Chapter 8
Arlo
They’ve been gone for ages.
And yes, I’m a pathetic, mopey mess. All because Reynolds left with Matti as I’ve had to watch him do time and time again.
Growing up, it was always those two versus the rest of us.
There was an energy that surrounded them, that let people know their friendship was impenetrable.
I’ve seen chinks in the armor though, moments where Reynolds’s eyes lingered on me too long.
Or when his fingers brushed over my skin under the table.
And then now, resisting my brother’s demands.
Times like that, it feels as though the bubble slides from Matti to me, and in those few seconds, I can imagine what it’d be like for Reynolds to be mine.
Hands close around me, and I immediately inhale Reynolds’s aftershave as he props his chin on my shoulder.
“We never did get that game of blackjack.”
I try not to act giddy over him being so close. “It was a dumb bet anyway.”
“But a bet is a bet.” He holds up two kings in front of me. “So you know, this was my hand.”
I press my lips together. “Twenty? Lucky you, I guess you get out of being my date tomorrow.” Message received loud and clear.
“Not so fast. Your hand.” He lifts another two cards. A ten … and an ace. “I guess you’re just going to have to deal with me straightening your tie and feeding you cake and giving you enough attention to make you puke.”
No amount of attention will ever be enough.
I spin abruptly in his arms, catching him off guard. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Fuck yes.”
I wish he’d grab my hand as we leave, but I know it’s for the best that he doesn’t.
Thankfully we don’t run into Matti or my dad as we sneak out the side door and head for the path that leads to my room.
It’s bloody freezing, and as soon as I’m sure we’re away from view, I grab his arm and pull it tight around me.
I’m engulfed by his warmth and the scent of his aftershave. It makes me bury my face into his shoulder.
“So … you’re heading to Sunbury after this,” he finally says.
My back muscles bunch together. “I am.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
How much can I say? Is this the moment where I tell him that this weekend was a buffer, a safety net of sex before I drop my feelings in his lap and hope it doesn’t blow up in my face? “I didn’t want to complicate things.”
“Complicate what?”
“Our weekend of sex.”
We reach the cabin, and his expression has darkened. “Right.”
His answer is too short to be reassuring. “You okay?”
As soon as my door is open, he grabs my hand and drags me inside with him. “Sex first, talk after.”
“But … talk about what?” This is next-level I need to talk to you anxiety, and I’m not sure I’m going to get through sex knowing that’s hanging over my head.
But then I meet his eyes.
His dark stare locks me in place as he kicks the door closed and reaches for my shirt. When he looks at me like that, unwavering and intense, everything else leaves my brain.
Reynolds’s fingers skim over my skin as he undoes the buttons and pushes the material off my shoulders. The shirt hits the floor a few seconds later. I try to rid him of his as well, but he steps back.
“Patience. This isn’t going to be like last night.”
A needy sound builds in my throat, which makes him laugh.
“I love hearing how much you want me,” he says.
“Asshole.”
He dips a finger down the back of my pants. “That is where I’m aiming.”
I try to grind back against the digit, but he quickly removes it and slides my pants off my hips.
His hum is low in his throat as he drops to his knees and buries his face between my legs.
My cock is straining and making my boxers stick out absurdly, but Reynolds ignores it and ducks down to suck my balls into his mouth.
My thighs twitch and tense as he licks and sucks the material, until my balls are drenched and aching with the need for more.
“Please touch me.”
He chuckles and strokes his hands up my thighs, stopping only to squeeze hard enough to leave bruises. Reynolds hums against my balls and then stands.
“Get naked and lie back on the bed.”
I scramble to do as he says, unable to tear my gaze away as he strips off as well. Long legs, lean muscle, dark chest hair that continues down the center of his torso and meets his happy trail. Large cock straining in my direction.
I used to be self-conscious that my body was nothing like his. I’ve always been too pale, too soft, but Reynolds looks at me like I’m the sexiest person alive, and it’s impossible not to get a confidence boost from that.
He tosses the lube on the bed, then lifts my ankle and nips the tendon before kissing his way along my calf. The slow, patient way he’s trailing up my leg is a complete contrast to the blissful neediness of last night, and the urge to beg him to take me already is on the tip of my tongue.
I bite it back. If Reynolds is being patient, I can try to be as well.
Probably.
Unlikely.
When he reaches my inner thigh, his stubble scrapes over the sensitive skin as his kisses deepen, become sharper.
I look down to see the angry red marks he’s leaving, and it makes my dick twitch.
As amazing as last night was, I only ended up with two hickeys and a few bruises … he’s quickly fixing that now.
And with each mark he leaves on my skin, it makes me feel claimed, wanted. His.
Illusion or not, it turns me to jelly.
“Please …” The word sneaks out before I can stop it.
Reynolds smiling face reappears as he pushes up onto his knees and slowly strokes his cock. I’m desperate to touch mine, but instead, I curl my fists into the blanket to make them stay put, knowing Reynolds prefers it that way.
“Please, what?”
“Suck me. Touch me. I don’t care, I just need …”
His stare drops to my straining erection. “I got you, baby.”
Then he spits straight on my dick, covers my body with his, and slowly drags his cock over mine. The relief is soul-deep, and I let out a long moan as he wraps his arms tightly around me. No matter how many times we do this, I’m always caught unprepared at how amazing he makes me feel.
Reynolds’s legs pin mine to the bed as he tortures me with each slow, deliberate thrust of his hips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my throat, and his breath tickles my chest as he ducks his head … and clamps his teeth over my nipple.
I gasp at the pain that shoots straight down into my balls, and Reynolds hurries to drag his tongue over the bite, soothing the sharp pain to a dull throb. Please let there be a bite mark …
“Arlo.”
Butterflies shoot through my stomach when he says my name in that husky tone. I want to hear it said like that always. Forever. I’ve never been more sure about my decision to move home than I am in this moment.
My gaze meets his as he closes the distance between our lips and kisses me softly. He takes his time, rolling his dick into mine as he covers my face in barely there kisses, not breaking eye contact the entire time.
“You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.”
Then his mouth finally closes over mine, and I open for the kiss eagerly.
It seems he’s done holding back. His thrusts distract me from the click of the lube until I feel his fingers rub over my hole.
I press back into them, needing more, and he gives it to me.
He shoves two fingers inside right down to the knuckle.
I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, as the stretch becomes almost too much. It only takes a second to pass though, and then I’m grinding back down onto his fingers while he works me open, exactly the way I love.
He breaks the kiss long enough to tell me what he wants. “On your front. Pillow under your hips.”
I scramble to follow direction, stuffing two pillows under my leaking cock and spreading my legs wide. Reynolds covers my back as he lines up at my entrance, and that moment of anticipation before he enters me almost makes me shiver.
“You’re mine, Arlo.” He shoves his cock inside.
All the tension leaves me as he pushes in deep and rolls his hips into mine, grinding against me and bringing my prostate alive.
His hand closes around my throat as he kisses and licks behind my jaw.
Every touch feels deliberate, every thrust is controlled, and his heavy breathing tells me he’s barely holding back.
And while we’ve had sex more times than I can count, there’s something about this, about the closeness and the way he’s taking his time, trying to touch me everywhere, that feels different than ever before.
I tilt my head to kiss him, and when our lips meet, he releases my throat to grab my hips. His pulls me back to meet each hard thrust, and between him pounding my ass and my dick rubbing against the pillows beneath me, it doesn’t take long for me to get to the edge.
I’m vaguely aware of how loud I’m being, how sweaty we’re both becoming, when Reynolds’s panting start to get heavier, more unrestrained.
I scramble for my cock and start to jerk off like my life depends on it. The relief is immediate, and desperate, and when Reynolds’s cock pegs my prostate just right, I explode.
The air is forced from my lungs as I try to stay with him, try to keep pushing back into his thrusts, even as I start to get too sensitive.
He pulls me back to meet one final thrust and stills, cock jerking his release inside me.
Without pulling out, he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me close. His face presses into my neck, and we lie there, breathing each other in.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he growls, before finally pulling out and rolling onto his back.
And as soon as we’re apart, the insecurities from earlier come rushing back.
Because while that sex might have actually blown my mind, it hasn’t made me forget what he said.
We need to talk.