Chapter 16 #2
We make inane chatter, catching up on things like Denver buying a new car—the way he describes the inside of it makes me feel like I’ve actually been there—and me telling him all about the random things I’ve found in boxes around my aunt’s.
By the time the plates are cleared and the drinks are gone, Denver is actually smiling, Thorne looks chill, and I feel slightly buzzed.
‘I should get going. I have a class and a show tomorrow,’ Denver says.
‘Where? I want to come see you again.’
‘I’ll text you my schedule so you two can come see me perform.’ He winks at Thorne. ‘Nice to see you again. And keep up the practicing. Now that you have this guy in your life, there’s no excuse.’
‘No Deaf goodbye?’ I tease.
Denver yawns. ‘Not tonight. We did spend four hours chatting though.’
I gasp and let out a loud laugh. We sure as fuck did. Almost shut the damn place down. No wonder the chicken in my wrap was so cold by the time I finished my plate.
We all exchange hugs, and then Denver heads for the exit as Thorne and I sit back down, our eyes catching.
“Can you hear me okay?” I ask him. He seems a bit fatigued, and I know how that feels on the brain when language switching.
He nods.
“Should we go home?” I ask him, and he wets his lips.
“We should, but first, I have something I need to tell you.”
My stomach drops and roils as I switch to my voice. “Oh god, not another lie.”
He shakes his head and then sighs. This cannot be good.
“Don’t freak out.”
“Too late.”
His stare grows more serious, and then he reaches out and twines his fingers with mine.
“I want to go home with you, and it is because I want to get into bed with you again. More than just tonight too.”
My heart’s still beating a little too hard. “But?”
“No but,” he says. “Just and. And…I want to be at your house because I need to look around more. I think your aunt killed someone. And I think they might be buried on the property.”
Once again, it feels like someone pulled the world out from under my feet. I stare at Thorne, then realize we’re in the middle of a diner about to close, so I can’t start freaking out the way I want to.
This is the first time since meeting him that I want him to be lying. “We need to leave.”
Thorne glances over at a couple of servers filling up saltshakers and sweeping under tables. We’re the last people here, which is saying something for a Deaf establishment. “Let me drive.”
Wordlessly, I dig my keys out of my pocket, and at the same time, he pulls cash out of his wallet and lays it on the table.
“Oh. I asked you out. Let me—”
“No.” He closes his hand over mine and then links our fingers together, tugging me close. “I’ve already fucked up your life in more ways than one. Let me at least treat you to dinner.”
I can’t argue with that. I don’t even want to try. I just nod and let him draw me to my feet, the chair making an obnoxious squeak over the linoleum as I push it back. He doesn’t seem to notice, which makes me wonder if his hearing aids have fully died.
We make our way to the empty parking lot, but instead of letting me go so he can get in, he bustles me against the side of the car and tilts my chin up. His eyes fixate on my lips.
“How good are your lipreading skills?”
“Very good,” he says, his voice low. “I had training before I started losing my hearing.”
That’s weirdly hot. Not the lipreading part, but the competency part. I’ve always had a bit of a thing for guys who were very good at their jobs. And I don’t know a lot of details about his, but I think he’s probably very good at his job.
“I need a kiss.”
He lifts his hand with a tiny smirk and signs it. When I nod, he curls his fingers around my jaw, just shy of painfully hard, and then leans in. His lips part mine, tongue pushing into my mouth. It’s wet and hot, and he tastes faintly of tonic and seasoning.
I let out a groan, and he swallows down all the noises I make, the fingers of his left hand resting lightly against my throat to feel them.
“I want to get you home,” he rumbles against my lips. “We can talk about the complicated stuff after, but I need you to know I’m not here just because of that. I don’t know what you want from me—”
“I don’t know either,” I confess. I’d long since given up hope that I would find someone who wanted to put up with me and my anxiety and neurosis. But he seems to like all of it. And not just in spite of all the things people tell me are flaws.
But that doesn’t mean I know what I want from all this. Or where we can possibly go from here. But I do know I want him. I want his hands on me, his dick in my ass, his cum painting my insides as he loses control.
He grunts like somehow he can read my thoughts, and he kisses me harder. “We’d better go. I can’t afford to get arrested for public indecency.”
The idea is hot, but the consequences of that are most definitely not, so I pull away and stare at him for a second. ‘I’m sorry,’ I sign.
He freezes, and his brows dip. ‘Why?’
‘Because I make things complicated.’
He shakes his head and steps back into me.
‘You make things interesting,’ he signs, then pulls my fingers to his lips and kisses the tips of each one.
“You are gorgeous and sexy, and you make me feel things I didn’t know I could.
You make me feel like there might be a place in the world for me after all. ”
That’s a lot. And yet, it rings true. I just don’t have the words to tell him I feel the same way. ‘Take me home,’ I sign instead.
He kisses me one last time for good measure, then lets me go and turns to get in the car. It’s with shaking knees and unsteady feet that I follow suit, and I do my best not to count down the minutes until we’re back at mine.
We crash through the door, frantic with need. The car ride home made me incredibly horny. Mainly because Thorne was touching me while behind the wheel, literally driving me to distraction.
Michael is no longer at the forefront of my mind. Neither is Denver and his stalker revelation.
Nor the fact that my aunt may have killed someone and their body is rotting underground.
That makes me gasp, pulling away from Thorne.
“What?” he asks, and I shake my head, not wanting to let dead bodies get in the way of a good fuck. I can think about that later. I’m sure they’ll still be there when we’re done.
Unless Michael up and moves it.
I wouldn’t put it past him.
We fall onto the couch, and Thorne is above me, kissing me roughly. The feel of his cock rubbing against my own hard length has me moaning deeply. The couch squeaks underneath us.
If this fucking thing breaks on me, I may cry.
My fingers twine in his hair, and I pull, making him groan. My legs clench around him, my ankles locking against his lower back.
“I put lube down here,” I tell him, and he leans up, obviously having heard my voice but not able to make it out.
I stare at his spit-slick lips and run my thumb over them before signing, ‘Lube. Have here.’
His eyebrows rise, and he turns his gaze to the coffee table. Sure enough, there it is.
“Backdoor Gear,” he rumbles and then lets out a long laugh. “Where did you get this from? Is this new?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I sign and say. “It’s not old though, so come on. Put it in my back door.”
He snorts and leans over me, his eyes meeting mine. “I really like you.”
I bite my lip and blink up at him, fluttering my eyelashes a little. “Like you too.”
He leans up a little, reaches back, and pulls his shirt off over his head. It’s far too sexy. I tried this once and ended up doing something to my collarbone in the process.
Never again will I attempt to be sexy. I think the world just wants me as is.
‘Your turn,’ he signs, and I lift up, straining my abs, which are still sore from Dex’s workout class, and pull my shirt up. It gets stuck around my face, and I lie back and let Thorne peel it away.
‘Saved you.’
‘My hero.’
He grins, and then his fingers tug at my pants, pulling them down as far as he can before standing up and discarding them altogether.
Then he does his own. I watch with hunger as his cock pops out, thick and long. My hole clenches around nothing.
It can’t wait to be stuffed full.
Thorne must read my mind because he grabs the lube and squirts some on his fingers. My legs spread, and I place my hands behind my head, wanting to watch him open me up.
And he does. Slowly, torturously. By the time he has three fingers in me, I’m swearing at the gods. This is unreal.
He’s found my prostate and is playing with it, his lips twitching as I clutch at the cushions and writhe.
‘Your dick. In me. Now.’ I sign with one hand because the other is stroking my cock.
Thorne wets his lips, looking just as desperate as me. He grabs the lube once more, his fingers still inside of me, twisting and making me nearly cry, and then he squirts some lube on his cock and strokes.
I hear the squelch of it. I want that sound to be coming from my ass, from where our bodies will connect.
I lift my hips up, wanting him to enter me, to put me out of my misery, but he’s happy where he is, fingers inside of me, hand on his dick, watching.
‘Thorne!’ I sign. I point to the spot between my legs.
He cocks his head, and then he smirks.
I glower.
His smirk slowly melts into a smile, and then he leans over and kisses me. It’s soft. Gentle. In total opposition to the way his fingers feel inside of me.
I lick into his mouth, and he sucks on my tongue.
I cry out as he finally pulls himself free and places his dick right there.
Right where I want it. A shift of his hips has the tip popping in.
My head arches back, my back bowing off the couch.
He slides in easily, his body hovering over mine.
I can hear his curses, the sweet sounds he makes as he bottoms out.
We stop moving for a moment, and our eyes meet. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple, so I brush it away with shaking fingers.
And then he moves, slow at first. Always slow. And then he picks up the pace, a slap of skin and shout of pleasure. Pretty soon, the couch is scooting across the room as he fucks me.
I can’t take it. I’m fucking gone. My cock explodes easily, messing up my abdomen, hitting him in the process. He doesn’t slow down. He only seems to be more turned on. His hips work back and forth, pistoning his cock in and out of my sensitive rim.
His movements become scattered, frantic and out of time, and then I hear his grunt just as his head falls forward and he empties himself inside of me.
We breathe in sync, our hearts racing.
“Perfect. As always,” he says softly, and I nod, leaning up to kiss him while he’s still inside of me. “That backdoor lube was good,” he adds, and I let out a laugh. He stares down at me adoringly, his cock slowly slipping from my hole.
‘Found it out back in a jug,’ I tease, and he glowers at me.
“You’re a bad fucking liar. No way was that lube out back, but seriously, is my dick gonna fall off? Where did you get that shit?’
I grin widely. ‘Secret.’
He leans down and kisses me softly. “Maybe I can pull it from you. One suck at a time.”
‘Try,’ my hands whisper. ‘Try.’