Chapter Nineteen
My apartment smells musty, but otherwise appears just as I left it back in February, when I stomp my way inside, completely forgetting why I’m even back here to begin with.
I got distracted when I saw Gannett working the bar and made a pitstop there first—my heart in my throat over how to respond to him about where I’ve been.
I finally read his texts, and the last ones sounded pissed at me.
I get it. I disappeared for two months. I had to.
I wasn’t lying when I said I had stuff of my own I needed to work on, and that stuff had to do with coming to terms with the intensity of my feelings for the man I’m currently seething over—and just how to proceed with those feelings.
I toss my keys on the side-table in the entryway so I can fish my now incessantly buzzing phone out of my pocket.
Wee-Waters
Gordy, look. I’m sorry.
That kiss wasn’t my idea, okay?
What did you mean by ‘it worked’ tho?
Did it make you jealous? For real?
What the fuck, Croot?! You just gonna go ahead and ghost everyone again?!
Damnit, Gordy. Answer me, or I’m going to come up there…
I finally type out a response to him, though, I’ll admit that deep down, it’s the last thing that I want.
Me
Stay the fuck away from me.
I was hoping I would come back to town tonight, be able to deliver the package in my truck to its rightful owner, and then go find Gannett so I could explain where I’ve been. So I could tell him that I’ve been trying to work on myself, my own insecurities, to be a better man for him.
I know—deep down I fuckin’ know—I should have gone to therapy to better myself, but when I thought long and hard about it, I knew there was no better me without him involved.
There is no future for me that I want without Gannett fuckin’ Waters in it, and I needed to find a way to wrap my broken mind around that. I had to learn how to let him in.
Outside, I hear the familiar thud of his boots, clomping up the stairs.
Stubborn asshole is going to be met with my locked door, however.
Good. Let him pound away at my door. Fuck him for that little stunt he pulled downstairs and that attitude he gave me.
What I ever saw in that fuckin’ childish prick, I have no idea.
"You saw someone who is as insecure as you," my inner voice taunts me, causing me to re-think why I’m even pissed off at him. Maybe he needed to see for himself that I do feel something for him. He—fuck, he cares, and here I am trying to push him away again, when, somewhere in my blackened soul, that’s the last thing I want to do.
I need to work on this reflexive defensiveness.
I hear the faint jingling of keys, right before the knob turns, and he comes barging in.
Fuck, and isn’t he just a sight for sore eyes when he is pissed off.
Having gained a little insight on my attraction to him while I was gone, I am more aware than ever that I like seeing that fire in his eyes, because it means he feels—he’s capable of understanding and empathy.
It’s different from the rage I ever saw smoldering in Marlin’s dull, glazed-over glares.
“Gordy, what the absolute fuck?! Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was when I found out tonight that you hadn’t been in touch with Taryn for the last two months either?
! I was about to send the goddamn cops up here just to do a wellness check on you!
Then, you just—you just waltz right back like nothing even happened!
” he huffs, his breath reeking of cinnamon.
“Have you been drinking?” I ask him, worried that, during my absence, he’s fallen back onto the wagon.
He stomps over to the kitchen trash, spitting something into it. “Gum, Gordy. I used it to fight off my cravings tonight. Care to stop deflecting so you can tell me where the fuck you’ve been?”
I sigh. “Rehab, Gannett. I checked myself back into the residential treatment program that I went to before. I—I wasn’t in a good spot, and I went to go get help. I went for you, so I could be a better man… for you.”
“You what? For me?”
“I got the text you sent me on your birthday. It made me feel like absolute shit that you invited me out, given the way I’d treated you the night before you left.
I knew—fuck, Gannett—I don’t want to hurt you anymore.
Call it a belated birthday gift, but I wanted to remind myself of how to be a better person, for you. ”
When he takes in my admission, his expression softens.
The fire in his eyes dulls. I may have worked on a lot of things over the last sixty days, but accepting anyone’s pity—least of all his, because I don’t want him to see me as weak—isn’t something I’m ready to do yet.
My skin practically crawls with the need to reignite that flame.
“Why the fuck do you still have a key to my apartment on your keyring?” I growl, now recognizing that by engaging with him in this manner, I’m essentially flirting with him. I have been all along.
It’s fucked up, but it’s us.
He blinks at me, stunned for a moment. “Because! You haven’t been here to give it back to!” he snaps, struggling to tug it free. “You want it back? Here you fuckin’ go!” He lobs it at me, but I catch it in midair.
“Fuck you and your superior baseball skills,” he huffs. “That would have been more dramatic if you just let it hit your chest and drop to the floor...” And there it is, the fire is back.
I snort. Pretty sure he’s being dramatic enough already, but I can’t deny anymore that I like it.
His over-the-top bullshit and ridiculous antics bring something to my otherwise banal existence.
It wasn’t until I was admitted into rehab, that I truly saw everything in high-definition: I am fucking obsessed with this man.
I drop the key on the floor at my feet. “Pick it up and try it again then,” I taunt, my dick twitching eagerly behind my pants.
More than anything, I’ve realized what an insanely huge turn-on it is for me to tease out the brat in him.
Gannett Waters is the whole fuckin’ package.
He’s a force to be reckoned with. He’s fiercely loyal, stubborn as an ox, hard-working, soft enough to care deeply for those he values, and strong enough to stand up for what he’s passionate about.
There isn’t anything about him that I don’t worship, and fuck—I’d face every single one of my inner demons for him.
Shit, I may not have been ready for what we did before in the shower that day, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t crossed my mind everyday since.
I want this, I want him, and I want it now.
I am more than ready to move on from just masturbating, and let him—only him, the only man I trust—to handle me how I deserve.
I know he’s strong enough for it. I should have never doubted him before.
“Fuck you, I am not bending down to pick that up and do it all over again. I'm not too stupid to realize that you’re insulting me.”
“I’ve never thought you were too stupid, Gannett. Underneath all the goofiness is a very smart man. That’s why, when I tell you to get on your knees and pick up that key, I think you’ll know what I really want you on your knees for…”
His eyes go wide, then he blinks at me in shock. “You’re hard,” he notes breathily.
I nod, running my palm down over my jeans, pressing in to cup my throbbing erection.
“You want me to…?” His question trails off, his gaze flitting down as he licks his bottom lip.
“I trust you to, yes,” I confirm. “I want you to suck me, Gannett. I want you to get down on your knees, and take this dick all the way to the back of your throat.” I cock an eyebrow at the obvious bulge behind his work-worn Carhartt’s.
“By the looks of it, you want that too, because you’re an eager little cockslut, aren’t you? ”
He visibly shudders. “My fuckin’ god, why is that so hot? It should not be that fuckin’ sexy. Call me that again…”
I arch an eyebrow up. “You want to be my greedy little cockslut?”
“I very much do, when you put it like that.”
“Yeah, Gannett,” I sigh, “you’re kinda killing the vibe a little when you do that shit, you know?”
“Right. Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes. “Uh, just a little nervous, that’s all. I, um, well—you know—I’ve never done that before.”
“Well aware,” I quip.
“But you’re… okay with it? I mean, like, me sucking your dick?”
“Pretty sure that’s what I insinuated when I asked you to do just that…”
“Right.” He nods skeptically, getting down on his knees in front of me. “So I juuuust… pull you on out?”
Well, this is getting real awkward pretty fuckin’ quickly…
“Yeah, Gannett. Unless you’re skilled enough to do it through my jeans. Here, do you need me to do it?” I unbutton my pants, unzip my fly, and shove my jeans and boxers down so they pool around my ankles. My still semi-hard dick springs free, slapping him up under his chin.
“Ohh, fuuuck,” he groans. “Do that again…”
I—I can’t with this fuckin’ guy, I swear. He’s ridiculous, but I—fuck, I think it’s endearing, his earnest eagerness. I grab my cock near the base, slapping him in his face a couple of times. He chases each slap with his open mouth. “You like being dick-slapped?” I ask him.
“Fuck yeah,” he chuffs. “Give me more, and tell me what a greedy slut I am.”
I cannot express how truly unprepared I was for this side of Gannett.
Nor am I all that great at dirty talk, so I feel just as ill-equipped here too.
What I said before just kind of came to me.
It’s in the types of porn I used to get off to.
I like the rough stuff, I like envisioning myself in the scenarios, but never as the submissive.
I’m told, by my new doc, that makes sense, since I need to feel in control of the situation in order to feel safe.
He makes me feel safe. Gannett Waters, of all fuckin’ people. That’s the control he was trying to give me when we were in the shower that night, and I was just too blinded by fear to see it at the time.