Chapter 38
VINNY
Kai doesn’t return to lunch, and neither does Sage.
We don’t see them for the rest of the day, even as we scan each hallway between every class. By the time I’m meeting Becks after my last class, he’s a ball of jealous, electric sexual tension.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” I grab his shoulder and slide my hand down his arm. “We can go to my house. My dad will be at the bar.”
Nodding, his gaze finds mine, and I get sucked into the dark-blue abyss of his eyes. I can see he’s on the brink of losing it. I grab his hand and lead him along the hallway, not caring that there’s people around, and when we finally make it outside, I hear him take a deep breath.
“You okay?” I ask, walking through the quad at his side.
“I’m just pissed off, V.” He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. “He treats Sage like shit, and then drags her away and spends the day with her? It isn’t okay. He’s driving me fucking crazy.”
I sigh, looking out into the cold afternoon. “You know how he is, B, and you need to remember that not everyone’s as comfortable with their feelings as you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He glares at me.
Shaking my head, I chuckle. “You’re loving, soft. But Kai isn’t. He’s hard, and he’s never loved anyone before.”
“I’ve never loved anyone either. It’s not like we’ve ever looked outside our circle before.” He huffs. “But I can still be nice to the person I’m fucking.”
Grabbing his arm, I pull him toward me, lifting an accusatory eyebrow. “You’ve never loved anyone?”
He laughs, small dimples popping into his cheeks as he looks at me through his lashes. “You know what I mean.”
I hold him close. “You and me, B, we’ve always had each other, but Kai has never had someone. Let him learn how to accept Sage into his heart, and then everything will fall into place, I promise. Be patient.”
Beckham takes a breath, then pushes my hair back with his fingers. “Okay.”
Smiling, I lean forward and kiss his mouth quickly before pulling away and walking down the road again. “We can have a movie night to distract you. I’ll even let you pick the pizza toppings.”
He grabs my hand, slipping his fingers through mine to hold as we walk the rest of the way.
The air is crisp, even under the sun, which is still hanging high in the sky.
Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and I’m dreading it, just like every year.
My dad usually spends the holiday break drowning in whiskey with a side of beer and angry punching.
Instead of risking spending the days inside the house with him, I’ve always gone between Kai’s and Becks’s houses.
Except on the actual holiday, since that day is reserved for the cemetery.
The cold graveyard is more than home on those days—days when family is supposed to be at the forefront and happiness is supposed to warm my bones through the winter chill. I’ve had a handful of good holidays over the years, only ones where Beckham and Kaiden made it special for me.
By the time we reach the entrance of my neighborhood, Beckham lets go of my hand and gives me a sweet smile, knowing I was about to release his hand myself, just in case my father is home after all.
Where I have no shame when it comes to my sexuality, or my feelings for Becks, it’s just easier to keep my private life private while I’m under the same roof as a psychopath with anger issues and a conservative viewpoint.
I’m thankful that my father’s truck isn’t in the driveway when we reach my house, and I lead Becks inside without bothering to put my mental guards up for once.
There’s a layer of safety I feel when Beckham is here, like maybe even if my father came home at any moment, everything would still be okay because he’s here with me.
Becks follows me to my bedroom and kicks his shoes off while I close the door behind us. He groans, tossing his backpack down on the floor. “I want to take a nap.”
Dropping down onto my bed, he curls under the blankets and looks over at me, heat lining his eyes. His voice goes soft as he asks, “Want to sleep with me, baby?”
Nodding, I drop my backpack and kick off my shoes before I go to the window to draw the blinds to make the room dark. Pulling my shirt over my head, I throw it to the floor, then climb under the blankets.
“Scoot over.” I push against Beckham to gain more space on the bed.
“No.” He grins, lifting his leg and putting it over my hip so he can wiggle closer.
“I thought you wanted to sleep.” I chuckle, pushing him until he rolls onto his back and I land in between his thighs. Pressing my mouth to his, I breathe hard and grind my hips, letting him feel my cock, which has grown heavy in the front of my pants. “What do you want, B?”
He moans as his hands slide into the short hair at the back of my neck while his tongue slips between my lips. My chest aches with hunger, and my dick fills with blood as I kiss him back.
After a moment, we pull apart, our chests heaving.
“I want you,” Beckham breathes against my mouth, his hand lowering between us to grip my dick roughly.
Beckham and I have such an intense connection that it’s like the whole world moves in a blurry light, speeding all around us when we’re in passionate moments. We’re both pieces of one soul, moving together in a way that’s messy and chaotic and flawless all at once.
I flex my hips, letting him feel how hard I am under the confines of my pants. “You want me to fuck you, B? Make you come so hard that you can’t fucking see straight?”
Groaning, he pops the button on my pants and slides the zipper down so he can reach under the fabric and wrap his fingers around my length. “Yeah, baby. I want you to fuck me so hard I feel you for a week.”
I leak precum against his hand, my hips rolling into him to gain friction. “Get up. Put me in your mouth.”
He’s quick to wriggle from underneath me, pushing on my chest so I sit back on my knees, then rips my pants down under my ass so my dick is free.
Sliding onto his forearms in front of me, he suctions around the head of my cock, pulling a moan from my lips. I look down at him, threading my hand into the curly black hair that’s grown wild on top of his head. “Fuck, Becks.”
He moans around me, then slides his mouth farther until he’s gagging around my length. My eyes roll back at the sensation, and my fingers pull his hair so tight that his hand squeezes my thigh in response.
After bobbing his head a few times, he pops off and sits up to kiss me. His dick is rock solid in the front of his pants, and I take the opportunity to unfasten them and yank them down.
Beckham leans back, rips his shirt over his head, then sits up and pulls his pants and boxers off, throwing them to the floor.
“How do you want me, baby?” he asks, wrapping a hand around his own cock and pumping a few times, his muscular stomach flexing.
Licking my lips, I trace every inch of him with my gaze, memorizing how he looks when he’s at my mercy, then I pull the rest of my clothes off and toss them onto the floor.
“On your back, spread open for me,” I groan, watching as he moves into the position I’ve asked for, then I lean forward and suck his dick down in one swift movement.
“Jesus, V,” Beckham breathes, his head falling back against the headboard.
When I pull off his cock, I grab him by the knees and spread him up and open so I can lick down to his asshole, using my tongue to flick against the puckered hole until he’s a whimpering mess.
When his back arches, and his fingers tug my hair desperately, I slide a finger through the wetness my mouth has created and press into his ass.
A moan ripples through him, and his ass clamps down on my finger.
“Relax, babe,” I say, spitting onto his ass as I pull out and plunge two inside this time. Thrusting my fingers, I stretch his ass out enough to fit another finger, then he’s whimpering and grinding against me again.
“V…” he moans, his voice breathy and needy. “Fuck me.”
I slowly remove my fingers from inside him, then I spit onto his asshole before I sit up on my knees in front of him. “I don’t have any lube here, so my spit will have to do.”
His hand is moving wildly on his cock, and I grin down at him as I push his legs farther up until his feet are hovering in the air and I can slide my dick through his crack.
“Take a breath for me, B,” I say, pressing against his asshole with the head of my cock.
“Spit again,” he says, then he takes a breath as I slowly release a trail of saliva from my mouth to the head of my cock.
Before he can say anything else, I slip through the ring of muscle until my dick is engulfed in him.
We both moan loudly, and my hands grip onto his thighs as I slowly push deeper and deeper.
“Vinny,” Beckham whimpers. “Harder.”
Thrusting my hips with more force, I find Beckham’s deep-blue eyes, so filled with desire and pleasure and love, and my cock throbs inside him, loving every second I get to spend with the soft, sexy, amazing guy beneath me.
“I love you,” I moan, using a hand to pull his face to mine so I can kiss him.
“Me, too, baby,” he moans after we’ve pulled our mouths apart. “You mean fucking everything to me.”
Pleasure spreads from my head to my toes as I fuck him, my cock thrusting in and out of him so beautifully that I can’t help but move faster, harder, more passionately.
Then I’m using my hand to grip his cock and pump the same way my hips are moving, bringing him closer to his climax so we can come together.
Heat tingles down my spine, my balls tighten, and then I’m shouting out my release, pounding my hips against his ass as lust takes over my vision at the same time my hand pumps his orgasm from him, his hot cum shooting up and onto me from below.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant, kissing him hard.
“Vinny, baby,” he moans, his fingers threading into my hair as we both gasp through our releases, then we’re both falling into a pile of lifeless limbs and heaving chests.
“What the fuck is going on here?!”
My father’s voice cracks through the room like splintering thunder, making adrenaline burst through my system at a speed that almost kills me. I lunge to the side of Beckham, using my comforter to cover both of our naked bodies from his view.
When I connect with his hateful gaze in my doorframe, I’m met with green eyes that match my own, except they’re bloodshot and filled with so much hatred they could paralyze someone.
“Dad! What are you doing here?” I yell, scrambling for words through my pounding heartbeat.
His voice crashes through the room again, every other word a slur. “What am I doing here? I fucking live here, you worthless piece of shit. Get the fuck up, Vincent! Get your fucking ass up now!”
I leap from the bed, grabbing my boxers and pulling them up my legs. “Dad, listen, I can explain.”
“Explain?!” He huffs, walking deeper into my room on wobbly legs. “I’ll fucking kill you. I will not have a son who’s a fa—”
I cut him off before he can spit the word, not because I’m shocked, but because I’m embarrassed. “Dad!”
Putting myself in front of Becks as a shield, I bend down to pick up his boxers and toss them to him.
“Dad, just—” I start to scramble, but my words are taken from me by his fist, which swings out and knocks me across the face three times in a row, sending a cracking noise from my jaw through my ears. I grunt, blood shooting from my mouth and landing on the floor.
“What the fuck!” Beckham shouts from behind me, then he’s shoving me back onto the bed and jumping on my dad, screaming at the top of his lungs while his fists fly, slamming against my father’s face over and over until they’re both falling to the floor in a pile.
“Becks!” I scream, out of breath, leaping forward and grabbing him by the shoulders to rip him away from my dad.
He spins around, his fists dripping with my father’s blood and his face manic as red covers his vision and anger simmers right on the surface. I swallow hard, then he pushes me away and turns to face my dad again, who’s now lying helpless on the ground.
Beckham spits down onto my father, then moves again, using his powerful legs to kick his torso until my father is gargling on blood.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch him again!” he shouts, then kicks my father in the ribs.
“He isn’t yours to fucking hurt!” He kicks him in the chest.
“You’re a worthless piece of shit!” His foot connects with my father’s throat.
Then Becks is straddling him again, throwing his fists against his face as he continues to scream. “You’ll never fucking hurt him again! You can’t fucking hurt him anymore! He isn’t yours to fucking hurt!”
I jump up, grab him by the shoulders, and pull him off my dad, making both of us fall back to the floor. “Beckham, Beckham, Beckham! Stop.”
He has tears coating his cheeks, and he’s shaking violently as he gasps for air. “He can’t fucking hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt you. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Becks,” I whisper, pulling him to my chest and covering his broken, bloody knuckles with my palms. “It’s okay.”