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“Are you sure?”
“Am I sure that I want to go see you in tight leggings, with suspenders and shirtless, while doing circus acts?” I asked with a roll of my eyes. “Of course I’m sure.”
He rolled over quickly.
One second, I was on my side of his bed, and the next I was on top of him on his.
I curled both of my arms around his neck, then leaned my forehead against his.
“I don’t wear leggings,” he grumbled. “They’re just really tight black jeans.”
“Whatever they are,” I said, “I want to see you in them. What are you practicing today? What act?”
“I don’t usually do any acts,” he admitted as he shifted so that we were lying side by side. His cock was definitely more awake than we were, though neither one of us made a move to address it. “All I do is link one act to another. Keep the audience entertained while equipment is moved in and out, the performers get out and new ones get in. Etcetera.”
I reached up and started to thread my fingers through the curls at the back of his head. It’d become a sort of habit.
In the two weeks since my sister had passed away, we’d spent a lot of time together.
However, our bubble was soon to burst.
I just knew it.
The funeral was set for a week from today. We had decided to plan it at a better time for all of us.
He had to start back at work tonight.
I had to start thinking about finding a job as well.
Though, for once in my life, I was thinking about finding one here and not so far away that I couldn’t come back home but for planned visits.
It was… surreal.
And was definitely telling, seeing as the man holding me like I was precious to him was the reason that I’d curbed my flighty ways.
Needless to say, our bubble wouldn’t be our bubble for much longer. Life had a way of taking that away whether we were ready for it or not.
He shifted, and his cock lined up more perfectly with the seam of my sex.
Still, neither one of us made a move.
We were comfortable just lying here, soaking each other in.
“That’s a bummer,” I said. “I watched a few YouTube videos, and though you aren’t as flashy as the rest of the ringmasters, you definitely hold the audience more captive.”
“I learned bullshitting at a young age,” he admitted, his hand starting to stroke lightly up and down the length of my back. “Plus, sometimes Dad took off to NASCAR races, or decided he wanted a night off, and just threw me into his place without a single moment of notice. I had to learn really quick to become good at it. If I didn’t do well, he would beat the shit out of me.”
I gasped and pulled away. “He what?”
He grimaced. “I know you probably heard about my dad years ago.”
“I heard some disgusting things, yes,” I admitted. “It rocked the country. How could I not?”
Years ago, it came to light that Keene’s father helped in the abduction of children who were then trafficked. It was investigated thoroughly, and it was found that a whopping seventy-three children had been abducted when the circus was in town, and Keene’s father had played a hand in every single one of them.
“On top of what you know from the media attention,” he said, his cock no longer hard and pressing against me. “My dad liked to abuse his own children, too.”
I pulled him close, but he didn’t stop talking.
