Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Morgan

Dad has been basically ignoring me. He’s like a child most of the time, getting angry when everything doesn’t go his way or people don’t do what he wants. He’s still pissed about our argument and me leaving to stay with Dusty last night, so I’ve spent the day helping cook and get pills for someone who will hardly say a word to me. Fun times.

I wonder what Mom ever saw in him, how she could have loved him, but then, he was different with her. He was affectionate, and as long as she didn’t complain that he tried to be king of the world, he would have given her anything.

It’s close to eleven, and I haven’t tried to get any sleep yet. I’m sitting in my old room that holds so many damn memories, it’s hard not to feel like I’m suffocating in here. Down the hallway is Ella’s room, which looks exactly the way it did when she died, just like Mom’s does. Is that normal? Is that what people do?

It feels like everything is unraveling, though. I’ve been an architect designing the perfect walls around myself, then learned how to build them, and now I’ve kissed Dusty and broken up with Rob. Everything is crumbling around me, and I’m not doing anything to stop it. The sledgehammer is in my own hand.

My phone buzzes from the nightstand. I pick it up to see Dusty’s name on the screen.

Your light is on, so I’m assuming you’re awake. Let me in.

I push out of my bed like an eager teenager and head straight for the door. We used to do this when we were younger. Dusty would sneak out and come to my house late at night, but it was always when I called him. I couldn’t leave because of the twins.

The second I get downstairs and pull the door open, he’s there, arms loose at his sides, brows furrowed, eyes holding secrets I don’t know how to uncover.

Before I can register what’s happening, he’s on me—hands holding my face, mouth pressing against mine. It only takes about two seconds for my brain and body to catch up, and then my lips are softening against his, arms around him, hand threading through his soft hair, tugging his hard body closer.

I still don’t know what we’re doing. How I was so good for so long and now I’m ruining it all, but I don’t have it in me to stop.

Dusty pushes the door closed with a foot, hands shoving up and under my T-shirt, lips trailing down my throat. “I want you. I’m tired of waiting. Tired of trying to do the right thing. I want you, Morgan, and unless you tell me no, I damn sure plan to have you.”

“Yes. Fuck yes,” falls from my lips. There’s not a chance I’m telling him no.

I take his hand and pull him toward the stairs, blood already rushing toward my groin. My body tingles, pinpricks of awareness spreading beneath my skin and frying all contact with my brain. I’m not going to overthink this. I just want to feel, want to feel something good, and nothing has ever made me feel as good as Dusty.

I close the bedroom door, and then we’re kissing again. I’m only wearing underwear and a T-shirt, and Dusty is way too dressed for what I want from him.

I tug his shirt over his head, realize that his hair is drying from a shower.

As soon as I have his shirt off, he’s removing mine. They meet each other on the floor before he grabs my face, holds it so I’m looking at him. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this, that I couldn’t, but goddamn you, Morgan. You’ve been under my skin my whole damn life. I’m tired of not knowing what you feel like…what you taste like.”

He drops to his knees right there in the middle of my childhood bedroom. The place we used to play G.I. Joes, sit up all night talking, laughing, and where I locked myself after we lost Ella. I wouldn’t let anyone in except Dusty, so afraid to tell him, to tell anyone that it was my fault.

He rubs his cheek against my cotton-covered bulge, burrows his nose in and inhales deeply. “I want to worship you. Want to know what every inch of you tastes like…smells like. Want to touch you and lick you everywhere until you’re coming apart beneath me. Then I’ll start over again.”

My knees nearly give out, pulse racing, dick throbbing. I want that, Christ, I want it so fucking much. I’ve had a lot of sex in my life, really good sex, but I don’t know that I’ve ever had what Dusty is describing. I’ve never felt worshipped the way he says he wants to do to me.

“Fuck yes.” My hand lowers to the back of his head, pushing so his face is pressed even harder against my erection. He mouths at the fabric, the simple action sending electric currents shooting through my body. Dusty sucks the head of my cock through my boxer briefs, hands running up and down my thighs.

“You smell good—like soap and amber. I swear the second one is embedded into your skin, but I like that I get the soft hint of sweat here too, of sex. You fucking want it, don’t you, Morgan?”

“Shit…yes…” I say breathlessly.

Dusty hooks his fingers in the band of my underwear and eases back just enough to tug them down.

My dick springs free, but Dusty doesn’t touch it, just keeps sliding my boxer briefs down until they hit the floor and I step out of them.

His lips brush against my left knee, and I groan. It’s a fucking knee, so I don’t know why it feels like he’s dishing out the world’s greatest pleasure, but it does.

Dusty rubs his stubbled cheek against it, alternating between the friction of his facial hair and the softness of his lips—the left knee, then the right, then the left again.

“Fuck, Dust. Why does that feel so good?”

I can’t take my eyes off him, off the sandy hair that’s just slightly curly, off my best friend who is on his knees for me.

“Doesn’t anyone just touch you? Don’t they just let you feel? Try to make you go out of your mind with need? Whoever’s been fucking you, Morgan, they haven’t been doing it nearly as thoroughly as I will. I promise you that.”

Damned if I don’t want that more than anything.

He keeps teasing me—kissing, touching, rubbing his face along my knees, my thighs, slowly working his way up. His fingertips dance along the backs of my legs, up and down, as his warm breath skates over my flesh. When he gets to my groin, I think he’s going to suck my dick into his mouth, my lungs exhaling in anticipation, but Dusty skips over it and goes to my stomach—kissing, licking, rubbing his face over my skin.

“Goddamn you,” I grit out, hand fisting in his hair.

“Something you want?”

“You know I do.”

“But I’m not done worshipping you yet.”

I hear the smile in his voice, which makes me do the same. “Worship my cock.”

He chuckles, another warm puff of air tickling my skin before he licks and sucks my stomach into his mouth.

“Jesus.” I reach down, grabbing my dick and stroking it.

“No.” He pushes my hand away. “That’s mine tonight. Let me play, Morg. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I’m going to make it last.”

How can I argue with that? Even if I might die waiting, I want to experience exactly what Dusty is offering.

He blows along my cock, making the hairs on my thighs rise. This time when he presses his face into my groin, there’s nothing between us. Still, he doesn’t kiss my dick. Doesn’t lick it or suck it, just runs his nose from my balls to the tip. My muscles tighten in response, cock twitching. “Please…” I’m not sure I’ve ever begged for sex in my life, but I’ll do it for Dusty. I’ll plead for him to give me what I want.

“Look at these big, full balls.” He cups them in his palm. “You’re all full of cum for me. You want to give me your load, don’t you?”

“Fuck, you’re killing me.” My voice comes out wobbly, my muscles feeling like they don’t work, like I can’t hold myself up for much longer.

“Lie on the bed,” Dusty tells me, and there’s not a part of me that wants to deny him, that wants to try and take control back in this situation. I’m not typically submissive in bed. I’m vers, and I like to take the lead—whether topping or bottoming—but with Dusty, I just want to lie back and let him do whatever he wants to me. Want to do as he says so he’ll give me the pleasure I crave.

I relax against the mattress. Dusty watches me, and I him, while he takes off his clothes—first shoes, then socks, pants, and underwear. My breath actually catches. He’s so damn sexy—furry chest, defined abs, hairy thighs, with what looks like the most delicious cock I’ve ever seen, thick, with heavy, full balls.

Dusty settles between my legs, then starts at one ankle, kissing his way up.

“You taste good here,” he says against my shin. “And here,” on the side of my knee.

I’m shaking beneath him, feeling too hot, too sensitive, too needy, and from what? He’s hardly even touched me, but somehow it feels like the most erotic moment of my life.

Dusty keeps traveling upward, taking a journey along my skin, making detours and pit stops along the way. I’m sweating, writhing beneath him, balls aching and cock throbbing.

I hate that he’s touched anyone else this way, that another man has experienced the way Dusty fucks, which I never would have known about before tonight. It’s like he really is savoring every inch of my skin. He’s paid so little attention to my dick and none to my ass, yet I feel like my skin will burst at the seams, like I already want to empty my balls just from the feel of him and the sound of him, just from the things he’s saying to me.

This time when he gets to my groin, he looks up at me with hooded eyes, watching mine as his tongue sneaks out and swipes at my nuts. I nearly lurch off the bed, my pleasure receptors in overdrive.

He does it again and again, tasting my balls, nuzzling into my groin as I thread my fingers through his short hair, tighten my hold, pull him closer as my feet dig into the mattress because I can’t stay still.

“I like the way you smell right here.” Dusty nuzzles along the side of my sac. “Musky and needy. I wanna bury my face here all fucking night, but I need more of you. What do you want tonight, Morg? You want me to worship you and then give you my ass, or do you want me to take your hole? Whatever you want, it’s fucking yours.”

“Fuck me. God, I need you to fuck me.”

I’ve never needed it so much in my life, but damn, just being touched by him is incredible too. I buzz with the sensation of it, with the feel of Dusty’s hot body and breath and hands.

He licks up my shaft, then sucks it into his mouth. I thrust once, burying my dick in his throat, wanting to unload there and know my cum is filling his belly, but I need him inside me more.

Dusty sits up, and I scramble for him, wanting to feel him, wanting to crawl inside him and feel him around me, all over me. What the hell is he doing to me?

“Turn over,” he orders, and I do, willing to go ass up for him with just those two words.

Dusty gets up, grabs his jeans, and pulls out a condom. “You have lube? I have a small packet.”

“I have some.” I reach into my nightstand and tug it out. “You came prepared.”

“I know what I want,” he answers simply, and I don’t know why, but it makes another tremor rattle through me.

I’m on my stomach a moment later, Dusty looming over me. This time he starts at my nape, kissing, licking, and sucking his way down my body. Rubbing his scruff against me. Teasing me with his fingers. Just making me feel, opening me up in a way I didn’t think possible.

“You feel so good, Morgan. Taste so good. I can taste the salt on your skin.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me.” I writhe beneath him.

When he gets to my ass, he runs his nose down the crease, then his tongue back up. I spread my legs more. He bites my ass cheeks, then spreads them.

“Jesus…” he gasps. “Always wanted to see this hole…wanted to touch it and eat it and fuck it. Goddamn, it’s pretty.”

My head spins, his words running circles around my brain. “Do it. Whatever you want.” I feel like I’m losing it, like my world is tilting off its axis, his lips and breath and hands on me somehow feeling like they’re all touching me at once.

When his wet tongue brushes against my rim, I spiral. Fucking the bed, fisting the pillows, almost feeling like I want to cry because every little touch is so damn good.

Dusty eats my ass, licks and kisses, hands still running along my thighs. He tastes my taint and travels back up again, doing exactly what he told me he would do—worshipping me.

I’m so fucking primed for him, but the high building more and more is taking a lot out of me too, like I’m climbing toward something I can’t reach until Dusty decides to give it to me. I know it will be worth it in the end, but damn, I need it so fucking much.

“Please, Dust. Please fuck me,” I beg and hear him curse behind me, the rein he had on his control snapping.

He pushes up to his knees, opens the condom, and rolls it down his thick rod.

I watch him over my shoulder, achy and silently begging for more.

Dusty slicks himself with the lube, then wets two fingers, pushing one inside me, then both, working me open. My hips move automatically, rubbing my dick against the mattress for more friction.

He pushes my left leg out, and I bend it so that I’m propped up on my side and stomach. Dusty straddles the other leg, then holds the base of his cock and starts to press in.

He’s so fucking thick, my hole immediately feeling too stretched, the pressure delicious but slightly uncomfortable, and all I want is more.

He doesn’t take me too fast nor too slow, working his way in, while his fingers dance up and down my spine. “Look at you, all laid out for me. Do you know how many times I dreamed about this? Wanted it? Fucked my fist while I pretended it was you? What the hell am I gonna do? Now that I have you, I’m not gonna want to let you go.”

His words create a hurricane inside my head. Don’t. Don’t let me go. I’ve always been yours is battling with I can’t do this. What if I lose you? How can we make this work? I can’t stay. What if I’m too much like him? You deserve better.

As soon as his groin presses against my ass, cock buried as deep as it goes, we both breathe out together…then in…then out again.

“Fuck me,” I tell him, and Dusty does. Pulling back, then fucking into me. His dick stretches me, hits my prostate as the world shifts and the bed shakes and he fills me in a way that has my body saying finally.

My hands fist in the blanket, and then Dusty is pulling me up, maneuvering me to my hands and knees. I would let him do anything to me, as long as he stays inside me. Now from behind, his fingers dig into my hips as he snaps forward over and over again.

My dick leaks on the bed, balls so tight and high that I know I won’t last long. He wraps a hand around my body, fucking hard and fast, saying my name as he starts jerking me off.

I swear it’s less than five strokes later when color flashes behind my eyelids, the room spinning, and I’m shooting thick ribbons of cum all over the mattress.

“Fuck…your hole is squeezing me just right. I wish I were bare inside you, want to watch my cum leak out of you all night.” He groans, dick swelling and jerking inside me as Dusty gives in to his orgasm. He fills the condom, and there’s nothing I want more than his jizz inside me, want him to mark up my insides so I smell like him everywhere.

I collapse on the bed and roll to my back, breathing hard. Dusty lies over me, and I pull him up, lift his arm, and lick up the salty skin of his armpit, loving the feel of the hair against my tongue.

“Jesus, Morgan,” he says as I move to the other one, doing the same. He tries to get up, but I hold him down, not letting him go. “Just let me turn the light out. I’m not leaving this room unless you force me.”

And I won’t…not ever…well, not until I leave, at least.

Reluctantly, I let go, and a moment later the room is dark and he’s in bed with me again, pulling me close, touching me everywhere, hands traveling all over. I bury my face into his pit, pull in deep breaths and lick him again, before settling in and just letting him hold me.

“What are we gonna do, Dust?” I finally ask, knowing exactly why I never let myself do this, why I knew it would change everything. Once I allowed myself to have what I secretly always wanted, nothing would be the same.

“Don’t know,” he answers, voice deep and sad, working its way into all the crevices inside me. “We’re not gonna figure it out tonight, though. Go to sleep.”

I close my eyes and do as he says.