Juss gave a smile as he dunked another biscuit and shoved it in his mouth before it could break off. “He was actually nice. He did ask about how the accident affected me financially though. I told him the accident affected everything. He didn’t push me for any info.”
I rubbed his arm. “Good.”
He sipped his coffee. “I’m sorry I fell asleep last night.”
“Don’t apologise.”
“I had plans. I wanted to do—” He glanced to the door to double-check no one was there. “—some things.”
I chuckled. “We’re supposed to wait a week.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna forget to watch it today. I have a whole lotta porn to catch up on. Then, by the time you finish work this arvo, I’ll have had all the inspiration I need. You should probably be ready.”
I barked out a laugh. “Gee, thanks. I won’t be thinking about that all day or anything.”
He smiled like the cat who got the cream . . . or the cat who would get the cream later . . . Jesus. “We better get back to work.”
Juss finished at lunchtime, and over the hours that followed, I tried really hard not to think about whether he was actually watching porn . . . whether or not he was jerking off to it, or maybe touching himself in other places . . .
He didn’t come back down before closing time, which was a bit odd—recently he’d been coming back down to see Davo and Sparra before they left and to help me clean up—so, wondering if everything was okay, I locked everything up when the guys left and raced upstairs.
There he was, lying lengthways on the couch, propped up with pillows. He was watching something on his phone, which he pointed in my direction when I walked in. “There’s a lot to catch up on. Did you know cartoon porn was a thing?”
I began to laugh as I walked over to him. I picked up Squish from Juss’ side and gently put him on the floor, then very carefully lowered myself onto Juss’ body. I kissed him with smiling lips. “I didn’t know cartoon porn was a thing, no.”
“Wanna watch it with me? There are human cartoons or animal cartoon porn. Like humans but they’re animals, like horses and dogs. It’s kinda weird, kinda hot. I don’t wanna judge anyone,” he said. I laughed as I kissed down his neck and he tilted his head, giving me more room. “Oh, I like that.”
I could feel his erection, so I pulled back to look in his eyes. “Did you jerk off to it?”
His nostrils flared and his pupils blew out. “No. I wanted to wait for you.”
I crushed my mouth to his and he grunted as our tongues touched. He shifted his hips and moved his good leg so I could settle between his thighs. Our cocks were aligned, our mouths fused . . . It was glorious.
We kissed, hot and heavy, grinding and rolling our hips, feeling every nerve ending flood with desire. Juss broke the kiss, panting, his lips swollen. “You better not be playing me right now, Dall. If you tell me we should wait a week, I’ll . . .”
I grinned. “You’ll what?”
He growled and gnashed his teeth, nipping at my chin. “I’ll . . . jerk off and finger myself and you’ll only be allowed to watch.”
Shock at his words and a blast of desire coursed through me. I had to push down the urge to come. “Is that so?”
“Dallas, I’ve just watched porn for three hours. I’m aching in a really good way and I need you to finish me.”
Fuck.
I extracted myself from him, getting to my feet. A look of hurt and confusion crossed his face until I held out my hand. “Get up, and get your arse on the bed.”
He grinned, and I helped him stand and followed him to our room. He stripped out of his clothes, revealing his very hard cock. Mine jerked in my briefs, dying to be free, dying for more touch, heat, and slick friction.
He sat on the bed at first, then lay down, but I pulled off my shirt and shook my head. “Roll over.”
I got him comfortable with pillows under his hips to keep the pressure off his leg, and he raised his arse and stretched out like a cat. This was the old Justin. This was the pre-accident Justin who wanted to be fucked for hours, who begged for it and got pissy when he didn’t get it.
“The fuck you waiting for?”
I chuckled, because that was him to a T. “Just enjoying the view,” I replied. I pulled off my boots and took off my pants, finally joining him on the bed. I knelt between his spread legs and kneaded his arse cheeks. “How does your leg feel?”
I thought for a second he was going to spit some barb at me about taking too much time, but this was a serious question. His body, his injuries, and his recovery were a priority. “Feels good.”
I ran my hand up the back of his thigh and he instinctively raised his hips. “Keep still, baby. Let me do the work.”
He growled at that, but he stopped moving.
I ran my hands up his back and kissed one arse cheek, then the top of his crack.
“Dallas. I’m not kidding. Stop playing. I don’t know how long I can lie like this.”
Okay, I didn’t really think of that. “Sorry, baby. Just trying to make it feel good.” I spread his arse and licked my thumb before running it over his hole.
“Holy shit, yes,” he hissed.
I reached over and took the lube from the bedside and poured some to slide down his crack. He let out a long breath, and I massaged his now-slick skin. I pressed a fingertip inside him and out again, making him moan.
“Dallas,” he whispered hoarsely. “More.”
So I gave him more. I pushed my finger in further, sliding it in and out, and he gripped the pillow above his head. “More.”
I moved my finger in circles, stretching him a little, then added a second finger. Just two fingertips and he groaned with pleasure. I pushed them in deeper, slowly in and out. I brushed his prostate and he lifted his hips.
My cock was rock hard and leaking precome. So close to his hole, so close to where I wanted to be. But not today. Not yet.
I swiped his prostate again and I leaned my weight on his arse, as though it was my cock inside him, and I thrust my fingers in.
He bucked underneath me, crying out as he came. I thrust my fingers in a few more times, milking him as his orgasm took hold, but I needed my hand. I pulled out and gripped my own shaft, a few quick pumps, and I came so hard, shooting come onto his back.
Fucking hell. It was so intense, the room spun.
I collapsed on top of him, trying to be careful with his body, but too spent to move. My cock slid between his arse cheeks and he rolled his hips. “Just a bit lower,” he whispered. “You could slide into me.”
And I’d been going to ask him if he was okay. Clearly he was fine.
He rolled his hips again. “Just a little bit, Dallas. Please.”
Christ almighty. I never could handle his begging. But I needed to prove to him what we had was more than physical. We needed to wait, and I had to be the strong one.
“Next time, baby.”
He growled in frustration but he didn’t push me. I wasn’t sure I could have stopped myself if he did . . .
We lay like that for a few moments, catching our breath and enjoying the feeling of being close and naked. The full-body contact was bliss. But we were a mess, so I rolled off him and pulled him into my arms.
I kissed his forehead. “You feel okay?”
“Hmm.” He was sleepy. “Yeah. Sorry for asking you to . . .”
I tightened my hold. “Don’t apologise. I wanted to.”
“You said next time.”
I laughed and tucked him into my side, holding him tight. “You caught that, huh?”
“Sure did.” He snuggled into me. “I wouldn’t have minded. We got those rapid results back. And they were fine.”
That was true. But still . . .
He shot back to look me in the eyes. There was hurt in his, and confusion. “Do you regret what we just did? Did you not want to do anything until—”
I cupped his face. “No, baby. Never. It was amazing and beaut
iful.”
He sighed. “Good. ’Cause I’m not sorry. I have jizz smeared on my back, on my front, on the bed covers, on the pillows, and I’m not even remotely fucking sorry.”
I laughed and pulled him against me, ending with a sigh. “I don’t regret it, Juss. We were tested regularly before the accident. These tests were just to ease our minds, that’s all. And like I said, the full results won’t change how I feel about you. Not one thing.”
He settled his head against my chest and was quiet for a long moment. “Did we do that before? I mean, me asking for you to . . . be inside me or something. Because it felt . . . familiar. I didn’t remember anything, there was no flashbacks, but it felt . . . I dunno. Like my body knew what it wanted.”
I gave him a squeeze. “Yeah, we did. A lot. You loved it when we’d stay like that.”
“I came fast. I was thinking about it.”
I chuckled. “Watching porn for a few hours had you kind of worked up.”
“I’m gonna do it again tomorrow, just so you know. There’s a lot of videos to get through.”
I laughed again and was reminded that we were a sticky mess. “Shower time. Then you can heat up leftovers for dinner and I’ll remake the bed and put these in the wash.”
I helped Juss off the bed and we showered together. Then he went to sort out dinner, and I stripped the bedding and set it going in the washing machine and remade the bed with clean linen. When I went back out to the kitchen, I noticed Juss’ limp was more pronounced as he took the plates to the table.
“You okay? Is your leg sore?”
“Yeah, a bit. Just time for my pills, that’s all.” He managed a smile. “I feel good. Great, even. A little achy in all the right places, but in a good way.”
That was true. It was time for his night-time pain pills, but still . . . “You’ll tell me if something hurts or gets worse though, yeah?”
He rolled his eyes as he sat down. “Yes, I promise. I am achy and tired, because I’ve been freshly had. But I won’t object if you want to have me again.”
I chuckled as I ate my first mouthful of leftover meatloaf and mash. “Your body won’t be thanking me tomorrow. You might be sorer in the morning.”
He made a maybe face but shrugged. “On the bright side, we found a position that works.”
Chapter Five
Two days later, all the insurance money had hit my account. I paid off all the credit cards and put a chunk on the overdraft, feeling like things were finally—finally—starting to be okay. It was one thing knowing the money troubles would be over soon, but it was a whole other thing to know it was actually over.
The bank account was looking pretty fat, Juss was more himself, and life was looking pretty damn good.
Until Davo came into work and handed me a folded copy of the Times. “Jusso’s interview is on page three. There’s a photo of the crash. Not sure if you want him to see it.”
My stomach dropped. “Thanks, mate.”
Davo gave a hard nod and went out and made a point of having a chat with Sparra and Juss, probably so I could have a quick look and decide how best to prepare Justin. He’d seen some insurance photos as part of the van claim, but nothing too graphic.
I turned to page three, my heart in my throat. There were two photos: one of Justin just a few days ago, and one of the mangled van. The photo of him was on his right side, getting a good look at the scar down his head. I remember Juss saying he wanted to get the name of the shop in it, and it was . . . but the photographer knew what he was doing. The picture emphasised his scar more than anything else.
The photo of the van was one the paper had run after the accident. The van was barely separated from the truck, the door was missing from where they’d obviously had to cut him out. It was . . . crumpled, smashed, barely recognisable. There was debris all over the wet road, glass, pieces of metal. It looked like a war zone.
God, it made me feel sick.
Then I read the article.
* * *
Memories Erased
* * *
Justin Keith’s life changed forever on that rainy morning almost four months ago when the van he was driving was hit by a truck. Taken to John Hunter Hospital, he was rushed into surgery for a serious head injury, multiple broken bones and fractures to his skull.
Not that he remembered any of it.
Because a few days later when he woke up, Justin thought he was five years younger and still living in Darwin. He’d lost the last five years of his life. He had no memory of his job, his home, and no memory of the four-year relationship with his partner.
Justin was diagnosed with retrograde amnesia, a condition which affects memory. But it’s more than that, Justin says.
“I didn’t just lose the memories. I lost all the emotional connections from the last five years as well. I lost who I was and where I fit in. Where I belonged.”
A motorbike mechanic by trade, Justin says getting back to work was paramount to his recovery. “I couldn’t tell you who the Prime Minister is or who won the last five footy premierships or even where I lived. But I could pull a bike engine apart and put it back together again, no worries. I know bikes, and doing work that I knew by heart really helped remind me who I was.”
Justin says he’s limited by what he can do. “I can only do a few hours in the mornings, then it gets too much. My brain can’t do what it used to, and my leg and arm don’t work like they should. And I still have a lot of doctor appointments, and headaches are a constant part of my life now.”
He’s recovered a few memories, but only pieces. “Amnesia isn’t like the movies. It’s awful. I remember a few things, like flashes or random stuff. I feel robbed. My leg and arm will heal, but I’ve lost those memories, probably forever.”
It hasn’t been easy on his relationships. “I’ve been real lucky to have such good people in my life who’ve stuck by me.” His smile brightens. “And I got to fall in love for the first time. Again. I don’t remember the first time.”
Traumatic brain injury is a leading cause of disability in Australia, with links to violence, homelessness and suicide. In fact, many people who suffer serious TBI end up in care homes or in long-term care, and there have been links to other cognitive degeneration in later years.
Investigations into the crash concluded it was an accident, and the matter was settled for an undisclosed amount.
“Nothing is like it was. Everything is different. But I’m alive and I have plans for the future, so maybe I’m one of the lucky ones.”
I swallowed hard as I considered what Justin had said. None of it was a surprise to me—I knew all of that—though I did smile at the falling in love again comment . . . But I had to wonder if the comment about the undisclosed amount was just a general wrap-up or if that smarmy reporter knew. At any rate, I’m glad no figure was noted.
Now I just had to break it to Justin. It wasn’t like I could shield him from this, or even if I should. I was just weary of the fallout, how he would react, and if it might upset him and set him back a day or two.
I could hear the boys talking in the breakroom, laughing about the coffee machine or something. I picked up the newspaper and went in. Justin grinned when he saw me and pointed to my now-full coffee mug. He was playing barista today, apparently, which probably explained the laughter.
I held up the newspaper. “Your interview.”
“Oh.” His smile wavered and his eyes met mine. “Is it okay? Is something wrong?”
“No. There’s just a photo of the van, after the crash, if you’re ready to see it.”
He stared at me for a long second, his eyes full of determination; then he gave a nod. “I’m ready.”
He took the newspaper and sat at the table, and when he looked up, Davo had dragged Sparra out, leaving just me. I sat down beside him and waited.
Justin looked at the photo of the van. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it and chewed his bottom lip. I slid my hand over his and squeezed, just to
let him know I was there. I wasn’t going anywhere.
He nodded to let me know he was okay.
We didn’t need to speak. We just knew.
“Wow,” he whispered, staring at the photograph. “Was that what the van looked like? I don’t remember it at all. Not before the accident, certainly not like that . . .” He let out a low breath. “Jesus.”
“You okay?”
He nodded again, giving me a small smile. “Yeah. Not surprising I got messed up though, is it?”
I didn’t want to say he was lucky, because telling him that, after all his injuries and memory loss, would be just insulting. “It could have been so much worse, Juss. We could have lost you that day.”
Then he squeezed my hand and studied me for a second. “Are you okay? Seeing this picture?”
Him asking me that made me smile, but I looked at the photograph again. “I’m okay, baby. Just thankful I still have you.”
He leaned over and gave me a soft kiss, then went back to the newspaper. “This photo’s okay,” he said, pointing to the picture of him. He smiled proudly. “Got the shop name in it.”
It also got the huge scar that snaked down the side of his head, but I didn’t say that. “He’s cute.”
He smiled again, then began to read the article. He didn’t read too fast now, so I just held his hand, giving him all the time he needed.
He nodded when he was done and pushed the newspaper away. “Did it read okay?” he asked. “Did I sound okay? I know sometimes I don’t talk great.”
“Hey, baby, you were perfect,” I replied, turning to face him and holding his hand in both of mine. “You sounded great, and you talk just fine. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks. You’re doing better than the docs ever thought possible, so give yourself some credit, baby.”
He made a face but conceded a smile. “You have to say that.”
I snorted. “I don’t have to say anything. I said it because it’s true.” I traced a line on his palm. “And you said you got to fall in love again.”
His eyes met mine. “Because I did.”
Pieces Of Us: Missing Pieces Series, Book Three Page 5
