Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
ETHAN
The second we stepped through the door, I came to an abrupt stop. Everything was exactly as we’d left it, yet nothing felt the same.
The familiar details—the faint scent of my cologne clinging to the coat I’d tossed over the entryway bench, the sharp tang of lemon polish rising from the hardwood floors, the line of Bell’s sneakers against the baseboards, the distant hum of the fridge—should have been a comfort.
But they weren’t.
I swallowed hard and tried to tell myself this was still home.
Butt felt different. Foreign. Like I was seeing everything through a new lens, colors too bright, edges too sharp.
Or maybe that was just me.
Maybe everything that had happened between us altered me in ways I couldn’t yet comprehend.
Back at the hotel, things had felt almost like a dream. Like what Bell and I had done wasn’t real. Like it didn’t count. Like maybe we could shove it all back into a box labeled “temporary insanity” and pretend it hadn’t happened.
But there was no box.
And now that we were back here, in the house where we’d been forced to live together, there was no forgetting. No shoving anything anywhere.
The reality of our situation settled over me, thick and suffocating.
Bell and I hadn’t just fucked—we’d crossed a line.
One I didn’t know how to come back from.
I dropped my bag by the door, the heavy thud echoing in the entryway, and turned, desperate to get to the safety of my room.
To get space from Bell.
To breathe air that wasn’t thick with the scent of him or with the memory of what we’d done together.
I barely made it two steps before he caught me, his fingers wrapping firmly around my wrist, anchoring me before I could disappear.
“Wait, we need to?—”
“Don’t,” I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended.
I knew he wanted to talk about what he’d seen back on the plane—the way I’d fallen apart—but I couldn’t handle that conversation right now.
“I can’t … later … shit,” I babbled, shaking my head as if I could rid my mind of the echo of Chet’s voice. Of the voices from my past.
Bell studied me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. “You’re spiraling again,” he said, not a question but an observation. “It’s written all over your face.”
I swallowed hard, unable to deny it. “I just … I can’t talk right now. I need?—”
I needed something to quiet the noise in my head, something to ground me in my body instead of my brain.
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he stepped into my space, crowding me until my shoulders hit the wall, his body a steady, solid pressure against mine.
“You need to get out of your head,” he said softly.
I nodded, relief washing through me at being seen, at not having to explain.
“Okay,” he said, his hand coming up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “We’ll talk later. Right now …” His thigh slid between mine, pressing up against my dick.
I let out a broken-sounding gasp, and he grinned, wicked and knowing.
I grabbed his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor.
He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Remember—no shame, no regrets, no guilt. Just this.” His voice was a filthy rasp as his hand slid between our bodies to cup my dick through my jeans, making me arch against him.
I let out a helpless whimper before dragging him toward my bedroom, my hands fisting in his hoodie like I couldn’t bear to let him go.
The second we crossed the threshold, I shoved the door closed with my foot and kissed him, wild and desperate.
“I want you,” I panted against his mouth. “All the damn time. You’ve created a monster, and now I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to hold my shit together.”
Bell chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending shivers racing down my spine.
“Maybe you don’t have to,” he said, kissing me again, slower this time, almost tenderly. “Maybe I like you wrecked for me.”
I ground my pelvis against him, and Bell’s hands landed on my hips, gripping me tight.
“You need me to fuck you again?” he asked, his voice a dark promise. “Need me to shut up all those stupid voices in your head?”
“God, yes. Please,” I gasped, my hips rocking helplessly against his.
He kissed me harder, one hand slipping under my hoodie to splay wide against my bare back.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered, his mouth dragging down my throat.
His hands were everywhere—yanking my hoodie up, shoving it over my head, making quick work of my jeans and underwear until I was bare, breathless, and trembling against him.
He stepped back, just enough to strip his own clothes off, his gaze eating me alive the whole time.
“You remember that first road trip?” he asked, kicking his jeans away. “Colorado?”
I blinked at him, feeling dazed. “Yeah?”
He let loose a deep chuckle, raking his hand through his messy hair. “You were in the shower. I could smell your fucking soap through the door. I couldn’t stop picturing you, naked and dripping wet, just a few feet away from me.”
He stepped in close again, his skin hot against mine, his dick hard and heavy between us.
I clutched at his arms and broad shoulders, needing something to anchor me.
“It drove me fucking insane, E.” His fingers traced slow lines down my ribs. “Knowing you were right there. Wanting you so bad it hurt. Not being able to touch you.”
My breath caught, my heart thundering wildly, as Bell seduced me with his words. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear him say these things—how worried I’d been that maybe I was the only one feeling this way.
“You think you’re the only one who’s obsessed with this?” he continued, dragging his mouth over my jaw, his hand slipping down to wrap around me. “You think you’re the only one losing his goddamn mind here? You make me fucking crazy, and you have absolutely no clue.” He sucked a bruise just under my ear, his hand stroking my needy dick.
I thrust into his hand, my cheeks clenching. I winced. the twinge in my ass reminding how thoroughly Bell had fucked me the night before. Four hours sitting in a shitty plane seat hadn’t helped matters much either.
“You still sore?”
I nodded, a little embarrassed but mostly proud. Some new, greedy part of me craved the ache, the stretch. If it meant hearing Bell say how good I was, how well I took him, I’d hurt every damn day of my life just to have it.
But the possessive side of me, the one that flared to life whenever Bell spoke to Miller, also relished the idea of claiming him. Of it being my dick that he begged for.
“You want my hole instead, E?” he asked, his voice telling me he already knew the answer as he backed us toward my bed. When his knees hit the mattress, he sprawled out and spread his legs wide in invitation, his hands hooked behind his head, his large body looking loose and relaxed. Like he’d let me do anything I wanted to him.
And even though I had a million and one ideas of what that was, nerves prickled under my skin. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” I said, my voice cracking a little.
Bell’s whole face softened, and then he smiled—that slow, dirty smile that promised all sorts of debauchery. “What’s that old saying—it’s like riding a bike?”
I flushed hot. “Yeah, except I don’t know how to ride a bike.”
He gave a low, reassuring laugh. “You literally cannot mess this up, E. Trust yourself. And trust me to tell you what I need.”
I bit my lip, searching his face for any sign of doubt. All I saw was shameless want that went a long way toward settling my nerves.
Bell crooked a finger at me, his blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “Come here.”
Any hesitation I’d felt before was gone now. I moved without thinking, climbing onto the bed and crawling between his legs, my hands trembling with the need to touch him.
“Slow down. There’s no rush.”
“Um, yeah, there is. I want that ass milking my cock more than I want my next breath.” I leaned over and reached into my nightstand for the lube, popping the top and slicking my shaking fingers.
He pulled his knees back, offering himself to me without a hint of shame. “Then what are you waiting for?”
When I pressed my slick fingers to his hole, he moaned. “That’s it,” he said, his head tipping back against my pillows. “Open me up.”
I watched as he rocked into my fingers, completely unabashed about what he wanted.
And fuck, it did something to me.
It made me bold.
Made me hungry.
Made me want to bury myself so deep inside him that he’d never forget who he belonged to.
I worked another slick finger inside him, marveling at the way his body gripped me.
“More,” he rasped, his hands fisting the comforter beneath him.
I worked a third finger carefully into his channel, and he moaned, pushing back against me like he couldn’t get enough.
“God,” I breathed out.
“No, just Bell.” He cracked one eye open and grinned. “Now, tell me how pretty my hole looks swallowing your fingers.”
I barked out a surprised laugh. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a huge ego?”
He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “You love it.”
I did. I really fucking did.
“I bet it’d look even prettier gobbling up your fat cock.”
It would, I decided, slicking my dick quickly, my hands clumsy with how badly I wanted him.
I lined myself up, pushing against his hole, and I swear to God I nearly lost consciousness as I felt him open around me. The tight heat was almost too much, my vision blurring at the edges as I fought to maintain control.
Bell threw his head back with a low, guttural moan, the tendons in his neck standing out in sharp relief against his flushed skin. A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple before disappearing into his hairline. “Yeah, Ethan. Just like that.”
Hearing my name in his voice—rough with need, trembling at the edges—nearly undid me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to blow my load immediately, trying to breathe through the overwhelming sensation of being inside him for the first time. Every nerve ending sang with the pleasure of it, my pulse thundering in my ears.
I pulled out slightly and then thrust back in, a little deeper this time.
Bell’s throat worked around a deep swallow. “More,” he rasped. “Give me all of it.”
I drove forward again, hitting deeper, setting a slow, grinding rhythm.
I watched him, watched the way his body opened for me, took me in like he was made for this.
For me.
The room was filled with the slick, obscene sounds of skin against skin, the sharp, gasping breaths we dragged into our lungs.
“Open your eyes, E,” he whispered. “Look at me, baby.”
I hadn’t even realized they were closed, but I forced them open, and what I saw nearly broke me.
Bell wasn’t just giving me his body.
He looked like he was giving me everything .
His eyes were wide and unguarded, blazing with something so raw it punched the air right out of my lungs. Trust. Want. Adoration. All of it laid bare for me to see, like he wasn’t afraid to let me hold it in my hands.
Or maybe that was just what I wanted to see.
I groaned and leaned down to kiss him, deep and messy, my thrusts picking up speed as he sucked my tongue into his mouth.
“Right there. Yeah. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” When he reached between us and stroked his cock, I buried myself deep, grinding against his sweet spot with every thrust, watching watched him fall apart beneath me, his mouth dropping silently open as he came, his dicks spurting all over his skin.
The sight dragged me over the edge.
I shouted his name as I spilled inside him, every muscle in my body locking up as my orgasm crashed through me in wave after wave of pure bliss.
When every last drop of cum had been wrung out of me, I slumped forward, breathing hard, my face buried in the crook of his neck.
Bell’s hands stroked up and down my back in lazy, comforting circles.
“You good, baby?” he murmured, his voice slurred with exhaustion and pleasure.
I nodded, too shattered to speak.
I was more than good.
I was fucking amazing.
I pulled out slowly, and Bell groaned. I watched, hypnotized, as his hole fluttered and my cum started leaking out of him, thick and obscene. Before I could move away, he reached between his legs, pressing two fingers to his ass and lazily pumping it back inside himself, a deep, satisfied sound rumbling from his chest.
“Jesus, Bell.”
He cracked one eye open, cheeks flushed, and gave a lazy, blissed-out grin.
“What is it with you and … that?” I asked, notching my chin to gesture down where he was fucking my cum back into him.
Bell shrugged like what he was doing—what he’d done to me the night before—was something everyone did. Admittedly, I didn’t have a lot of experience, but I’d never heard anyone talking about this . “I dunno, man. I just love cum. Like, I’m obsessed with it.”
I huffed out a laugh, still dazed from the sight of him trying to push my cum back into his body.
“Any other kinks I should know about?”
Bell slid his fingers free and lifted them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, filthy moan.
Heat punched low in my gut as my dick twitched, trying to come back to life. I shook my head, grinning. “Fuck. Why is that so hot?”
He laughed, soft and hoarse, and then lifted his arms, making a gimme motion with his hands. “C’mere, E. I’m a snuggler, too, if you haven’t figured that out already.”
I stretched out next to him, and he immediately pulled me into his chest, one leg thrown over mine, his hand smoothing slow, lazy circles over my ribs.
“You’re something, all right,” I said, resting my forehead against the warm curve of his shoulder.
He kissed my temple, the touch of his lips on my skin sweet and lingering, a stark contrast to the filthy things we’d just done to each other. “My therapist says I’m touch-starved, didn’t get enough of it when I was a kid. Now, I crave it.”
I thought about that, thought about how touch had always been a currency in my life—a reward for good behavior, a weapon for punishment, a thing I was expected to endure but never crave. The memory of my father’s hand, always heavy with disappointment or anger, flashed through my mind.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice dropping low. “Makes sense.”
Bell’s hand stroked lower, dragging over the curve of my ass before settling on my hip, his thumb making idle circles against my skin.
“I could kiss for hours,” he said casually. “Kinda obsessed with it, too.”
I lifted my head, raising a brow at him.
His grin turned a little shy. “I can even come just from kissing if it’s good enough.”
My stomach flipped, a flicker of heat burning to life in my belly but not going much further. Bell was the only person I’d ever kissed like I couldn’t get enough, but we’d never just kissed. It had always led to more.
Now, I was curious to test a theory.
I rolled over him, pinning his wrists above his head and feeling him go pliant beneath me.
Bell’s pupils blew wide, and I lowered my mouth to his and kissed him.
Slow.
Deep.
Greedy.
Kissed him like I’d been starving my whole life and only just figured out what I was missing.
He kissed me back just as hungrily, his tongue stroking mine, his fingers breaking free of my hold and sliding into my hair like he couldn’t bear not to touch me.
After a minute, I felt him harden against my stomach.
I huffed a laugh against his mouth. “Oh, to be twenty-three again,” I muttered, amused and a little bit in awe.
Bell pulled back just enough to smirk up at me, his hair a messy halo against the pillows. “Fun fact: I have an incredibly fast refractory period. I once came five times in a single night.”
Something about the thought of Bell fucking someone else made my chest tighten with jealousy. Before I could catch myself, a low growl rumbled in my throat.
He laughed, seemingly delighted. “Relax,” he said, tapping my flank with two fingers. “It was a solo experiment. Had to know my limits.” He grinned wider, absolutely unrepentant. “I fucked my hand until my cock was raw. I could barely skate the next day.”
I snorted, dropping my forehead against his. “Of course you did.”
He nipped at my lower lip, his hands sliding down my back, and started grinding up against me, his hard cock dragging against my skin.
Even though it felt fucking incredible, I wasn’t as young as I used to be. My body was officially tapped out. I groaned in frustration.
But then I had an idea.
Just because I couldn’t come again didn’t mean he had to go without.
“You want my mouth?” I asked, a little breathless at the thought of him fucking my face again.
Bell’s eyes sparkled. “You really are a greedy little cum slut, aren’t you?”
“If it’s yours? Yeah.” I rolled off him and onto my back. “Now get up here and fuck my face.”
Bell’s laugh choked off into a groan when he wrapped his hand around his dick and knee-walked up the length of my body, guiding himself toward my open, waiting mouth.
I smirked up at him and licked a fat, slow stripe up the underside of his dick.
His answering groan was filthy, his free hand tightening in my hair like he didn’t know if he wanted to hold me still or shove into my mouth.
I opened wide and let him slide in, the thick weight of him resting heavily on my tongue.
He cursed under his breath, his hips giving a little jerk.
I lifted my head to suck him deeper, hollowing my cheeks and letting him fuck into my mouth at his own pace.
His noises were devastating. Low, broken sounds that made my whole body light up. Made me drunk on him. Made me feel like I could live on the way he mewled when I swirled my tongue just right.
I finally understood what all the fuss was about.
It wasn’t just about sex.
It was about this . About giving yourself over to someone completely. About being the reason they made those sounds, wore those desperate, wrecked expressions.
I was already addicted to him, to this, to every broken sound he made for me.
I pulled off with a wet pop and grinned up at him, feeling reckless and loose and high.
“Lie down,” I said, tapping his side.
Bell blinked down at me, a little bit dazed at the abrupt change, but immediately did as he was told, sprawling against the pillows.
I knelt between his legs, drinking in the sight of him. His hole was still sloppy from where I’d fucked him, slick and shining in the low light.
I couldn’t stop myself from reaching down and pressing two fingers against him, teasing him, loving watching him squirm as I worked him open. I slid my fingers inside him, easy and smooth, and his entire body jolted, his hands scrabbling at the sheets.
“Jesus Christ,” he moaned.
I leaned down and wrapped my mouth around his cock again, sucking greedily as I fucked my fingers into him.
He writhed under me, breathless and begging, his hips jerking up to fuck my mouth while my fingers stretched him wide.
I sucked him deep, then pulled back to tease just the head, my tongue flicking his slit, tasting pre-come and sweat and him .
Every time he got close—every time his thighs tensed and he made that helpless, broken, needy sound in the back of his throat—I pulled off.
He whimpered.
Begged.
Swore.
I was drunk on the sound of it, on the way his body shook, on how desperately he tried to chase his orgasm every time I denied it.
“You ready to come for me again?” I taunted, pumping my fingers harder, crooking them just right.
“Yes, fuck, please, let me, I need …” he stammered, so far gone his words weren’t even making sense.
I sucked him deep again, and that was all it took. He came with a hoarse cry, spilling down my throat, his body bowing up off the bed.
I swallowed every drop, greedy for it, just like he said, not willing to waste a single drop.
When I finally pulled off, Bell was spread out on my bed, panting, trembling.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Mine .
He blinked up at me, his eyes dazed. His lips, swollen and red, were parted as he struggled to catch his breath, his skin flushed and gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat. “You’re gonna kill me,” he rasped, his chest heaving.
I just grinned and crawled up next to him, tucking myself against his side. The comforter was damp and rumpled, and in desperate need of a washing. The room smelled of sex and sweat and us , a heady combination that made something in me purr with satisfaction.
I needed to invest in several sets of backup sheets because if we kept fucking like this, I’d have to quit my job and devote all my free time to doing laundry.
Bell looped an arm around me without hesitation, pulling me closer until I could feel his heartbeat gradually slowing against my cheek.
We lay there for a long minute, catching our breath. Outside, a car drove past, headlights briefly sweeping across the ceiling in a golden arc before disappearing, leaving us in darkness again.
“That was incredible,” he finally whispered.
I hummed in agreement, feeling lazy and sated and strangely at peace. For once, the voices in my head—the ones that always pushed me to run, to hide, to protect myself—were silent.
Maybe Bell’s dick had magic powers. Maybe his cum had secret healing properties.
Or maybe I was just so far gone for him that even getting fucked stupid felt like the best kind of therapy.
Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to question it. Not when, for the first time I could ever remember, I wasn’t panicking about who I was.
After a few more seconds, Bell shifted. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll return the favor,” he mumbled, his voice slurred.
And then he started snoring.
I lay there, watching shadows play across his peaceful face, and thought about how deftly he’d handled me earlier. How he’d seen my panic and had given me exactly what I needed instead of the conversation he’d wanted.
He’d known, somehow, that I couldn’t handle talking about what had happened, about what Chet’s words had done to me.
Bell had known that I needed to lose myself in sensation first, to ground myself in the physical before I could face it.
The realization that he understood me so well was almost as terrifying as it was comforting.
Tomorrow, I knew, we’d have to talk. But for now, I let him sleep.