Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined Book 2)

by Nikole Knight

  Ashamed, he couldn’t look at me, and I almost laughed. He was embarrassed for having one-night stands? I’d slept with a guy who had a boyfriend for months! I wasn’t exactly one to judge. I didn’t care that he’d had meaningless sex; that was my only experience, so how could I hold it against him? My astonishment stemmed more from the gender of his previous conquests.

  Sure, I’d assumed he was straight when we first met, but the moment he showed interest, I took that as confirmation he was gay. I never contemplated any other possibility. Honestly, as long as he liked me, it didn’t matter. My hesitation was born from insecurity, not judgment.

  Besides, he misunderstood my question.

  “No, not about that.” I waved my hand to erase the misunderstanding. “I meant, why didn’t you tell me you were bi?”

  “Because I’m not, I don’t think. Maybe? I, um, I’m not one for labels, never have been.” He squirmed, rubbing the back of his maroon neck as he chanced glances in my direction. Was he waiting for me to be mad? “I like who I like. Usually, it’s guys, but I can’t say I’ve never been attracted to a girl. Add alcohol abuse, light drug use, and self-loathing, and I tend to like girls more.”

  He chuckled awkwardly, and I offered a pitying smile.

  He continued, gaining confidence as he held my gaze as if begging me to understand. “It’s never mattered to me, forcing myself into a premade mold. We try to label things we don’t understand, things that are different, in hopes of making sense of them. Because putting a name to it makes it safer for some reason.

  “But labels, which supposedly bring liberation, do nothing but bind us. They separate us into categories, forcing us into boxes that may not fit. They just give us reasons to justify hating one another, and I can’t… The world has enough hate.” My hands ached from his firm grip, his fingers finding mine during his passionate speech. My throat swelled at the emotion shining in his eyes. “People like who they like, and it’s no one’s business but theirs. Gay, straight, bi? Who the hell cares?”

  With chest chugging, he studied our clasped hands and clenched his jaw, like he was near tears. It wasn’t often he made himself this vulnerable, this open. More often than not, he held himself back, masking his true thoughts and emotions with his calm, kind nature. But I loved the moments he let me in, allowing himself to speak freely. I loved his mind, even if he saw the world differently than I did.

  I agreed with him for the most part. It shouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Humans liked order, having their things lined in perfect place, and when items didn’t fit into the preconceived cookie-cutter shapes, they were deemed unnatural. And society was fickle, preaching tolerance while simultaneously persecuting the exact people they claimed to help.

  Shunned, the outcasts trimmed their edges to fit the molds in hopes of resembling the crowd a little more. Even if it destroyed them, it was human nature. We were sheep, secure in the herd. The stragglers were always the ones picked off first, so it was easier and safer to join.

  I understood his point of view, but at the same time, I wasn’t ashamed to identify myself as gay. I liked guys, and the thought of sex with a girl grossed me out. But that was true for me. Sexuality was fluid. And people who identified differently than I did weren’t wrong. They had their thing, and I had mine. We didn’t all have to be the same to get along. At least, not in my book.

  Ben heaved a heavy breath, squishing my fingers. “I like you, Silas. I hope that’s enough.”

  “Of course, it’s enough.” I finally spoke, scooting closer until my bent leg spanned the length of his thigh. I kissed the back of his hands, rubbing his knuckles over my cheek. “I’m not mad or anything. You just caught me off guard.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why? For being honest? You’re an idiot.”

  We shared a smile, but he sobered quickly. “I was an idiot. I was selfish and did terrible things. I used people.”

  “Hey, don’t…” I wiggled into his arms, returning to my place on his lap as I kissed his cheek. “We all do stupid things, Ben. We all use people. It’s human nature. Eli used me because his right hand was tired. I used him because, even though it was only for an hour or two, someone wanted me around. It was nice to feel wanted.”

  I licked my lips, unsure in the face of such honesty between us, but he’d shared himself with me, and I wanted to return the favor. “You lost your mom. You were in pain.”

  “It doesn’t excuse—”

  “You’re right,” I interrupted. “It doesn’t make it magically okay, but I can’t hold it against you, either. We cope the best way we can.” Teasing, I knocked our foreheads together as a smirk played at my lips. “I wouldn’t have blamed you for fucking a whole cheerleading squad, though that sounds terrifying to me, personally.”

  Shaking his head, he barked a laugh, and I grinned as he snuggled against my chest. “I don’t want to be that person—I try not to be that person.”

  “You’re the kindest, most selfless person I know,” I whispered into his ear, and his hands at my back fisted in my shirt. “I don’t know that Ben. But this Ben” —I tapped his chin, and his head raised, blue eyes finding gray— “I know this Ben, and he’s, like, the coolest person in the world.”

  He beamed at me, the shadows in his eyes dissipating. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  The sappiness embarrassed me, and I looked away immediately to escape the unexpected intimacy. It was funny how I’d planned to get in his pants tonight, hoping to blow him or at the very least, jerk him off. Yet, I hadn’t prepared for this.

  Sex, in my experience, was impersonal, two bodies working toward physical release. Eli and I never talked, not like this. We didn’t have a relationship aside from fucking when the need to relieve tension arose. It wasn’t emotional, and I’d assumed it never would be. But with Ben, it was different. He genuinely cared about me, and it scared me shitless.

  Would sex be different with him?

  “Silas?” Ben traced my bottom lip with his thumb, his head tilted as he examined my features curiously.

  I must have spaced out. “Hmm?”

  “You sure it doesn’t bother you? About the girls, I mean?”

  Ben was confident in many areas, but I’d finally touched a sore spot. Insecurity leaked from his pores as he worried the inside of his cheek. I rubbed his nose with mine as I formulated my answer. I wanted to be honest, but truth was vulnerable.

  “It doesn’t bother me for the reasons you think. It’s just… a hit to my ego, I guess.”

  We were already unbalanced in this relationship. Ben was smart and athletic, kind and obnoxiously hot. And then there was me, average in every aspect of my life with enough issues to sink the Titanic.

  What if I wasn’t enough? Or worse, what if we had sex and he hated it? Anal sex wasn’t for everyone. What if he realized he liked vaginas better?

  At my train of thought, my rueful smile melted, and he furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  Barreling past my insecurity, I explained. “I thought I only had to fight off the other guys to keep you, and now I’m up against the whole population. I don’t really stand a chance.”

  This time, he was the one to laugh in exasperation. “You’re an idiot. You don’t have to fight anybody off. I chose you; I like you.” He pressed a cautious kiss to my lips. “I don’t want anyone else.”

  Lighter than air, I swelled with pride and unbridled joy. Capturing his face in my hands, I crashed our mouths together. He grunted under the onslaught but quickly got with the program, smashing me to his body as he kissed me back. The intensity of our conversation shifted, and as teenage boys, we easily changed gears.

  “Say it again,” I ordered, breathless.

  “I don’t want anyone else,” he repeated, and I groaned.

  “Good.”

  Twelve

  As we kissed, the desire simmering on the back burner of my mind bubbled into a boil, and I moaned ag
ainst his lips as his tongue slicked the seam of my mouth. I granted his silent request, parting my lips, and our tongues met. He tasted like french fries and chocolate. I snickered internally as my fingers sifted through his curls.

  Hands met skin, and my arms rose above my head as Ben dragged my shirt up my torso, over my head. It landed on the floor with a soft swoosh, and his own shirt instantly followed. Greedy, I explored every dip of muscle, my fingers following the path of his sternum and tracing the ghost of his abdominal muscles.

  I wasn’t built the same, my body slight and softer than his, but I wasn’t weak. I had a certain definition to my wiry muscles, and Ben seemed to appreciate it. His hands were everywhere, the heat of his touch stoking the fire in my belly until it roared through my veins and burned my extremities.

  Hard as a rock, his cock strained the confines of his jeans, nudging my thigh as I wiggled in his lap. He groaned at the contact. Wanting to hear it again, I eliminated the space between us and rolled my hips.

  He gasped, and, taking advantage, I plunged my tongue into his mouth. Ignoring the warning bells in the back of my brain, I welcomed his hands on my heated skin. I wanted him to touch me everywhere, yet my body resisted, pulling back when he massaged my thighs.

  “Silas.” He panted my name, blazing kisses along my jaw and down my neck, and I rocked in his lap, rubbing his length with my thigh. “Shit, Si.”

  His hands shaped my ass, squeezing me, and I moaned in encouragement. I wanted his hands inside my pants, his palms molded to the globes of my ass, skin-to-skin. As if he read my mind, he fought his way into the back of my jeans, and my fingers tangled in his curls for purchase. His touch seared my skin, and I whined in annoyance when the tightness of my waistband restricted his access.

  Stupid, skinny jeans! Why didn’t I invest in more sweatpants?

  Before he could move to open my jeans, I grasped his shoulders and threw my weight to the side, effectively upsetting our balance. My back hit the couch cushions, bringing Ben with me, and he scrambled to keep up, his eyes darker, pupils blown wide.

  Plump, swollen lips arrested mine, and I instinctively opened my legs so he could settle his hips between them. His naked chest met mine, and we moaned in tandem. Cool trepidation trickled down my spine as he propped himself above me, one hand on my hip, but I refused to give in.

  I wanted Ben, and he wanted me. He wasn’t Eric. He wouldn’t hurt me. I was okay. As long as he didn’t touch the front of my pants, I’d be okay.

  His body trembled as I flicked his button open and unceremoniously snuck my hand into his boxers. “Silas, wait, wait. Shit!”

  Pausing, I simply held him, unsure if I could continue. “Fuck, you’re so hard. Is this okay? Ben, is this okay?” It was a bit late, and I prayed he didn’t stop me, but I didn’t want to take anything he wasn’t willing to give. “Ben? Baby?”

  The endearment slipped out, and he shivered. “Please.” Fingers tightened on my hip, and the plea barely escaped his lips before my hand moved. “Oh God, I, hmmm.” With an unintelligible mumble, he buried his face in my neck as I worked him.

  “I’ve got you.” I circled his shoulders with my other arm, gripping the back of his neck. I kissed his temple, loving the feel and weight of his cock in my palm. “Jesus, Ben, you feel good. So fucking hard.”

  His hips canted into my fist, his control snapping, and I relaxed into the couch as I enjoyed the symphony of his moans and our panted breath. Gently tugging on his hair, I encouraged his rhythm, and he whimpered into my neck, his fingers framing my side and digging in.

  I loved the dull pain of his blunt nails. Maybe he’d leave marks. I didn’t mind.

  “Silas, you… I can’t… Oh shit, I’m gonna—” He cried out into my neck, every muscle rigid as his cock kicked in my palm. The familiar splash coated my fingers unexpectedly, and I lightened the pressure as I worked him through his orgasm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  As he chanted puzzling apologies, I kissed his cheek. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay.”

  I felt bad for making a mess of his boxers, but I hadn’t expected him to come so quickly. Normally, I would have grabbed my discarded T-shirt or something to aid in clean up, but his release took us both by surprise. Perhaps that was why he felt the need to apologize.

  “Shit, this is embarrassing.” His breath warmed my neck in short bursts, and I chuckled as his shoulders shook. “I can last longer, I swear. It’s just, it’s been a while since someone’s… sorry.”

  Lifting his torso, his flushed face filled my vision. I swore I’d never seen anything more beautiful. Sweat shone on his brow, and his eyes glittered like sapphires. His lips parted, his chest continuing to chug, and the crimson on his cheeks covered his neck and the top of his chest. Damn, he was gorgeous.

  “I wanted you to come,” I blurted, and he ducked his head at my candor. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”

  He swooped down and kissed me deep and slow, like a lazy Sunday afternoon. “You’re incredible. Thank you.”

  I’d never been thanked for a handjob before, and I smiled shyly. “Um, my pleasure.”

  Giggling like children, we kissed again before he pulled away, glancing down at my messy hand still tucked in his boxers. “Shit, sorry.”

  “Well, that tends to happen, you know?”

  As I cackled, he flipped me the bird before he reached to the floor and snatched a shirt off the carpet. I retrieved my hand and wiped my gooey fingers on the fabric as he blushed brick-red. I realized too late it was my shirt he’d grabbed.

  “Hey! This is mine.” I scowled at his cheeky grin.

  “We’re at your house. I don’t have a change of clothes.”

  He stole the shirt and hurriedly cleaned himself the best he could. I caught a glimpse of his softening cock, and my own need drummed angrily against my zipper with every beat of my heart. Everything in me wanted release. My brain conjured plenty of tempting images, but I shook them away in an effort to calm my raging hard-on.

  After my failed attempt at masturbating in the shower, I hadn’t attempted it again for fear of a similarly humiliating outcome. And now, here we were, and I had no idea how to proceed. If I couldn’t even touch myself, how could I expect Ben to be successful? It was better to end on a good note, wasn’t it? I could play it off. It wouldn’t be my first night of blue balls.

  Unfortunately, Ben had other ideas, and panic inched up my throat as he dropped the wadded T-shirt to the floor and refocused on me. With a wicked smile, he slid a hand up my leg and lowered his face to my stomach. He kissed my belly button, inches from where I needed him but couldn’t have him.

  His lips followed my happy trail, his tongue tasting the skin above my jeans. My head fell back against the couch as I fought every instinct to shove him off of me. I was being a pussy. Here was my sexy, scrumptious boyfriend, silently offering a blowjob, and I was about to cry like a baby.

  Get a fucking grip, you wuss. You’re hard and horny and haven’t come in ages. Stop being a pussy, Silas!

  My internal raging did nothing to quell my hysteria as a finger traced the length of my cock over my pants. “Ben, wait. You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.” His fingers tugged at the button of my jeans, and I squeezed my eyes shut and fisted my hands in the couch cushion.

  I tried to stay calm, I really did, but I couldn’t smell Ben’s spring soap or taste his spearmint. They soured, turning to musk and ash. The hand at my jeans wasn’t his anymore but Boyt’s. Gentle fingers morphed into angry digits, grabbing roughly. I wasn’t safe on the couch; I was back in that bathroom, begging and pleading.

  Please, don’t. Please, I don’t want this. Please.

  “Silas? Silas!”

  Surfacing with a gasp, I shoved against the weight anchoring me to the cushions. “Get off me! Let me go.”

  I was freed immediately, and I scrambled to my feet, hands shaking as I blinked back irrational tears. The carpet underfoot reminded me where I was.
I rubbed my chest over my racing heart as I fought to remain here in this room, in reality. I didn’t want to go back to that restroom. I couldn’t go back there.

  “Silas?”

  My name was spoken on broken lips, drowned in misery. It was the most heartbreaking sound I’d ever heard. One word, yet it pierced my heart like a hot poker.

  As I released a shaky breath, I made the mistake of meeting his gaze, and my heart shattered. Agonized eyes held mine, the normally placid waves turbulent, and guilt added to my anxiety. I might as well have scooped his heart out with a rusty spoon and strangled it in front of him.

  I was always hurting him, wasn’t I? Even when I was the one in pain.

  “How long?” He understood without explanation, and tears blurred my vision as I looked away, stubborn and humiliated. “This whole time? Every time we kissed?”

  “No.” I shook my head and knotted my fingers in my hair, tugging until pain crackled down my spine. It centered me, grounded me, and on some fucked up level, I felt like I deserved it. “It’s not like that. I just need a minute.”

  “Do I remind you of him?”

  I cringed at his despondent tone. “No.”

  “Do I scare you?”

  “No!” I shouted, and he flinched. “It’s not you. I just need a fucking minute! Okay?”

  Yanking on my hair, I gritted my teeth as strands tore loose, my scalp shrieking, and Ben stood. “Stop hurting yourself.” I ignored his order only for him to smack my hand away, forcing me to obey. “Stop hurting yourself!”

  My fear converted to rage, and I shoved him violently. “I have to. It’s the only way to get him out of my fucking head!” He caught himself from falling, his face contorting in agony, and I snarled at his pity. “Get the fuck out, Ben!”

  Once again, he did the opposite of what I expected, and I was wholly unprepared. He lunged at me, hauling me into his body by force even as I fought and kicked. I struggled against his embrace. I beat his chest and cursed him with every foul name I knew. He refused to release me.

  At some point, my struggling changed to clinging, my shouts shifting to tears. I buried my face in his neck as something in me splintered. I sobbed, hating him for being here to witness it.