53. Harden
A urora and Everest have only been gone for a couple of hours, and I already feel lost without them.
I hadn’t realized how heavily I had been relying on them until they left, but it feels like a part of me is missing.
Thanksgiving is a holiday I used to dread, knowing I would be forced to spend time with my mother, whether it be at the Monroe’s or at my house.
I thought I’d feel better this year, but somehow I feel worse.
I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to an empty house that now belongs to me, but thankfully Griffin knows me better than I know myself.
I didn’t even have to broach the topic of Thanksgiving with him, he just declared a couple of weeks ago that I would be spending it with him, no questions asked, and I knew at that moment that we would never go back to just being friends.
No, Griffin Blake is more than that, and I think in some way I have always known that.
Even now as we pull up to his house, his hand finds my thigh, squeezing gently in reassurance.
“You good, baby?” He asks a question that always slips from his lips as of late, and I have to bite back my smile, as I nod.
I’m good . I sign, eyes pinned to the window, as I prepare myself to see his parents.
Sonya and Nathan Blake aren’t bad parents, not given what I have to compare them to, but they aren’t good parents either.
Yeah, I know we will walk into their house and they will greet us with a smile, and that the house itself will be decorated beautifully.
In two days we will sit down to a lovely meal, and it will feel completely wholesome, but that’s it.
They won’t ask Griffin about his classes or hockey, they won’t care how he’s doing or if he’s seeing anyone, and they won’t actually pay any attention to their one and only son.
I’ve always found their relationship bizarre, and I’d have traded my upbringing for his in a heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean I am okay with how they treat their son.
Griffin kills his engine, his hands flexing around the wheel nervously, before he hides it and pushes out of the car. I have no choice but to follow, grabbing our bags from the backseat, before strolling after him up the steps to his front door.
When we enter, there is no one waiting to greet us, but we hear voices coming from the kitchen, and Griffin reluctantly heads in that direction. I can hear the happy tone of their voices as we get closer, but when Griffin pushes inside they falter.
“Griffin, you’re here!” His mother says in surprise, as if she didn’t invite him home, before her eyes move to meet mine. “And you brought Harden.” None of it is an actual greeting, just stating pointless facts, and all I have to offer her is a flat smile.
“Of course I’m here, it’s Thanksgiving,” Griffin grunts in response, still standing awkwardly in the open doorway with me at his back.
His father clears his throat. “Well, it’s good to see you son, both of you.” I don’t miss the look of pity in his stare, as they recall the reason I’m here and not at home.
“I didn’t think you were coming in until tomorrow,” Sonya rushes to say, and I note they are both dressed as if they’re ready to go out.
“I texted you that I was going to be arriving today.” I can hear the tension in Griffin’s voice as he snaps back at her, but of course it goes over their heads completely.
“I must have missed it.” His mother replies with a shrug, mindlessly checking her phone and no longer looking at him.
“The car is here,” his father cuts in, and when Griffin turns to him, he adds, “We’ve got a fundraiser to attend at the Parker’s.” The name is familiar, and I wonder if Everest and Aurora will be attending with the Monroe’s, unlike Griffin’s parents, they actually give a shit about their kids.
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns on his heel and pushes past me to head up to his room.
When my eyes meet his parents, they don’t even look regretful, they just offer me a fake parting smile before they go on their way.
Anger churns in my gut as I make my way upstairs, finding Griffin ripping clothes from his bag.
Slipping inside quietly, I watch as he lets their lack of affection wash over him, and I wish there was something I could do to make him feel better.
“You know it’s okay to be mad at them,” I say, moving toward him, and he laughs.
“Is it?” he asks, turning to look at me, and I know what he’s saying, even without the words. He’s wondering how it’s okay to resent them, when he thinks he had it easy compared to me.
“Abuse comes in all shapes and sizes, Griffin, not enough love is just as bad as too much love.” My words have his jaw tightening, the reminder of what I went through sometimes so intense that I can see it written all over his face.
When his hand reaches out and tangles with mine, I force myself not to react. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he sighs, his words are said with so much feeling that they send a flutter through me.
“You are?” I know he can hear the surprise in my voice, because he rolls his eyes playfully, but still pulls me toward him.
“I mean, I’m always glad to have you around, but I’m really glad we get to spend our first Thanksgiving together.”
This is probably our tenth Thanksgiving together, but I know what he means. I know what he’s trying to say without saying it at all, and instead of letting the fear that constantly lives inside me, fuel me, I own it.
“Me too, baby.”
His smile is pressed against my lips in a soft kiss, before he pulls away and finishes emptying his bag.
I watch him move around the room that is no longer his, not really, and I can’t help but feel out of place here.
His eyes dance to my own bag before coming back to me, and I know he can read my thoughts.
“We can leave if you want, just say the word and we will drive back to Fairfield, we can be in your room in less than two hours.” It isn’t lost on me that he says my room, not his, mine, because he knows the comfort it brings me.
Except lately, I’m realizing that I find the same comfort in him, in her, and as long as I have them, I’ll be okay.
“No, I’m fine,” I tell him truthfully, moving toward where he stands at his dresser.
“I’m serious, Harden, just tell me what you need.” He stares at me sternly, searching my eyes for any hint of a lie, and I smirk as I approach him, before pressing him backward roughly.
“The only thing I need right now, is you.” I slam my lips to his, swallowing his deep groan as he reacts to my kiss.
One of my palms comes up to close around his throat, massaging his pulse point and feeling it strum against my fingers.
He loves this, loves me commanding him, taking from him, which is why I tighten my hold and swallow down his groan.
His throat works perfectly beneath my palm, as he tries to gasp from the slight breaths I allow, his raspy little groans only spoiling how turned on he already is.
When I pull back he is panting, licking his lips in anticipation, as his glossy eyes search mine.
He’s so fucking gorgeous it hurts, the feelings I have for him rushing to the surface and making my chest ache.
My other palm glides up his torso, flattening against his chest just so I can feel his heartbeat.
“You’re so ridiculously hot that it drives me insane,” I huff out in disbelief, as I take him in.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” he winks, leaning back and letting his hands fix to the edge of his dresser.
“The size of your ego is also ridiculously big.” I reach down and let my hand trail along the hem of his t-shirt, rejoicing in the way his stomach muscles flex beneath my touch, as I slip my fingertips beneath the fabric.
“So is my cock,” he breathes, as I release his throat and start dragging his shirt up. He lifts his arm over his head, allowing me to rip it off and toss it to the floor, my eyes trailing over his now naked torso.
“Now, now, we both know mine is bigger,” I muse, leaning in close, to drag my tongue along his throat until I reach his ear. “And I think it’s about time you felt it, nice and deep in your ass.”
Sliding one hand around his neck, I grip him hard, pulling him against me and kissing him roughly.
It’s hot, sloppy, and urgent, his tongue tangling with mine, as we both realize that tonight we are going all the way.
I’m done letting him fuck my throat, and tease me with his mouth, no, now I need to feel his tight, hot heat wrapped around my length.
“What do you say, baby, are you ready to take me?” I ask, grinding my erection into his and swallowing his groan, before he pulls back and licks his lips.
“Yes, sir, I’m ready.” His submission rolls through me so perfectly, fueling the darkest depths of my soul, the one that went to hell and back and is somehow still intact.
“Yeah? You ready to be my needy little slut, begging to be pumped full of my cum?” I lean down and swirl my tongue around his nipple, before pulling it between my teeth and biting sharply, and the pleasure- filled hiss that leaves him, is enough to have me groaning.
Reaching down, my hands pull at his belt, tugging it open until I can rip at the button of his jeans. I slip my hand inside and fist his solid length, stroking him roughly. “Harden, fuck,” he groans, pushing his hips forward into my touch.
“Don’t say my name like that.” My words are a warning, I’m so close to the edge and he has me ready to snap.
“Like what?” He breathes, flicking his stare between mine and where I’m jerking him.
“Like you’re mine and I can do whatever I want with you.”
His stare snaps to mine, as his hand comes up and closes around the back of my neck, pulling me toward him. “I am yours, Harden, now fuck me like I know you are desperate to.”