Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
WELLS
I’m breaking all my rules tonight, but I can’t seem to stop myself. That’s the thing about slippery slopes.
I’ve lost count of how many mixed drinks I’ve downed–some disgustingly cheap vodka mixed with cranberry juice–and the edges of my vision are hazy in a way that I rarely let happen.
But Kellan is here. And if I had any questions about whether he was still pissed about Thursday, I sure got my answer.
“The tension,” Reed says for about the dozenth time in the last hour. “What the fuck was that between you two?”
We migrated from the porch to the kitchen about twenty minutes ago, when I could barely feel my hands anymore. I voted to leave, but Reed refused, unsurprisingly. He’s been like a dog with a bone since he saw me and Kellan together, and he’s sure that there’s more to the story.
“Asked and answered, Counselor.” If he doesn’t let this go, I’m going to grab the next attractive person I see and smash them together like Barbie Dolls, just to shut him up.
He holds his drink up toward me, accusingly.
“No. You told me that you ‘didn’t work well together,’” he says, making air quotes with his fingers.
“No mention of the fact that you two were circling around one another like dogs ready to get in a pissing contest. Which is such a shame because there are far better things I’m sure you could do with his–”
I smack him across the chest. “You know that I think he’s an idiot. And you already know what he looks like from his face plastered all over campus. I’m not exactly sure why tonight is such news to you.”
He shakes his head slowly, like what he’s about to say is serious when I know it’s going to be the drunk ramblings of a pre-law college student.
“Hearing and seeing are two different things. That was… boom,” he says, exploding his hands dramatically.
He leans closer, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath.
“Was it him? The person you were talking about at the gym last week.”
“No.” I practically hiss the word, hoping it will shut him up. “Are you really trying to submit a ‘vibe’ into evidence?”
His shit-eating grin tells me I’m going to hate whatever he’s about to say. “If it pleases the court.”
I sigh. “What will make you stop talking about this right now? Name your price.”
“I want to dance.”
My eyebrows lift upward, but I don’t respond. I hate dancing, and Reed knows that.
He nudges my shoulder. “Cut a rug. Boogie woogie. Do the forbidden tango.”
I rake my eyes across the fluorescently lit kitchen, which has grown both messier and more cramped over the last thirty minutes. At least in the darkness, I wouldn’t have to see the alcohol spilled all over the floor. “I think that last one’s actually a euphemism for sex, not dancing.”
“I wouldn’t mind that either,” he says as his glassy eyes track a man dressed like Batman across the room.
I wish my wants were as simple as Reed’s. A hot guy with an ass that looks good in Spandex. Done and dusted.
But I haven’t run into Kellan again, so maybe he did decide to leave early, like his friend was goading him about earlier. It would make my night infinitely simpler, so I’m trying to manifest that he walked out the back door and into the night. Off to find another party to to torture someone else.
Reed pulls me by the arm, and I don’t resist him. Maybe if he sweats out enough alcohol I can feel safe leaving him alone for the rest of the night, though I’m not holding my breath on that one.
We’re only in the living room for a few seconds–the sofas pushed to the edges to create a makeshift dance floor–when I spot Kellan. His metal wreath that looks more like a crown is askew on his head, and his cheeks are flushed from the heat of so many bodies compressed into the small space.
And if I thought I hated myself for wanting him, I had no idea how much more I’d hate seeing him with someone else.
I can admit that, at least to myself. It feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach as I watch some petite brunette grinding against his cock like it’s a key and her asshole is the lock.
Bile rises in my throat, and I resist the urge to spew cranberry juice all over her slutty nurse costume.
And for the record, those were her words, not mine.
She came in with a group when I was still standing outside, her excitement at coming to a Halloween party at a house filled with athletes made abundantly clear from her raucous cheering, pronouncement of her costume, and insistence that she’d “get that Renegade dick.”
Unfortunately for me, Reed left that little detail out about our hosts when he told me about a Halloween party tonight and decided it was his mission to drag me along. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been caught dead here.
Reed grabs my shoulders and tries to force me into some semblance of a rhythm, but I may as well be made of stone. “Come on. Lose yourself a little. Lighten up.”
“There’s no amount of alcohol in the world that could make that happen.” Boxing is the closest I come to letting go, and even then it’s all about precision and control.
But right now… I feel wild, even if Reed can’t see it. There’s a need welling up from deep inside of me that’s threatening to burst out of my chest, and I’d do anything to satiate it.
All I see is Kellan, ten feet away. His head’s tipped back, eyes closed, and he’s doing an infuriatingly good job of seeming like he’s enjoying himself.
His hips are grinding into an ass that’s way too small to take his heft, and I almost feel badly for him that he’s settling for so much less than that beautiful cock of his deserves.
I fucking hate it. Because whether he knows it or not, he’s mine. I get to decide when he gets pleasure, and I get to be the one to take it away.
Like he can feel me watching him, his lidded eyes open, and he hits me with a lazy, self-satisfied smile that’s one part alcohol and two parts fuck you.
It takes all the restraint I can manage to keep myself rooted in place.
He pulls his lower lip into his mouth at the same time his hands rest on the nurse’s hips, continuing to make eye contact. Now I know for sure that he’s taunting me.
And the thrill of that sends heat rolling through my body. There’s nothing I’d rather do than put him in his place.
But I also know, from the way his stare stays focused on me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear, that he needs it, too. I could make him come harder. Push him further. Bend him and break him and then put him back together.
I tilt my head to the side, toward the staircase. If Kellan thinks that’s something he deserves, and especially if he doesn’t, then he knows where to find me.
I look down at my watch, pleased. It takes sixty-three seconds from the time I walk into the bathroom for Kellan to follow me inside and shut the door, locking it behind him.
The room is maybe even smaller than my office, but at least the cleanup will be easier.
He moves toward me, but I take a step back.
The light splashes across the all-white bathroom, and I take a minute to appreciate Kellan’s strong face.
The angle of his jaw. His slightly crooked nose, probably from a few too many punches to the face.
Even his straight white teeth, which are hidden behind lips that I know are going to do wondrous things to my cock.
Because this is going to be about what I need tonight. And he’s going to be the one to give it to me.
“No more games, Wells. I play enough of those on the ice.” I love the anguish in his voice. The wanting. I adjust my cock, letting him watch. He stares, transfixed, as I situate my growing erection inside my briefs. I’m already straining to break free after Kellan’s little display downstairs.
I lean back against the sink and eye his disheveled costume, disgusted that it was someone else who made it that way. “It’s not a game. It’s an understanding as to who has the power here. I thought that you were finally starting to get that.”
He nods. “I do. Understand, I mean.”
Good. At least he’s finally getting with the program. And every look he gives me, every cue as to what I want him to do next, sends a spark of desire straight to my cock.
“Hike up your toga and get on your knees.” He does as told, faster than I expected, and I give his hair a ruffle for a job well done before settling my hand against his temple to guide him.
“Have you ever sucked a cock before, Kellan? There’s nothing like it.
The way it fills your mouth. The feeling of come dripping down your throat as you keep sucking, milking it dry.
It’s a powerful feeling, to be able to do that to someone.
Do you think you’re the right type of person to have that power? ”
“I want to be.” His face is so close to my kilt that I almost think I can feel his breaths ghosting against it.
I’m holding myself back as much as him, knowing that we’re about to cross a line. But fuck, I need to see his lips wrapped around me. I’ve thought about it for days, and I’ve become consumed by the idea of him.
Maybe far longer, in my revenge fantasies over the years. Kellan O’Reilly sucking me off, begging for me to blow my load all over his face.
He reaches under my kilt and runs an exploratory hand up my leg, keeping a safe distance from where I need him most. “Will you tell me what to do?” he asks, looking up at me with big, brown eyes.
I groan and brace myself harder against the sink, trying not to let him see the impact he’s already having on me. “Unclasp my kilt.”
I watch as the tartan flutters to the floor, and now I can see how hard I am, a visual representation of the need crashing through me. Threatening to engulf me.
I use the hand still holding his head to guide him forward, watching as he lifts up on his knees. When he’s close enough that I know he can smell my musk, I stick my finger in his mouth and then rub the wetness across his lips.
“Who better to know how to suck a cock than someone who has one. You know that prickle you feel in the base of your spine when you’re close…
I love that part. Can you do that for me, Kellan?
” I rub gently at the soft buzz of his hair before wrapping my hand around the back of his neck and holding him just in front of my tip.
“Yes,” he says, and this time, I feel his warm breath against my skin.
“Can you take all of me?” I challenge, tightening my hold on his neck. “Do you want to take all of me?”
I wonder if this will be his limit, when everything becomes too real. I love the idea of making him squirm, but I also can’t stand the possibility of not getting relief. And I want it from him.
But my fears are unfounded as Kellan surges forward and gives my cock exploratory licks, back-and-forth from the head of my shaft all the way down to the base.
“Did you like that big boy?” I ask, guiding his mouth back to my tip. “Think you’re ready for more?”
“Please,” he says on a fluttery exhale, and the sound of his begging is like a drug. Easing forward, he licks at the wetness already starting to bead at my head, lapping it up thirstily like it’s water in the desert.
And fuck, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I reach down with my free hand to brace myself on his shoulder, my fingertips digging into his scorching skin. He moans and takes me in deeper, sloppy and satisfying and all the more perfect because he’s never done this before.
My hips start to rock against his face, pushing my cock into the back of his throat.
But he doesn’t relent. If anything, he grows more enthusiastic, enveloping me fully.
It’s hard to believe this is his first time as he finds a rhythm, working down my shaft before easing me out and sucking at my tip.
He flicks his tongue out and swirls it around my head, and I feel that prickle at the base of my spine that I love so much.
“Fuck.” The word comes out before I can stop it, and it only makes him work me harder. Over and over he sucks at me, his cheeks hollowed out as he breathes through his nose.
I’m staving my orgasm off, controlling my breathing to bleed out every last ounce of pleasure, not knowing when this will happen again. When I’ll find myself on the wrong side of recklessness and give in to the alchemy between us.
“I’m going to show you how good I can make you feel, Wells.”
I can’t stop the orgasm that rockets through my body with his words. I shoot thick spurts of come down Kellan’s throat and eventually across the side of his cheek, once I’ve filled his mouth and he can’t swallow fast enough.
He looks so fucking perfect, covered in my climax. On his knees in this dirty bathroom. Lapping at my cock like he’s desperate for every single drop.
“Use your tongue to get the rest of it,” I command, willing myself back into my body. The room is spinning around me. All I feel is the intoxicating rush that I’ve been staving off for weeks, and it’s making it hard to think straight.
“Like this?” he asks, swirling his tongue against my head again.
“Just like that,” I relent, giving credit where credit is due.
When I’m satisfied that he’s gotten every last drop, I pull his neck so that he looks up with me, his lips wet and bruised from the ravaging that he just put himself through.
Finally, his shoulders hunch, and he eases back to sit on his knees. He keeps staring at me, unblinking, like he’s waiting for his next command.
Heat roils through me all over again, and I’m struggling to find a way to put it back safely in a box where I can control it.
Why does it have to be Kellan who’s the most perfect sexual partner that I’ve ever met? It’s some sort of divine torture, that we fit so well together. That what he wants to give and what I want to take are in perfect synchronicity.
I’m trying to find the will to be rightfully angry through my exhaustion, even as my desire and my disgust intermingle together again. The Kellan from my tortured past blurs with the man below me, who looks at me like I could send him into gunfire and he’d die happy.
“How’d I do?” he finally asks, taking another swipe across his lips. The words are said so innocently, and it’s a startling juxtaposition to what he’s actually referencing.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t fit him in a box that makes sense. And that should infuriate me, but it only makes me crave to understand him. Especially with the cloud of our past hanging over me.
And I fucking love the rush. The challenge. So much so that before I even realize what I’m doing, I lean forward and kiss him.