28. Taylor

Taylor

I t's our final day at the cabin, and Logan left for the day with Salem.

They borrowed my truck because Logan had some surprise or something for her, which means I'm stuck here alone. With Huckslee. On Valentine's Day. Until they return later tonight.

He's currently downstairs on the couch, doing homework or whatever, while I'm up here on the floor in the loft staring at the ceiling. Trying to get my feelings in order, wishing I could go down there and climb on his lap again, but that's a big ol' negative because he's been in a piss poor mood all morning. All weekend, really, despite the few smiles I've dragged out of him like the sun playing peek-a-boo during a storm.

Fuck, he's such a grump.

Probably needs to get laid.

Yeah, well, he can get in line because I'm the only one who's touched my dick in like two months. Not really a record, seeing as how I spent six months in jail at one point, but it's been many a year since I've gone this long without at least a blowjob, and it's making me cranky as fuck.

Not for lack of trying. Really, every time Christian brings a chick back from the Prospector, he tries to share, but I'm just not into it. Seems my shit only stands at attention lately when it involves the sulky fucker downstairs who hates me, so that's just great.

Hasn't even touched me, and he owns this dick.

How unfair is that?

Thumping comes from the stairs, and I lift onto my elbows in time to see Huckslee pause on the top step, frowning.

"Why are you on the floor?"

He's wearing a Calvin Klein sweater, sleeves rolled up to showcase his veiny forearms and jeans that hug his thighs. His curls are still damp from a shower.

"Uh." Swallowing, I follow the way his gaze tracks down my torso, taking in my exposed belly button. "Just thinkin'."

With my dick .

"Okay," he says slowly, eyeing me curiously. "Well, do you want to take a break from that and go for a hike, maybe? I'm feeling cooped up."

Hope spikes in my chest, and I sit up quickly. "Do we have snow shoes?"

He wants to hike with me? Like, actually spend time with me?

"Let's find out."

Ten minutes later, after searching the closet top to bottom, it's clear that we do not, in fact, have snow shoes. Trying to hide my disappointment, I stand at the wall of windows, watching the snow lightly fall. Wherever Logan and Salem went, I hope they're okay. I'm sure they are—Logan knows these woods inside out. But still. Worry niggles at the back of my mind. It's not snowing hard, but it could pick up later.

"What now?" Huck asks, standing next to me, and an idea pops into my head.

"Wanna build a snowman?" Turning to him with a grin, I waggle my brows. "Doesn't have to be a snowman."

He blinks at me for several seconds, a gesture I'm beginning to understand means he's confused or caught off guard.

"You're quoting Frozen now? Are you five?"

With a snort, I turn toward the closet to grab my snowsuit off the hook. "If only you knew how often I had to watch that movie with Hannah. I can quote the whole thing in my sleep, I shit you not."

"Who's Hannah?"

He follows me in, leaning against the doorway as I pull the suit over my clothes. "Matty's three-year-old daughter."

"Oh." A pause. "I didn't know he had a daughter."

"Yeah. He kinda messed up one night, got drunk, and fucked Valerie after he'd finally gotten rid of her. Well, I guess not ‘messed up' because Hannah is the sweetest, coolest kid ever, but it sucks he has to share her with Val." I start buttoning up the suit. "She's not what you call motherly material, constantly on and off drugs, in and out of rehab. Sometimes even goes missing for a while. Matty has full custody, and Xed has pretty much helped raise Hannah for the last three years."

I'm about to pull on my boots when Huckslee holds up a hand to stop me.

"I'm not building a snowman with you, Taylor. "

My shoulders slump as I deflate, and I push out my bottom lip while I peek at him from under my lashes.

Aw .

He blinks at me again, a myriad of emotions crossing his face before he mutters a curse and grabs his snowsuit.

Yay !

It's freezing outside, but not as bad as yesterday, and I pull on my leather gloves before gathering a pile of snow. It's fresh due to the current snowfall and doesn't stick together at all. Huckslee stands on the porch, watching me struggle for several minutes with his lips twitching before he takes mercy on me and comes to help.

Eventually, we erect the saddest looking snowman you'll ever see. Seriously, it looks half-melted already, and one of the rocks I used for eyes kind of droops. We stare at it for half a second before the fucker's head just lolls to the side and falls clean off with a plop .

Huckslee bursts out laughing, startling me enough that I jump, and he doubles over while holding his midsection in the most full-bodied guffaw I've ever heard. It's beautiful.

"Your...fucking face," he says in between breaths, eyes actually watering while his cheeks puff up from grinning. "God, that was the...funniest shit."

I'm also chuckling, bending to scoop up a handful of snow that I toss at him. "Don't be a dick. I worked hard on that thing."

"Seriously, don't you know making a snowman with fresh snow is impossible? You have to wait until it hardens."

"No, actually." I grin crookedly, gazing down at the severed snowman head. "First one I've ever tried. "

"What?!" His lips part as he studies me. "You've lived in Utah your whole life, and you've never built a snowman?"

Coughing nervously, I lick my lips and tug my beanie down over my ears. "Yeah, weird, huh? Just never thought about it until now."

Let's be honest, my childhood was shit. And building snowmen when you're a teenager sounds lame as fuck, but now I kind of want to do stuff with Huck that I've never done before. Like building snowmen and going ice fishing, apparently.

"Well, now I feel bad." He squints with pursed lips at the monstrosity we made, and it's so fucking cute that an overwhelming urge to press against those lips with my own hits me like a steamroller. His gaze swings to mine as he goes still, eyes darkening from whatever he sees on my features. We're standing so close that I can see the flakes of snow gathering on his lashes, but it's still too far. I want to feel his breath on my skin, feel its warmth soak into my bones.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm leaning in closer, gaze bouncing between his eyes and mouth as his nostrils flare. His chest hitches, gloved fingers clenching at his sides, and a small gasp leaves his lips when I get close enough for our noses to touch. I mean to capture it, to open my mouth against his and taste what I've been craving since he ordered me out of the shower four years ago. Before we can connect, though, he jerks back so hard that he nearly slips on the ice.

On reflex, my hand shoots out to steady him, but he smacks it away. His cheeks are red, pupils dilated. Not in desire, no…

In anger. Wrath.

Pure, unadulterated rage .

Shit . I fucked up.

"Huckslee, wait!" I shout as he spins around and runs toward the cabin. It's more of a fast shuffle, really, because of the ice, but I can see the tension in his back even through the snowsuit, chords taut in his neck. He gets inside before I do, and when I enter the cabin, I find him in the kitchen with his hands in his hair and shoulders heaving.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry–"

He whirls around, cutting me off with the wild look in his eyes. "What the fuck, Taylor? What was that?"

I raise my hands up, palms out, as I take a cautious step toward him. "It-it was an accident, okay? I just got caught up in the moment. I won't do it again."

I'll try. Lord, I'll try because how he's looking at me right now makes me terrified that I've chased him away again.

"What makes you think that you have the right to touch me?" His voice rises steadily, basically shouting. "What makes you think you can kiss me, Taylor? After everything?"

I flinch hard enough to clack my teeth together, and the blood rushes to my ears. "I know. I know, Huck, I'm sorry. Please. It was a mistake."

Please don't pull away from me again .

He's across the kitchen in two strides, in my face, with his lips curled back. "What do you want from me, huh? Why the fuck won't you leave me alone?!"

I could point out that he was the one who invited me outside, but I don't. Instead, I stand there while he screams at me, my heart squeezing like it's in a vice, memories from my worst nightmares flashing in my vision. Everything but Huck's furious voice fades around me, and I shut my eyes to try and block out the visions that want to pull me under. Ones that I've spent years in therapy trying to cope with.

My father's fists on my body.

Broken bones.

Blood, blood everywhere, soaking into the bathroom tile.

"Don't you fucking leave me here alone, Huck! Don't you fucking dare."

Breathe. Please, baby, breathe.

Don't bleed out, don't bleed out, don't bleed out .

"Answer me!" Hands wrap around my throat, slamming me into the kitchen counter, and my eyes fly open to meet Huckslee's, black with venom. "What. Do. You. Want. Taylor?"

He's not cutting off my air, but nothing comes out when I open my mouth. I'm frozen in place while pain shoots down my arm like it did the night I snapped my collarbone trying to save him.

I'm sorry . I'm sorry .

"What is it, huh?" Huck presses into me, grinding our hips together, and with a shock, I realize that he's hard as steel. "You wanna be my sissy bottom bitch, is that it?"

Will that make you forgive me?

His lips find my jaw, licking and nipping his way up to my ear as my cock starts to swell from the pressure he's placing on it. "You want me to own you, Taylor? Take away your choices while I fucking use you? Like you did to me?"

Will that make you love me?

His teeth sink into the sensitive skin beneath my lobe, causing a moan to escape my lips.

"Take off the snowsuit," he barks harshly, backing up .

In a daze, I comply, reaching up to tug at the buttons. When I take too long due to shaking fingers, he hisses and practically rips at the suit until it puddles at my feet. Kicking it aside, I peer up at him from under my lashes, awaiting instruction. Because I'm not the one in control right now.

He takes me in, gaze tracking down my body until it lands on the bulge in my jeans. "Kneel."

"W-what," I stammer, and he growls angrily.

"You want my forgiveness?" His eyes are two black holes, utterly void of light. "Beg for it on your fucking knees, Taylor."

My bones crack as I hit the ground. A sweat breaks out on my palms, anticipation mixed with fear zipping through my spine. Huck stands above me, arms crossed over his chest as his lips curl back.

"Shirt off."

The command sends my fingers to the hem of my t-shirt, but I hesitate, pulse pounding in my ears. His brow quirks, curls falling over his forehead, and I don't think I've ever seen Huckslee look more dangerous.

There's a warning in his voice that sends goosebumps over my skin. "Don't make me ask again."

Fuck, my cock has never been harder.

The shirt goes flying as I fight the urge to cross my arms. Not because I'm self-conscious about my body; I think I'm fucking sexy as hell. But I don't think I'm ready for him to see the outline I have tattooed on me, right over my heart.

His gaze slides down my chest, pausing at my nipples which have hardened against the cold, before continuing over my abs and down to my dick that's pressing against my zipper. Desire sparks in his eyes. He doesn't seem to notice the tattoo, and I can't tell if relief or disappointment makes me dizzy.

"Are you ready to beg?" Reaching down, he unsnaps the few buttons over the crotch of his snowsuit before undoing his pants. Moving closer, he stands inches from my face, yanking my head back by my hair. "Open those pretty lips for me."

Heat floods my body, burning me up from the inside as my mouth falls open, fingers clenching on my thighs. He slowly pulls out his hard cock, and I can't help the whimper that leaves my throat when I see it.

God, it's exactly like I remember. Long and thick, with a vein running up the shaft, a bead of precum already pooling in the slit. Stroking it slowly, he watches me, my mouth open and ready.

"Fuck, Taylor," he breathes, voice deep and husky, eyes shuttering. "I like the sight of you like this. Kneeling and waiting for my cock."

Pulling me forward, he touches his tip to my lips, swirling it around until my tongue darts out to flick it. He hisses, salty pleasure exploding on my taste buds, the pressure in my jeans beyond excruciating. One hand flies to my belt while the other reaches up to wrap around his length, but Huck is having none of that.

"Oh, I don't think so." Grabbing both my arms, he wrenches them above my head, pinning them against the counter with one hand. "You don't get to touch me with anything other than your mouth, and you don't get to touch yourself. If you need to tap out, flip me the middle finger."

Goddamn, he's turned me into a mess because a whine actually comes out of me, my hips bucking, the friction of my pants not enough. He smiles, dark and cruel, before shoving his cock between my lips without warning. It fills my mouth, my jaw widening painfully to accommodate his size, and when he hits the back of my throat, I gag.

" Fuuuck ." He groans as he keeps my face pressed against the rough material of his snowsuit, and I tug at my wrists, struggling to breathe. Another gag works its way out of me, saliva pooling at the corners of my mouth, my dick weeping.

Shit, how do women do this?

It's not uncomfortable, at least not the feeling of him on my tongue, but he's so far down my throat that I can't even inhale through my nose. Dark spots fill my vision, his hand at the back of my head keeping me in place. Just when I think he's going to let me pass out, he pulls back suddenly, a string of spit connecting my mouth to his cock as I suck in a wet gasp.

Growling in pleasure, Huck barely gives me a second to breathe before he pushes back in so deep and hard that tears spill onto my cheeks. He doesn't hold me there for long, sliding out only to slam back in again and again, making me wince. His hand leaves the back of my head to grip the counter, pulverizing my tonsils as he fucks my face with savage force.

It's vicious and brutal, the slick sounds of my mouth and our panting breaths filling the cabin. My shoulder screams from the angle he has it twisted in, his grip on my wrists so tight that my bones begin to protest. The skin on my lips feels raw from how it rubs against the snowsuit repeatedly. And I fucking love it.

I'm so turned on right now that I'm nearly spilling in my jeans at the small noises coming out of Huck. He's gone completely feral, his self-control torn asunder, the real man beneath the mask coming out to play. It's a version of him that's only for me, and no matter how messed up this situation is right now, I crave it. Even if my collarbone threatens to break again, like my heart.

"Is this what you wanted, Taylor?" He grits out, voice like gravel. "To be violated while someone takes away your choice to breathe?"

His cock slides to the back of my tongue as he goes still, a moan that I've obsessed over for years leaving his mouth. Hot cum pours down my throat. "Now you know what it's like to drown."

I groan around him, sticky wetness splashing against my leg as my own dick spills its release, the taste of Huck filling my mouth, leaking out of my lips as he milks every last drop from his cock.

"Swallow," he snaps, and I drink him down, the texture foreign but not unpleasant.

When he's completely drained, he pulls out and lets me go, stepping back as I collapse onto the ground. My arms have gone numb, not strong enough to catch my fall when I crumple into a ball. The fireplace has long grown cold, and I'm shaking, shivering so fucking hard that I can see my breath as my teeth chatter. There's a dampness running down my chin, on my chest, and a wet spot on my crotch from my own cum.

"Look at you," Huckslee muses, that cruel smile on his lips, "a fucking mess. Now you know what I felt like that night at prom, lying on the bathroom floor, broken and alone."

I already knew I want to say, but my throat is so damn raw; each breath is like a shard of glass.

Like the shard of glass I pulled out of his arm that night, putting pressure on the wound as I begged him not to bleed out.

After tucking himself away, he grabs his bag off the floor and swipes Logan's keys from where they hang near the door. Yanking it open, he pauses in the doorway, his head turned as if he wants to look back but can't bring himself to do it.

Wait, don't leave me here.

My stomach churns with nausea, threatening to make me puke. Just like when I made him vomit that night, pushing my fingers down his throat to get the pills to come back up.

Huck's shoulders lift with a deep breath, and then he steps out onto the porch without a backward glance. The door snicks softly shut, leaving me curled up on the floor, half-naked and freezing. Heart bleeding.

Broken and alone.