.”
He presses back into me, trying to force me to sink into his body but I pull away. With a frustrated groan, he buries his face into my pillow.
“Please, please, please fuck me, Rhett. Let me feel whole again. I’m just an empty whore without you. When you fill me up, I feel like I’ve earned your cum. That I’ve been a good slut. Fill me up, Rhett!” he says, his voice muffled and strained.
I chuckle. “Well, since you begged so prettily…”
I’m not gentle or slow as I thrust into Santi. That’s just not my style. Not anymore, anyway.
Maybe, in another life, I enjoyed that shit, but sex is about busting a nut and nothing else.
There doesn’t need to be cuddles or sweet, coaxing words to find a climax.
At least not between me and Santi. Thankfully, he doesn’t need it.
This is one of the things I appreciate most about him because I have no sweetness to give.
I’m just a shell of man that hosts the stained soul of a bastard.
Santi’s howl is stifled by my pillow as I bottom out in one thrust. Santi’s hips begin to sink as his back bows but I don’t allow him to slink away from me. I grab his hips in a brutal grip as I pull out and slam back in. Santi howls again but this time it’s followed by a deep, guttural groan.
“That’s right, pretty whore.” I slide out, then slam back in. Pleasure shoots up my spine and down into my balls. Fuck, he’s so damn tight. I repeat the motion over, and over, in a harsh, steady rhythm. “Take this dick like the pretty, good boy you are.”
“You think I’m pretty?” He teases with a breathless laugh.
Unable to suppress it, I chuckle. “Pretty enough to fuck, I guess.”
At this Santi really laughs. The motion causes his ass to tighten around my cock and I groan loudly.
“Rhett, fuck,” he hisses, lifting his head as his ass pushes back to meet my thrusts. “Touch me, please.”
My hips don’t stop moving, but mentally I hesitate.