To Be Your Last

by Rae Kennedy

  “You too,” I say.

  He stands and peels his boxers down, letting them fall to the floor. I can’t help but stare at his cock jutting between his legs and how it bobs as he crawls back onto the bed. I don’t have much to compare it to but it’s long and smooth and I like it.

  And it’s going to be... He’s going to put it...

  My breath comes shallow as a wave washes through me, a mixture of nerves and dread and excitement.

  Then his lips are on my ankle, my calf. He kisses up my leg to the inside of my knee, barely nudging them apart. I spread my legs a little wider for him and he kisses up another inch.

  “Will you spread all the way for me?” His breath is warm on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh as he smiles up at me.

  My stomach quivers as I whimper and spread my legs completely. I close my eyes and focus on the feel of him massaging my legs as his lips move higher and higher. I know where he’s going, what he’s going to do, he told me as much. But no one has ever put their face in my pussy, kissed or licked me there. I don’t know what to expect.

  I don’t expect him to use his thumbs to spread my folds and stare unabashedly at my open pussy. Then he murmurs about how pretty and pink and glistening it is before he drags a flat tongue all along it.

  I gasp at the new sensation. His tongue is warm and wet and strong and when he flicks the tip of it over my clit, it sends tingles through my body and to the arches of my feet. I keep my eyes closed and try to hold still. I think if I accidentally make eye contact with him while he is down there I could die of embarrassment. I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed, especially since he is clearly enjoying himself. He’s devouring me and I can’t tell if the noises he’s making are him humming a song or groaning in pleasure.

  He licks me in long, torturous strokes and then quick, harder lashings. My skin is too sensitive and I’m squirming beneath him so much he has to hold me down by the hips. It feels too good. I can’t catch my breath. It feels like electricity is coursing through me, just under my hot flesh. And when he closes his mouth around my aching clit and sucks, heat floods to my pussy, making me impossibly wetter. I cry out but he just keeps lapping me up, building the tension, enticing my pleasure over the crest.

  “You like that?” he asks.

  “Ughummph.”

  His mouth is quickly back around my clit, licking and flicking and sucking. But this time he slips a thick finger inside me.

  “Oh. God. Yes.” I press my hands to my face, physically trying to stifle my groans as the spasm starts low in my stomach.

  “That’s it,” he says. “Let go.”

  And I come. My slickness coats my thighs and his hand and I can hear the wet sounds as he slides a second finger in and I ride them through the last waves of my orgasm.

  I’m left trembling, my lips prickling with numbness as he crawls over me and then I feel his gentle kiss.

  “Open your eyes.”

  I look at him, my vision a little blurry and my mind still dizzy. He’s on his elbows, his face just inches above mine and when he comes into focus his eyes are dark, hooded, lust-filled. His lips are parted, dark and swollen and I can’t ignore the fact that his cock is pressed between us, hard against my stomach.

  “Are you good?” he asks.

  I nod and try to say yes, but it comes out more as a breathy gurgling noise.

  He smiles. A small smile, just enough to show the edges of his teeth and to soften the hard lines of his face. He sweeps a few strands of hair off my forehead and kisses me again.

  “You still want this?” He reaches for the condom on the bedside table.

  I swallow and take a deep breath and nod.

  “Need you to say it.”

  “Yes,” I choke out. “I want it. I want you.”

  He sits back on his heels, his cock even longer and thicker than earlier, the head dark red and shiny, and I watch as he rolls the condom on.

  Quickly, he’s back over me, his chest brushing against the tips of my erect nipples as he takes my mouth. He kisses me hard and long, again and again. He kisses me until my heart is racing. He kisses me until I forget his erection is sheathed and ready to fuck me. He kisses me until my whole body is writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

  He leans up on one elbow, his lips hot on my cheek and moves his other hand down between us.

  “Tell me to stop—if it hurts.” He grips his cock, guiding it to my entrance.

  I nod.

  There’s no way I’m going to tell him to stop.

  I’m so wet and swollen down there I’m pulsing and aching to be filled, but when I feel the blunt tip of him drag through my folds and nudge at my opening, a wave of emotions hit me at once. A strange mixture of nerves and fear, but also exhilaration and lust. Is it going to hurt? Maybe. But I still want it.

  “I’m going to go slow,” he whispers as he covers my body with his.

  The weight of him, the heat of his skin on mine is wonderful. He and I are all that exist in the entire world and I feel safe as he surrounds me, interlocks his fingers with mine and kisses me slowly. Almost as slowly as he starts sinking into me.

  I’m sure I’m not breathing.

  The head breaches my entrance and he stills for a moment, just the tip of him inside, stretching me. So much thicker than his fingers.

  He squeezes my hands as he slides in another inch. And then another.

  The intrusion feels foreign, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s so different than anything I’ve felt before, than I could have imagined.

  He lets out a soft grunt against my lips as he pushes further in until his hips hit my thighs.

  “Oh,” I let out a shaky breath, hoping it doesn’t betray me.

  “Okay?”

  “Mmhmm.” I try to steady my breathing but my chest is heaving under him. I’m so full. Colin is filling me. He’s inside of me. It doesn’t seem real. “Is it... Are you all the way in?”

  “Not quite.”

  My eyes go wide and he smiles.

  He kisses my neck and behind my ear while I try to adjust to the feel of him—around me, on me, in me.

  “You feel so good. God, Gray... I need"—his voice is almost hoarse, thick with desire—“to move.”

  I give his hand a squeeze, not sure I can speak, and he starts to withdraw, almost as slowly as he entered. The sensation is new, breathtaking. And this time, when he pushes back in, he does it in one fluid motion and a little moan escapes my lips. That felt good. New and weird and good.

  He rocks in and out of me a few more times, his skin hot as it slides along mine. Everything is on fire and yet I want more. When I thrust my hips up to meet him, he hisses.

  “Fuck.” He stills over me, his breath coming in shallow pants.

  And then he pulls out of me. All the way out.

  I sit up. “Wha—”

  But before I can protest, he buries his head between my legs again, fucking me with his tongue. I fall back to the pillow, back arching, eyes rolling to the back of my head. His eating is crazed, frantic. His tongue is hard, fast on my throbbing clit and then he is plunging fingers inside me as he kisses and sucks on it.

  “Oh, god. Colin... yes.”

  Contractions start in my stomach as I clench around his fingers.

  “There it is.” He slides his fingers out and circles them on my clit.

  It’s enough to push my orgasm over the edge as he shoves back inside me just in time for me to pulsate around his dick. He lifts my leg and then he’s thrusting into me deeper, harder as I ride out the last rushes of pleasure. This one is longer, more intense. My head is swimming, heart pounding, mind lost.

  He keeps pushing into me, his rhythm steady but increasing and I like how he isn’t being careful with me anymore. Like he just can’t help it—the need is too great.

  I’m just as overcome by him.

  And then there’s a deafening pounding on the hotel room door.

  “Colin!”

  It sounds like Joey.
/>
  Colin pauses inside me, squeezing his eyes shut as he gnashes his teeth. “Go away.”

  “We need you—”

  “FUCK OFF.” He’s hovering over me, muscles tensed, barely in control.

  “It’s Logan. He might be dead.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Colin is out of me before I even comprehend Joey’s words, ripping the sheet off the bed and then wrapping it around his waist. He bolts to the door, snaps the metal lock and throws the door open, letting it bang against the wall.

  I grab a pillow and hug it tight, covering my body, even though the bed is not visible from the doorway. I sit there, naked, unable to move, unable to think, unable to do anything. Apparently I’m not the deer that bounds off gracefully into the trees—I’m the one that freezes in front of the headlights and gets hit.

  Joey’s words are frantic, jumbled. Dean found him. Bathroom floor. Drugs. Vomit. Not breathing. Called 911.

  Then Colin’s back in the room, sheet gone, and he’s hastily putting on pants. That’s what I should be doing. I get up and look around for where my clothes landed on the floor.

  “You stay here,” he says.

  I look up at him. “What? No, I’m coming with you.”

  “You don’t need to see this.” His tone is harsh but his eyes are pleading.

  I shake my head. “He’s my friend too and I’m coming.”

  He drags his hand over his scalp, jaw tightening.

  Sirens wail outside. High-pitched and getting louder. We both frantically find our clothes and shove them on.

  No one’s allowed in the room so we wait in the hall as paramedics rush in.

  Dean comes out of the room, hysterical. He’d been administering CPR until help arrived as directed by the 911 operator. He drops his phone to the carpet, face contorted in agony as Joey lays a hand on his back and then he’s hunched over, crying onto Joey’s shoulder. Joey’s barely keeping it together himself, but he stands unwaveringly while Dean leans on him.

  Colin wastes no time calling us a ride to the hospital. I'm amazed at how steady and normal he sounds when he’s talking on the phone. When he ends the call, he leans against the wall, head in his hands, eyes closed.

  I want to go to him, but I’m still frozen. Rooted to this spot in the middle of the hall. Still shocked. Waiting for the truck to hit.

  Time stops. It’s probably only been minutes since they went in, but it also could have been a lifetime. The paramedics finally come out of the room, hauling Logan on a gurney. I only glimpse him for a second before they’re racing down the hall. He’s unconscious, face slack, pale. He looks lifeless.

  Then it hits me. Hard. It’s a blow to the chest that’s both sharp and blunt. A pain that’s burning hot and ice cold. A sob echoes in the hall, heart shattering, otherworldly. It’s coming from me. And then the tears come, hot on my cheeks just as strong arms wrap around me. I bury my face into Colin’s chest. He’s warm and solid and silent. I take deep breaths, inhaling his scent and slowing my frantic pulse.

  He kisses my forehead and then he’s ushering me down the hall after Joey and Dean.

  I reach for Dean’s hand and he looks over at me with eyes so big and sad and brown and so much like Logan’s it’s disarming. He squeezes my hand tight and I don’t let go.

  The ride to the hospital is short.

  When we get there, everything is a blur, trying to figure out where he is and what is happening. It takes a while for the confusion to settle and someone with information to let us know what’s going on.

  They performed life-saving measures. He’s alive. Barely. They’re going to pump his stomach.

  That’s all we know for a while.

  Dean paces up and down the length of the room, his hands visibly shaking. Joey is sitting in the chair across from me, his eyes closed, lips moving slightly—I think he’s praying.

  Colin is away from everyone, talking on the phone. He already called Logan’s parents because Dean said he couldn’t handle it. Now he’s having a conversation with their band manager. He hasn’t glanced my way at all.

  He hangs up the phone but he stays where he is, standing in the corner in his black jeans and plain white T-shirt. The pallid fluorescent lighting overhead casts shadows on his face.

  I want him to come sit with me, but maybe he needs space right now.

  That’s probably it. Everyone deals with stress differently.

  So I continue to sit. Dean continues to pace. Joey continues to pray, and Colin just stands alone in the corner. I find myself staring at him, so confused by his distance.

  Finally, he looks up and our eyes meet. I motion for him to come over. After a moment he reluctantly pushes off from the wall and takes the seat next to me. But it’s strange to be sitting next to him without his arm around me.

  I reach over to hold the hand he’s resting on his knee but he moves it away before I touch him to rub the back of his neck. My chest feels hollow.

  A doctor finally comes out and we all stand as he talks. Logan is being moved to a different floor. His condition is still critical but he’s breathing on his own so that’s encouraging. We won’t know if he’s suffered brain damage or other side effects until he wakes up.

  “I need a fucking smoke,” Dean says, letting out a shaky breath before he leaves down the corridor.

  Joey goes in search of coffee and then it’s just Colin and me, alone.

  “We need to talk,” he says in a low voice.

  I nod and follow him over to a secluded grouping of club chairs near a window.

  I can’t read him. I want to try and take his hand again but I don’t dare. His energy is dark. His eyes hard.

  “I didn’t know something like this would happen, I’m sorry,” he finally says.

  “Don’t apologize.” I scoot closer to him, resisting the urge to touch him, comfort him. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “But I should have. I know better than anyone how easily this can happen. This was our big shot. Maybe our last one.”

  “Blaming yourself won’t help anyone.”

  I know my words aren’t getting through by the look in his eyes. He’s torturing himself in his head. I’ve been trying to convince myself of the same thing these last couple hours. But I know if we had gone with him tonight, this wouldn’t have happened.

  “So...what are we going to do now?” I want to take his hand so badly.

  He shakes his head, swallowing. “I’m going to do what I should have been doing this whole time. I’m going to be here for the guys and look out for them. And I’m going to look out for you.”

  I warm at his words until his gaze meets mine. His blue eyes are cold, his expression blank.

  “You need to go home.”

  I’m slack-jawed. What the hell is he talking about? “But—I don’t want to go home.”

  “Gray, it’s over. The tour is over. We are over.”

  “Are you kidding me? You were inside of me a few hours ago and now we’re done? Just like that, you’re pushing me away?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “No. It doesn’t. This isn’t going to work because I know you. I know tonight meant something to you. I know I mean something to you. Don’t end it like this.”

  He looks at me, face hard, unmoving, jaw clenched. “I should have seen Logan was spiraling but I didn’t. I’ve been so distracted and wrapped up in you—”

  “So you’re saying this is my fault?”

  “No. I just—I can’t handle having you around right now. You don’t need to be exposed to this shit anyway.” He drops his head to his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You should have never come in the first place.” He shakes his head and exhales. “You don’t belong here.”

  His words are a slap to the face and all I can do is sit, open-mouthed, staring at him in shock. I wait. I wait for him to take the words back, to say they came out wrong, he didn’t mean them. To say sorry. To say anything.

  But he doesn’t. He doesn’t eve
n look at me.

  After several minutes, he finally lifts his face toward me. His eyes look tired. “I’ll pay for your ride home.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”

  “Yup.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it.

  Venom boils in my gut.

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  I sprint outside, refusing to slow down, turn around, or look back.

  When I get outside, I search around for Dean to see if he’s still out smoking, but I don’t see him. I didn’t get to say goodbye to him or Joey. Or Logan.

  Cars whoosh by on the street. In the distance, a horn goes off. All of the city lights keep the sky a hazy charcoal gray instead of inky-black and studded with stars like back home. There are millions of people in the city around me and I have never felt so alone.

  I just want to go home.

  It’s more than a three hour drive, and I can’t even imagine how expensive a ride that long would be. So I get out my phone.

  My fingers feel boneless as I dial Kyla’s number. It’s almost three in the morning and I’m sure she’s asleep but I’m praying the ring will wake her.

  It rings.

  And rings.

  And keeps ringing.

  Then it goes to voicemail.

  I leave a message, begging her to call me back as soon as she can, that I need her.

  I wait.

  Five minutes.

  Ten minutes.

  Fifteen minutes.

  I call again.

  It’s the same.

  I could call my sister, Court. I know she’d come get me, and maybe she wouldn’t even ask too many questions. No, she’ll definitely ask all the questions, but I know she won’t judge my answers. I hover my thumb over her contact about to hit call when I remember Court is on her honeymoon right now—they left for Belize last week.

  My stomach drops as the realization of what I have to do sinks in. I’m wobbly. A cold sweat breaks out across my skin as I make the call.

  “Gracie? Are you okay?” My dad’s voice is deep and gravelly from sleep but the concern in it is clear.

  His genuine panic guts me.

  My throat is tight and it’s hard to push words out. “I’m fine. Can you come get me? I’m at Mercy Hospital in Chicago.”