Part of me wondered if I’d ever expected to have what I’d been waiting for. I’d held on to it my entire life, waited for it, never let go of hope. But maybe I hadn’t truly believed it would ever happen, because I had no expectations of that moment. No preconceived fantasies of what should happen.
As we kissed, he stayed hard, pressed against my ass. I stayed hard, pressed against his stomach. I could feel his desire for me, and I had no doubt mine was obvious. But neither of us were swept away in passion, not like we had been a billion times before. Not like in the classroom, not in some dark closet, not in hidden moments in a bedroom, not even in our hideaway.
This was… I wasn’t sure. Different. Slow.
I don’t know how much longer until I broke the kiss, slightly aware of the cool draft over the naked skin of my back. I raised up slightly, retrieved the lube beside us, poured some out, and then reached behind me to encircle Connor’s cock. Then I lined him up with my entrance.
Our eyes found each other again. Connor’s widened slightly as I sank down slowly, taking the head of him into me. I paused there, letting my body adjust, not that it needed much time—I was more than used to his girth by that point. I released his erection, bringing my slick hand back around and swiping the lube over my own dick. Then I fixed both my hands over the muscles of his chest. Still holding his gaze, I sank down onto him, slower than I ever had before, reveling at the feel of him stretching me out, the sensation of him filling me.
Connor sucked in a little breath, a hiss of pleasure, but didn’t speak, didn’t look away or close his eyes.
Finally, I surrounded his length, and he was buried almost as deep inside of me as he could go. I rocked one time, loving the feel of him moving in me, and then held still. “I just want to stay here for a second. I want to feel you, just have you inside of me as long as I can.”
Connor moved his hands, placed them over mine and then grazed the top of my forearms to grip my elbows. “My body is yours. You can do with it anything you want. As long as I’m inside of you, I’m happy.”
Though our story was secret, at least for the time being, I knew that anyone on the outside looking in would judge me a fool. See all the years I’d pined over Connor, every man I’d rejected who claimed they loved me, every argument Connor and I’d had, and every tear I had shed.
Well, maybe that judgment would be accurate. Who knew?
Foolish or not, this was why I had never been able to let go, why I’d never stopped believing, even when I wasn’t sure it would ever happen. I knew nothing and no one could give me whatever this unnamable feeling was, whatever this sense of rightness was called that settled into my gut, into my soul. I was never sure if it was promised to arrive, but I had known what this was. Destiny. Pure and simple.
Turned out, destiny came for fools.
My gaze traveled over his flawless body, returning to places I’d already committed to memory. Tracing the feathers spreading over his chest, then glancing past the flower over his shoulder and focusing on the wolf howling on his right bicep.
I never needed to ask what Connor’s tattoos meant. They told the story of his life, of how he saw himself. Maybe that wolf more than any other. The symbol of a pack animal who could at any moment become solitary and forced to survive the harsh winters alone.
Connor would face no winter by himself. Ever again. And neither would I.
When I met his gaze again, I wasn’t sure if the words I spoke next were seeking assurance or just stating a fact. I suppose it didn’t really matter. “No going back.”
Connor smiled gently and gave a small shake of his head. “No, no going back.”
Then I began to move. At first simply rocking slowly back and forth, feeling the length of him deep inside of me, feeling him grow harder at my motions. One of his hands left the grip on my elbow and grasped my cock, and he ran his thumb over the head, smearing my precome and causing me to let out a hiss of my own.
It was just the touch of his hand on me. A sensation I’d experienced countless times, but it felt new in that moment. Different yet familiar. Beautiful.
I lifted slightly, rising just enough so I could build a new kind of rhythm. I arched forward and pulled nearly off his length, then leaned back and took him fully inside once more, relishing the feel of him stretching me, filling me. I did it again and then again. A little faster each time, even though I wanted to keep it slow, to revel in our joining that spoke of promises as much as our word. But my desire didn’t allow it, the pleasure of his body too much to ignore. I sank over him, violently, again and again.
“That’s it, Micah, use me. Use your man.” Though Connor never broke eye contact, he began to stroke my cock, the slickness from the lube and the precome causing me to shudder. “I want you to come first. Come while I’m inside of you.” His voice was gravel and heat. With a hint of coming undone.
I released my grip on his chest so I could lean back, build up an even quicker rhythm on his cock, thrust with greater force into his fist.
At the motion, he released my other elbow and stroked over my abs, then up over my chest and began to tease my nipple. His touch teasing and claiming, ensured I wouldn’t last long.
I groaned, and he chuckled, pleased. Almost prideful.
“That’s it. Come for me, Micah. Come for me.”
I skewered myself onto him as I thrust into his fist, feeling him stretching out my ass further as he pumped my cock.
All too soon, my orgasm built.
Connor knew me well, knew my body. Could tell by my breathing, by how my erection got harder, my balls drew tighter, the flow of precome increased, that I was about to shoot over the edge. At some point I’d closed my eyes. “Micah. Look at me when you come.”
I looked down at him, even as I slammed myself back onto his hardness.
“I love you with all of my heart. With everything I am.” Connor’s fingers swiped over the head of my cock, then wrapped around the shaft once more as he pumped. “I’m yours. Forever.”
Forever. Connor and me. The words I’d always known I’d hear, feared I never would.
Forever.
My soul belonged to him. As did my body. And he belonged to me.
With a final thrust down over his length, I orgasmed with a cry of pleasure, exultation, and relief, my load shooting all over his chest and stomach, covering his fist as he continued to jerk me off. I cried out again and then shuddered once more as my ass suddenly became overly sensitive. I sank down on him and held still, breathing heavily.
“You meant that one.” Connor’s cocky grin twitched, and he smoothed his hand over my hips. “I did too. But, damn, I loved watching you lose yourself, feeling your body control mine how you needed.”
“Yeah, I did mean it.” I grinned down at him. “And I’m not done meaning it either.” I shifted slightly, causing his erection to push in a bit deeper once more.
“You don’t have to keep going, my love. I know it can be too much after you come.” Connor smiled up at me again, looking fully satisfied.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Like hell.” I sucked in a breath, held it for a moment and let it out. “If you think I’m letting this moment pass without having every drop of you inside of me, you’re fucking crazy.”
Connor laughed again, and I realized I’d been wrong. Now he looked satisfied, or at least on the edge of it.
I took one more deep breath and then returned to my rhythm, fast and hard, nearly pulling off him and then slamming down, taking him as deep as he could go. It hurt. Almost too much. And then, the pain threshold broke, and it was nothing but pleasure.
Connor gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into the muscles as he began to thrust his hips, matching his rhythm with mine. He caught my gaze again, and I knew him as well as he knew me. I could see the climax seconds away, feel the change of his cock inside of me, the stuttering of his rhythm. “Tell me how you love me, Micah.”
“With everything I am, Connor. I am yours. I was made f
or you.” I slammed down onto him again. “You were made for me.”
He came with a loud cry, not closing his eyes or looking away, then pounding up into me so hard that it lifted me off the stone floor. Before my knees made contact, he thrust again, releasing more into me. Even as he lowered, both of us touching down once more, still he thrust. Emptying himself.
When he slowed, I sank back down onto him a final time, but didn’t pull off, reticent to separate. “Wow.”
Connor gave a snort. “Yeah, no shit.” He glanced at my thighs, and relaxed his grip. “Sorry. I think I might have bruised you.”
I looked down at the red marks, then rolled my eyes. “Like I care.” I leaned down, carefully so he stayed inside of me, and kissed him.
One of Connor's hands slipped into my hair, holding me to him gently.
This was real. It was finally real.
We kissed until I felt him grow soft. Until, though I wasn’t ready, our bodies separated. Finally I pulled back and met his gaze again.
He smiled up at me. “I love you.”
Maybe he’d seen I needed that assurance, just for a heartbeat. That, this time, orgasms wouldn’t lead to him running for the hills. Connor didn’t look like he was in a hurry to go anywhere. I sat up straighter, still straddling him. “I love you, too.”
I made a move to get off him, but he held me still by gripping one of my thighs. His free left hand lifted to my chest, and his fingers traced the Lavender Shores tattoo, the Connor tattoo. “I almost refused to put your tattoo there.” His voice was quiet, a little distant. “I would have if Gilbert hadn’t been there.”
“Andrew has his in the exact same spot.” All of the Bryants and Kellys had gotten the tattoo, our way of confirming to Connor he was fully accepted and part of our family, but everyone had gotten the tattoo in a different place, each one having a different reason or meaning for the location. Only Andrew’s and mine matched.
“Yeah, but his is there because he actually loves Lavender Shores that much. The town is in his heart, and his blood.”
I shrugged, grinning down at him. “Yeah, that’s why I said I got it there too.”
His gaze flicked to mine again. “I knew that wasn’t why you got it there.”
“Duh. I knew you were a stubborn ass, I never thought you were an idiot. Of course you knew.”
He chuckled. “Maybe I should get a second one. Put it on my heart as well.”
“No.” I took his hand away from my chest, twisted it so I could see the back, and traced the heart tattoo with my thumb. “You put it here so everyone could see it. Claiming yourself as a Bryant to the world. It’s the right place for you.” Then I did something I had never done before. I allowed my thumb to go to the center of the heart, where it was blank on the other eleven of us that have the tattoo. I traced the puckered skin there, and Connor sucked in a breath. One so different than he had during sex. Then I lifted his hand and pressed my lips to the scar. To the cigarette burn that hadn’t been there when he first walked through our doors, but had been fresh, deep, and blistering when he’d returned right before Christmas.
My eyes stung, and I squeezed them tight, refusing to let tears fall. I wouldn’t cry over Connor’s pain in front of him. Not when his eyes were always dry. I repositioned, rising off him and then settling against his side, placing my head on his chest. “We’ve lost so much time.”
“I know. And I know it’s my fault.”
I grimaced at the guilt in Connor’s tone. I didn’t want to take away from the happiness of the moment, but melancholy began to sink in, at the sight of Connor’s scars, the reminder of how many times I could’ve lost him, of all the years we’d wasted. “It’s not that. I just don’t want to lose any more time.”
“We won’t.” He stroked his hands soothingly over my back. “And we’ve got many years left, we’re still young. You haven’t even hit thirty yet.”
I nodded, but couldn’t keep my thoughts at bay. “Remember that box of pills I found in the bathroom when I moved in?”
Connor hesitated, probably needing a second to follow my train of thought. “Yeah, the ones that belonged to Alan, Alex’s husband.”
“Yeah.” I’d only mentioned to Connor a couple of things I’d discovered in the house. Most of the rest I had learned in the past year, when Connor and I didn’t have much time together. “I found a bunch more stuff in the attic. Journals, lots of medical files, a ton of photo albums.”
Again he hesitated. “Sounds like what you found wasn’t pleasant?”
“Some of it was. Most of the photo albums were filled with countless trips Alex and Alan took. They looked so happy.”
“Really?” Connor chuckled. “I can barely remember Alan at all, but from what little I saw of Alex, I can’t picture him ever being happy.”
That was my point. “I try to talk to Adrian about Alex, about some of the stuff I found. But he gets weird every time I bring it up. There’s definitely a lot of guilt around how the family treated Alex and Alan.”
“One more match that the founding families never approved of.” He continued to stroke my back. “Why are you thinking about them right now?”
I snuggled in, unable to get close enough. “I just don’t want to waste another second with you.”
Connor didn’t respond, just tightened his arm around me.
“It looks like the two of them were so happy, for a long time, but then from what I’m piecing together from the few journals and all the medical bills, it seems like Alan went downhill fast. Early-onset Alzheimer’s, along with bipolar disorder, and probably a few other things if the medication is any indication.”
“Shit. Sounds intense.”
“Yeah. I think those last years, Alan probably wasn’t even himself. I’m betting he’s the one who put the holes in the walls. Probably should’ve been hospitalized, but the few things Adrian said, it sounds like Alex was just as stubborn as the rest of the family about everything. I think the last couple of decades of their relationship, Alex shut them both away in that house. I can’t imagine what life would’ve been like for them. Then after Alan died, it seems Alex just kept up the same routine.”
Connor thought for a long time, his hand coming to rest over my shoulder and then returning to stroking my back. “Gives a slightly different picture to crazy, grumpy old Alex Rivera in the old scary house.”
“Exactly.” I almost didn’t say my next thoughts. They were too ridiculous, too sentimental. “I want us to give that house a different love story. A happier ending. And maybe, somehow, Alex and Alan will watch us there, and maybe they’ll find some comfort through us.”
Despite the heaviness of the conversation, Connor chuckled. “The thought of the ghost of Alex and Alan hanging around us doesn’t exactly spell romance to me.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want us to waste any more time. The two of them thought they had forever, but they didn’t. Not really.”
“Just because you’re in that house doesn’t mean we have their destiny.”
“I know. I don’t feel like that. Just the opposite, in fact. The more I find out about the two of them, the more at home I feel in a strange way. And it drives home how important seizing the moment is. I’ve almost lost you so many times.”
Connor angled up suddenly, wrapping his arm around my neck, twisting to face me, and crushing me into his chest. “No. You haven’t. Even if I’d found a way to run from you, some way to never return, I would’ve always been yours. I’ve never questioned that, even though I have everything else. I’ve always known all I am is yours. I just didn’t want to be the thing that chained you down. And we have decades to be together. We won’t end up like Alex and Alan.”
I breathed deep, taking in the familiar, nearly burnt scent of ink that was always in his skin, the smell of his sweat, the smell of my seed already drying in his chest hair, and I prayed he was right. “Be my chains, Connor. I’ll be yours. We’ll hold tight to everything we love, and we w
on’t let anything or anyone rip them away.”
Fourteen
Connor
Both of us looked at our cars in the driveway as we walked back up to Micah’s house. The familiar tension that was always between us sizzled again. It had been a brief respite in the cavern, but there it was.
“You don’t have to stay, Connor.”
I looked at Micah, surprised. Then realized I was surprised at myself as well. How had I just assumed I’d be spending the night? That had never happened before.
“I want you to,” Micah rushed ahead, grasping my hand, not bothering to look around. Not that there was ever anyone out near Micah’s house. “I just don’t want you to think you have to.”
“And if I want to?”
The expression Micah gave me made it seem like he was waiting for a punch line. “Well, then, stay. Please.”
“Okay. Plus, we’re giving this house a different kind of love story, right?”
Just like that, his smile from the cave returned, and a mix of relief and happiness filled his eyes, easily visible in the full moonlight. “Yeah.” He motioned toward the cars. “You want to take your car to your place, and I’ll bring you back?”
It was one thing to believe no one ever came out to Micah’s house but another to trust it. How to explain that? Two adult brothers having a sleepover? It didn’t matter. Even though the thought made my heart speed up, it didn’t matter if someone saw, if someone came to the right conclusion. Decisions had been made. That bridge of telling our family, telling the town, was right in front of us, and we were going to cross it soon. If we stumbled across tonight by accident, what of it? “Nah. It can stay.”
“Really?”
I nodded. The rest of the tension faded, and we were back to how it had been just a few moments before. It was a marvel. The only time since I was twenty that Micah and I weren’t tense around each other was during sex, and sometimes it didn’t fade even then. This was all it took… choosing not to hide. Actually choosing him. Dear God, I’d wasted so much time. I grabbed his other hand. “I really am sorry I took so long.”
The Hideaway (Lavender Shores Book 5) Page 13
