Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ashton
The bell on Cryptid’s collar jingles outside the door as he paces the hallway, banished from Troy’s bedroom. Troy chuckles against my lips, his cat’s offended meows muffled through the walls as he kisses me deeper, guiding me back toward the bed.
He tastes like salty popcorn, milk chocolate, and the faint trace of cigarette he smoked during the drive home from the theater.
I hate that filthy habit—I really do—but there’s something about the way it looks on him that gets under my skin.
The image flashes in my mind: his tattooed arm draped out the van window, fingers loose around the cigarette, the other hand steady on the wheel as he exhales a slow stream of smoke into the night.
My boyfriend is sexy as hell.
He carefully unfastens my sling, the way he’s done for the past few weeks whenever we’ve been intimate.
His eyes linger on my cast for a moment, assessing, before he begins to remove my clothes piece by piece, gently tugging my T-shirt up and over my head.
He unbuttons and unzips my jeans, then slowly pulls the denim off my legs. Every movement is cautious.
Once I’m standing in only my boxers, his hands drift over me, featherlight at first, like he’s still afraid of hurting me.
His fingertips trace along my ribs, where the bruises have finally begun to fade, my skin returning to its usual tan.
There’s something soft in his expression as he takes me in, something almost reverent.
“Better,” he whispers, more to himself than to me.
I swallow, my breath catching as his touch lingers, warm and grounding.
Then he shifts, stripping down to his briefs in one smooth motion before turning back to me. His hands find mine—careful of my arm—and he guides me toward the mattress. I let him, my body pliant beneath his direction, trusting him completely.
He lowers me onto the bed with the same gentleness, hovering over me for a moment as if giving me time to settle. Then he leans in, closing the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a slow, deep kiss.
“I’m so damn proud of you,” he murmurs when he pulls back, his breath warm against my face.
“The way you handled yourself tonight with your parents. The way you stood up for yourself—and your siblings.” He shakes his head slightly, something like admiration written in his expression.
“You deserve so much more love than the scraps they gave you. Do you understand that?”
His words hit hard, lodging somewhere deep in my chest. My throat tightens, emotion rising too fast for me to catch. I can’t find the words, so I just nod, reaching up with my good arm to tuck a stray piece of his mullet behind his ear.
“Tonight,” he continues, his voice dropping lower, “I want you to show me just how good you can be.” His gaze searches mine. “Think you can do that, blondie? You gonna behave for me—do what I ask?”
Fuck. My stomach flips at his words, heat coiling low and sharp, sending my thoughts spinning.
Instead of answering, I lift my hips, rutting against him, my arousal pressing insistently against his thigh.
Troy chuckles softly. “Gonna need you to use actual words,” he says, voice gentle but firm.
I groan, fisting his hair to tug him closer. “God, yes. I’ll do whatever you want—just… please touch me.”
He snickers, clearly satisfied, and presses a quick kiss to my lips before pulling back. His hands slide down, hooking into the waistband of my boxers and tugging them down, my hard cock finally slipping free.
Cool air hits my skin, and I suck in a breath, already aching for more.
Troy reaches for the bottle of lube on his nightstand, slicking his fingers before warming it between his hands. Then he reaches between my legs, wrapping his hand around me.
I gasp, my body rising off the mattress as I instinctively arch into his touch.
“Easy,” he scolds, pressing a steady hand to my hips to keep me in place. “Stay still for me. Let me take care of you.”
I bite down on my lip, forcing myself to settle, even as every nerve in my body screams for more.
A slow, pleased smile curves his mouth. “That’s it. Good boy.”
The praise settles low in my stomach, smooth and warm, like it’s soothing an old wound that’s been festering my whole life. The way he looks at me, those brown eyes full of pride and quiet wonder, like I could never disappoint him… I’ve never had anyone look at me like that before.
He pumps my length at a torturous pace, unhurried and controlled, drawing it out in a way that makes my whole body tense.
He hovers above me as he touches me, his mouth brushing against the shell of my ear.
I tilt my head instinctively, giving him more access, and he trails soft kisses along my throat, sending shivers racing down my spine.
His thumb circles the plump, wet head, making my legs spasm. My breath catches as the sensation builds, steady and consuming. His hands feel different from my own—smaller, more nimble—and the contrast only makes everything better. It’s overwhelming in the best way, like he was made for me.
Every instinct in my body screams at me to chase it, to move, to take more—but I don’t.
God, it’s difficult.
I need a distraction.
I hook my arm around his neck, pulling him down until our mouths meet. He smiles against my lips as I kiss him, a little messy, a little desperate, my breath uneven as I try to stay still. My legs tremble with the effort, but I force myself to hold steady.
He told me to be still, so that’s exactly what I’ll do.
I’m going to be so, so good for him.
He quickens his pace, stroking me faster. I groan against his lips, my grip tightening in his hair until I feel his breath hitch—but he doesn’t stop.
“Troy,” I choke out, my mouth falling open on a broken gasp. “I’m gonna—”
He pulls away in an instant.
“Fuck!” I gasp, the word ripping out of me as I suck in air like I’ve just surfaced from underwater.
My whole body aches with it, wound tight and throbbing, desperate for release. But Troy just leans back on his heels, watching me with a slow, satisfied smirk. His tongue flicks against the ring in his lip, eyes dark with heat as his hand drifts lower, palming himself through his black briefs.
“That’s it,” he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my knee. “You look so pretty when you’re about to come, baby. I wanna see that face again.”
I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut. “P-please.”
I’m not even sure what I’m begging for—for him to let me finish or to keep pushing me harder. My thoughts are hazy, scattered, my body buzzing with need. But underneath it all is the stronger desire to give him what he wants. I want to do this right. I want to make him proud.
“Lift your hips,” he says, tapping my leg lightly.
Groaning, I obey, raising them just enough for him to slide a pillow beneath me, adjusting me with careful hands.
“Good,” he praises. Then, softer but no less commanding, “Now spread your legs.”
Heat floods my face as I do as he asks, my feet braced against the mattress as I open up for him. Troy settles between my thighs, his thumb brushing lightly over me. I twitch on instinct, my body already buzzing with anticipation.
His gaze lifts to mine. Not with admonishment, but rather a quiet reminder to stay still.
“Such a pretty pink hole,” he muses, rubbing over the puckered flesh.
A strained groan slips out of me at his words, and I lift my casted arm over my face, trying to hide.
“So gorgeous,” he continues, his voice low and smooth, dripping over me like warm honey. “I bet you taste like heaven down here. Will you let me?”
My breath catches sharply. He’s never done that before, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. He sat on my face once and let me eat him out, and I loved it—the feeling of him crushing me, taking control, using me for his pleasure.
“Ash,” he says, firmer this time, gently pulling my arm away from my face. “Can I?”
I swallow hard, my pulse pounding. “Y-yeah.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, satisfied. He lowers himself between my legs again, settling onto his forearms, his head resting there like he belongs.
I watch, barely breathing, as he leans in closer.
The first brush of his tongue makes my toes curl, a sharp, electric sensation sparking through me. Warmth spreads, unfamiliar and overwhelming all at once.
He groans softly, his breath hot against my skin. “Fucking delicious.”
He licks a wide stripe across my entrance, his beard scratching deliciously against the sensitive skin. He devours me with his tongue, licking and sucking at my rim until it softens. The sensation is like nothing I’ve ever felt, electric shocks of pleasure coursing through my veins.
When his tongue curls to a point and slips inside, I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as a broken sound spills from my throat.
He makes a low groan in response, the vibration sending tingles through my entire body.
He fucks me with his tongue, fast and eager, the wet, sloppy sound making my cock leak like a faucet.
Every nerve feels lit up, my body strung tight with pleasure as I struggle to stay still, just like he asked.
I hear the sound of the lube uncapping, then firm pressure presses against my hole. He slips two fingers inside me, pushing deeper than his tongue could reach. He continues licking and sucking at my rim while he fucks me with his fingers.
It’s too much. I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread.
“Haah… Uugh… Aaah…” I barely recognize my own voice, the sounds torn from me without thought or control.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Troy teases, pulling back just enough to look at me. He grabs my cock with his other hand, stroking me in time with each thrust of his fingers.
I moan, drunk with pleasure. “Mmnh—gonna—”
His grip on my cock loosens in an instant.
A sob tears from my throat.