Chapter 25

Aro

“I’m going to go talk to my dad for a minute,” Hawke says, his lips in my hair.

He kisses my head, and I look down at Matty and Bianca fast asleep in a spare bedroom as he leaves.

It’s after midnight, and the house is dark. We haven’t seen his parents yet. He took me right upstairs, and there were several doors, but he seemed to know which room they’d be in. It kind of looked like a teenager’s room, but not Hawke’s style. Dark gray walls, lavender curtains, white bedding… Some plants and photography on the walls. A dreamcatcher, and a tidy white desk. The hardwood floors are beige, and there’s a fur rug, which I’m sure is fake.

I step over, my clothes and hair still damp, but Matty lays curled into Bianca, the bed only made for one person, but they’re small, and I’m guessing they didn’t want to be separated. Glasses of water sit on the nightstand with a nearly empty bowl of leftover popcorn kernels.

I want to assure Bianca I’m here, but it’ll wake Matty up too, and they should sleep. Hawke’s parents got him down, and everyone needs rest.

I leave and quietly close the door behind me, passing another room on my way. I look inside the dark space, seeing the bed, the window, and the leaves blowing outside.

Hawke’s room. Seems like so long ago we stood in that tree out there and he warned me not to come in here.

I smile to myself. If only he’d known he was stuck with me from that moment on.

I venture back downstairs, the moon glowing across the gleaming floor, and I listen for voices to tell where Hawke is.

But I don’t hear him.

I move hesitantly around the stairs, peeking into the living room and trying to see out the windows. I inhale the light scent of jasmine and slowly make my way to the kitchen.

The paint is fresh, the floors are new-ish, and the appliances are about as top-of-the-line as I can imagine. The refrigerator is twice the width of an average one.

But I know this house is old. Hawke mentioned things about his uncle growing up here. It’s been in his family for decades.

I trail through the kitchen and out the back door, coming onto the porch. Rain spills over the awning, and I close my eyes, breathing in the thick, cool air. The scent of green grass fills my nostrils, and I stop at the top of the first step, looking around the backyard.

A playset on the right. An outdoor rock fireplace and seating area on the left. No jacuzzi or pool. Just wide open space and plenty of room to do cartwheels.

A light glows off to the left, from the porch on the other side of the fence. Dylan’s house.

But then I notice her, a woman sitting several feet away from me, wrapped in a blanket and bobbing a bare foot that peeks out of her silk pajama pants.

I turn, taking a step back.

“Hi,” she says.

She stares at me, and I glance back at the house. Where’s Hawke?

I look at the woman again, noticing the smile in her eyes and the way she kind of tilts her head. Hawke has his father’s coloring, but he looks like her.

“Juliet Chase,” I say, but it comes out as a mumble.

The author.

But she just smiles. “Juliet Trent at home. And you’re Aro.”

Yeah. I’m not sure if she knows about me from Hawke or from other people, but I really hope it’s from Hawke.

It takes a moment, but I remember my manners. I reach out, offering my hand. “Hi.”

We shake, but I pull away really quickly, because I don’t know why. She’s kind of a big deal in certain circles, but I also just took her son’s virginity in a car, and she’s looking at me like she knows that, but how could she, right?

I don’t know. Parents know things.

“I feel like I should apologize for something,” I ramble, “but there’s been a lot, and I’ve lost track, so I’m really not sure...”

Surprisingly, she breaks into a laugh. “You remind me of someone.”

I remain silent.

“Myself,” she clarifies.

But she doesn’t elaborate. The blanket spills off her shoulders, and I see she’s wearing a delicate top with spaghetti straps underneath, really looking younger than I’m sure she is. Not that she’s old—I have no idea—but she’s beautiful.

I stand there for a minute, not sure what else to say. I mean, I’m sorry about the trouble. Has she seen any videos from the fight tonight?

I look around. “It’s nice here,” I tell her.

I’ve wondered once or twice why a semi-famous author and her brother-in-law next door, who’s a huge name in his industry, remain living on Fall Away Lane. It’s a decent enough neighborhood, but they can afford more space. Bigger houses. Gates, which would probably come in handy with crazy fans.

But I get it now. Family next door, quiet, the tree, sentimental value…it’s pretty perfect.

“I am sorry if I caused a lot of trouble,” I tell her. “I don’t mean to.”

Well…

“Well, not always,” I point out.

Sometimes I mean to.

Mrs. Trent draws in a deep breath and rises, taking the blanket with her. She leans onto the railing, the rain still coming down in streams.

“What I’ve learned about trouble is that it all depends on the outcome,” she tells me. “Trouble is only bad if it doesn’t work out.”

“And if it does?”

“Then it was just fun,” she says. “A story you’ll recap on holidays and laugh about, surrounded by people you love.”

I smile, not sure most parents would admit that. Trouble is bad. Taking chances is bad. But yeah… It’s like war. History remembers the ones who won as right, just like stealing that charm gave me Hawke. Incidentally, anyway.

So, I’m not sorry I broke into their house. At least not yet.

“Thank you for taking them in.” I slip my hands into the pockets of my shorts. “I can take care of them on my own. The situation at the house with my mother was just a little—”

“I know you can.” She stops me. “I know you can do it, Aro. But you don’t have to. I just want to make that clear.”

She turns to me in that way adults do when they want to handle me. I don’t meet her eyes.

“Listen, I don’t know what will happen yet, okay?” she says. “Maybe your mom will come around. Maybe she’ll need help and come to get them in a year. Maybe Jax and I will talk and wonder if we’re too old to keep up with Matty…” She laughs to herself. “It’s been a while for us.”

She sighs and looks back out at the rain.

“Maybe Bianca won’t want to stay so far away from her friends…” she goes on. “There’s a lot to discuss. None of this is permanent or fixed yet, but what I can assure you is that you’re not alone anymore.” And she looks at me again, and I meet her eyes. “We can help you make sure they’re taken care of.”

No one can take care of them like me. No one cares about kids who aren’t theirs.

“But we’ve got them now—for a few days, at least—and you can breathe a little,” she says. “Take some time to think. I can tell you; a few years seems like forever when you’re young, but it goes by so fast. If you do end up taking them, you don’t want to be working two jobs.”

Yeah, she sounds like Hawke.

“They don’t want to see you unhappy.” Her voice softens. “Consider your education and your future. When you got out of college, Matty would still only be ten.”

And a lot can happen in that time. He could get defiant, and they could decide they can’t handle him. Bianca could run away. Their voices will only get louder as they get older. I’m the only one who can keep them on track. Safe.

A voice calls me. “Aro.”

I look over, seeing Hawke in the doorway, and he comes over, seeing it in my eyes. The fatigue. His mother means well, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how easily a kid’s life can be destroyed. Everything I do will be to protect them. I’m the only one I can trust.

He takes my hand and looks to his mom but careful to turn so that she can’t see his new ink. He probably told his dad, though, and will have him break the news to Mrs. Trent. “You got the kids?” he asks her.

She nods, and he pulls me away.

We head through the kitchen, down the hall, and toward the front door, but I immediately pull him to a halt. “No, can we stay?”

I know he wants to go back to the hideout. Be alone together, so his parents don’t hear us, but…

“I want to be here when they wake up in the morning,” I tell him. “It’ll reassure Matty if he sees me.”

He blows out a breath, and I kind of want to smile at how depressed he suddenly looks. “You’re killing me.”

He trusts his parents, so he’s not worried about them taking care of my siblings, but I don’t know them. I’m not leaving.

“All right.” He leads me up the stairs, and I slide my hand up the back of his T-shirt, looking forward to holding him. He’s always so warm.

But he takes me into his room, pulls out a clean T-shirt, and then takes my face, kissing me hard on the lips. “The shower is to your left.” He points toward the door. “And I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight.”

What? He starts to leave, but I grab his hand. “Where are you going?”

“To the couch,” he says. “I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you, and my parents might freak if we’re doing it right under their noses.”

He pulls me in again and presses his lips to mine, holding my face, and breathes me in like he needs me to live. It goes warm down to my toes, and I wrap my arms around him.

But he pulls away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And I watch him go, trying not to smile at how tight his jeans suddenly look.

Two hours later, I’m still awake.

I mean, I want to be here when my brother and sister wake up, but I feel like I should’ve just gone back to Carnival Tower with Hawke.

Not like I’d be asleep yet anyway if I had, so I guess that’s a consolation.

And why do they call it Carnival Tower? He never explained that. And is it really a tower? It has a great vantage point from up on the roof, but I don’t know…

I shake my head, trying to get my head clear, my brain to stop working for a while, but all I keep thinking about is the race, the fight, the tattoo...

The car and the hours out at the lake.

I’d showered and cleaned, but I still feel him. His weight. His mouth. His warmth on my belly. I wish he’d been my first too.

I would’ve gotten the affection I deserved. The consideration, the time, the intensity… I didn’t think it would ever feel like that. Like I had to have him. I would’ve known not to expect any less in my future, and I hope it was the same for him.

I throw off the covers and hop out of bed, opening the drawers to his dresser until I find a pair of green and black plaid boxer shorts. Slipping them on, I roll them over a couple of times and smooth out my hair over the black T-shirt he loaned me. Opening the door, I creep into the hallway.

The grandfather clock down in the entryway chimes, and I check all the doors, making sure they’re closed. I don’t want to run into his parents.

Stepping quietly down the stairs, I find him in the living room, sprawled out on the couch. He wears black pajama pants, no shirt, lying on his back, one foot on the floor and one on the couch. His arm hangs over the side, the other hand over his stomach.

My chest aches, and my body screams. Looking at him so vulnerable right now is like a feast displayed on a dining room table that I can’t wait for.

I climb on top of him, dragging my nose up his stomach to his chest and grabbing his nipple between my teeth.

He gasps and jerks, and I shoot up, pressing my forehead to his. “I missed you.”

His breathing hitches, but his eyes come into focus, and he sees me, taking my face in his hands.

I press my mouth to his, grinding my groin into him and feeling the hard ridge of his cock already.

“Are you hurting?” I ask, grazing my fingers over the cut on his cheek.

“No.” He grabs my ass and thrusts up into me, but my knee brushes against something between him and the couch, and I look over, pulling out an iPad.

The screen illuminates. “What’s this?” I ask.

He grabs for it. “Nothing…”

But I rear back, curious now. I swipe the screen, and a video is paused but the image is clear. What the hell?

I press Play, a man yanks a woman’s hips back into him as he slides into her from behind. Moans pour out as she grips the edge of the kitchen table, her ass slamming back into him faster and harder.

“Are you serious?” I gape at him. “Weren’t you satisfied?”

We did it three times in the car, and he comes home to immediately jerk off to porn?

“No,” he blurts out, grabbing the iPad and clearing away the video.

No?

“I mean, yes,” he replies. “It’s not that. I was…researching.”

“Researching?”

He sits up, and I sit back, but he won’t meet my eyes for a second.

He shifts underneath me, like he’s looking for his words. Finally, he asks, “Have you ever…done it like that?”

Doggie-style? I shake my head.

He drops his eyes again, and I kind of want to smile at the way he chews his lip to cover up how nervous he is. He’s got to be six-one with a chest for days. A god, and he acts so shy.

“Would you like to?” he asks me in a soft voice.

Tingles spread up my spine. I’d love nothing more right now than to be back at the tower, the two of us in his bed, practicing…

But…

“What?” he asks when I don’t reply.

I know he’s going to be mad if I say it, but it needs to be said.

“I just feel like maybe you’d want to save some experiences,” I tell him.

Maybe now that he’s over the hump, things will be easier for him.

He plops back on his hands, staring at me and the softness is gone.

“I’m just being practical,” I say, keeping calm. “You’re not going to fall in love with a high school dropout. I can’t pay for anything. Eventually, you’ll meet someone else. Maybe save some of these adventures for her—”

“I’d rather know what I’m doing when I meet her.”

I go still, not expecting him to say that. So, he already knows he won’t fall in love with someone like me. He really is just practicing. Fan-tastic.

He pushes me back, and comes down over me as I lie on the couch. “I want to be good at this.”

“You will,” I whisper. “You’ve got a nice dick. She’ll love it.”

He smiles, but it looks bitter. “I should have found you ages ago. Guess they were right about Weston girls.”

“And what do they say about us?”

He slips a hand under my shirt, kneading my breast. “Not for forever, but certainly for fun.”

Prick. But I laugh it off. “Not as bad as what they say about Falls boys. ‘Can pay the bills but can’t make you come.’”

He edges back, pulls me up and twists me around, pressing me into the back of the couch from behind. My knees dig into the cushions.

He covers my back and breathes in my ear as he slides a hand inside the front of my panties, caressing me. “Did you come with me?” he breathes the words across my skin.

His fingers brush my clit, and my eyelids flutter. He covers my pussy with his hand, holding on, and I just want to grind into it.

“There’s no reason to lie.” He kisses my ear. “Did you come?”

I nod.

“Was it good?”

I nod again.

He takes his hand out, sticks his middle finger into his mouth, wetting it, and then slips it back between my legs. He toys at my entrance, and I hold his hand, keeping it there.

“You want more?” he asks.

I widen my knees a little. “Hawke…”

I pull off my shirt, bringing his other hand to my breast and turning my head to hover my mouth over his.

“Baby…” he breathes.

“Are you hard for me?” I roll my ass into him, feeling it.

“Yeah…”

“Am I fun?” I taunt.

“Mmmm…”

I whip around, plant a hand on the side of his neck, and shove him down to the couch, coming down and straddling him. I sit up, his eyes on my tits. “Then I hope you can’t stop getting hard in your jeans,” I tell him. “When you take your little, pink blonde to the movies, but can’t stop thinking about how much fun I was in the hot back seat of your car.” I roll my hips on him. “You’ll never fuck anyone else like me.”

He reaches up, grabs the back of my neck, and pulls me into his mouth, both of us lost in the kiss. My nipples rub over his chest, and everything is perfect. The way my body molds to his. The way I only have to lower my chin for my mouth to reach his. The way he feels so good to hold.

I pissed him off, so he pushed back, and I don’t care if I’m right and he’ll eventually realize that there are others better suited for him…or if I realize he’s right and we should just let it be and see where this goes. I have to have him.

I rock my hips faster, moaning as he chews up my lips, and I’m about to rip off the rest of my clothes when the stairwell light brightens the entryway.

I pop my head up.

“Fuck,” he whisper-yells.

He bulges between my legs, and I leap off of him, scrambling for my shirt. I pull it on, grab the iPad, and jump onto the sofa, curling up like I’m watching something.

He sits up and holds his head in his hands, breathing hard.

Footfalls hit the stairs.

“Hawke,” I grit out through my teeth.

He adjusts himself, grunting like he’s in pain, and grabs the blanket over the back of the sofa, covering his erection.

His father rounds the banister, sees us, and stops. He stands there in a gray T-shirt and jeans. His messy hair sticks up everywhere.

“Hawke,” he says, nodding.

“Morning, Dad,” Hawke says, barely opening his mouth.

Then his eyes flash to mine, and I smile tightly, but he hoods his eyes, looking amused as he walks away.

Because parents aren’t stupid, and he’s making sure I know that.

Another door slams shut upstairs, and I hear footsteps as the grandfather clock chimes six times.

I look out the window, seeing it’s still dark but with hints of blue now instead of black. The sun is coming up.

I look over at him, not sure if he’s okay or not. Is he mad? It wasn’t really a fight, but I don’t seem to be very good at reading him. I set the iPad down, about to rise, but he leaves the couch first, heading up the stairs.

No backward glance. No smile. No kiss.

He’s mad.

I was just being honest. He gets so pissy. It’s not self-deprecating to be realistic. Straight up, he’s out of my league, and sooner or later, he’s going to realize it.

I don’t have much time to seethe, because small feet appear on the stairs, and I see Matty holding the railing with both hands as he takes each step one at a time.

“Aro!” he squeals.

His smile supersedes everything else. I run over to him and wrap my arms around him, lifting him up. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh-huh!” He grins wide, his straight rows of perfectly white baby teeth flashing for me. “They have a jungle gym. We played on it last night. And the lady read me a story like you do sometimes.”

On the rare occasion when my night is free and my mom or stepdad aren’t home anyway.

“Where’s Mommy?” he asks.

Good fucking question, dude.

But then Mr. Trent shouts, “Who wants pancakes?” and Matty’s attention is gone as he squirms out of my arms.

Bianca trails down the stairs, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, and she looks at me. She opens her mouth to speak, but Matty pulls her toward the kitchen.

I follow, the two of them pulling out chairs. I tuck my hair behind my ear, heading to the counter. “I can do it,” I tell Hawke’s dad.

“I know.” But he doesn’t look up or stop mixing batter, and I breathe out a laugh. His wife and him are soulmates—definitely.

Juliet strolls in, and I can’t help but gape at the floor-length, black velvet robe with gold dragons embroidered on it. She looks regal, like she should be floating across the high balcony of a mansion or haunting a castle somewhere. I love a woman who just doesn’t give a shit.

“I set a selection of clothes on the bed,” she tells me. “Just in case you need them, but of course, you don’t have to wear any of it.”

“Thanks.”

Jax pulls out plates and utensils, and I quickly take them before he can stop me, placing everything on the table and pouring the juice.

“Is everything okay?” Bianca asks me, keeping her voice low.

“I think so.”

We need to talk, but not now and not in front of Matty.

But she looks away, and I see the worry.

“Hey.” I catch her eyes again. “You’re either staying here or I’m taking you home, and if we go home, I’m not leaving. We’ll figure it out.”

It sucks, I know. Being bounced around, losing what’s familiar… Even if your home life is hard, at least it’s the devil you know. It feels like everything is dark when you don’t feel secure in your surroundings, or know where you belong. When everything is in limbo. She’s never been in foster care. I know that feeling well.

“Just think of this as research,” I say, taking a seat next to my brother.

“And what am I researching?”

“Is there a Falls boy cuter than your boyfriend?” I tease. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

She rolls her eyes, but her shoulders relax a little, and I spot a smile peeking out. Hawke’s dad chuckles behind me, and Juliet places a mug in front of me. “Coffee?”

“Thanks.” I grab it.

The kids eat, but I keep checking the hallway, waiting for Hawke. Maybe he’s showering.

My insides twist a little. I don’t regret what I said, but him unhappy doesn’t make me happy. I can’t leave Matty and Bianca, but I kind of miss the hideout now.

“We’re going to the water park today,” Jax announces. “If you and Hawke want to be here around six, we’ll order some pizza tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Or you can come,” he says. “You’re invited, but I have a feeling my son has things to do, so I wasn’t sure what your plans were.”

At that moment, Hawke enters the kitchen in joggers, still no shirt, and AirPods in his ears. He carries his phone.

“Hey,” his dad says.

Hawke fills a glass with water and gulps down the entire thing. I sit there, waiting for him to say something.

But he just tells his parents, “I’m going for a run.”

What? I jerk my head, watching him walk back down the hallway and then open and close the front door.

“Uh-oh,” his mom mumbles.

“What happened?” his dad asks.

I look at both of them.

His mom shakes her head, starting to clear plates. “No idea.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Why do they think he’s upset?

“Hawke hates jogging,” he explains. “He only does it when he needs air.”

Great.

An hour later, everyone is gone and Hawke still isn’t back. I empty the dishwasher, and then I sift through the clothes Juliet set out, pretty sure I’ll just put Dylan’s clothes back on from yesterday, but…

There are a few cute things, actually. I pull on some black jeans with rips in them, and slide my arms into a black and gray flannel that’s not really a flannel. The fabric is light, and I button it all the way up to the neck. It’s tight and rides up on my stomach, just a little. I want him to look, but I don’t want it to look like I’m trying to get him to look.

I sift through his drawers, hesitating only a second before invading his privacy. If he had anything to hide, he wouldn’t have put me in here. I find a drawer with hats and gloves and pull out a black beanie. I cover my head, my hair falling down my back.

“Hey!” I hear someone call.

I look around, catching flailing out of the corner of my eye. Dylan stands in her open French doors on the other side of the tree.

Walking over, I lift the window and lean down. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, and I see people behind her.

“Sorry about last night,” I say.

But she waves me off. “I didn’t die.”

I laugh to myself, but then I see the faces of the people in her room, one of them Hawke’s ex. She looks over her shoulder, listening to Dylan as Coco, Megan, and another girl I don’t recognize try on clothes and blast music.

I try not to wish that Hawke would walk in right now. It’s shallow and petty to want her to see me in his room with him.

Before they’re off to college together anyway.

“So, are you staying?” Dylan calls out.

“I’m not sure.”

The girls laugh, and Dylan winces a little, looking guilty. “I would’ve invited you, but it was a spontaneous slumber party, and I had a feeling Hawke wanted to have a discussion after the tattoo shop last night.”

“You could tell that, huh?”

She gives me a loaded look. “So, did you have a discussion?” she prods. “But not like a discussion. I mean a ‘DISCUSSION’.”

And she does air quotes. I roll my eyes, like I’m going to discuss anything with her. Or with anyone. “Shut up,” I grumble.

But then she stands up straight, her face falling as she looks behind me, and the next thing I know, someone is pulling me back from the window and slowly closing it again. I look over my shoulder, seeing Hawke with a towel around his waist as his bare chest covers my back. He reaches up, pulling the cord for the drape to descend, and I look out the window one last time, seeing Schuyler behind Dylan, watching us disappear behind the curtain.

When did he come in?

“I don’t want anyone else touching you while we’re messing around,” he says behind me. “You understand?”

I pause.

What is he doing? I said the same thing to him, and he agreed quickly, but it feels colder, him asking me.

Not to mention, he said he already knew I wouldn’t mess with anyone else.

“Get on the bed,” he murmurs.

My stomach drops a little, and my pulse quickens, but I hesitate. I like the words. I don’t like how he’s saying them.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he taunts, touching my hair. “Some fun. Some practice.”

I wanted a friend with benefits. He’s not acting like a friend. He’s behaving like an asshole.

“Maybe you’re right.” He sighs. “Maybe none of this is real. Maybe I should find out if I can finally screw Schuyler now. Should I find out?”

I don’t give a shit.

“Pump her in the back seat of my car tonight?”

My hands shake, the images coming unbidden. He could have anyone he wanted. And he’s good. For a recently deflowered virgin anyway.

“Maybe my naughty little Rebel cured me,” he coos in my ear. “Good girl. You were useful.”

Fuck off. I spin around, locking my jaw so hard my teeth ache, but in one swift movement, he wraps his arms around my thighs and lifts me high.

He comes in hard on my lips, moving over my mouth like he’s starving, and my body floods with heat. God. I slip my tongue in, and his growl travels down my throat as we nibble and hold each other tight.

We fall onto his bed, me straddling him, and I’m whipping off my hat and quickly unbuttoning the shirt.

“Don’t touch her,” I say, looking down at him.

He pulls the shirt down my arms and then sits up, unfastening my bra. “I don’t want to touch her.” He breathes hard over my lips. “Only you’re allowed to touch me. I want to do it all with you.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, and we fall back down, my jeans and underwear getting pushed down my legs and his towel is gone.

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom, and I don’t ask at what point he slipped those in there, but I’m hoping he has them in his car and in the hideout now too. Or will anyway.

I shift off a little, and he rolls it on, stroking his dick. I grab it from him, fitting him inside me, and he scoots up, leaning back against his headboard and gripping my hips as I start to slide him all the way inside me.

“Aro…” he groans.

I can’t go slow. Not right now. I rock into him, moving him in and out, faster and faster. My hips roll back and forth, and he comes up, sucking on my breasts. A moan escapes, and I let it, not trying to be quiet for anyone.

“Fuck…” I whimper, the head of his cock hitting deep inside. “It’s so hard, baby.”

“Fuck me, girl,” he growls. “Goddamn.”

I lean forward, holding the headboard behind him, and bounce, the wooden frame banging into the wall. My orgasm builds, and I start rolling again, chasing it as he pulls my ass in again and again.

“Hawke…” I moan. “I’m coming.”

I grind so fucking hard, getting him deeper and deeper, until the orgasm explodes. Sparks spread through my belly and down between my thighs, and I ride it out, crying out over and over. “Oh, God…” I jerk into his body, and then slam my mouth down on his, thrusting my hips and not slowing for him.

“Aro,” he whispers, grunting. “God, don’t fucking stop.”

And I can tell he’s close.

He digs his fingers into my ass, and his stomach flexes. His eyes squeeze shut, he freezes, and I climb off him, yanking off the condom.

“Aro!” he shouts.

But I bring my mouth down on him, sucking him down my throat and bobbing up and down.

“Oh my God…” He grips the back of my hair, thrusting up, pumping my mouth one, two, three, and… “Fuck!”

He spills into my mouth, and I hesitate a second, but then… I swallow it, and I keep going, sucking and finishing him off.

His chest rises and falls hard, but his hips slow and his grip in my hair relaxes as his orgasm subsides.

“Jesus…” he whispers.

I look up at him, loving the way every muscle is defined and how tense and good he came. I keep my eyes on him and lick his cock, playing and loving how he feels on my tongue.

I’d never done that before, and I never wanted to. I just wanted it all in this moment. I still do.

I come up and curl into his arms, draping my leg over his body.

“Friends do that, right?” I ask.

He shakes with a laugh, but he’s too spent to tease back.

I kiss his jaw, and we stay like that for another hour before I drag him back into the shower. Again.