SULLIVAN #3
“I think he’d be so proud.”
Knight makes a move and pulls me closer, almost all the way on top of him. “He was always proud. It was my dumb ass who couldn’t see it.”
“And what about what your uncle said?”
“I’m not saying I’m all better, or I’m not still upset, but I am still thinking about that, and I promise, you’ll be the first to know what I decide. Right this second, though, I think you should kiss me.”
Those words ignite that flame again. My own needs roar to life. “I think you should let me do more than kiss you.”
He arches a brow, the confidence I saw in him on the field here in the room with us now, too, and I like the look of it. Too much. I’m hard for it. I want a piece of it. “Such as?” he asks.
I shift over him and down, rucking up his shirt several inches until my hands cover his pecs.
Realizing I’ve got my hands on his chest even as I’m lowering my head to kiss his happy trail, I slide them down his sides and into the waistband of his thin sleep pants.
He never makes it through the night this dressed because he gets hot, but he likes falling asleep in clothes, he says.
I’m not a hundred percent sure I believe that, but he sleeps well enough, so I haven’t argued with him about it.
He sucks in a breath as the backs of my fingers slide around front, his lower abs clenching tight. His dick is half hard and rising quickly when I lower his pants enough to reveal it.
“This is—wait—” he says softly, touching lightly at my hair and my face.
“You’ve been very sweet and patient, and I appreciate that, but this I can do. I promise,” I tell him.
“And you never mentioned this, why?”
Because our lives have been a mess for months, and because I was too afraid he’d push me away for my own safety and his sanity, but I’m less afraid of that now because if he can be okay, then maybe I can be too, and we have to fucking start somewhere. I have to try.
I give him a one-shoulder shrug and kiss the tip of him, my eyes on his. They hood as I lick at the divot on his crown. “Baby,” he murmurs.
I hope my eyes are screaming something along the lines of let me, don’t even try to stop me, but there’s a hand of his on the side of my head that could end this at any moment, so I need to get him lost fast, if I’m even still capable of it.
The fact that he’s fully erect is a good sign that he does still want me, despite the beating I took and the wreckage it left.
I start with a slow suck down, down, down, licking him and wetting him from his head nearly all the way to his base.
“Fuck,” he cries, his hips shifting slightly beneath me, his hand tightening in my hair.
It’s a good sign, all good signs as I hollow my cheeks and give him a few, bobbing sucks.
“Christ, baby, that feels so fucking good. I miss you so much.”
I wish he hadn’t said that. Fuck me, I wish his lust-drenched brain hadn’t poked at my deepest insecurity just when I was beginning to feel like we were approaching something like an equilibrium.
Like normalcy. Like us. In the back of a pickup truck.
In a stranger’s house. Now, here in our bed, I feel like I have to prove so much that it feels overwhelming and impossible.
But I don’t stop sucking his dick.
I do, however, close my eyes.
The sounds he makes when I swallow him down, the bursts of salty precum on my tongue are reminders of what we used to be.
But as he’s clenching his thighs and warning me in a low rumbling groan, “Baby, I’m gonna come.
I’m—fuck, I’m coming,” there it is—my right hand squeezed firmly around his pec, planted once again on his chest like I can’t not try to push him away even when I have him finally back inside me.
“Unnnhhh…oh shit…”
He spills down my throat with a series of grunts and gasps and a lot—a lot of cum.
His hand is tight around my wrist, the one attached to my hand on his chest, and I can’t remember if it was there the whole time—if he was the one who put my hand there like it was his way of protecting me from myself.
I don’t ask. I swallow and slide my lips off him, sitting back on my heels to stare down at him.
“What?” he asks, half breathless, as though he’s not loving what he’s seeing on my face.
“We can do more, you know? I don’t need you to always be so careful with me.”
He blinks several times, and then his brow creases at the center. “Are you upset with me?”
Not with him. Never with him, but yes. I am upset. I could have been blowing him this whole time. We could have had something resembling a real relationship, so maybe I’m upset with myself. “It can’t be like this forever. I want to be your fucking boyfriend.”
“You are.”
“Yeah, a shitty one—”
“Sullivan—”
“Knight, if we’re gonna stay together—”
“Wait—if? What are you saying, are you—”
I cut him off, needing to get this off my chest. “If we’re gonna stay together, you’re gonna have to deal with all of me, the same way I need to deal with all of you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means you might have to try and do this my way.”