14. THE SAME HEART
THE SAME HEART
We’ve spent almost every waking second of the past two weeks together—well, besides working hours and the times he visits his mom, which are now more often since I talked to him about it.
Other than that, though, we’re together.
If I’m not spending the night at his place, he’s spending the night at mine.
Sleeping tangled together, his body tucked snugly against mine, is our new normal.
I’m not sure I’ll ever manage to sleep without him again.
It’s becoming a bit problematic, this obsession of mine, if I’m being truthful.
But there’s no way I’m going to stop now.
I’m in too deep. I wouldn’t survive it if he broke up with me.
I just know it. That would be the equivalent of losing a limb, and I’d have phantom pains for the rest of my life.
It doesn’t help that he’s opening up to me more by the day.
We’re getting to know each other—really know each other.
Just things I’ve noticed about him, not things he’s actually telling me.
Like him making his coffee exactly like mine every morning—overly sweet with four sugars and creamer, because I don’t actually enjoy the taste of coffee but need the caffeine desperately.
He has a sweet tooth too, and has to have ice cream, cookies, or brownies almost every night of the week.
I’ve told him he has a bit of a problem, but even being aware of his risk of diabetes hasn’t stopped me from stocking my pantry and fridge with everything he needs.
I’m so weak, I’ve been the one baking for him. Imagine that.
He also sings constantly, whether that’s humming a song under his breath or singing at the top of his lungs when he’s showering alone, and I have to admit he has a really pretty voice.
It makes me chuckle every time he does it, not because I’m making fun of him, but because he’s so fucking cute.
He shoves me every time I tell him that.
Also, he plays the same song on a loop all day when he’s editing pictures on his computer.
He says it helps him focus. I should find it annoying too, but I’ve gotten used to it and barely even notice anymore.
It seems I really might be obsessed with the guy.
Kenneth’s shower gel has a tropical scent, with pineapple being the strongest note, and now he keeps one in my shower along with his shampoo and conditioner.
My bathroom drawer has been stocked with spare razors, toothbrushes, and his favorite aftershave.
He’s been using my shaving cream. It all feels very domestic, but I’m not going to be caught complaining. This is exactly where I want to be.
I’m also right where I want to be at this very moment, sitting in Kenneth’s studio for the third time this week.
It’s spacious and fancier than I thought it would be.
He really has a good thing going—situated downtown, surrounded by high-end stores and restaurants.
Also surrounded by galleries and rich people. It’s strategic for sure.
The only thing that’s different about tonight is that he’s not editing or taking pictures of himself.
Instead, he’s taking pictures of me. I should feel shy, I think, but instead, I’m excited when he calls me beautiful or handsome as I follow his directions.
I would do anything to hear him talk to me in this sweet, whispered voice, apparently.
“Perfect, Connie,” Kenneth says softly again, and I blush at his praise.
He smirks when we make eye contact, and my face heats until it feels like I’m having a hot flash.
“Look that way.” He directs my face where he needs it, warm fingers so very soft against my jaw.
I want to lean into the touch, but it’s gone before I can do it. “Gorgeous.”
I breathe a little faster as the shutter goes off repeatedly, and then he’s standing in front of me once more.
He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts my head up, making eye contact with me when I lift my gaze to his.
His blue eyes are lighter, and there’s a soft smile on his face.
My lungs burn from the exertion of catching my breath.
“I have to say, Conrad.” Kenneth’s fingers move, and then he’s brushing my cheekbone with his thumb. “You have to be the most beautiful muse I’ve ever had.”
“Oh.” I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve had others?”
“Don’t be jealous, love.” He winks. “They meant nothing. You’re everything.”
My heart skips a beat at his words, and I purse my lips to keep my smile in.
It doesn’t work, and he grins widely as my smile makes an appearance.
His dimples crease his cheeks as he stares down at me—all three of them.
One at each corner of his mouth and one on the apple of his cheek.
My favorite one deepens the broader his grin gets, but his eyes get all soft with his next words.
“It would be a shame not to let the world see how perfect you are,” he tells me with a shrug. “Imagine how you’d look in a gallery.”
“You want my portrait in a gallery?” I ask slowly, my eyebrows rising.
“I’d make a whole collection of your face if you let me, Connie,” Kenneth says lightly, leaning down and kissing me softly and chastely.
“Wouldn’t that be weird?” I ask. His lips twitch at my question, and he raises an eyebrow. I smile shyly.
“What?” His brow rises impossibly more. “Is taking pictures of my handsome boyfriend weird?”
I flush again, and damn it, he’s the one who’s usually blushing. But I can’t help it with all the compliments he’s giving me. He should really stop now. I don’t think it’s good for my health—or my heart.
“Well, when you put it that way…” I chuckle. “You can if you want to.”
“Really?” he asks, eyes hopeful. “You’d actually let me?”
“Yeah, Ken,” I reply quietly, and his eyes sparkle with happiness. “I think I’d do just about anything to make you look at me like this.”
“Like what?” Kenneth asks softly, placing his camera on the floor and kneeling between my spread legs. “How am I looking at you?”
I gulp, my hands beginning to shake. “Like I make you happy.”
“You do make me happy,” he whispers, cupping my face gently with both hands. And then he’s kissing me—slowly, like he’s worshiping my mouth. I whimper into the kiss, and he hisses. “Don’t make that sound at me, Conrad.”
My face heats to blistering levels. “S-sorry.”
“What for?” he asks against my lips.
“Making that sound.”
“Is that so?” He chuckles. “You don’t want to find out what happens when you do it?”
“I do,” I whisper. “Tell me what happens.”
Kenneth pushes my chest gently, and I take the hint, lying on my back on top of the backdrop on the floor.
He spreads my legs wider and gets between them until our cocks are aligned over our jeans.
The little thrust of his hips has my body lighting up, and a shiver runs down my spine as pleasure courses through me.
He presses his lips to my ear and breathes hard against me as he does it again and again.
“Have you ever bottomed before, Conrad?” Kenneth whispers, and I shudder.
Shaking my head, I say, “No.”
“Do you want to?” he asks, giving me a small thrust again. My cock throbs with the contact, and I lift my hips and grab his ass hard, pushing him against me, seeking friction. We moan in unison. “Would you let me in your ass if I beg pretty?”
I exhale roughly. “Yes, baby, I would.”
Kenneth moans in my ear. “I’d fuck you so good.”
This makes me groan, and my spine tingles.
I’m going to come in my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager.
I’m breathing hard now, as if I’ve run miles, and he speeds up his movements, clearly sensing my impending release.
We’ve fucked enough times that he knows all the cues now.
And I know all of his. We’re both on the edge of the cliff now, about to throw ourselves into the abyss. I can’t wait to freefall.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “I want it.”
“Picture it, Conrad,” Kenneth whispers back, biting my ear gently. “You on your back. My fingers in your ass, then my cock. I’d make you beg for me to let you come—”
“Yes,” I moan, right on the brink of my orgasm. “Keep going.”
“I’d make you fucking scream my name,” he whimpers. “I’d give you the best orgasm of your fucking life…”
I throw my head back and breathe hard and fast, my moans getting louder. He bites my neck roughly, and my body tightens. “And then?”
“I’d come in your ass,” he moans, “I’d make you mine. All mine. Only mine.”
Those words are what do it for me. I’m pushed right off the edge, and then I’m falling and falling and falling.
My orgasm hits me like a hurricane, devastating and powerful.
It goes on forever, and he doesn’t stop thrusting against me, making the friction heavenly.
It’s never fucking ending, and then his body is tightening against mine as he comes too.
“Conrad,” Kenneth moans loudly. “Oh, fuck!”
“Yes, baby,” I growl as his forehead comes to rest against mine and he thrusts faster. “Like that. Fuck me like that.”
Kenneth slumps against me when he’s done, burying his face in my neck. He chuckles, and then we’re both laughing. This is absolutely ridiculous. Both of us coming in our pants like we’re in high school.
“Fuck, that was so hot,” he groans. “But I wasn’t thinking about what we’d do after.”
I chuckle. “We’ll clean up.”
“This is kind of hard to hide.” Kenneth lifts his head at me and smirks. “You should’ve rejected me.”
I laugh hard at that. “Me? Reject you?”
“Yeah.” He grins.
“Never.”
His eyes turn fond, and he kisses me softly.
Only once. But it’s enough to have me melting again.
Kenneth gets up and offers his hand to me, grimacing when he moves, probably feeling the cum in his pants.
It doesn’t feel great, that’s for sure, and it’s cooling surprisingly fast. We take off our pants and underwear so we can clean them, and then he’s rolling his eyes and sitting in the lounge area on the couch.
“I’m not putting those back on until it’s time to leave,” Ken says dramatically. “Feel free to be naked too.”
“I’m afraid that would lead to more of whatever that was,” I reply playfully. “I don’t think you can resist me.”
Kenneth smirks, “I don’t think I can either. Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go again.”
I throw my head back and laugh heartily. “No fucking way. I need at least thirty.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What are you, fifty?”
“Twenty-six, asshole.”
Kenneth chuckles. “Close enough.” He’s twenty-three years old, and he loves reminding me of our very insignificant age gap. “You’re almost twenty-seven. August is right around the corner. You’re definitely old.”
“Fuck off.” I roll my eyes. But I’m grinning, loving the way he teases me. “I have a month left of being young.”
“You’re not gonna get gray hair on me, are you?” He waggles his eyebrows. “Never mind, I think I’d like that.”
“Is that so?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Absolutely.” Kenneth winks. “It would make you look sophisticated and possibly more handsome.”
“Do you have a thing for older men, Kenneth?” I get closer to him on the couch, and he bites his bottom lip.
“I have a thing for you.”
“Now you’re just trying to get in my pants, aren’t you?”
“You’re not wearing any,” he replies cheekily. “Good thing I got them out of the way already.”
“I guess that makes it easier.” I kiss his cheek, and he places a pillow on his lap.
I lie down on my back, and he threads his fingers through my hair as I stare up at him.
We look into each other’s eyes for what feels like forever, refusing to break contact.
I see so much in those eyes now. Things he didn’t let me see a month ago.
He’s more vulnerable and open. I can actually tell what he’s thinking and feeling most of the time, which is a jarring contrast to how closed off he used to be.
He trusts me now, I realize. This is what trust looks like.
He can be himself around me, and he knows it.
Kenneth also knows I’ll do anything to protect his heart. That I’d never let him down.
“So…” I break the silence, and Ken startles slightly, his hand pausing in my hair. “When did you start taking pictures?”
Kenneth gives me a wobbly smile. “When I was about seven. My mom got me a Polaroid camera, and I was hooked. I had an entire wall in my bedroom of Polaroid pictures. People, animals, sunsets.”
“Your favorite,” I say with a small smile, and he returns it.
“Yeah.” He nods. “And then one day we went to the beach and my life changed. I loved the horizon. I loved how beautiful the sun looked setting behind the water.”
“Tell me more.”
“I want to take a picture of you with that backdrop.” He smiles shyly. “My new sun.” My breath catches in my throat as I look up at him with wide eyes, getting lost in the electric blue of his. The fingers in my hair tighten, and he asks, “What?”
“What are you feeling right now?” I think about how his eyes have looked this exact color before. I remember asking myself if this was the color of his eyes when he’s in love. When he feels it acutely. “Tell me.”
He purses his lips, “That’s a secret.”
“I want to know all your secrets,” I reply to that.
“Maybe someday soon,” he says, his eyes looking into mine with so much adoration I’m afraid I’m going to fly away. The only thing tethering me to the earth is his hand in my hair. “But I’ll tell you part of it, if you want.”
“Please,” I breathe, unsure of my voice. I’m afraid it will break from all the emotions swirling through my chest at the moment if I speak any louder.
“You scare me,” he tells me. “You make me fucking terrified.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because, Conrad.” His eyes are still that mesmerizing and intense electric blue. “You make me believe in forever.”
My breath catches at his words, and my body feels like I’m being burned alive. “Don’t play with my heart, Ken.”
“Never,” he whispers. “I love your heart.”
I love you.
Fuck. I want to say it so badly. My body rebels against the words passing my lips, though. It’s too soon. It’ll scare him. I can’t fucking risk it.
I blink back the moisture in my eyes, and he notices, but doesn’t say anything. He brushes his thumb against the corner of my eye gently, wiping a lone tear that escaped, and he smiles. It makes my heart beat faster, louder, and less rhythmically.
“I love yours too,” I whisper back.
Kenneth gives me a heart-stopping smile. He needs to stop doing that. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to survive him.
What if I don’t?