Page 50 of Bruised

He chuckles and brings his hand to his mouth. When I look back, he’s licking his palm, smirking. “How was that, puppy?”

“Good,” I gasp. His cock slips out of me, and I turn around to face him. “Really good.”

“You liked that?” He ruffles my hair, still smirking.

I lean into his hand. “Yeah. Did you?”

He licks his lips, and his touch turns softer, pushing my bangs out of my face. “Yeah. Yeah, I liked it, alright.”

I smile as a strange sort of triumph fills my chest.

He liked having sex with me, which… I mean, it shouldn’t be such a revelation, but still. He liked it. He really liked it.

“Do you like me?” I want to ask, but I don’t dare. The very thought sends a spike of anxiety through my chest where the triumph used to be, and my smile falls.

I shouldn’t even care if he likes me or not, but when I look down at him now, at the way he licks his lips, I want to taste them, and I want… I want so many things, things I never planned on wanting. My mouth falls open, but I close it quickly and look away.

All those desires bundle up in my chest and burst out in the form of an anxious wave of emotions, and it’s enough to make me crawl out of Mason’s lap, put on my clothes, and leave without saying good night.

19. ALL MINE

What the fuck happened last night?

Lane just left without saying goodbye. He didn’t let me put his clothes back on, and he didn’t let me mark him. Did I do something wrong? Surely not. I just… I just told him I liked it, what we did. Watching his hole swallow my cock was so hot it made me lose control and come before I meant to. That alone should tell him I liked it. Didn’t he believe me or something? He looked uncomfortable. Scared.

Fuck, I keep overthinking everything when it comes to him. I usually do shit on a whim as long as it seems like a fun idea, but with Lane, things are getting a little too real for my liking.

I actually care about him, where I usually couldn’t care less about my hookups. Lane isn’t just a hookup; he’s more than that, and I need to make sure he’s not hurt.

The next day, I catch him in the hallway—literally catch him. I grab hold of his arm when he’s going downstairs and whisper low into his ear, “You were in a hurry last night, puppy.”

He glances back at me with a frown. “I was tired.”

I struggle to figure out what’s bothering him, but in the meantime, I keep my tone casual and unbothered. “You didn’t let me mark you.”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “So… so what?”

“Tonight, I won’t let you get away so easily.”

He blushes and looks away with a small nod. Good. It doesn’t seem like he’s hurt or annoyed with me—at least, not more annoyed than usual.

Before I let him go, I pull his collar down just a little to glimpse the purple marks on his neck. A sharp inhale through my nose precedes a primal urge rushing through my veins.

At night, when he’s in my bed, he’s all mine. During the day, it’s a different story. This game between us is getting more and more dangerous.

All I wanted was to have some fun, to pass the time, but now, the hours I don’t have him in my bed feel like a waste. The only moments in my life where I feel truly alive are when he’s with me, in my room, his soft skin sliding against mine.

My prison counselor told me to spend my time on things that bring me meaning in life, but I’m not so sure he meant for those things to include a nineteen-year-old little goth boy with big brown eyes and fluffy black hair—one who also happens to be my little brother’s best friend—but I believe it’s working. The nights with Lane are making me look forward to something for once.

He’s making me feel, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

By the time the clock strikes 3 AM, I’m close to jerking off and coming before there’s any sign of Lane. I’ve been desperate all day and already jerked off once, but jerking off isn’t what I want. I don’t want to come alone; I want to come with him, and I want him to come with me.

Every second of waiting is excruciating. I lie on my back and squeeze the base of my cock, sliding a finger up to the head and rubbing it slowly. I consider watching some porn while I wait, but no porn in the world is as good as watching Lane bounce on my cock firsthand.

When he finally sneaks into my room at around four in the morning, he looks sheepish, a little guilty, and fuckable as ever in his little boxer briefs and oversized shirt.

“Oliver kept us up,” he explains.