Chapter 8 Kieran #2
“Could I maybe just get a hug?” He requested, before pulling his plush lower lip between his teeth. “Just so I know that you don’t hate me or anything.”
It was such a simple request, quick and easy and not something I was opposed to, and I was so relieved to be able to appease his worries even just a little bit, that I momentarily forgot just who I was dealing with.
Carefully leaning down so I could give him a completely innocent hug, like something you would give an aunt when she arrived for Thanksgiving dinner, I planned on keeping a bit of distance between our bodies.
He kicked that idea to the curb by snaking his arms around my neck, holding me as close as humanly possible.
Before I could protest or try and detach, his face was right in front of mine, so close that I could see all that shyness and hesitation had vanished without a trace.
So close that I could see the swirls of light in his irises.
Grasping at the back of my neck to anchor himself, he hopped up to hitch his legs around my waist, where I instinctively caught him, supporting him by the backs of his thighs.
Before my mind could even completely process what had happened, my body was reacting.
Arousal sparked in my blood, rushing through my veins, my cock stiffening in my jeans.
His thighs were the perfect mixture of firm and soft in my hands, so squeezable.
The image of those naked, smooth thighs on his bed, with his slender cock leaking and dripping onto his flat stomach, flashed into my head, battering my senses so all I could do was growl in my throat.
“Jordy.”
“What are you going to do?” He asked tauntingly, wiggling a bit in my grip so I was forced to feel even more of his perfect body pressed into mine. He was too high on my waist to feel my cock, but it strained up toward him like it needed him. “Drop me on the concrete?”
“I might,” I warned, but we both knew it was a completely idle threat.
He wasn’t going anywhere. The weight of his body in my arms filled me with a sense of rightness and belonging, something I’d never felt so strongly until that moment.
His candy scent was taking my breath away so I was nearly panting.
“Are you still going to pretend like you don’t want me?” He wondered softly, leaning his head into me a bit, so his breath brushed at the shell of my ear as he spoke.
“I don’t.” The crack in my voice only amplified the fact that we both knew it was obvious bullshit.
“So you don’t want to kiss me?”
I couldn’t force out another lie, so I only shook my head.
“Okay,” he breathed out, shifting in my arms and hovering his parted lips over mine. “So don’t kiss me, then.”
I didn’t kiss him first. I didn’t have any dignity or pride left, but I could at least hold on to that indisputable fact. I didn’t kiss him first, but when he pressed his lush lips to mine, slipping his hands into my hair to anchor himself to me, I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him back.
How could someone who wasn’t allowed to have sugar taste so fucking sweet?
Moaning softly into my mouth, he ground his hips into my abs so I could feel his dick.
He was hard for me. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew he’d be wet with slick for me, too.
His sinful little tongue pressed back against mine invitingly, like he wanted me to know that there wasn’t anything he’d deny me.
The knowledge made my head spin, a groan rumbling up from my chest.
I didn’t know when I’d backed him into the door of my truck, but with the added leverage I could shift my grip on him from his thighs to his perfect peach-shaped ass.
Kneading and squeezing it with my fingers, the urge to open the door so I could lay him out on the seat and stretch him out with my cock was almost overwhelming.
I wanted to fill him up and fuck him through so many orgasms that he couldn’t take anymore, and then I’d knot him and lock him to me so I could sink my teeth into his pretty neck, so he’d never forget who he belonged to.
Shaking my head to clear it of the uncomfortably intense thought, I suddenly remembered where we were. Who we were. Why every feeling I’d had since the moment his lips had touched mine wasn’t allowed, and why I couldn’t ever feel them again.
When I pulled back, panting heavily, the sight of his lust-clouded eyes and swollen lips sent chills racing up my spine, my balls throbbing in protest of the fact that I wasn’t emptying them into him.
His fingers tightened in my hair, like he was begging me not to pull away from him.
Something deep inside me echoed his pleading, but I ignored it, burying it under the pain of what I knew I had to do.
It wasn’t right, it couldn’t be right, this bone-crushing yearning for him.
It was the dark part of me, the part that had come from my father, that just wanted to covet Jordy and hoard him and ruin him.
Like the angel that had been ripped from the shelf and crushed on the floor.
If I gave in to it, it would be the most selfish and cruel thing I could ever do to him.
“Let go and get down, or I really am going to drop you,” I said, somehow managing to force the words out. He instantly recognized that I was serious this time, and carefully wriggled into a standing position so I could back up from him and put some distance between us.
He eyed me silently for a few seconds, his breath pouring out in heavy waves, before speaking. “You lied, Kieran.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” I snapped. We were past the point now of me being able to pretend I wasn’t attracted to him. “It doesn’t matter if I do or not,” I repeated. “It’s not happening. I’m telling you it’s not happening.”
“You mean the thing that just happened isn’t happening?” He repeated sarcastically, giving me a wry look. I hated when he looked at me like that.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I fucking mean,” I snarled out.
Why was he fighting me so hard on this? Why couldn’t he just let me do the right thing and let him live the life he was supposed to?
Why did he insist on torturing me and making it even more difficult?
Didn’t he understand how miserable it was making me?
“I’m not going to fuck you, Jordy. Get it through your head. ”
“Tell that to the bruises you just left all over my ass cheeks,” he retorted flatly. My alpha instincts flared up inside me at his words, a stinging jolt to remind me that above all else, I wasn’t supposed to hurt him.
“Bruises?” I echoed, concern for him flooding through me and overwhelming everything else.
He blinked in surprise at the change in my tone, before understanding seemed to click in.
“Um, no, I was just kidding. I don’t think you really left bruises on me.
” Reaching out, he laid his hand on my chest, gazing up at me with this unfairly beautiful expression, like nothing I could ever say or do would be horrible enough that he wouldn’t want to be around me.
“You know you don’t have to worry about hurting me, right? I know you would never hurt me.”
“That’s…” Scowling, I stared up at the dark sky. “You’re so naive, it kills me.”
“I’m not naive,” he argued, but there was no heat or annoyance in his voice now. “I just know you. I know you better than anyone.”
It was true he knew me better than anyone else, but he still didn’t know all of me. I couldn’t let him know all of me. I didn’t want him tangled up in all the screwed up parts of me.
“Jordy-”
Whatever pathetic thing I was going to say to him was cut off by the sound of the front door opening.
“Kieran!” My mom’s voice was surprised. “I didn’t know you were home already, honey. Is Jordy out here with you?”
“I’m right here!” He piped up, moving toward the hood so she could see him, giving her a friendly wave.
I had to hand it to him, he was fucking amazing at pretending that nothing suspicious was going on between us.
Based on his light, casual tone of voice, no one would ever suspect a thing. Least of all our parents.
“Why are you boys standing out here in the dark?” She wondered, shaking her head at us in exasperation and amusement. “Come on inside.”
“Coming!” He answered in an annoyingly cheery singsong voice. As he moved past me, he glanced back at me with the most sultry, seductive eyes I’d ever seen in my life. “This isn’t over,” he whispered.
“Yes, it is,” I hissed back at him, glaring at his back as I followed. If my eyes dipped down to his perfectly round ass it was only because I felt guilty that I’d gotten a little rougher with him than I’d meant to.
“HOLY SHIT.”
THE next day, as I was going through my mundane morning routine of checking my socials on my phone with one hand while I brushed my teeth with the other, the numbers on the screen shocked me.
I was blowing up. The level of engagement on my artist page was usually okay for a local guy, but I’d never seen anything close to this many notifications.
I’d been tagged in a post by someone I didn’t recognize.
When I clicked the profile, I realized it was the guy from the day before, with the gun-toting alien rabbit tattoo.
He had almost 10 million followers. No wonder he’d been surprised that I hadn’t known who he was.
But I wasn’t really into the whole watching random strangers play video games thing, which seemed to be where he’d garnered most of his fame.
His post had a picture of the tattoo I’d done for him, and some praise for my design and how professional I’d been. The comments were full of fire and heart-eye emojis. People loved it.
I hit the like button before typing out an enthusiastic reply letting him know how much I’d enjoyed working with him and that he could reach out anytime for another design.