Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX_
HAZARD
It takes Scout an eternity to fuck off outside and leave Decaf and me alone again.
Whether it only feels like that because I’m desperate for Decaf to drop the wall he has up with Scout around, or Scout is suspicious and doesn’t want to leave us alone, I don’t know.
Scout hasn’t done one of his boundary checks all day, so it’s not until midafternoon that we get a chance to really talk, and the minute that front door closes, we both crane our necks to look around the corner to make sure he’s really gone.
“Get over here,” Decaf says, his voice taking on a sexy rasp that sounds like a command.
I’ve been dying all day to find out where his head’s at, so I don’t even bother being bratty. I’m out of the armchair and by his bedside in a second flat.
It takes even less time for him to cup the back of my head and pull me toward him until our mouths touch.
I moan into the kiss, happy for him to still be on the same page. Actually, happy isn’t the right word for it. Relieved is more like it.
He said last night there’s no going back. He’s in this. What this is, it’s hard to know because our lives are so messed up and uncertain, but the trust in him keeping his word is still rocky.
I hope he can prove me wrong, and that when the time comes, when we’re standing on a beach on an island off the coast of Montenegro, he will continue to choose me.
Only time will tell. Until then, I’ll have to enjoy what I can get. And fuck, do I enjoy the hell out of his lips. His mouth. The way he uses his fucking tongue.
He tastes me, savors me, does everything he can to reassure me without using words, but I think I need the words.
Reluctantly, and with my body fighting it the whole way, I slowly break apart from him. My forehead stays against his, and that kiss stole more than my breath away because Decaf’s breathing just as hard.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all damn day,” he whispers.
“You and me both.” And apparently, that’s all the words I need. I kiss him again, this time sinking down to sit on the side of his bed instead of leaning over him.
He grunts as he moves over and rolls on his side to make room for me. I try to pull back to ask if he’s okay, but he grunts again, this time in a “Nuh-uh” tone, and holds me tight so I can’t get away.
I want to touch him everywhere, kiss his scars that belong to me.
They’re my scars because he got them for me, to protect me.
Here in his arms, I am protected. I am safe.
There isn’t a time I can remember where I’ve had this feeling.
Where I’ve wanted to surrender fully because the person I’m with is a warm blanket, comforting my soul.
It’s also weird that while he makes me feel this good, while there’s that safety, there’s also the mistrust that will resurface once we stop kissing. Once we’re apart.
The only solution moving forward, really, is that we don’t stop kissing. Ever. Totally realistic and achievable, and completely ruined when the sound of the front door reopening has me shooting off Decaf’s bed faster than Scout can enter the room.
“Forgot my wallet. After I check the perimeter, I’m going to head into town and get some food. Any requests?” He’s on his phone, but when he looks up, I can’t be sure what he sees.
Both Decaf and I trying to cover our stilted breathing, me trying to cover the tent in my jeans by not turning my body in Scout’s direction, and Decaf not being able to do anything to hide his hard-on.
Scout either ignores the obvious been caught doing something we shouldn’t be doing vibes, or he really is oblivious because all he says is, “Anything at all from the store?”
Can’t exactly say condoms, can I?
“I’m good,” I say.
Decaf opens his mouth to say something, but Scout cuts him off.
“You don’t need to say coffee. I already know.”
“Can you look to see if they have a particular kind of bean? It’s called the nofidia bean, and it’s the best coffee in the world.”
“How do you spell that?”
Decaf spells it out for him, and granted, I’m not a coffee connoisseur, but it doesn’t even sound like a word.
Scout types it into his notes on his phone. “Okay, I’ll be back soon.”
As soon as he’s gone again, Decaf holds out his hand for me to come back to him. “He’ll be gone a while at least.”
“What makes you say that? It’s only ten minutes to the store, five minutes to get in and out, and then ten back.”
Decaf smiles. “There’s no such thing as a nofidia bean.”
I laugh.
“Learned that trick from an Aussie tour guide. Whenever any of their customers asked too many questions, the guide would reply with ‘It’s nofidia’… no fucking idea.”
“Smart.”
“I thought so. So even if it’s only a ten-minute drive, he’s going to be looking for that coffee for at least twenty minutes before he asks someone.
Which means we have at least forty minutes alone.
” He cocks one eyebrow, somehow making it look irresistible and not at all cheesy.
How is that fair? And how am I supposed to hold myself back from that?
The desperation I have for it to happen is probably unhealthy, especially when there are still so many questions about where to go from here.
What will happen once we’re out of the US?
All I can think about is being together in one form or another.
Hiding out together, starting new lives together, riding off into the sunset together, even though it’s way too early to be having those kinds of thoughts.
When I try to picture what it would be like to have any kind of future with him, I’m filled with the same sense of safety he gives me when I’m in his arms. But that’s so fucking dangerous to be thinking these things, telling myself I’m allowed to give in to those thoughts and imagine it because it’s only going to leave me open to being disappointed.
Again. By the same man who has disappointed me before.
But do I want to use this little alone time we have thinking about my stupid feelings or taste his cum again?
He’s still staring at me expectantly, his scruffy stubble that has speckles of gray making him look sexier than he ever has …
Yeah, I know my answer. There’s no fucking question about it.
I approach him and yank down his sweatpants before I lean over and swallow his now only half-hard cock whole.
It might have been flagging from Scout’s interruption, but it doesn’t take long for him to thicken in my mouth, his tight, velvety skin slipping between my lips while he swears up a storm.
“Fucking hell, Haz.”
I love the way my name sounds coming from him.
In those beginning months, whenever we’d see each other, he’d call me Corey in a condescending tone.
Different to how he said it the other night when he was trying to have a serious conversation.
It would put me on the outside, make me feel like not one of the crew. I was sure he did it on purpose.
My code name on his lips is another symbol of trust, of acceptance. The moan of pleasure following it doesn’t hurt either. I follow it up with one of my own, which sets him off swearing again.
It takes every ounce of concentration—okay, the one single ounce I have of it—to not laugh around his cock.
“How can you get me so close to coming so fucking fast?” He breathes heavily. “Your fucking mouth. Fuck.”
Driving him closer and feeling his muscular thighs tense under my palm is the biggest fucking turn-on, and I’m tempted to drop my jeans right here and jerk myself off while I bob my head on his dick.
Precum fills my mouth, salty and heady, and I can’t not touch myself anymore. I pop the button on my jeans, blindly fumbling with the zipper and lowering them down my legs without pulling away from sucking Decaf’s incredible cock.
Fuck, I hope to have it inside me one day.
If we had the prep time for me to jump on top and ride him, I would.
But we don’t. Going into today, I wasn’t sure anything like this would happen again, so I wasn’t going to clean out and shower before I knew for sure.
Now I regret not being presumptuous, but if I had been prepared for this and it didn’t happen, it would only add more disappointment to an already too-big-a-disappointment pile.
I manage to drop my jeans to my ankles but only get my briefs mid-thigh.
It’s still enough for me to get my fingers wrapped around my eagerly awaiting cock.
That first touch is enough to make me shudder and moan again.
The vibrations of my mouth around Decaf’s cock must be some kind of trigger point for him because more precum hits my tongue.
“No, wait,” he says, and I think he’s giving me a warning, about to explode. I crave the taste, want him to fill my mouth and swallow every drop down.
But then he’s swatting my hand away from my cock.
“No touching.” He pants. “My job.”
I’m so fucking close to snarking back, telling him to make me obey, but then his fingers grip my hair tight.
“But after.” He puts pressure on the back of my head and lifts his hips. The head of his cock hits the back of my throat and brings water to my eyes, but god fucking damn how I love it.
As much as I want to stroke myself, give myself some relief, I do what he fucking says and refuse to touch myself. Instead, I put my hands to good use, massaging his balls in one hand while I grip the base of his cock with the other.
He begins to tremble, and this time, I’m certain he’s going to come.
He lifts his hips once, twice more, and then the wave of warm, salty cum floods my senses.
I swear I would never tire of making him come, especially in my mouth.
I can smell him, taste him, and hear as he stops breathing.
Grunting through gritted teeth, he makes sounds that feel just as good as my hand wrapped around my cock.
And as embarrassing as it would be to come handsfree and completely by noise alone … it would also be kinda hot.
Decaf’s body goes slack under me, sinking back into his thin hospital-grade mattress. I release his cock but continue to worship it with my tongue, my lips, laying soft kisses and quick licks down his shaft and over his balls.
“Fuck,” he says with a loud whoosh. He recovers quickly, though. “My turn.” He tries to sit up.
“You’re injured, so you need to—”
“I don’t need to do anything but suck your cock.” He winces as he makes it to a seated position and swings his legs over the side.
“Your abdomen,” I protest.
“Will have to quit its complaining for a few minutes.”
“Are you good enough to make me come that fast, old man? Where’d you get your skills from back in the caveman days?”
Instead of getting angry like he usually does when I call him old, he smirks.
All it does is overexcite my dick more. I talk a big game, but I have no doubt this is going to all be over with quickly.
“You’ll regret that,” he warns as he begins to lean forward, his lips inching toward the precum leaking out the tip of my cock.
I can’t wait. “I’m going to buy you a dictionary.”
He pulls back, and I want to kick myself. “Huh? Why?”
“You obviously don’t know the meaning of regret.”
Again, that smirk. “Are you sure about that?” This time, when he moves in again, his mouth is seconds, if not milliseconds, away from my dick. I anticipate his lips on me and the warmth of his tongue sliding down my shaft.
But he doesn’t give me that. His breath skims over my sensitive skin and makes me shudder.
That fucker.
The tip of Decaf’s nose runs down the side of my cock, only lightly touching. My legs buckle.
He’s going to fucking kill me. I thought having my nail pried off was torture.
I was fucking wrong. Decaf so close to my cock, me so close to the edge, and his confident fucking laugh as I grip the base of my dick to stop me from coming so soon and before he’d really got to touch me is the real torture.
“What did I say?” Decaf lifts his gaze to mine and then swats my hand away again. “My job.”
It’s not going to be much of a job if he makes me come like this. He dips his head, his mouth now traveling to the base of my cock. But does he put me out of my misery? Fucking nope. His breath on my balls causes them to tighten. My dick leaks even more.
I want relief. I want to touch myself. I want— “Oh, fuck!” He runs his nose back up the underside of my cock, and the sensation is so unexpected and so intense, I begin to come.
It’s unstoppable at this point, and as I begin to chant, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Decaf closes his lips over the erupting head of my cock, and I come possibly harder than I ever have before.
So embarrassing. So hot. So … fucking perfect.
For some reason, that only makes the crash harder. I go from blissed-out coming to realizing how much danger I’m putting my heart in. We might be hiding out and running for our lives, but I’d welcome death if it meant protecting my heart from devastation.
After I’m done spilling into Decaf’s mouth, he pushes me back a step and releases me. I continue to stare down at him, not making a move to put my clothes back on yet.
His warm eyes are on mine, and he keeps them on me as he leans forward again and lands a soft kiss, right on my tip. “You should pull your pants up before Scout gets back.”
I break out of my stupor, out of the doubting “what-ifs” that are already floating around my head so soon after release, and tell myself for maybe the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours: future me can deal with the fallout of this.
It’s not going to backfire at all.