Page 36 of The Key Holder

9

Dylan

I couldn’t sleep.

I kept replaying the entire day in my head.

All my coy glances and flirtations were completely ineffective. Maybe I wasn’t being forward enough, but I was beginning to think that Ford wasn’t interested.

For fuck’s sake, I wiggled my toes against his ass! It was embarrassing.

And then there was the storm.

It didn’t matter that Ford said there were no warnings. It sounded like the roof was going to be torn off. The wind was howling like a goddamn banshee.

I took a deep breath and checked my phone. I had been trying to sleep for almost four hours.

Time for lube.

It was my last resort.

I reached over, feeling my way to the drawer handle and opened it. The small bottle was easily found. Flipping the comforter back, I got on my knees and squirted a little bit through the cage, trailing it down to the head.

Masturbation wasn’t technically sex, was it?

Oh well.

I thought back to the other day when Ford was bent over. Then I imagined bending over for him. What his tongue would feel like prepping my hole. Servicing his massive⁠—

A deafening crack ripped through the air, enough to make me cower in the dark room, followed by a loud snap. I froze, waiting.

A few seconds later, the room filled with a cacophony of sound: a booming crash, the shattering of broken glass, more cracking.

When debris started coming down on me, I panicked. With my legs tangled in the sheets, I fell off the bed, screaming; my body slammed onto the floor. The sharp pain running up my arm was immediate. The terror I felt was primal. I had no idea what was happening.

I screamed again, out of desperation and fear. Something was pelting my face.

It was…rain?

“Dylan?!”

I heard the door burst open.

There was a beam of light, then Ford’s face, leaning over me. His hands on my body

“Are you hurt? Can you move?”

“I-I don’t know,” I managed to mumble. “What happened?”

As if the Universe heard my question, lightning illuminated my bedroom and I could see a huge hole in the ceiling above my bed, filled with a giant, jagged tree limb.

“Looks like a tree fell,” Ford said. “We need to get you out of here.”

“I can try,” I said. In a few seconds, I knew it was pointless. “It’s my arm. Banged it pretty good.”

“I’ll just carry you.”

Before I could object, I was in his arms, we were in the hall, and out of the rain. When he headed for the stairs, I asked, “Where are we going?”