SULLIVAN
Chapter Nineteen
Ifigure it was worth a try to offer. He’s right.
I am so close to telling him everything.
Chelsea’s brand of righteous indignation and sense of manipulative vengeance is one thing, but Knight is huge and could snap Adrian in half.
If I really wanted to blow up my life, telling someone like Knight who has powerful connections in his own right and the capability of shielding me from the fallout is tempting.
Would he pay my tuition, too? Doubtful. But sex work is one of those industries that has a lot of opportunity for turning a profit, depending on how far I’m willing to go.
But then there’s this other feeling—do I really want to ruin this evening?
Perfect weather, good beer, a guy who’s not looking at me like he wants to tear me in two with his dick?
I mean, I’d be a fool to fuck with that too much.
Then again, all I need to do is look at my phone to remember why he asked me to follow him up here today. “Sorry,” I say. “Bad joke.”
“Was it?”
“Bad? Or a joke?”
“A joke,” Knight says. He’s hunched over, and his head is tilted toward me, so he’s sort of looking up at me through his hair.
I claim temporary amnesia for a lot of what happened last summer, but I can’t say I forgot how attractive he is.
He’s gorgeous, but now it’s like—amplified.
He’s bigger. He’s popular. His edges are sharper in the hottest way possible.
I don’t ever feel a pull toward anyone in particular, and the fact that I feel it with him—well, I always wonder if it’s because of that first perfect night.
Like anything that reminds me of that night—the woods, even UNO—will always make me stop and appreciate it for a second.
I also wonder if it’s because I know I can’t have him.
No one can have him. He’s a poster on a wall.
A fantasy. The fact that he’s real and sort of sometimes exists in my life is still a head trip.
Like when I found out he actually did live in Sunrise Point.
Because everyone has to be from somewhere, right?
I don’t know. It’s just weird, and I never know how to feel about it—I never know how to feel about anything when sex is involved.
The only thing I refuse to feel is scarred for life.
Adrian might have me now, but he doesn’t get my future.
No one does. Fuck, I might not even want it when everything’s said and done.
Lately it feels like I’m running a race I can’t finish, much less win.
“It’s what you wanted me here for, right?” I ask.
“If I’m honest, yeah. When I texted you, that’s what I wanted. But as I was getting ready for today—I started thinking about it a little differently, I guess.”
“How?”
“Oh, so I have to confess, and you don’t?”
My heart stutters a little. “It’s a confession?”
“It’s not sexy,” he says.
“It doesn’t have to be. I’ll probably always think you’re sexy.”
And there’s that blush again. Fuck, why do I have to like him so much? Why can’t this last year have turned him into an asshole who wants to pay for a blow job and be done with it? Why does Knight Winters always have to be perfect?
Because he’s a dumb fantasy.
“Wow,” he says quietly. “Thanks.”
“So, there’s my confession. Where’s yours?” I ask, a poor attempt to play it off.
“I was just remembering last summer, I guess. I liked the time I spent with you, and not just the sex parts.”
“Yeah?”
He nods.
“Me, too.”
“Cool.” He stares down at the neck of his beer bottle like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Is that why there’s so many blankets?”
He laughs softly. “Maybe.”
“You don’t have to get shy about it. It’s nice.”
“So, you don’t know if you’re gay? Or bi, I mean?”
I’m thrown by the subject change, but I shift deeper into the truck, dragging a pillow over to lean back on. “Not exactly. It’s complicated.”
“You always say that. Do you even like sex?” he asks.
I gulp, nearly choking on the small sip of beer I just took. “Uh…yeah. I think so.”
“You think so?”
“It hasn’t always been good, you know?”
His head shakes slightly. “Not really. It’s always been good for me.”
“Even when you’re with someone you don’t like? Like that girl?”
“I don’t count that.”
“It counts, though,” I say, and I’m kind of adamant about it. “Has anything like that happened again?”
“Almost, but I’ve managed to not wind up in another situation where I had to act like that.”
“Do people think you’re just super picky or what?”
“I don’t know what they think. Probably that I’m an asshole.”
I snort. “I can’t picture it.”
He arches one dark brow at me. “No?”
I grin and shake my head. “Not even a little.”
The silence between us is filled with the roar of springtime. Cicadas and birds and a breeze that has a lock of hair tickling my cheek. I want him. I really, really do, exactly the same way I ended up wanting him last summer.
I want him over me, filling me. I want his kiss, and I want his hot breath on my neck and his arms around me. I want him to reclaim what was taken from me again and again and leave marks that never heal. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Fuck.
“What are your plans for the summer?” I manage to ask and break the spell.
“Hm.” He looks back down at his beer. “Home.”
“With the twins?”
“They’re like family now,” he says.
“That’ll be good. I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “I mean, there’s one thing I have to do, but for the rest of it, I’m not sure I wanna go back home this year. Maybe a quick visit, but I need to work.”
Knight frowns and turns to look at the Audi again. My pulse speeds up. “What’s it like? Sex work?”
I let out a slow, careful breath, feeling like I dodged a bullet.
“It’s not that bad. Maybe since it’s a college sex business, it’s always people who are young and relatively healthy.
And the way we have it set up feels safe enough.
Guys that hard up generally follow the rules in case they want to come back. ”
“Generally?” he asks.
“Sometimes they’re drunk, so…they might try to get more or whatever, but it hasn’t been a problem.”
“Are they always different people, or do you have, like, repeats?”
“More repeats at this point than newbies, but there’s always someone who wants to see what getting their cock sucked by a guy is like.”
“Not just any guy,” Knight mutters in a low voice.
I pretend I didn’t hear. “Sorry, what was that?”
He tries so hard not to smile. “You heard me.”
“I think you might need to come over here and say that again.”
His eyes flash, and it’s so sexy I almost part my legs for him. “Yeah?”
“I just want to make sure I heard you right.”
He sets down his nearly empty bottle and crawls the short distance toward me.
His face hovers above mine, and his t-shirt gapes slightly at the neckline.
Glancing down his body, I see that it’s also ridden up to reveal his incredible abs and the dark hair that disappears behind the waistband of a pair of very well-fitted athletic shorts.
“You’re not just any guy,” he says quietly.
The cicadas are so loud, it sounds like he has a lisp. It’s an interesting trick of sound even I can’t figure out right now because he’s so close I can feel his body heat.
“I don’t want you to pay me for this,” I tell him.
“Okay.”
“But I reserve the right to change my mind.”
“Okay,” he says again.
“Would it be too weird if I kissed you?”
I hear his breath catch, and then he shakes his head slightly.
“I know nothing’s changed. I know we can’t be anything. I know I have to pretend I don’t know you, but I just want—”
His lips meet mine before I can get another word out, and my mouth opens instantly. When his tongue strokes mine, it’s almost like he’s saying he wants me too, and what I was about to say. That I want something real—just one more night—to feel something good. Anything.
The kiss deepens, and I do part my legs, inviting him to slide a knee between them.
He does, getting closer, putting a hand on my neck, kissing me so well, I can’t help but touch myself as my dick grows erect.
I toss my empty bottle backward, over the side of the truck to free up both my hands and drag him closer.
I get my arms around him, and within another several seconds we’re lying down, legs tangled, tongues licking and tasting, hands roaming.
I get that some people have chemistry, and some don’t.
I also get that attraction and want sometimes don’t follow any rules, but with Knight, it’s just—so intense.
We’re both so hard. So hungry for each other.
Our clothed erections are doing almost as much work as our tongues as we continue to make out.
He’s making those soft whimpering sounds, and I’m already in moaning territory.
Fuck. Nothing feels this good. No one else can do this to me.
Will anyone else ever be able to make me feel like this?
I can’t think about that. Knight is a fantasy, and I have to enjoy him while he lasts because nothing about him is forever, and I hate that for both of us.
My hand is under his shirt, moving back and forth across his left pec, over and over his hard nipple that he’s pressing against my hand.
Our hips are firmly glued together, and we’re grinding in a dangerous rhythm.
Finally, I put a hand on his waist—I’m too close, and I turn my head, tearing my lips away from his. “Slow down,” I pant. “I need to slow down.”
“Sorry,” he whispers, pressing his face to my neck, but not kissing me there. “Fuck, you smell so good.”
So does he. More memories I thought I’d lost forever reconstruct themselves at the scent of him so close. My cock throbs, and I swear his does too at the same time. I take a deep breath, staring up at the dimming sky and praying for endurance. “Do you think you could…”
“What?”
“Fuck me?”
“Seriously?”
“You don’t have to—I just—never mind, I—”