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Get them away from Jonah.
Don’t get cornered.
Next to the diner is a field no one uses, so I hop the fence, falling on my ass when my shoes skid on the wet leaves. These goddamn shoes are going to get me killed. I would probably be better off barefoot! A shotgun cocks as I scramble back to my feet, telling me the Boone brothers are way closer than I expected.
Someone slams into me, forcing the wind from my lungs when they land on my back. Pain shoots up my leg when my knee hits the ground. The dumbass on me sits up and gives me way more time than I need to roll away from him. James is searching the ground for his brass knuckles when I kick him in the face. He howls in pain as Daryl trips, and his gun goes off. I drop down on instinct but when I look, Rodney is on the ground, and Daryl is yelling for him.
Holy fuck, did Daryl shoot Rodney?
Rodney’s lower back is a bloody, gaping mess from the slug that hit him. Chunks of skin and muscle were sprayed at the contact, and he’s bleeding out quick. He’s not going to make it—the closest hospital is an hour away. I wish I could say I was sorry about that, but I’m not.
Movement in the parking lot grabs my attention. Focusing on it for a second, I can see Jonah is wide-eyed and panting, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Fuck.
I race for him, hoping Rodney is enough of a distraction to keep James and Daryl from noticing me.
When I get to Jonah, he’s pale and trembling, the gun shaking in his hand but pointing toward the ground.
“Is-is-is he . . .” His voice breaks.
“He’s not dead.” Yet, I say to myself. He doesn’t need to know that it’s not going to take long.
Everyone from the diner is now standing around outside, watching us, which means I can’t comfort Jonah the way I know he needs. I take the gun from him and turn him around.
“We need to go home,” I tell him. “Let’s go.”
Jonah is in shock, not really seeing anything around him.
“What the fuck happened?” one of the onlookers asks.
“They tried to jump us. Daryl fell, and his gun went off, shooting Rodney.” I shrug, not looking back to the field where Daryl and James are yelling. A few people take off to help them.
“And the Cass boy in the bathroom?” The onlooker lifts an eyebrow.
“He fucked around and found out,” I say, giving him a pointed look. “Excuse me, I need to get him home.”
I get Jonah into the passenger seat, store the gun, and start the truck. The crowd moves out of the way so I can leave. I’m not standing around and waiting for the sheriff. He’s the biggest problem in this town.
5
ROMAN
“Time to get drunk, Bible Boy. Either on cum or booze, let’s see which one is faster.” I hold the bottle up when I close my bedroom door. There are a few shots worth left, which will be plenty for him to get wasted on.
He drops heavily on the bed and drops his head to hands, the shock still riding him hard. I need to break through it, and it’s this or orgasms. I don’t know how to comfort him in a normal, healthy way. Should I offer him a hug? What the fuck is that gonna do? At least with booze or fucking, you can forget for a while. It’s all I know, and honestly, I need to forget right now too.
Setting the bottle down on the bedside table, I unbutton my shirt and drop it to the floor with my jacket. Reaching for his chin, I lift his face so he’s looking up my body to my eyes. His face is just about eye level with my dick, which wakes it up a bit.
His eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and all I can think about is how fucking pretty he looks with tears on his cheeks and my cock down his throat. My dick hardens, and my body tightens with lust as I look at him. The look on my face must tell him exactly what I’m thinking, because his cheeks turn pink.
I pick up the bottle and hold it out to him. “As long as you’re drinking, I’ll suck. You stop, I stop.”
He whimpers but takes the bottle and lifts it to his lips. There’s a good four or five shots worth left in that bottle, and I don’t expect him to finish it, but we’re going to see how far he’ll push himself.
“You’re all bloody and bruised.” His eyes take in my face, and I can only imagine the mess I am right now, but I don’t care. Split lip be damned. I’m fucking my boy tonight and letting myself be comforted by his body.
“Back to the headboard first,” I instruct. Jonah kicks off his shoes, pulls his pants off, and moves around the bed until he’s leaning on the pillows against the headboard. I climb on the bed, settling between his thighs, and drop my head to suck him into my mouth, and smirk when he moans. My lip smarts at the movement, but I ignore it.
“If I finish it, do I finally get to cum?” He takes a drink of the Pepsi I also brought up.
