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“Yeah,” Adam breathed. His mouth slid against my neck, and I fought the urge to shove him away. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve missed.”
Memories of the morning after my night of GHB debauchery came unbidden to mind—the emptiness, the uncertainty, the sense that I’d done something unforgivablywrong.
“Good, Peter?” he whispered in my ear as he pulled out.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to cover my uncertainty with enthusiasm. “So good.”
I used my T-shirt to clean my cum from the stairs. I didn’t know if I was relieved or hurt that Adam didn’t seem to notice anything was off. We made it up to my room and onto my bed, our limbs trembling and a wild smile on Adam’s face. I tried to echo it.
Adam pulled off the condom, tossed it in the trash, and rolled over onto his side, staring at me seriously.
“What?” I wiped at my neck where Daniel’s mouth had left hickeys, like they were suddenly visible again. Proof of my faithlessness. Though they’d faded completely a few days before.
“We just fucked on your stairs.”
“We’d waited three months,” I said, distracted and confused that he didn’t seem to know how wrong I felt, how different. I didn’twanthim to know… But why didn’t he sense it? Sadness and emptiness hollowed me out. I forced a smile. “We couldn’t wait anymore.”
Adam grinned, propping himself up on his elbow and running his hands over my body. “You’ve filled out.”
I remembered Daniel’s hands on me in Nashville. Stomach twisting, I squirmed, feigning ticklishness, though Adam hadn’t hit one of my ticklish spots.
Adrenaline rushed through me again. His touch felt wrong. Like when my parents rearranged the furniture and the house didn’t feel like mine anymore. But I’d gotten used to the furniture being different, hadn’t I? It could be the same with Adam. Maybe my feelings were normal. Maybe everyone felt that way after time apart.
I reached up to brush Adam’s coarse hair away from his face so I could better see his eyes. They twinkled, and I tried to smile too, trying to rekindle the warmth of love in my chest.
As my ass smarted from being fucked without much preparation, I concentrated on trying to make us feel real again. As real as Tilt-a-Whirl and Bobby’s house and Daniel’s safe scent were to me now. As real as the night I’d spent kissing Daniel and coming against his stomach. As real as Daniel’s clear brown eyes.
Fuck!
“What do you want to do now?” Adam asked. He trailed his hand down to my cock, engulfed it in his palm, and jerked slowly.
I twisted, still too sensitive. He released me. His fingers dipped below my balls and over my perineum to rub my tender asshole.
I gulped, my heart twisting up and my stomach aching. “We could shower and go out to get some, um—” I looked at the clock “—breakfast. Maybe Perkins?”
Adam shook his head. “We just have one day. I don’t want to waste our time together.” He brought his hand up, spit on his fingers, and pressed two of them inside me.
I groaned, squirming as he pegged my prostate. It only took a few thrusts of his fingers before I spread my legs wantonly, tugged his mouth to my nipple, and gave in to the lust that always came so easily.
Yes, getting off again was a better plan. That way I didn’t have to think about anything other than how good my body could feel. And if Adam made me come again, maybe this time I’d feel close to him when it was over. The way I’d felt with Daniel.
I groaned, bringing one leg up to my chest to give him more space to work, whimpering as he finger-fucked me. I steered my mind ruthlessly away from memories of Nashville and focused on the delicious sensation of Adam’s fingers on my prostate.
“No breakfast,” he muttered against my nipple.
This was what I’d wanted all summer, right? Him choosing me over everything and everyone else.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Breakfast can wait.”
Chapter Sixteen
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Eventually, we hadto stop having sex long enough for lunch. We sat in our boxers at the kitchen table eating PB&J sandwiches, weak and quiet after four rounds of enthusiastic, if weirdly unemotional, sex. I couldn’t shake the emptiness that reminded me of being accidentally roofied by Jeremy.
The tension in my stomach made each bite hard to swallow.
Adam seemed oblivious to my discomfort, or maybe he felt the distance too and was trying to ignore it. He blithely ate his sandwich and told me about a book idea he was working on: a space opera.
