11. Spencer
Chapter eleven
Spencer
“How the fuck do you have so much shit?” Every time I fill a box, more stuff appears out of nowhere. We’re not gonna have enough boxes at this rate, and I already bought out half the storage place.
“You keep acting like I live in an attic or something,” Kendrick says, scowling at me. We’re both getting twitchy after hours of packing. “This place is only a little smaller than yours, and I’ve lived here for years. When you live in a place for that long, you accumulate a lot of random stuff.”
“This isn’t accumulation. It’s a hoard.”
“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Besides that, moving in was your idea, so this is your fault.”
I have no regrets even if this whole “packing everything up” deal is kind of a nightmare. When he’s living with me, he won’t get to leave me. There won’t be any distance between us.
“I think we should just throw everything out,” I declare, kicking the empty box away from myself. It’s not as satisfying as I’d hoped it’d be. “Anything you need that I don’t have, we can just buy again.”
“Now you’re being a lot dramatic.”
I like to think of it as smart, economic, and efficient. “I really think it has merit.” More than. He can wear my clothes, sleep in my bed, and never want for anything. If he needs it, I’ll buy it. And it means we don’t need to shove anything else into a box and hope it all fits.
“Let’s just keep packing, alright? We need to get this done before the cavalry arrive on Saturday.”
At least with the whole team, we’ll have everything moved in like… three trips, tops. Maybe even two if we can manage to snag the second truck that Jericho said he’d look into.
I flop onto the couch like a starfish, one leg over the side, and let out a slightly exaggerated groan. “Can we take a break?”
“We’ve barely been going for an hour.”
That can’t be right. It’s been at least two. Even three. If someone says we’ve been doing this for ten hours, I’ll believe them. Staring upside down at him, I give him my best attempt at a pout. “Please?”
“Fine. Half hour. Then we should pack for another hour before I make dinner.”
I hate everything about that plan. Well, except for the break part, and the food part. I hate the rest of it. “Why can’t we eat now and then pack after?”
“Because once I feed you, you won’t move from this couch.”
Sometimes it’s hard being so predictable. I shift, sitting up, and pat the spot beside me. “Break time.”
Kendrick settles, remote in hand, and I immediately curl into his side. This is my favourite part of the day, when it’s just the two of us, with nothing demanding our attention or time. When the only thing he’s focused on is me.
“Spence…”
“Mmm?” Why’s he interrupting my snuggle time?
“We need to talk.”
“Do we?” About what? Can’t it wait?
“You don’t think we do?”
It depends on what he wants to talk about. What we have doesn’t need words. So long as he’s touching me, that’s all we need.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”
Wait, what? I jerk upright in surprise, twisting to stare at him. “Why not? You said you liked it,” I accuse. He started it! “Were you lying to me?” That more than anything starts a dull ache in the pit of my stomach. If he doesn’t enjoy what we do together, then what use am I?
“Of course not.”
“Then I don’t understand. If you like doing something, you don’t have regrets about it.”
“That’s not always how it works.” Kendrick sighs and bends a knee, leaning against the arm of the couch so that he’s facing me. “You don’t—we’re not like that. You’re not like that, and I shouldn’t have done it.”
“I liked it too,” I say in a small voice. “Is this because I didn’t get off on it? That doesn’t matter to me.” I can enjoy something without getting horny about it. Why is that the only indication of pleasure? Why can’t it be more than that, without getting stuck on that detail?
“It matters to me.”
Oh.
“Fuck, don’t look at me like that, Spence.”
“Like what?”
“Like I kicked you. Baby, this isn’t—it feels like I took advantage. That I took something from you that you don’t want to give.”
It’s the first time he’s ever called me baby . I can’t help the way it makes my heart flutter. I want to hear it again. I don’t care how he means it. It doesn’t matter. I’ll grasp it with both hands and never let it go. “There’s nothing I don’t want to give.”
“I know you think that, but—”
“But what? You don’t get to decide.” There’s nothing I wouldn’t give him if he asked for it. Whatever he wants, he can have it. “Am I not enough for you? Is that what this is about?” Anger joins the ache, swirling until they’re all twisted up and painful, squeezing me and making it hard to breathe. Every day it feels like he’s pulling away from me, and I don’t know how to fix it. I won’t let him leave. He doesn’t get to give up on this.
Kendrick cradles my face, his touch soft and firm simultaneously. He forces me to look up into his warm hazel-green gaze. “You are more than enough. Spence, you’re everything.”
“Prove it.”
I know he can see the challenge I’m throwing down. He knows exactly what I’m asking for. That kiss was his. He initiated it. And I want it again. There’s no stopping at just one, not with us.
He doesn’t hesitate, leaning in to press his lips against mine. It feels like all our other kisses, all the ones that are mine . Cursory. A snack, not a meal. I don’t want mine; I want his. That urgent desperation. The taste of him invading me. All it takes is a slide of my tongue against his bottom lip, and he groans, cupping the back of my neck and taking over.
Yes. Lifting onto my knees, I straddle his hip awkwardly, his knee jammed up under me. I don’t care. I’d sink into him if I could. Become one and live inside him forever.
His arm wraps around my waist, and he dislodges his leg, allowing me to settle properly on top of him. I’ve never been this close, felt it like this. Why not? It’s evidence of how much he wants me. That I own him.
“You’re hard for me,” I whisper against his lips, grinding down on his cock. “You want me.”
He pulls back, hesitating. “What are you doing?”
“Taking what’s mine,” I say and then kiss him again before he can say anything else.
He moans, eyes closing, his tongue sliding in to stroke at the core of me. My hand sneaks between us, searching for him. I want to feel him against my palm.
“Jesus fuck, Spence!” Ken barks out, clambering out of the way of my hand. “The hell are you doing?”
“What?”
“ What? You just put your hand on my dick!”
Why’s he saying that like I don’t know what I did? I didn’t do it by accident. “Yeah, and?”
“Why?”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“I—that’s not it. I just don’t understand.”
It’s really pretty simple. “I want to see it.”
“See what ?” His eyes widen. “My dick? Spence, you’ve seen my dick before.”
“Not hard.” Not aching and wanting. When he touches himself, he thinks of me. And that makes it mine. I have every right to see it.
“Because you’re not interested in that. You’re still fucking soft, Spence. It doesn’t arouse you, why the hell would you want to see it? I’m not some animal in a zoo for you to gawk at.”
“Let me see.” This has nothing to do with my dick, it has to do with his. “Please. I want to, I promise.”
Kendrick lets out a shaky breath and then leans back. He lifts a knee, pressing it against the back of the couch, his other leg draped over the side. Spread out for me, giving me a good view. Perfect.
He unzips his pants, and my breath hitches in anticipation, unable to look away from his strong hands, veins running over the back of them. He’s going to do it. For me. Because I asked him to. What wouldn’t he do for me if I asked?
Nothing.
The truth of the answer’s heady, feeding the monster living in my chest. No one else in the world will ever get what he gives me. Not even if they ask or plead with him. They aren’t me, and they don’t matter.
All that matters are the two of us.
His thick, hard cock has prominent veins, and it veers to the right just a little. He’s cut, and his head looks swollen and achy. His hand wrapped around it is the most obscene thing I’ve ever seen, and I want more. Want to see him get himself off. I want to see his face as he loses himself in pleasure, the same way Greer looked when Six was fucking him.
When Kendrick comes, he’ll be thinking of me, and I’m going to watch every second of it.
“Stroke yourself.”
Kendrick makes a choking noise, and my gaze flits up to his. His lips are parted, breath coming heavy, eyes darkened. He’s unbelievably sexy.
He starts slowly, the head of his cock disappearing underneath his palm before reappearing when he slides down. Damn , that’s good.
“Faster.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” Kendrick asks hoarsely.
I might have been amused by that if I wasn’t so entranced by him. “No, I need you alive. Don’t stop.”
He bites his lip and fists his cock rapidly. He looks incredible, blissed out and lost in it. So much wasted time that I could have been enjoying this. Why didn’t he say something?
“Take your shirt off.” He’s not naked enough. I can’t see his muscles moving, the strain as he brings himself closer to completion. I never thought that the act of jerking off could be so erotic. It’s always quick and dirty whenever I’ve done it in the past. Nothing particularly spectacular and not something I think about or get the urge to do all that often.
He’s not undressing quick enough, so I help him, popping out the buttons and shoving the shirt off his shoulders. Awkwardly—I can acknowledge I’m only hindering his movements—the shirt is discarded on the floor, and his magnificent chest is on display for me. All hard lines and sculpted muscles that I love to look at.
It’s even better now since every time he travels from tip to base, I can see the way his stomach moves. “You don’t take your shirt off for anyone else, do you?”
He blinks. “No?” he says slowly.
“You don’t sound sure.”
“The question kind of got me from left field, Spence. Give me a second.”
“It’s not a hard question.” Yes or no.
“No, I don’t. Just you.”
Perfect answer. I splay my fingers over his stomach so I can feel it rippling. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, watching with rapt attention. Damn, it looks good. He looks good.
“I want to do it,” I blurt out impulsively. I want to put that look on his face.
His fist stops, and his lips fall fully open. “Want to do… what?”
“Let me do it for you.”
He tentatively lifts his hand, his eyes intensely tracking me as I get comfortable in front of him. “Are you sure?”
I wrap my hand around his dick instead of responding verbally. The first touch of his silky heat is intoxicating. A piece of him that I haven’t had before. There isn’t anything about him that I don’t want access to. This is a good step. Important.
“How do you like it?” I’ll make this so good for him his own hand will never be enough again. So good he won’t be able to come without my help. His release given only when I give it.
He grips the back of my neck firmly. The possessive touch sends a shiver down my back. This ownership goes both ways, and I won’t have it any other way.
“Harder,” he says huskily. “I won’t break.”
I would never break him. Never hurt him. He deserves so much better than that.
I tighten my grip and stroke him. Up and down smoothly, slowing at the top and speeding down at the bottom, the same way he’d done.
“What else?” I ask, licking my lips.
“You’re doing perfect, baby.”
Baby. “I want to be better than perfect.”
He squeezes my neck before letting go. “Touch me.”
An easy ask. Touching him is my reason for breathing.
I start at his inner thigh, knuckles grazing his hair-roughened skin. He lets out a shuddered breath as I glide up, over his stomach, lingering on every ridge and mouthwatering muscle. I spend some time playing with his pebbled nipples. We’ve never done this. Explored each other. I’m happy to make up for lost time. “Are they sensitive?” I ask, watching his face as I flick and squeeze them.
“Yeah,” he says in a guttural, shaky voice. “Everything you do to me is sensitive.”
“Just me?” I hate the idea that anyone can make him feel this way. That any touch will do. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching me, and I need him to feel the same. The rest of the world can go to hell.
“Only you.”
He always knows what I need to hear. I shuffle closer, all but straddling him again, making sure I can keep a grip on him. He’s distracting me, and the motions are jerky, but he doesn’t seem to mind. The second our lips meet, he opens for me, his groan filling my mouth. His palm is back at my nape, holding me close as he takes over, playing with me while I play with him.
Bursts of pleasant fireworks erupt in my stomach, turning over and dancing as he kisses me. This is the only pleasure that matters, the one we make between us. That’s ours alone. So much more than mere physical connection. He owns me on this plane and all others, this life and beyond.
“How does it feel?” I ask, licking the corner of his mouth.
“So fucking good,” Kendrick moans out. “I’m—close.”
I know that already. He’s throbbing in my palm, the pre-cum giving me an easier glide. I should have gotten lube to make it easier, but that would require getting up and moving away from him. Impossible. “Do you—do you like something in your ass?”
He jolts in surprise. “Fucking hell , Spence, you can’t ask me that.”
I tilt my head. “Why not?”
“You just can’t.”
I can do whatever I want. “Do you?” I ask again.
He growls and kisses me hard. I melt against him, my hand squeezing around his cock. He’s trying to distract me. It won’t work. Okay, it may work a little because his tongue is magic, but I want to know this about him. It’s the only thing I don’t know. What he likes in bed. What he’s like in bed.
“I’ve never had anything in my ass,” I offer. I can give too. A truth for a truth. “Not even like… a finger.”
Kendrick groans and bucks into my hand. “I’m aware of that.”
Yeah, he would be. He knows everything about me, including those parts. I hate that I don’t have the same knowledge, and at the same time, I don’t want to hear anything about it. Those people don’t get to have him, because he’s mine . He’s been mine our entire lives, even when we didn’t know each other. Time is meaningless when it comes to what’s between us.
“And you?”
His eyes meet mine, and there’s a strange vulnerability there. I want to soothe it, make it better.
“Tell me.” Please. I have to know. Has someone else been there?
“No, Spence,” Kendrick breathes out. His thumb massages my neck, pressing in pleasantly. “I’ve never let anyone in. If you want it, you can have it. You don’t have to ask for anything.”
He gives everything freely to me, and I love him so much for it that it hurts sometimes. The idea of losing him, this , is unbearable. Tightening my grip on his dick, I renew my efforts with vigour. “I want you to come for me.”
His fingers thread through my hair, and he pulls my head back, latching on the curve of my throat. Pain and pleasure mingle in the spot as he bites and sucks, marking me. Yes. I want to wear him on me, always. I can’t wait to get him into a tattoo parlour to put a permanent mark on him.
I speed up further, and he sucks harder, one feeding into the other, the two of us completely attuned. My arm’s starting to tire, and I don’t care. I’ll push through anything to give him this. Walk through fire for him. And then back again because my place is right next to him.
“Come,” I whisper hoarsely. “Please. I want to be covered in you, smell so strongly of you that no one will ever mistake that you own me.”
His growl reverberates through me like a lightning bolt, and then his teeth sink into my skin further, pain lancing down my spine. He pulses in my hand, coating me with his cum.
Everything settles, the buzz in my brain ceases, and the world quiets. This reassurance of his hold on me, of mine on him, is the strongest I’ve ever felt. It’s perfect.
He’s perfect.