Chapter 27 #3
I smiled back. “History. That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“You’ve got time. And you’ve got me.
“Your post—” I pulled back to look at him. “Wesley, you didn’t have to do that. Expose yourself like that.”
“Yes, I did. You weren’t facing this alone.” Wesley cupped my jaw. “We’re partners. That means standing together, not you protecting me from the bench.”
“It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said about me.”
“It’s true. All of it.”
“That’s what makes it beautiful.” I paused, trying to articulate something I’d never let myself feel before. “I spent sixteen years hiding. Then I came out and tried to protect you by keeping you out of the narrative. But you didn’t want to be protected. You wanted to stand with me.”
“Always.”
“I’m not used to that. Someone choosing me—not my captaincy, not my image, not what I can do for them. Just me.”
“Get used to it.” Wesley’s smile was tender. “Because that’s what this is. Partnership.”
I kissed him then—deep and grateful and full of emotion I couldn’t articulate. His hands slid behind my neck, holding me close, and I poured everything into the contact. Love and fear and gratitude and hope.
When we broke apart, both breathing harder, Wesley took my hand. “Come on.”
He led me to his bedroom, and we left a trail of clothes along the way, needing the connection, needing to prove this was real and worth everything we’d risked.
He stopped beside his rumpled bed—did the man ever make it?—and ran a finger along my cheekbone. I shivered, even though the room was pleasantly warm. “Make love to me.” He cupped my jawline.
I sucked in a breath. We hadn’t yet crossed that line, but the rightness of it, the inevitability, settled in my chest. “I’d love that.”
I pressed my lips to his, the kiss soft and slow but becoming urgent when he opened for me.
He drew back, but I still felt the ghost of the contact. His brown eyes warmed when he asked, “Bed?”
In answer, I slipped under the mussed covers and opened my arms. He slipped into my hold, his furry chest against my smooth one, his erection rubbing against mine. Our connection clicked into place, and we were just getting started. “How do you want me?” I asked, my voice low and rough with need.
“I want to look into your eyes when I feel you deep inside me.”
Fuck. “I want that too.”
He rolled out of my arms, and I mourned his absence. But he didn’t go far. He found lube in his nightstand drawer, but had to rummage for a condom. He raised it triumphantly. “Ah-ha!”
I snorted.
He lay on his back and pulled his knees to his chest, opening himself to me. Trusting me to take care of him. I slicked my fingers with lube and carefully stretched him open. I found his prostate and massaged it.
“Fuck!” His fingers scrabbled for purchase on the bedsheets, and precum leaked from the tip of his cock. “I need you now. Don’t make me wait.” He grabbed his knees and spread himself again.
With shaking hands, I tore the condom packet open, rolled it down my aching dick, and coated myself with more lube. To ease the glide even further, I added more lube to Wesley’s entrance.
I vibrated with the need to be inside him. “Ready?”
His warm gaze met mine, complicated emotions crossing his face—desire, impatience… love. “I think I was born to be loved by you,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“I love you.” I notched my throbbing cock at his entrance and slowly pushed inside. He sucked in a breath at the initial breach and then relaxed into the sensation.
“Deeper,” he rasped.
I slid inside until my balls met his ass and then held still, letting him adjust to my size and giving myself a chance to gain control.
He was so tight and hot I didn’t know how I’d last. I wanted to make this good for him—I didn’t want to shoot off in the first few thrusts.
Once I could restrain myself, I set up a slow rhythm and searched for just the right angle to—
“Oh my God! There!” he moaned.
I’d found it.
I increased my pace, hitting that sweet spot with each thrust, as he muttered nonstop filthy curses under his breath.
His tight heat enveloped my cock, and I was right where I wanted to be, as connected to the man I loved as possible.
Sweat popped out on my brow and my lungs bellowed as if I were skating sprints. I was close. So close.
Wesley gazed into my eyes. “Please,” he said on a breath.
I took his cock in hand. With just a few tugs, ropes of cum shot onto his abs and chest. He shouted unintelligibly through his release, babbling nonsense.
His ass clenched around my dick, and I couldn’t hold on any longer. After a few uncoordinated thrusts, I slammed into him and pulsed into the condom, his name spilling from my lips.
Wesley.
The man I could now call mine. Publicly. Proudly.
I slipped from his heat, and he dropped his legs with a groan. “Okay?” I asked.
He smiled, and his dimple winked at me. “Never better.”
I leaned forward and kissed him gently, a lazy culmination to our lovemaking.
After I took care of the condom, I retrieved a warm washcloth and cleaned Wesley.
It was still early, but I slipped back into bed with him.
Dinner could wait. Wesley lay curled into my side, his head on my chest, my fingers tracing absent patterns on his shoulder.
The room was quiet, peaceful in ways that felt impossible, given the day’s chaos.
“I love you,” I said into the comfortable silence. Not the first time I’d said it, but somehow more significant now that everyone knew about us.
“I love you too.” Wesley’s hand found mine, laced our fingers together. “Whatever comes next, we face it together.”
“Together,” I agreed, the word feeling like a promise and a revelation all at once.
For the first time in sixteen years, I didn’t have to hide. Didn’t have to perform. Didn’t have to carry everything alone.
I was just Griffin—openly, authentically, freely myself.
And that was enough.