He was anything but okay.
“I took my boat out. Then I went over to Tyler’s.”
“Well that sounds fun. I’ve only been on a boat once when I was really young.” His eyes burned through mine. He didn’t want to talk.
He took my mouth, plunging deep, his eyes covered in warning to end this conversation. His fingers trailed over my skin, following every inch until they met with the hooks of my bra, unclasping them and dropping it alongside my shirt. He took both my bare breasts, tugging at my nipples and pulling them into delicate hard pebbles.
Something dark filled his eyes. Something I knew he wasn’t willing to discuss. What he didn’t know was that I already knew. Jacks had told me about the acute migraines and how sick they made him. The beatings. The abuse. All I could do now was wait for him to open up to me so I could assure him none of it mattered. The only thing that held importance was this. Everything else was secondary.
His head dropped, his mouth sealing around my nipple as he held the sides of both breasts and sucked hard. The sting was deep, but I willingly pushed my chest against him as he eased the stiffened peak between the edges of his teeth. My fingers gripped his hair even tighter as I watched his mouth and listened to the sound of his desire grow.
“Justin,” I moaned, as his tongue flickered over my sensitive nipple.
“I love you.”
His eyes closed as his hands reached for my cheeks and caressed them. Then they opened back up to the soft look I loved. The darkness was gone, now filled with passion and desire.
“I’m glad,” he murmured.
Thank God he didn’t hate me for the DNA that ran through my blood.
“Can you still love me knowing who my father is?” He brushed his fingers across my mouth.
“Don’t. Mention. Him. Again.”
Tears riddled my eyes.
He kissed my forehead.
“My love for you is doubtless, sweet thing. Don’t ever question it.” The look on his face was absolute and clear. “And I’m dying to show you just how much.”
His eyes dimmed as he gazed down at me, his fingers still sweeping across my lips. He groaned, whispering, “So fucking beautiful,” as he dropped his lips over mine, my mouth opening and welcoming him with my tongue. Like always, our passion was intense, hot and ravenous, feeding on each other with our lips, tongues, teeth, hands. The sounds streaming from his chest were growing desperate. Before I realized it, Justin’s shorts were off and laying on the floor beside my clothes, and I was backed up against the wall, watching him on his knees, his tongue buried deep inside my sex, while the gravelly stubble on his jaw scraped the inside of my thighs.
My stomach filled with crazy sensation. Already seconds from exploding, I grabbed at his hair, pulling hard, struggling, but unable to move an inch from the tight grip he had on my hips as he pressed harder and deeper with his tongue, deep groans rising up his throat as I mumbled his name over and over.
My body trembled against the frenzied intensity of his mouth, his tongue thrusting ferociously, the balls of his fingers prying my slit apart as he feasted on me like a starving mad man.
“Justin.” I cried out his name again and again with every spectacular swirl of his tongue.
I couldn’t hold back. I was losing myself, gasping for air. In seconds, I was coming violently, my release harder than any other in my life, grinding merciless against his face. Completely letting myself fall to bits, sobbing hysterically as my body weakened and felt faint.
“Justin…” I whispered, not finishing what I was saying as he pulled me into his arms like I weighed nothing at all, and carried me to the bed.
“Taste what I do, baby.” He kissed me, his tongue deep in my mouth. I was breathless. What he was doing was so incredibly intimate and sexy.
“Thank fuck you’re in my life Hartley Shipman.”
“Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do, Justin.”
His lips were soft against mine again, but quickly turned hard and desperate. I reached for his hard erection, squeezing and rubbing my thumb over the beaded thick head. He ground himself against my hand as I tightened my grip and drove harder and faster.
“God, that feels so good, baby.”
I pushed my lips against his, inhaling the scent of him and the faint residue of me that still lingered.
“Sweet thing, slow down. You’re gonna make me come in your hand, and I want to lose myself buried inside you.”
Still stroking his thick erection while my mouth stayed glued to his, I was suddenly beneath him on the bed, hoisting my body upward with my fingers engulfed in the tight cheeks of his rock-hard ass, while his immensely thick hard length pushed through my slick wetness. His hands covered the deep curve in my back, urging me against him as I squeezed the cheeks of his ass even harder. Buried inside me, we held each other desperately while our bodies merged together insistently. So intense and urgent. Dying for the closeness. The depth. I rested my face against his chest listening to the sound of his racing pulse, along with the faint moaning I could never get enough of.
This was all that mattered.
Not my mother.
Not James.
Just this.
Us.
Minutes later, he was shuddering as I dug my fingertips against his butt cheeks while we both fell apart. His promising words filled my ears with all I needed to know as long streams of ejaculate warmed my insides.
“No matter what, we’ll always have this. Always this, Hartley.”
He turned over onto his back and I draped my leg across his, my head nestled into his chest.
His jaw tensed just a little as a small smile ran over his lips. God, it was good to see that again, even though it was only faint. Would I get my Justin back?
“Your feet. They’re so fucking cold.” I pushed my second foot underneath the back of his legs.
“Sorry, big guy. Another one of my faults.”
We stayed in that position for a good thirty minutes, not talking. Not moving our spent bodies even an inch. He was struggling to tell me more, but I wouldn’t push itched tell me when he was ready.
I’d earn his complete trust one day.
“It’s Saturday. Shouldn’t you be at Venture? I’ve kept you from work. I’m sorry.” I kissed the side of his warm cheek, pushing myself closer against his side, rubbing my chilled feet against his toned legs.
“Well, maybe not all that sorry,” I whispered.
“I have a good assistant. I’m pretty confident she can handle a weekend without me.” He pulled himself up on the pillow, raising me beside him.
“We need to talk, Hartley. It’s time, baby.”
Chapter Twenty
Justin
I’ve been searching all along.
We absolutely needed to talk. I owed her that much. But fuck, couldn’t we hold off a little longer?
Tomorrow… We’d talk tomorrow. Today, I just wanted this. No work. No friction. No more obstacles to cross. Just us. Together.
“I thought we were going to talk?”
I kissed the top of her head, inhaling her addictive scent that had my body stiffening with an unpleasant hunger. “We will. But first, I need to eat. You’re depleting this man’s energy.”
Already a little after six o’clock in the afternoon, I was famished, the few bites of peach cobbler I’d ingested hours ago long gone. We walked toward the kitchen, her fingers threaded through mine. There was no way I could have the deplorable discussion I knew she deserved. Not when she looked so happy. Only days ago, I was confident that fucking this beauty from my past would be a singular occurrence. I’d done it dozens of times with a multitude of women, my sex life resembling a spinning Ferris wheel. Bring one in, let another out. What made this particular one different was still a mystery. How could I love someone who had just re-entered my life? One that I never truly knew even in past times?
The small voice in my head told me she rightfully warranted more.
After th
e first time with Hartley, even though I initially refused to believe it, I knew there would be another. And another. Sex with her had never been fucking, even the first time. It was a turning point. A complete metamorphic transformation. One time and one taste was all I initially wanted. And today, just the smallest whiff of her scent and the sweet sounds when she was turned on… Jesus, they were all I thought of.
After Chinese take-out and an hour of being buried inside the sweetest, warmest pussy known to mankind, Hartley slipped off to sleep. Regardless how tired I was, I couldn’t join her in slumber. Not with all that happened earlier still spiraling in my mind. Instead, I just watched her. Took in everything she did. Her eyes moving around. Her soft sighs. Her feet shifting underneath my legs like she was making sure I was still beside her. I’m not going anywhere, sweet thing.
It was astonishing to watch. I wanted her here. In my bed. By my side. Forcing her cold ass feet against me. Waking up underneath me as I slid back inside her warmth.
So angry earlier, how in Christ’s name was she able to calm me after everything that happened? How the fuck did she do that? How could she have that nut job’s DNA streaming through her blood? Right now, it didn’t even matter. She was nothing like him.
****
Not a damn thing in my kitchen to eat, I’d definitely burned off the Ginger Beef and egg roll from earlier. I needed to grocery shop, but I hated that shit. The refrigerator was basically empty as I tried conjuring up something we could fix.
“Let me,” she murmured, pressing a delicate hand against the small of my back.
“You’re awake. I was gonna fix something to eat and let you get a little more rest,” I said. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much in here to cook, though. Do you want me go pick something up, or we could go somewhere?” She leaned over, rummaging through the bare refrigerator, the site of her fine ass through my T-shirt quite possibly the most exquisite I’d ever seen.
She reached for a bottle of water and handed it to me before taking one for herself. “You really don’t have much in here. Looks like somebody needs a trip to the grocery store,” she declared, inspecting a few spears of asparagus she’d pulled from the crisper.
“I could make omelets.” Her eyes lifted in question.
I smiled, still focusing on the curves of her sweet ass. “Sounds perfect, sweetheart. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just go somewhere? I’m pretty confident a certain little diner not too far from here has damn fine cinnamon rolls.” She stuck her tongue out and I reached for her face, kissing her with everything I had. If I wasn’t hungry enough to eat the ass end out of a horse, I’d scoop her up and feast on her instead.
“I’m sure. Now you sit. I’ll cook.”
“So bossy, sweet thing.”
Pressure from the deplorable morning weighed heavily behind my eyes as I watched her crack eggs and chop asparagus, conjuring up a quick meal out of next to nothing.
Once we’d both finished the omelet that beat anything I could have mustered, I took one last drink from my now empty water bottle.
“I’m full as a tick,” she said, folding her paper napkin and setting it on her plate.
“Full as a tick?” I smiled.
Her cheeks reddened. “Jacks always says that. I don’t know where he picked that up from.”
“Well, I’m full as a tick right beside you, baby. And you’re a hell of a cook. This is way better than anything I could have fixed.” I picked up the plates, carrying them to the sink as she started cleaning up. The mess … it could wait.
“Liar.” She squinted her eyes, making her look about twelve years old.
Resting my hands at her waist, I kissed her nose. “Let’s see you make that face again.”
“What? This?” She squinted again, lifting her shoulders in question as she grinned that same uneven smile.
“When you squint like that, your nose scrunches up at the same time.”
“Like this?” She squeezed her nose together and crossed her eyes, the silly act making me want to take her and fuck her—no—make long senseless love to her. Thank Christ she was comfortable enough to be herself around me. Especially after the monstrosity of a morning we’d both had. In the past, women always tip-toed around me, intimidated as hell. I always preferred it that way. Then…
Everything about this was a far cry from anything I’d ever done.
Everyone set an end point eventually.
Jesus. Where the hell has Justin Wisely gone?
Was that what this was?
An ending? A beginning?
“You’re the good cook and you know it. How many men know how to cook Fettuccini Alfredo? One day, I want you to cook something absolutely spectacular for me.”
I pulled her against me, kissing her and staring through the light brown eyes I’d fallen for the first second I saw them in Topeka, Kansas.
Memorizing…
Her crooked smile.
The freckles crossing her soft face.
The wave in her hair that had just the smallest hint of auburn when the light hit it just right.
Eyes that widened with every deep thrust of my tongue.
Just all the simplest of things that I knew could be stolen from me at any given moment.
Cherishing… Remembering…
Just in case…
I kissed the tip of her nose. “You. Are. Spectacular,” I uttered against her soft skin.
Her fingertips reached for my ass again. She had a thing about my backside. And I fucking loved it. Every time she did that, it made me swell behind my pants so hard, all I could think of was pushing through her sweet wet heat while she bruised my flesh.
Both my hands slipped from her hair and moved down her back, crossing the feminine curve that emerged into her rounded butt, her moans deepening while we pressed so desperately into each other that my body weight had her backed against the kitchen window frame.
“Please … please, Justin.” She ground against my throbbing dick, her nipples hardening to perfect pebbles against my chest.
“Please what, sweet thing? Do you already want my cock back inside you?” I lifted her by the hips, my fingertips brushing the soft skin underneath her T-shirt as we returned to my bedroom.
She didn’t need to say a damn word. She was so turned on. And me? For some asinine unexplainable reason, instead of burying my throbbing length between her legs, I suddenly sensed the need to talk. To finish what we’d started earlier. What the fuck was going on in my head? I never shared my past.
“Do you know what panhandling is, Hartley?” I swallowed back the enormous lump filling my throat as the look behind her eyes dulled. I had no idea why I chose this specific moment to ask her that when I could be balls deep inside her sweet sex, her pussy muscles squeezing me until I filled her with heated seed. The tightness I’d had in my dick only minutes before suddenly went limp. I just needed to talk for a minute.
“Have you ever watched a kid on a street corner hold a sign reading ‘Hungry. Please help’”? Her eyes filled. Shaking her head, she reached for my face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.“I’m so sorry he did that to you, baby.”
I was spilling my darkest secrets. Things nobody knew. What the fuck was she doing to me? I could be doing what I do best—sliding my dick inside her sweet pussy. But this… I was opening up. Telling her everything. Private shit I’d been ashamed to admit to my entire life. For the very first time, I wanted someone—her—to know how life had been back then, the need to be honest with her huge. I craved the instant sense of calm she brought out in me. Inexplicably, I wanted her sanction. Her approval.
Was I doing the right thing? Fuck! I had no idea if it was right or wrong, but I loved her. This closeness. It was unexpected. Significant. Shocking.
“Justin.” I loved the tone in her voice when she said my name. So soft. So full of love and compassion. She kissed my mouth, her lips damp and soft.
“Please don’t hate me. Please … don’t hate me for
what that monster did.” Her unforeseen sobs were ugly and deep. Tears dripped off the tip of her red nose that I’d brought on. What a fucking selfish dick move. What a weak motherfucking thing to do.
“Baby.” I took her cheeks between my palms, staring down at her unsettling gaze. “I could never hate you.”
For minutes, we stood in silence. Both emotional. Both at a loss of words.
I blew out the long breath I’d been holding, and backed off. I couldn’t talk about this anymore, suddenly wondering why I ever thought I could. But fuck, I owed it to her. If we were going to go any further, she needed to know everything.
“There’s more, Hartley.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Hartley
‘Don’t let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace.’
I’d heard that saying somewhere, though I’d never thought of it … until now.
Inner peace was one of the greatest gifts anyone could ever ask for, and right now, I needed strength more than ever. Power to help Justin escape this pain and suffering from a harrowing child life, and maybe learn to have an inner calm.
Tears. So many tears. I’d never known what it felt like to care so fiercely for a person. So much to the point of wanting to take on his angst and make it all my own. My God, I’d do it if it were possible.
When he said there was more, I knew something was very wrong.
“Oh God,” I whimpered. I’m so sorry.”
My sobbing was unstoppable. Worry pulled at my belly. Tears rolled down my cheeks and dropped to the ground while we both watched the small pools of liquid splash against the floor.
Glued against his body, I held on like he might turn into fairy dust if I let go. I needed the closeness. To breathe his breath. Smell the scent of his body. Feel the strength of his pulse against mine. I hadn’t felt desperation on this level since my dad’s final days. I couldn’t bear the thought, my breath caught in my chest as I tried understanding all this. The abuse. Threats. The constant blows to his head. Standing on a street begging for money in the cold. Hungry. Scared. Confused.
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