Seeking Sanctuary (Hometown Heroes Book 2)

by J. P. Oliver

  23

  Victor

  I woke up alone in a hospital bed.

  Everything in the past twelve hours was a blur. When I finally came to, it was to the gray morning light sliding through the slats of the blinds and the steady beep of a heart monitor. The confusion set in with a sort of grogginess as I roused, shifting beneath the blankets, and at some point, Curtis came in to check on me and my chart and explained what happened: that I’d been in an accident, that they found me still strapped in to my car and I’d somehow escaped with only a mild concussion.

  “No broken bones, no internal bleeding, no nothing,” he said, grinning in the early light. “Some kind of miracle. We’re lucky Adrian tracked you down when he did.”

  Adrian.

  As I readied to get discharged, I wondered where he was. The night came back in pieces—the bikers, Winston, and the winking, swerving lights—but what stuck out the most was the sound of his voice, soothing and worried and far away. Blurred glimpses of his face appeared in my mind, little fragments of memories. It felt so much like a dream that I wondered if he was really there at all.

  Sarah came in one last time to check up on me and give me back my clothes. They were a little ripped here and there, and in definite need of a good washing.

  “You better not be trying to drive home,” she chastised once she was satisfied. “A concussion means no operating heavy machinery—at least not for a couple days, hon.”

  I nodded, solemn, the pressure on my head just enough to agree with her.

  “I can call someone,” I said.

  Sarah pursed her lips and leaned against the doorframe. “Adrian will show up.”

  I grinned. “Maybe.”

  “He will. I can sense it,” she teased. “Curtis said he promised he’d be here.”

  I wanted that to be true.

  “Give it an hour,” she said before disappearing. “If he isn’t around, we can call Zach to come get you.”

  I lay in bed and counted the minutes, the seconds, crawling closer to the end of the hour. Anxiety crept slowly in the long silence, and my mind began to wander to the what-ifs. What if something had happened to him, too? What if, after running me off the road, the Raptors had gone after him, too?

  The thought made me sick.

  And then I heard it: the sound of his voice in the hall.

  “Where is he?” The words were faint.

  Sarah said something I couldn’t quite make out, and my heart began to beat just a bit faster as I heard his hurried footsteps. I watched the door. It burst open under his touch, eyes wide and sweeping, relief overflowing as he let himself in and kicked the thing shut behind him.

  “Holy shit,” he breathed.

  “Hey,” I chuckled, caught off guard as he met me at the foot of the bed and wrapped his arms around me in an unexpected, lingering hug. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m still in one piece.”

  Adrian scoffed against my shoulder and pulled gently away, looking disappointed.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I was supposed to be here when you woke up,” he murmured.

  I wasn’t able to help smiling, because it was cheesy and sweet. The silence between us was comfortable, and I glanced down at his hands, catching the fresh red scratches and bruises on his knuckles, his wrists. I brushed my fingers against them.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  Adrian chewed the inside of his cheek, hesitant. The longer I looked at him, I realized he’d changed his clothes and his hair was damp; he’d showered, too. And there, on the corner of his jaw, was a small little bruise. I touched that, too, gentle, curious.

  “What happened?”

  “I took care of things,” he said quietly, and my palm cupped his cheek. “Sent a message to the Raptors. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about them anymore.”

  I nodded slowly, processing. “You’re okay, right?”

  “Of course.” He cracked a cocky grin. “C’mon. You’re gonna start doubting your tough biker boyfriend now? I just spent the night defending your honor, man, give me a little credit.”

  I chuckled, hand sliding away from his face.

  “Forgive me,” I drew, rolling my eyes. “But I’ve seen you in too many compromising positions to think of you as just a tough biker.”

  He quirked a brow, laughing, but there was a reservation in his smile. He looked away, the ghost of a thought etched on his face. He was holding something back.

  I nudged him gently with my shoulder. “Hey.”

  “Hm?”

  “What’s up?”

  Adrian paused. “What do you mean?”

  “No secrets,” I said quietly. “There’s something else on your mind.”

  I don’t know when I got good at reading him. That ability had crept into my life like my love for him did.

  “I talked to them,” Adrian said, standing. “The Raptors. Before we settled things. They told me running you off the road was a job they’d been paid for.”

  “Winston.”

  I saw him in my mind, the image of his body relaxed at the Speakeasy’s bar, a spark of interest in his eye. A scheme set on his shoulders. There was no one else on Earth who could possibly be responsible for this but him.

  Adrian held my gaze and nodded once, tight.

  “I don’t have the proof,” he said, frowning. “The Raptors won’t snitch on him, but I mentioned Winston meeting up with them to Wyatt. He knows about them and plans to keep investigating.”

  I huffed. Of course, Winston would probably get away with this, too.

  “He’s always using other people for his dirty work,” I laughed, soft and without humor.

  Adrian touched my chin gently, guiding my eyes upwards.

  “Maybe,” he said, grinning. “He’s definitely a pain in the ass, but what’s important is that you’re still alive. That’s, like, a pretty huge fuck you to him, right? I mark that as a definite success.”

  “Yeah.” My lips curled. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Cocky, too.”

  “Oh, absolutely.” He laughed. “You’re actually shockingly in one piece for how bad your car was wrecked. You don’t even look bruised.”

  I shrugged. “No broken anything. Just a concussion.”

  “Oh, is that all?” he teased as I stood. “C’mon, bruiser. I’ll drive you home.”

  From the chair, Adrian gathered my things for me while I pulled on my shoes. I was ready to get the hell out of here, go home, lie down; curl up with Adrian and let things return to normal.

  “You know they put you up in the same hospital room I was in when I got beat up?” he asked.

  I snorted, tying the laces tight. “Really?”

  “Yup.”

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” I said, making him laugh.

  As I stood straight again, making for the door, Adrian took a step between me and the door. His grin was soft, almost sort of nervous. His gaze held me there, a sweet seriousness in it.

  “I was really fucking scared,” he admitted quietly, “that you weren’t going to be there when I found your car.”

  “Where was I going to go—”

  “No,” he said, hand on my chest. “No. I mean not there. I thought I was going to find you dead—”

  “Adrian,” I shushed quietly.

  “It made me realize how important you are to me.”

  The silence was tense between us, and I could feel it coming, the words drawn from my own mouth before I’d been brave enough to say them; Adrian was always braver than me.

  “It made me realize how much I love you,” he said.

  I touched his chin and he exhaled through his nose as I drew him into a slow kiss. The little metal ball on his tongue flicked gently against my mouth as our lips met and parted. I wanted to remember every little piece of him; wanted to never forget him or let him go.

  He groaned softly into my mouth before parting.

  “I’ve missed that,�
�� he chuckled.

  “I love you,” I said.

  Adrian’s grin turned a touch sly as he pressed it to my mouth.

  “Let me take you home,” he said, nipping at my lip playfully. “Lover boy.”

  “Are you allowed to fuck with a concussion?”

  I laughed against Adrian’s mouth as he backed off, panting slightly above me. We were on the couch; taking a nap together in the living room had only lasted as long as keeping our hands to ourselves had lasted—which is to say, not very long at all. Before we could even get halfway through Scream, he had me on my back, straddling my thighs.

  “I don’t know,” I said, hands sliding over his hips and palming the perfect swell of his ass. “Sarah never said anything about fucking. Just operating heavy machinery.”

  Adrian chuckled, bending his head.

  Lips dragged over my neck, nipping at the skin below my ear. When he spoke again, his voice was hot and rasped against my ear, teasing, “So I guess I’ll just have to take care of you like this, huh?”

  My eyes shut, his tongue playing with my earlobe. His piercing brushed the sensitive skin and I shivered, missing the feel of it against my cock.

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a tease?” I asked.

  His laugh was small, deep. “Am I a tease if I let you fuck me?”

  I only hummed, hands running all over him: his ass, his back, brushing up underneath his T-shirt to trace the sensitive skin over his spine. It was like finding all the right buttons to push. I touch his back, he rolls his hips down, hard cock brushing mine where it was trapped beneath my boxers.

  Comparatively, he was way more dressed than I was. I was just in a T-shirt and boxers, but he was severe: dark jeans and a band shirt, a small studded belt. The roughness of his jeans ground down against me, and his smile turned possessive as I moaned, uninhibited.

  “Like that?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. I gripped his hips and put pressure behind it as he rolled down again. “You sure you’re fine like that with your knee?”

  Pushing up onto his hands, Adrian grinned down at me. Pointedly, he rolled his hips, punishing and slow.

  “I’ll let you know what I’m not okay with, Savage,” he purred, lips pressing against mine.

  My hands slid between us as we made out, deep and slow, undoing the front of his jeans.

  “How about this?” I murmured, teasing my fingers beneath the fabric. “This okay?”

  Green eyes fluttered shut. His mouth pulled into a smile.

  “More than okay,” he said. “Help me get out of these.”

  Adrian flopped back against the other side of the sofa, head between my feet. I sat and tugged the jeans off his legs, his laughter filling the room, mingling with the sounds of the television. When they were gone, he sat and I pulled him into my lap, eager to tug his shirt over his head.

  I smoothed my hands over his back, felt his spine arch into the touch.

  “Shouldn’t you be lying down?” he asked, groaning as I sealed my lips around his nipple, sucking the piercing between my teeth.

  “Probably.”

  “So do it, then.” His fingers threaded through my hair, and he smiled down at me.

  I shook my head, lips trailing over his chest. “No. I want to do it how you like it.”

  “Mm, how’s that?”

  “Rough.”

  Adrian shivered in my lap, nails scratching over my neck.

  “Like the first time,” I said. I slipped a hand beneath his boxers, fingers grazing the supple skin of his bare ass, before ripping them down to his thighs.

  Adrian groaned, his cock springing free. “Babe—”

  “Say my name,” I groaned.

  Hazy green eyes stared down at me, at the obscene image of his cock nudging against my clothes between us. Adrian’s body was shaking in my lap, a quiet, needy sort of tremor. I kissed his chest and slid my fingers between his cheeks, nudging them apart and exposing his entrance to the cool air of the room.

  “Victor…”

  “I can feel you shaking,” I murmured, voice low. “You want it that badly?”

  “Yes,” he rasped. “You know I do.”

  I loved making love to Adrian, but I loved this side of him, too: the mewling, whimpering side he never let anyone else see. The part of him that was all alluring lines and a need to be taken; when he let his desire show for my eyes only, I’d never hesitate to give him whatever he wanted.

  I brushed my thumb over his hole and felt it twitch.

  “God,” he groaned, rutting gently against the friction of my chest. “Just give me the real thing. I just want your cock in me.”

  I chuckled. “Impatient.”

  “Whatever. I thought you were going to die.” He tipped my chin up and met me in a messy kiss. “I thought I was gonna lose that perfect cock of yours for good.”

  I laughed. “That all I’m good for?”

  “Yes.”

  This time we were both laughing, and it felt good to have this: to want someone so bad but still be able to linger and laugh with one another and find it sexy no matter what. I slapped his ass softly and he groaned.

  “I’ll get the lube,” I mumbled.

  He nodded, but said, “Just do that again.”

  “What?”

  “Spank me.”

  We caught each other’s glances. His was absolutely demonic.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said.

  “What did I say before?” With a shake of his head, Adrian kissed me, sweet and on the cheek. “I’ll tell you what I can’t handle. You won’t hurt me.” And he snorted softly before climbing out of my lap, lounging bare naked on the cushions. “Go get the lube, lover boy.”

  I stood slowly, careful not to push it too hard—whatever we were about to do would be enough ‘physical activity,’ which Sarah and Curtis both warned against. As I grabbed the lube from a nearby drawer, I grinned; what did they expect me to do, when I had a succubus like Adrian in my life?

  When I came back, I paused. Adrian looked so relaxed, lounging on the sofa with his cock hard and leaking, watching the TV while he waited. His eyes flickered from me to the screen.

  “Take off your boxers,” he said, not moving a muscle for me.

  I did so slowly, letting them pool around my feet.

  “And your shirt.”

  I took that off, too, finally just as naked as him. His lips curled deliciously, eyes dropping to what was apparently the most interesting part of me. As I approached, I tossed the lube down. He sat to meet me, pulling me into a hungry kiss before he turned himself over, and cast a look over his shoulder that was all hellfire and mischief, legs parting as I knelt behind him.

  My hand petted up his back, soothing over his spine, weaving through his hair. Wherever I touched, his body melted, molding around my fingers. Giving over control, a rare break from how he was the rest of the time. The only place Adrian wasn’t independent was in the bedroom.

  Or, I guess, in this case, the living room.

  As I traced back down his back, I slapped his ass, experimental. The sound was sharp.

  Adrian’s shoulders tightened.

  “Was that—”

  “Again,” he moaned.

  The sound went straight to my cock. All I could think of was letting it sink deep inside him, but he pushed his hips up in a silent request for more. And with an ass like that in my face, well, how could I say no to him?

  I spanked him again, palm cutting through air. I’d never figured myself to be a particularly religious man, but this was an experience; I’d gladly worship Adrian like this, with his quivering thighs and panting mouth, the soft gasp of, “Yes,” as I slapped hard enough to turn his cheek pink.

  Watching like this was as perfect as it was torture; I loved knowing I could make him like this, but I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to feel him surround me, wanted to sink into the endless pleasure I’d had so many times.

  “Adrian,” I warned—begged.
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  He nodded, his head bent between his shoulders. “Fuck me, Victor. Please.”

  I grasped for the lube, not caring about making a mess of the sofa as I let it drip over his entrance. A shudder wracked through him as I dragged my fingers through the slick of it, collecting enough to spread over my own cock.

  “Adrian,” I sighed, easing myself into him. There was no pretense, no slow teasing. We needed this—needed to be close, my insides burning with the sudden desire to consummate this; we were both alive, we both survived.

  I love you.

  We’d both said it, and I moaned, gripping him tightly at the memory. I felt the admission in his body, sinking into his love, steadily rocking. He shook; he shook until his arms were locked with the need to keep himself upright, to help him fuck back onto me in search of that piece of perfection—pleasure in the midst of a week of pain.

  I bent around him, braced on the arm of the sofa beside his head.

  “Vic—”

  I bit his shoulder, laving my tongue over the marks.

  “Don’t stop,” he gasped, a groan and a laugh rolled into one. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you stop, baby, I’m—ahh!”

  I brought my hand down, hard on his right cheek; felt him clench around me.

  “Again,” he choked.

  I did as he asked, thrusting into him quicker, shallower, never drawing fully out. When I finished, I wanted it to be deep inside him. I wanted to feel the endless squeeze of his body, wanted to be a part of him.

  We were wild, all animal noises and need.

  Adrian trembled, shoulders quivering like he was a bowstring pulled back for too long, elastic waiting to feel the full release of snapping. He was close; I could feel it as much as I could hear it in him: his voice rasped and grated, cried like the noises were being pulled out of his chest.

  I wrapped a fist around him and jerked hard, quicker than we were fucking.

  Adrian’s orgasm tore through him seconds later, electricity drawing him tight from his fingers to toes. He threw his head back, mouth open around a soundless cry, voice drained from his body as he came between my fingers.

  The tightness of him was too much; too good; exactly what I needed. A few more thrusts and I was gone, moaning into his sweat-slicked back and coming hard. Lights exploded across my vision, nerves on fire. Beneath me, he whimpered at the sensation of being completely filled, and when it was over, our panting was the only sound in the world that mattered.