Chapter 31
Miles
I ’m a storm tonight, for sure.
No, not even that—a damn hurricane.
Dax’s dad must be some kind of psychopath to have said those heartless, callous words to someone he raised as a son for all these years.
Okay, maybe a psychopath is being dramatic, but either way, it doesn’t say anything good about him.
The only good news is that I managed to restrain myself long enough for us to get the hell out of that house before I went apeshit and tore it to the fucking ground.
Regardless of how I feel about Dax’s asshole father—if I can even call him his father anymore—my main concern is my boyfriend.
On the drive back to my place, he doesn’t speak, his gaze far off.
I’m sure it’s a lot, having to process a lifetime of never being told the truth about why his dad felt the way he did.
And I don’t press, let him have his space because I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have something like that dumped on you.
When we arrive at my apartment, I open the passenger door, and if he’d let me, I’d help him out—I don’t know where the fuck that’s coming from, it’s not like he’s some helpless thing.
He’s just in such a fog, his sunshine dimmed.
But somehow he manages to come inside with me.
He only makes it as far as the kitchen island before sitting on a stool, like he’s too exhausted to go any farther.
My brain’s all over the place, trying to figure out how to help Dax. Cedric’s words keep returning to me. “Take care of my brother.” And I’m determined to be here for Dax in a way that shit excuse for a dad couldn’t be. But what the hell can you even do about something like this?
An idea finally springs to mind. I head to the pantry and inspect the contents before going to the fridge.
I remember him sharing about how his mom baked for him.
Fuck if I have the ingredients for orange-cranberry muffins, so I’ll have to make do.
I’m not even sure this is the best idea, but when there aren’t any others, I feel like, what the hell?
“You said you liked your mom’s cookies?”
“Huh?”
“Well, I can’t really make orange-cranberry muffins with what I got, so I’m gonna make some cookies. Chocolate chip. Think we need some cookies right about now.”
His eyes widen. “Um…”
“You like chocolate-chip cookies. You’ve ordered them when we’ve gotten food before, so that’s what I’ll make.”
He opens his mouth like he’s struggling to process this new information on top of everything else.
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s happening, and you don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to. They can just be here for when you want them.”
It’s been a while since I’ve made cookies, but it’s not like it’s hard.
I pull up a recipe on my phone, and fortunately, I have everything I need, so I get right to work.
I can’t really tell whom I’m doing this for—Dax because he needs something right now, or me because I need to do something, anything, to make this better.
Although, there’s not really anything I can do to make what he’s just found out better.
When I measure out the chocolate chips, it doesn’t look like enough—he’ll need a lot more than that to cheer up—so I dump the rest of the bag in the bowl and mix it in. Maybe that’s overkill, but I’ll make it work.
As I’m getting everything ready, I keep glancing over my shoulder to check on him, taking seriously the duty his brother entrusted me with.
When I get the first batch in the oven and turn to check on him again, he’s right behind me.
I see more of that brightness when I look into his eyes, but it’s still dulled.
He leans toward me, and I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close for a hug.
He keeps his arms around me tight, the way he’s clinging bringing me back to life.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers.
I hadn’t noticed, but it makes sense. “A part of me is trying to keep from driving back to your dad’s place and showing him how I feel.”
He chuckles, but I hear the pain behind it. “Yeah, maybe baking cookies is a better idea than kicking his ass.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
He chuckles again. He’s coming back to me, but I sense how vulnerable he still is, and I hate it.
He stirs against me before pulling back and looking me in the eyes.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “That’s a stupid question. You can’t be feeling good, and I don’t expect you to. Don’t answer that. You should get in bed. I’ll finish these and bring you a cookie, if you’re still awake. I’ll take care of you.”
“I know you will,” he assures me, and my chest swells with pride.
Not that I’m happy he’s in this state, but I’m pleased he knows I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.
He rests his hand against my face, caressing his thumb across my flesh.
“As painful as it was to learn the truth, it put a lot of things into perspective. Helped me understand why things have always been this way with him. That it wasn’t just in my head that there was something wrong with our relationship. ”
“I can’t imagine how he could feel that way, not just about his kid, but you specifically.
How could someone know you and treat you like that?
Or not understand why you were so emotional from hearing that.
” My rage flares again, my trembling intensifying, and I try to steady myself because what’s important now is to be here for Dax, which for some reason, involves making cookies.
Dax is quiet for a few moments, just looking at me. He’s more present than he was on the drive back, and my thoughts scramble again.
“I’m having a hard time reading you now, and I don’t like it,” I say.
“It scares me.” I realize that’s one of the reasons I’m trembling, one of the reasons I’m trying desperately to cheer him up with cookies—like some part of me thinks if I could have just made Mom some cookies, nothing would have gone so wrong. She wouldn’t have left me.
Picking up on my meaning, Dax says, “Don’t worry, Miles. I’m not going anywhere.”
My eyes water as some of this tension in me dissipates. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that. But this isn’t about me. “Tell me what you need. Just say it and I’ll do it.”
“Kiss me.”
It’s the easiest request to obey, and I don’t hesitate to take his mouth, instantly feeling that familiar relief.
It melts the remaining stress, and my body can’t get enough as I push him back against the wall beside the island, running a hand under the hem of his shirt, caressing his abs.
His muscles relax, and the more we lock lips, the more I think we both realize we need this.
When our lips part, Dax whispers, “Tonight’s another night where I need you to not stop touching me.”
“Done.”
There’s relief in hearing him tell me what he needs, and we continue kissing on our way to my room.
This isn’t one of those frenzied encounters we shared when we first started fucking.
There’s a calm to the way we strip down, crawling into bed together.
Our kisses are relaxed, easy, each one promising me that another is coming, and then another.
I sense in the way he touches me how much he needs me to be here for him.
To be present, sharing this moment with him.
Just as he won’t leave me, I won’t leave him.
Now that I’ve learned this man’s body, memorized his pleasure points, I’m determined to use that to help him escape, if only for a little while. I work my way inside him, nibble at his neck, and he arches his back, moaning.
“Miles, you know what I need.”
“Yes, I do,” I assure him as his body welcomes me, his muscles loosening, as he lies there, ready for me to pleasure him with my all.
I push in steadily until I’m in deep, offering subtle thrusts.
He looks into my eyes, really looking at me, his gaze letting me know this experience is pulling him from the events of tonight.
We lose ourselves in kisses, sweat, and moans, our bodies uniting as we find that familiar, effortless rhythm. Only this time, it’s not just our bodies involved in the act, but our very souls.
“Miles, fuck, Miles,” he calls out, reaching back and gripping the headboard, clearly to keep himself from playing with his cock and reaching the end too soon.
“You’re almost there,” I observe, proud of myself for the good work I put in tonight.
A few more strokes, and I can tell by the way he shakes that his body is working to release, so I take hold of his cock, gripping to prevent him from coming before I’m ready. His lips pull into a smirk, which I cherish. I’m worried that after what happened with his dad, he feels alone. Unwanted.
“Dax…no matter what happens, you’re not on your own. I want you. No, I need you. You’re mine. And you’ll always be mine, do you understand?”
He forces himself to look at me as he struggles on the edge. “I understand.”
As I look at this beautiful man beneath me, my heart swells. I only know one thing for certain, and there’s no point hiding it. “I never thought I could feel this way about anyone. Never wanted to feel it, but I love you, Dax,” I confess.
His body erupts in a series of spasms, and I grip his cock even tighter.
“You don’t have to say it back, but I need you to know you’re it for me.”
His cock swells in my hold, and he gasps before blinking a few times, like he’s trying to regain control. He steadies his breaths, looking me in the eyes once again. “You’re it for me too, Miles. I love you too.”
His words are a sedative, and I lean close, offering him a kiss and a thrust, finally allowing him reprieve as I release his cock, and his jaw locks as he shoots.
Feeling his body relax beneath me, knowing that this beautiful, incredible man is totally mine, is all I need to claim this ass yet again.
As I recover from the shockwave and gaze down at him, I know the full truth of how deeply I feel for this man. “We’re gonna get through this, my sunshine. That’s a promise.”
“I know we will, my storm.”
He sounds far more confident than he did earlier in the night, though I know it won’t magically fix what he’s going through. That will take time. As I lean back, his face twists up. “You didn’t set a timer for those cookies, did you?”
Oh, fuck.
As the burning smell catches my attention, I bow my head in shame, and we both burst into laughter.
After the night we had, after everything we just confessed, here I am buried inside him, and we’re laughing about fucking cookies.
Very us.