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Blake clenches his jaw. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”
“We don’t have to deal with anything tonight.” I lean forward to find his lips. I can make him feel better momentarily, at least.
His kiss is rough as he pours every emotion into it. My fingers work his jeans loose until his dick is raging hard in my hand. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t stop me either. The tiny moan of pleasure fuels me on.
I run my tongue up his sculpted length and swirl it around the velvety head, tasting his salty precum. A violent shudder ripples through Blake’s body. His head falls back, his eyes fluttering closed, as he leans back into the couch, the tension in his body melting away.
“Fuck, you do that to me,” he growls, his breath hitched.
A wicked smile plays on my lips against the warm canvas of his skin, the familiar feeling of the comfort of our connection seeping back in, even if just for a moment. My mouth engulfs the head of his cock slowly, reveling in the way it fills my mouth and the thick, velvety taste that hits my tongue. My hand wraps around the base, gently pumping him with long strokes that match the rhythm of my lips as I take him deeper into my throat.
As I start moving faster to match his desperate thrusts, I look up at him, meeting his gaze. I see something different in those once-bright eyes; pain and uncertainty swirling together now. He watches me like I’m some sort of balm for his brokenness. I want to be that for him, but I know I can’t heal this kind of wound alone.
Pulling off his cock with a soft pop, I crawl onto his lap and straddle him unceremoniously, sinking down onto him slowly while looking deep into his eyes.
“Goddamn, you feel so fucking good,” he gasps out between clenched teeth as I rock my hips gently at first before picking up the pace when he grips my hips tightly. The soft leather of my pants scratches against each other as I grind down on him harder.
We continue, our bodies moving in perfect sync, each touch sending waves of pleasure through us. In these moments, I can forget about everything else and just focus on us. On the warmth, the intimacy, and the love that still exists between us.
I want to show him I can be here for him. That no matter what happens, I’m here. And we tip over and reach that glorious peak. I know I’ve given him everything I can: my heart, body, mind, and soul. He’s marked me like a tattoo.
Afterward, we lay there, spent and content, our bodies tangled together. He strokes my hair as my Blake comes back. His soft eyes melt the tension away. “Thank you,” he whispers, and I smile, knowing we’re okay.
But I also know that our paths may diverge further, and we’ll have to find a way to navigate that. For now, though, we’ll savor these moments, these feelings of connection, and find solace in each other’s arms.
At least, that’s what I believed.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
BLAKE
“Why isyour girlfriend texting me concerned about your whereabouts?” Ryan barges into my room, eyes flashing with a mix of concern and anger. He stands there, chest rising and falling, a clear sign of his fury.
Yeah, well, join the club. I happen to be the fucking president.
“Good morning to you, too.” I remain lying in bed, arms folded behind my head, staring at the ceiling fan spinning above me. What day is it? Wednesday? Thursday? I can’t keep track anymore. I was supposed to be heading to the hospital, but I couldn’t seem to get out of bed.
“Cut to the chase, Blake. Look, I know things are tough right now with your father’s illness, but Amanda’s really worried.”
If only he knew the half of it.
I continue to ignore him just like I do with Amanda’s texts. Which is shitty of me, I know this, but I can’t face the inevitable. How could I when it’s the last thing I want? The truth is … I fucking love her. But I can’t see a viable path for our future. It became so clear after we fucked on her couch. I don’t ever want to let her go, but if we continue dating until graduation, then what? Every scenario I run through my head leads to the same outcome—we part ways and go our separate paths. She wants to live in Boston, which is understandable; she has her grandmother to consider. As for me, my future is right here.
“Are you going to talk or sulk?” The fucker has the nerve to ask. He strides over to my desk and grabs my phone—the one I’ve ignored. My days are filled with hospital visits for Dad and sleeping at home. Luckily, he’s slowly improving. Now that the immediate health scare is over, they expect him to be released on Friday.
Oomph!
My cell smacks my stomach and falls to the side. My fingers tense, and I feel the urge to throw it against the wall.
“What the fuck?”
“Are you going to answer those damn texts and man up or continue to be an asshole?” His voice is tense and annoyed, a stark contrast to the whirring sound of the ceiling fan above.
“What are you, the text police?”
His response is cold and unforgiving. “Asshole it is, then.”
I close my eyes and try to block out the guilt. Running a trembling hand down my scruffy face, I realize it’s grown into a full beard. But right now, grooming is the least of my concerns.
