Chapter 23
HAWKE
I hadn’t meant to say the words. Not because I didn’t mean them. Because I did. I’d known it the moment Tate had turned his back on me to get in that car.
To leave me.
No, I’d said them because as strong as my physical release had been, something deep inside of me had opened up at the same time and I’d felt whole again.
But it had been fleeting – long enough for me to tell Tate the truth of what he meant to me, but not long enough to let go of the past or the promise I’d made.
Tate didn’t respond to my declaration, but when I leaned in to kiss him, he kissed me back without hesitation.
We stayed there like that until I knew my weight was too much for him and I carefully levered myself off of him and pulled free of his body.
The sight of my release dripping from Tate’s body set off something primal in me and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sticky white fluid and spreading it into his skin.
When I looked up, I saw that Tate was watching me over his shoulder with glassy eyes.
I wrapped my hand around his arm and gently pulled him to his feet and he pushed into my arms and dragged me down for a kiss.
I took his hand and led him to the bathroom .
The master bathroom was one of the only rooms that Revay’s parents had gotten around to remodeling shortly before their deaths, so it sported a large walk in shower with a bench on one end.
After I got the shower going, I changed the angle on the shower head to make sure the water would hit us the way I wanted it to and I led Tate to the bench and sat down.
He didn’t need any kind of urging to sit down on my lap and as we kissed, I searched out the soap and began washing him.
Both of us were hard by the time we were done cleaning each other.
Tate took charge of our pleasure as he rubbed up against me, his erection brushing mine.
At one point, he took us both in hand and began jerking us off at the same time, but without warning, he slipped from my lap and dropped to his knees between my legs.
I watched in rapt fascination as he licked my length from base to tip and then teased my slit with the tip of his tongue.
I wanted the sensual torture to both hurry up and slow down at the same time, but that was my last rational thought because Tate’s mouth closed over my dick a second later.
Blowjobs were something I’d gotten plenty of from Revay during our years together, but Tate’s mouth felt entirely different.
He seemed to know exactly how much pressure to exert, when to back off and when to barrel on so that I was always just riding the edge of my orgasm.
As Tate sucked me down to my base, I let out a hoarse shout and put my hands on his head to hold him still so I could fuck his mouth the way I wanted. I was close to coming when Tate released my cock and looked up at me.
“Scoot forward,” he urged as his hands closed over my hips.
It took me a moment to realize why he wanted me to move.
A niggle of uncertainty went through me as I understood what would happen next if I did as he asked.
My relationship with Tate had progressed so quickly that I hadn’t given much thought to having him touch me the same way I touched him.
But one look at his patient eyes and I knew I wanted it.
I wanted whatever he would give me. Because he wasn’t doing it for him. He was doing it for me.
I shifted my hips forward until my ass was hanging off the bench.
The position put my upper body at an awkward angle, but that was all forgotten the second Tate put his finger in his mouth, got it nice and slick with spit, removed it, and then sucked my cock back into his mouth.
I flinched when I felt his finger brushing over my hole, but I forced myself to remain still.
Tate’s mouth was still working me, but he’d eased up a little, probably so that I wouldn’t be too distracted from what he was doing to my ass.
Tate’s finger rubbed over my hole several times, the saliva making the motion smoother.
At first I was struggling with the oddness of it all, but then I began to anticipate the little spark that shot through me every time the pad of his finger added just the slightest bit of pressure to my entrance.
And when the finger disappeared, I actually started to protest until I saw Tate sucking his finger into his mouth to wet it again.
“Put your feet up on the bench,” Tate urged.
As soon as I did, I felt awkward and horribly exposed, but then Tate’s finger was probing me again and he went back to work on my dick.
And then Tate’s long, thick finger pressed inside of me and I gasped at the sharp sting of pain that fired through my ass.
Tate eased back a little, then pushed in again.
He kept repeating the move over and over again, burying more of his finger inside of me each time.
At some point the burning had eased and besides the odd feeling of being filled, a lovely sensation had started to build inside of me.
Tate was still sucking me so between his mouth and his finger, I was trapped in a vortex of sensation.
Until he did something inside of me that rocketed through my entire body all at once.
And I knew without having to ask that he’d hit my prostate.
Tate did it again as he increased the suction on my dick and I soon found myself trying to impale my ass on his finger every time he slid it back into me.
And if that wasn’t enough, I looked down to where Tate’s lips were wrapped around my cock and nearly came at the sight of him using his free hand to jack himself off.
After that, I lost track of everything except the need to come.
“Tate!” I shouted as the pressure in my ass increased exponentially and I had no doubt Tate was now working two fingers in and out of my body.
He rubbed over my gland a few more times as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked hard and I was a goner.
I shot load after load of cum in his mouth and even as hard as he worked to try and swallow it, some escaped his lips as he parted them when his own release hit him.
As we both came down, Tate pulled his fingers from my body and I leaned down and yanked him up and sealed my mouth over his.
The water had washed the cum on his mouth away, but I could still taste myself as I licked over his tongue and teeth.
When I released his mouth, Tate wrapped his arms around me in a brutal hug and I just held him there like that.
Once my breathing had returned to normal, I took my time washing Tate and myself again and then dried him off and led him back to bed.
He was asleep within minutes of me pulling him against my side, but I wasn’t so lucky.
I laid there for hours trying to process what I was feeling, but nothing made any sense to me and the lack of control was frustrating.
And as the first filtered rays of sun seeped through the window, I gently rolled Tate onto his back and placed soft kisses on his mouth and face until he woke up.
I made love to him again, slowly this time and I felt a rush of joy when he whispered that he loved me before falling asleep again.
I got him cleaned up and stared at the clock next to the bed, willing it to slow down.
But when Tate started to stir against me a couple of hours later, I closed my eyes and didn’t open them again.
Not when he carefully eased himself from my hold.
Not when he got dressed.
Not when he leaned down to brush his lips over mine.
And not even when I heard the front door close and the sound of a muffled engine making its way down the driveway.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to track my phone,” I murmured as I heard the footsteps approaching from behind me.
I was sitting on the dilapidated porch of my uncle’s house staring at the overgrown yard, so my back was to Ronan as he came around the house and up the steps on the far end of the porch.
The railing had long ago rotted and collapsed so I had an unfettered view of the woods and mountains beyond as I sat with my back against the wall of the house.
“And if it really bothered you, you would have turned the phone off or gotten a new one,” Ronan said as he sat down next to me.
I glanced at him and couldn’t help the smile that flitted across my lips at the sight of the stubble covering his head.
It had been nearly three weeks since Tate and I had video chatted with Matty after he’d gotten his head shaved and I suspected that Ronan had continued to shave his own head for some time afterwards because it was just now starting to grow back.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. A tremor of fear went through me as I quickly said, “Are Tate and Matty okay?”
“They’re fine. Tate made it home with no problems and Matty’s ANC count finally normalized a couple days ago. ANC stands for-”
“Absolute neutrophil count,” I interrupted. “His white blood cell count had to get back to normal after the chemo killed all of them. That’s why he had to stay in the Immunocompromised Services Unit at the hospital for so long after the chemo was finished. He was too susceptible to infections.”
Ronan didn’t respond so I glanced over at him.
He was watching me with a mix of curiosity and pity and I turned back to focus on the horizon.
There was no reason to explain that from the moment Matty had been admitted, I’d researched everything I could about his condition. Because Ronan would want to know why.
And I didn’t have an answer for that.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. I hadn’t had an answer five weeks ago when I’d started researching the disease, but I had one now.
“He was released yesterday,” Ronan said.