Chapter 11 #2
Within minutes, Paulie, Colton, and I are packing our things in the trunk and climbing into the car.
As we pull away from the curb, I see my family standing on the porch, waving as we drive away.
It’s something so familiar to me that I just casually throw my hand out the window.
But Colton turns around and sends an eager one back. One that means something.
One that matters.
From the passenger seat, I glance over my shoulder and see him swipe at his eyes. He’s emotional about this.
He’s never had a loving family, I think as he meets my gaze.
“Thank you for letting me meet them. They’re lovely.”
“They are. And they really like you.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, the only person they like that much is Paulie.”
Colton huffs a small laugh and leans back, his eyes closing, his legs sprawling open.
I let my gaze rove down his chest to his groin before turning around and catching my best friend’s gaze. I see the approval there, and I swallow roughly. The fact that he likes the guy offers me a special kind of relief.
“Uh, so, you wanna tell me about you and Hailey?” I finally ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Nah. Nothing to tell,” he says softly, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “We’re just friends.”
That sad lilt in his voice makes my chest twist.
I know how that feels—the rejection, the disappointment. The shame of wanting someone so badly when they don’t want you back.
Having just gone through it this weekend when I thought Colton was cheating on me—with a beautiful woman, no less—makes me feel raw and exposed.
But neither of us delves into it, and before we know it, we’re pulling up to our apartment.
“I can bring you to your place if you want,” Paulie offers Colton, a question lingering at the end of his statement.
Colton blinks, his eyes tired. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to come up for a bit.”
“Yeah. Sure thing. Doesn’t matter to me,” Paulie replies and then hops out of the car, grabbing his bag and trotting up the stairs without looking back.
But I don’t move as fast. I just linger behind, grabbing my duffel from the trunk before shutting it. When I do, Colton is right there, his fingers toying with the end of my shirt. Inconspicuous in his movements, but I can feel it all the way through my skin.
“What do you want to do for the rest of the night?” I manage to ask.
“Wanna watch a movie and chill?” he suggests, stepping closer and twisting the end of my shirt around his finger.
He tugs me close, the two of us just inches apart.
Anyone could see this, how much I want him, but he doesn’t lean forward and kiss me.
He just wets those lips and makes my cock half hard.
It’s been so long since he’s been inside of me.
I’m desperate for it.
“Does chill mean fucking?”
“Doesn’t have to. If you want it to, then yeah. I’ll take whatever you want to give me. I’m just so fucking glad I’m even here.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, all right. Let’s go to my room.”
We walk up the stairs side by side, and when we make it to my room, I toss my bag onto the ground and lock the door behind me.
We stare at one another for a long, charged second before he’s in my arms. I lift him up, my palms cupping his ass, his ankles linking around my lower back. I walk us to the bed, wanting him stripped naked, wanting his cock on display.
For my consumption only. No one else’s.
I’ve been waiting for this.
“What movie do you want to watch?” he asks me between kisses.
“How about, did you fuck anyone this weekend?” I ask, lowering him to the mattress and staring down at him.
He blinks up at me and shakes his head. “I would never.”
I can’t help but lean down, covering his body with mine as he arches up and his tongue pushes into my mouth. He tastes so right, so perfect, and I just melt into him. He’s hard beneath me, his muscles flexing, his skin warm where I can touch it.
He grinds upward, his hands clasping mine, almost desperately. I don’t want to hurt him, his eye still black and blue, his lip still cut, but it doesn’t stop him. He just seems more eager, more determined to get what he wants.
And what he wants is me.
My hands fist the sheets beside his head as I piston my hips back and forth.
“I want to fuck you,” he whispers, licking his way up my neck. I fall against him, feeling his heart pounding against my own. Frantic. Wild. “But if you want to wait. I can wait.”
My ass clenches around nothing, feeling the absence of him.
I want him inside of me, but maybe we should slow this down. Maybe we should wait. We’ve moved so fast since the first day he touched me.
His hand drags down my spine and cups my bare ass, his finger trailing down my crack, seeking entrance. The feel of him pressing against me makes all thoughts of going slow rush out the window.
“Fuck. I don’t have any lube,” I moan when he presses against my hole.
“You used it all?” he asks with a small laugh and then rolls us over until he’s straddling me.
“Yeah, seems I needed a bigger bottle. You really skimped there, dickhead.”
His lips curl up, and he lets out a laugh. “Of course I did. You’re a horny little slut. I had no idea. How often do you get yourself off to thoughts of me?”
That makes me blush as he shuffles up between my spread legs and pushes my knees up to my chest.
“Come on, tell me. Nothing you could say would make me less turned on.”
He says that as he grabs onto his hard cock and groans.
“Not that much.”
“But enough to go through a bottle of lube in a week.”
I wet my lips, eyeing his dick. “Fuck off.”
He stares down at me, eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna send a text. I’ll get that lube, lots of it, and while we wait, I’m gonna eat your ass. Make you nice and wet.”
He grabs his phone, his fingers flying across the screen before he throws it to the side.
“Twenty minutes before it gets here, Witkoff. Then your ass is mine. But for now, you get what you get. And you don’t throw a fit.”
The thought of his face between my legs, his tongue inside of me, has my hips arching up.
“I’m not gonna throw a fucking fit. I’m not a child.”
“Mm, but you whine like you’re throwing a tantrum. All because you don’t get what you want when you want it.”
“Not my fault you had to go and leave me for two days.”
“Trust me,” he murmurs and then scoots down further until he’s right there, his fingers spreading me open. “I’d rather have been right here. Looking at this tight, unused hole.”
“I’m not that tight.”
“It’s not an insult, but I’m thinking you want me to loosen you up?”
“That’s not what I meant.” My hand goes into his hair and tightens on those thick strands.
“Getting impatient? Can’t wait to be all wet and sloppy?”
“I could wait all day,” I lie, shoving his head farther down, right near my hole. And finally, he puts me out of my misery, the wet slide of his tongue against me making my back arch up.
He groans against me, and I can’t help but shiver at the sensation of the wetness sliding over my unused hole.
“So good,” he says, and I shift closer, wanting him pressed inside of me. His entire tongue, his cock. Fucking hell. I want him inside of me.
Fuck slow. This was never meant to move that way.
We are fast and loose.
We’re a catastrophic train wreck.
“Fuck me. Please.”
“Not until lube. Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You won’t. You fucking won’t.”
But my whines do nothing to convince him. Instead, he seems perfectly happy between my thighs, torturing me, pushing inside my ass slowly, teasing me until I’m nearly sobbing with frustration.
It’s then that the doorbell finally rings. Colton jolts up, his cock hard and pressed out from his pants, but he doesn’t touch it. He just disappears without a word.
I’m left to stare at the ceiling, my dick throbbing, my ass aching for more.
When he returns, there’s a bag in his hand.
My unfocused gaze lands on it and then moves up to him. He’s standing there, wet, swollen lips, his chest heaving, his hair a mess.
That poor delivery driver. Or, even worse, was that his driver? The man who picks me up occasionally? The man whose name I don’t even know.
Shit, if it’s him, I can never show my face again. Because what we’re doing is as clear as day.
“Got you several different kinds of lube to try. But I think we will go with this one.” Colton holds up a small bottle and shakes it. “It’s long-lasting. And I think…” He bites his bottom lip and stares down at me. “I think this isn’t going to be quick.”
“Fuck off. Yeah, it is.”
“No, Myles. I’m gonna make love to you tonight.”
Those words make my chest contract, and a wheeze escapes me.
I can’t breathe, can’t speak, but my inability to communicate does nothing to stop him. He just wets his two fingers with the lube and presses them inside of me, opening me slow and soft. So slow, in fact, that I’m left writhing for more.
“Come on, Cavanaugh. Give it to me. I can take it.”
“Not yet, Witkoff,” he says with a soft grin. “I’ve been waiting all weekend for this. I wanna make it last.”
And he does. He fingers me for ages, massaging my prostate and making my mouth open and close in frantic gasps. When he finally does wet his dick and press it against my hole, I’m hot with need.
“Fuck this. Fuck me.”
“Nice and slow, baby,” he murmurs as he pushes inside of me. My rim expands around his length, inch by excruciating inch, until he’s settled inside of me. “Perfect. So fucking perfect.”
He meets my gaze, and I know he’s talking about more than sex. He’s talking about me. It does things to my heart, to my body.
I lean up and kiss him, my tongue plunging into his mouth. He sucks on it, bites it. Almost makes me bleed.
And then makes it all better by dragging his cock out of my hole and pressing it right back in.
It’s a disaster. Terrible.
It’s the most romantic shit I’ve ever experienced.
“That’s it, Myles. That’s fucking it,” he whispers, his face just above mine, his eyes holding my gaze. “So good. Always so good.”
My hands clasp onto his back, fingers digging into his shoulders. But he doesn’t rush it. Just drags himself in and out of me until my eyes start to water, my orgasm just on the precipice, but I’m unable to come.
He’s keeping me here, making me feel it. Feel him.
“What are you doing to me?” I ask, my voice cracking slightly.
I’m going to make love to you.
“Told you.” He shifts his dick all the way into me and holds himself there.
“Please.” It’s all I can say. I don’t want him to stop. I want him to end this.
I don’t know anything anymore.
Just that he keeps going, slow and steady, so slow and steady that my cock eventually can’t take it anymore and erupts onto my stomach, untouched. He marvels at it and leans down to kiss me. My lips, cheeks, anything he can reach, then his tongue flicks out and languidly licks its way up my neck.
“So horny for it.”
“Fuck off. You are too.”
“Oh, I’m ravenous.”
But he doesn’t act like it. He acts like he has all the time in the world. Kissing me, slowly rocking into my body. It goes on for so long that I end up hard again, and when I grow close to another orgasm, he’s finally right there with me.
“Yeah, fuck yeah. So fucking good,” he moans as he thrusts into me unevenly, his dick pulsing. His veins pop from his flesh, his face almost pained as he empties himself inside of me. And when he finally pulls from my well-used hole, he doesn’t slip down and stare at his release emptying from me.
He just holds on to me, his body covering mine, his lips on my skin.
“I’m so glad I’m with you right now,” he whispers as I hold him tightly.
It’s probably too early to admit, too weak and vulnerable, but I do it anyway.
“I am too.”