Chapter Twenty-Three #2
His hole cinches around my dick, his muscles rippling beneath me.
“Oh, Christ,” he gasps, his body going taut before shuddering.
I release his arm, quickly reaching around to catch his second load.
The cry that emanates from him is similar to that of a wounded animal when I pull out of him, just long enough to re-slicken my cock with his release.
Then, I grip his hip with my dry hand, force what’s left of him on my fingers into his mouth with the other, and drive into his ass as he valiantly tries to suck and swallow what I’m feeding him.
“Mmmph! Mmmph!” His whimpers cause me to see stars as white hot ecstasy barrels down my spine, lancing my balls, and enveloping me in a whole-body warmth—launching me into the most intense orgasm I have ever had.
My dick pulses and throbs as I empty myself into him.
His walls clench around me, syphoning every last drop of cum from my body.
I let myself go lax on top of him, gasping for air, sweat causing my t-shirt to cling to my torso. I can feel my cum start to leak out of him even before I pull out. When I do, I revel in the sight of it, trickling down his ass, dripping down the back of his thigh.
He reaches back, swiping at it with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his lips. His tongue darts out, lapping at my mess. Moaning as if he’s just licked ice cream from a cone. “That was—fuck-ing fantastic,” he hums, a giant grin splitting across his face as he bends and tugs his pants back up.
Once mine are back on as well, he cups my jaw, forcing my head up to look him in the eyes. “How are you, Gordy?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly—both too overcome with emotions and yet wrought with a sudden burst of self-doubt that seems to have come out of nowhere.
A lump in my throat forms, and that feeling of constriction around my ribs takes hold.
I’ve felt like this before after sex with someone who supposedly loved me, but she hadn’t even let our bed get cold before she was out the door and onto someone else’s mattress.
It will literally break me, if I let him in like this, and he decides to leave because I’m too much.
I take a step back, reeling as bile starts to surge up my throat.
I told this man I love him. He has all the power to break me now.
He knows all my truths, and he—fuck, he let me claim him right here, out in the open, and all I can do is gasp for breath as I struggle to stave off a random panic attack.
God, I’m so fuckin’ broken, despite all the work I’ve been putting into bettering myself.
Who the hell would ever want to stay with someone like me?
This is too good, he himself is too fuckin’ good.
As history has taught me, however, the other shoe will surely fuckin’ drop at some point, and he will realize he can have so much better than me.
He deserves to be with someone more emotionally stable than myself.
Christ, I know there should be no shame in what I’ve just done, but I can’t help but feel it anyway, when I know that just beyond those doors that lead to the high school locker room, I ruined someone else’s life.
All because I knew Evan was attracted to other men, I preyed on it, and threatened to expose his secret to everyone. I blackmailed him.
Why the fuck would Gannett—the man I managed to fall in love with, quite by happenstance—want to stay with someone who fucked up his brother’s life so badly?
“Come here,” he whispers, palming the nape of my neck and tugging me towards him. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly. “Today was a lot,” he acknowledges, stroking my back.
I nod, burying my face into the crook of his neck. He sighs, pressing a kiss on my head. “Let’s get you back to my place. I’ll order in for us so you don’t have to stress about me cooking.” He huffs out a gentle laugh. “You can relax, and I will take care of you, okay?”
“Thank you,” I lift my head, look into his deep blue eyes, and whisper, though the words don’t seem like enough to express my deepest gratitude for this man.
I don’t deserve him; I know that much, but I’m just greedy enough now to accept this aftercare while I can still get it.
“Thank you for sticking with me, even though I’m shit at processing my emotions. ”
His thumb gently brushes my lower lip as he studies me for a beat.
“I love you, Gordy. That’s how it’s supposed to be.
You don’t just get up and walk away. You see your partner struggling and you try like hell to lessen the burden,” he murmurs, then kisses me until I start to believe it.
Sweetly, passionately, not like how we usually kiss—bruising and aggressive, like when we’re ready to tear into one another.
He breathes hope into me every time his lips slot between mine with every swipe of his tongue.
It’s hard to reconcile the man who is always so jocular and aloof with the Gannett who can read my emotions like they’re a map of a jagged coastline, and expertly navigate his way around them with precision and care.
I guess that’s what I love about him the most, and why I’ll fight like hell to keep him in my life, because, for what it’s worth, Ryann—or rather, whatever hallucination I had of her that night—was right.
If anyone can guide me out of troubled waters, it’s him.
It’s always Gannett fuckin’ Waters.