Payne’s pushing back to meet every thrust, sending me crazy with his grunts and muttered curses. He reaches back to tangle his fingers in my hair. “Mark me,” he pants. “Like I did to you last night.”
I moan as I lower my mouth to his neck and suck a bruise into his skin. Then another. And another. All the way along his shoulder before I lean forward and nudge him to turn his head so I can drag him into a filthy kiss.
“I’m so close,” I warn him.
“Me too.”
“On your front.” I wrap my arms around him and ease us forward, careful not to slip out.
Then I plant my knees on either side of his thighs and do what I’ve wanted from the start: I unleash.
My thrusts are hard, fast, uncontrolled, stabbing his prostate until he’s squirming beneath me. We’re both panting heavily, our sweat building between us. My brain is reaching that staticky place it goes right before I come, where I’m running on feeling and instinct, and driven only by the need to reach the finishing line.
“Holy fucking shit,” Payne says, as he grabs my pillow and then shoves it underneath him. “I’m about to ruin this.”
“Do it. I want you to mark every goddamn thing in my room.”
He groans, thrusting into the pillow as I pound into him from behind. I’m taking him the way I’ve always dreamed, and I’m not going to be apologetic about it. My gaze rakes over his broad back, following his tattoos down his arm to where his bicep is bulging. I’m so close, desperately chasing that high that will tip me over the edge.
“Come, Beau. Please. Fuck. Come. I want to feel you inside me.”
“Want me to mark this hole as mine?”
His hips are thrown off rhythm, and then I hear the most beautiful sentence that’s ever been uttered during sex. “Yes. I’ve never needed anything more.”
Shit. I let go, hips taking on a mind of their own as I fuck him so hard the bed knocks against the wall with heavy thuds. Over and over and— “Shit.”
I come. My vision blinks in and out, but somehow I manage to keep moving through it.
“So … close …” Payne says, and then he stiffens underneath me, letting out the longest, sexiest noise I’ve ever heard.
His thighs twitch, and when my cock stops throbbing with my release, I collapse against his back.
I’m speechless.
Overwhelmed.
If it was up to me, that’s the sort of thing we’d be doing every day. Forever.
I have to remind myself that pushing something so fragile isn’t a good idea.
But when Payne wraps his arm around my back and tilts his head back to give me soft, sweet kisses, the worst thing imaginable happens.
I hope.
DMC GROUP CHAT
Payne: Is it too soon to be in love?
Art: You and Beau fuck again?
Griffin: It must have been good if you caught feelings. Feel free to give us a full rundown.
Payne: That won’t be happening.
Griffin: You ruin all my fun.
Art: Back to your question, short answer, no.
Payne: Long answer?
Art: Emotions are complicated and multifaceted. They’re not linear, they’re a spectrum. You can love someone and hate what they did. You can love someone and have it not be enough. You can love many someones with varying intensity.
Payne: Worrying about not being enough is the problem.
Griffin: I don’t think you need to worry about that with Beau.
Payne: That’s the problem. I know he’d settle for whatever I could give him, but I don’t want Beau to settle. Ever.
Orson: HOLY SHIT PAYNE’S IN LOVE <3
25
Payne
I want to feel you inside me.
I’ve never needed anything more.
Well, fuck you very much, past Payne. So much for not confusing this thing and leading Beau on.
My ass feels pleasantly raw, ruined pillow on the ground beside the bed, and the smell of Beau’s shampoo fills the room from the shower we took to clean up.
He’s sleeping peacefully beside me, and every time I catch a glimpse of his face in the low light from his window, my heart twists.
He deserves so much better than this.
He deserves someone who can be one hundred percent committed to him and only him.
I want to be that man.
I want to be the one to treat him how he deserves to be treated.
And the only way to do that is to work toward it.
I have no house, a shitty job, and a divorce that’s barely even pending.
I’m a real catch.
I sigh into the darkness, wishing I could snap my fingers and fix shit.
The more time I spend with Beau, the less hold that doubt has though because when I picture settling down with someone, it’s not as overwhelming when he’s the one I picture doing it with.
We could have this. Exactly this. The spending time together and living together and fucking each other’s brains out, because how is what we’re doing any different from being in an actual relationship?
And considering what I’ve been through, I should be wary or holding back. I should be protecting myself better than this. But I trust Beau, and I don’t know what he’s done to earn that, but fuck if I can picture him hurting me.
But if I want to even think about asking him for more and being who he needs me to be, I need to sort my life out. The sale on my Boston apartment has a short close and goes through officially this week, which means I’ll have financial independence again.
First step, finding a place to live.
Second step, a job.
Third step, get this goddamn divorce finalized.
Fourth step, telling Beau I want more.
Careful not to wake him, I pull out my phone and search apartment listings. There are a few around, but the more I look at them, the more it feels like taking a step back to what I had in Boston. Prices are cheaper here, being two hours away from the city, so I could technically go for something a bit bigger.
But bigger to me screams family. It’s something I’ve never thought about beyond a husband because Kyle didn’t want kids, and I didn’t have much preference either way. I have my nieces, who are the world to me, but if I had the option, would I want one of my own?
I delete apartments from my search and check all the places available. Big homes, rooms for rent, condos, and … I pause over the listing for the land we were at yesterday. It doesn’t have a price, but I’d bet it’s a lot. Too much.
Which is a shame because I felt an immediate boost being out there. I’m grateful to Ford for taking a chance on me and giving me a job to get through, but being inside all day isn’t me. Even as a teacher, I took the class outside as much as I could, and I had a big window in my office that overlooked a leafy quad.
I’ve left my resume at the high schools, but they close for the summer soon, and kept on top of job advertisements, but there hasn’t been anything close to what I’m after except a part-time summer camp counselor, and I’m about twenty years too old for that, plus it was an hour and a half away.
I look at the land again. It actually would be a good location for a summer camp. It’s a huge parcel, and the cottage there looked weather-beaten but sturdy. It was also the perfect size between an apartment and a house.
I groan because it doesn’t matter how perfect it could be; I don’t even have to ask to know the price is too far out of my budget, especially when I’m making shit all at work.