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“Fuck,” Hawke snarled as he began slamming into me urgently, signaling the end. He shifted his hips just the tiniest bit and hit my gland and I let out a hoarse shout. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything as Hawke controlled every aspect of my pleasure. I waited, I hoped and then I started begging Hawke to give me what I needed.
And then I was flying as I came again. Hawke shouted my name as he pummeled me with thrust after brutally deep thrust, and his weight held me to the bed as his release flooded my insides. My orgasm ratcheted even higher as I felt his dick slide through his juices before shoving into me hard one more time and holding there for several long seconds as more of his cum filled me. And then I heard it, barely a whisper.
“I love you, Tate.”
And I wanted to cry.
Because I knew in my heart that it wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hawke
I hadn’t meant to say the words. Not because I didn’t mean them. Because I did. I’d known it the moment Tate had turned his back on me to get in that car.
To leave me.
No, I’d said them because as strong as my physical release had been, something deep inside of me had opened up at the same time and I’d felt whole again. But it had been fleeting – long enough for me to tell Tate the truth of what he meant to me, but not long enough to let go of the past or the promise I’d made.
Tate didn’t respond to my declaration, but when I leaned in to kiss him, he kissed me back without hesitation. We stayed there like that until I knew my weight was too much for him and I carefully levered myself off of him and pulled free of his body. The sight of my release dripping from Tate’s body set off something primal in me and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sticky white fluid and spreading it into his skin. When I looked up, I saw that Tate was watching me over his shoulder with glassy eyes. I wrapped my hand around his arm and gently pulled him to his feet and he pushed into my arms and dragged me down for a kiss. I took his hand and led him to the bathroom.
The master bathroom was one of the only rooms that Revay’s parents had gotten around to remodeling shortly before their deaths, so it sported a large walk in shower with a bench on one end. After I got the shower going, I changed the angle on the shower head to make sure the water would hit us the way I wanted it to and I led Tate to the bench and sat down. He didn’t need any kind of urging to sit down on my lap and as we kissed, I searched out the soap and began washing him.
Both of us were hard by the time we were done cleaning each other. Tate took charge of our pleasure as he rubbed up against me, his erection brushing mine. At one point, he took us both in hand and began jerking us off at the same time, but without warning, he slipped from my lap and dropped to his knees between my legs. I watched in rapt fascination as he licked my length from base to tip and then teased my slit with the tip of his tongue. I wanted the sensual torture to both hurry up and slow down at the same time, but that was my last rational thought because Tate’s mouth closed over my dick a second later. Blowjobs were something I’d gotten plenty of from Revay during our years together, but Tate’s mouth felt entirely different. He seemed to know exactly how much pressure to exert, when to back off and when to barrel on so that I was always just riding the edge of my orgasm.
As Tate sucked me down to my base, I let out a hoarse shout and put my hands on his head to hold him still so I could fuck his mouth the way I wanted. I was close to coming when Tate released my cock and looked up at me.
“Scoot forward,” he urged as his hands closed over my hips.
It took me a moment to realize why he wanted me to move. A niggle of uncertainty went through me as I understood what would happen next if I did as he asked. My relationship with Tate had progressed so quickly that I hadn’t given much thought to having him touch me the same way I touched him. But one look at his patient eyes and I knew I wanted it. I wanted whatever he would give me. Because he wasn’t doing it for him. He was doing it for me.
