35. Joey
35
Joey
I come awake with a start, unsure of what woke me. It’s still dark outside. I look at Brent to see he’s still sleeping, though not spooned against me like he usually is. Needing to be closer to him, I cuddle against his back. My eyes start to weigh down with sleep when a noise from him makes them snap open again. I brace up on an arm to see if he’s awake. He’s still asleep, but he’s moving restlessly, mumbling, sounding upset.
Unsure of whether I should wake him, I cup his face, whispering his name. I lean over to place a kiss on his temple, calling his name again quietly.
“It’s okay, Brent. You’re okay. I’m right here.”
He doesn’t wake up, but my voice must penetrate his subconscious and soothe him. His breathing soon evens out again as he falls back into a restful sleep.
I toss and turn the rest of the night, my thoughts on my earlier declaration. I not only did what Brent warned me against from the start, but then I foolishly told him how I felt. Brent was right for assuming it was a foregone conclusion, despite my anger at him for doing so. After all, I’d had a crush on him since I was an adolescent.
It isn’t fair of me to change the rules of our agreement and to openly declare my love to him. But what he’d done for me had been so beautiful, so loving, the words had welled up in me and I hadn’t been able to hold them back. The thumping beneath my ear told me he’d heard my whispered words, and a part of me waited to have them echoed back to me.
I waited in vain, yet I can’t help but think he feels something for me too. I allow myself to believe that he’ll eventually come to accept what we’re both feeling. Based on his nonresponse, it will take some time to undo years of avoiding the emotion and the commitment that goes with it.
Nervous about facing Brent when he wakes up, I hop into the shower. I stand under the pelting water, trying to melt the tension away and mentally prepare myself for the consequences of my impulsive words of the night before. I only hope I haven’t scared him so much that he tells me it’s over, despite everything he said last night.
I feel the air stir and open my eyes to see Brent stepping into the shower with me. He is naked and hard, his erection plainly displaying his need.
“Good morning,” I say with a smile, trying to pretend nothing has changed.
He doesn’t say anything as he pulls me close, plastering me against him from chest to thigh, and kisses me hungrily. He holds my head and devours my mouth while the water runs over us, until we have to break apart to breathe. I smooth my hands over his shoulders and back while he hitches up one of my knees and wraps my leg around his hip. He reaches down to delve between my legs, wasting no time. While he ravishes my nipples with his mouth, his skillful fingers find my most sensitive spots until I am mewling and desperate for him.
“Make love to me, Brent!” I almost scream from the need clawing at me. His hands and mouth go still. I moan in frustration and dig my short nails into his buttocks, wanting him inside me.
“Now! Please.”
He lets go of my leg and spins me around so my back is to his chest. “Brace yourself against the wall, baby.” I do as he says, causing my behind to push against his erection.
He plays with my breasts with one hand while sliding the other down to test my readiness.
I am ready. God, I am ready.
“What do you want, baby?” Brent says into my ear and gives my lobe a nip, making me shiver despite the hot water raining down on us.
“You,” I whimper.
“What do you want me to do to you?” He runs his tongue across my pulse before sucking on it. Hard.
“Make love to me,” I gasp.
“Tell me to fuck you.” He pinches my clit, then lets go to circle over it.
I can’t do anything but groan. He’s tried to make me talk dirty before, but this feels different.
“Say, ‘Fuck me,’” he demands roughly.
I moan and wiggle my hips to urge him to continue. I am right on the edge when he pauses, waiting for me to say the words.
“Say it!”
“F-fuck me, Brent!” Desperate for release, I give in. I protest when he removes his hand from between my legs.
He positions himself at my opening and puts both hands on my hips to pull me back against him while driving into me at the same time.
“Oh God!” I cry out, and he lets out a groan as he sinks in and holds himself deep inside me. Then he begins to move, fast and hard, gaining speed with each stroke. He is still pulling my hips to him, but he doesn’t have to. I’m pushing back each time he surges into me, keeping up with his rhythm. Until he’s going so fast he has no rhythm left. I’m helpless to do anything but brace my hands against the wall while he pounds into me, hitting the magic spot that takes me higher and higher.
I purposely tighten around him when I feel him swell inside me. We reach our peak together, my short scream accompanied by Brent’s hoarse shout. When it’s over, I’m boneless and would have flopped over like a rag doll if Brent didn’t hold me against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.
When I lay my head back on his shoulder, he presses his mouth against my temple. We stay that way, catching our breath, letting the cooling water spray down on our overheated bodies. After several long minutes, he moves, turning me to kiss me with a tenderness that’s in direct opposition to what we just did…almost as if he is offering an apology.
I’m glad the shower is still on so he can’t tell some of the drops sliding down my face are tears. He must sense it anyway, because he kisses each eye, the spot on my neck where he’s likely left a mark, then my lips before letting go and leaving the shower.
He hasn’t said a word since he demanded I tell him to fuck me. I understand why he insisted I use that word. He wants to discourage me from using verbal expressions of love, including the euphemism for sex. It’s a message to me but, I think, also to himself. If he can tell himself it’s only fucking, he can allow himself to be with me and pretend it’s nothing more.