29. Kurt

In the car coming back from our Thanksgiving trip, I think again about the things I realized sitting in Sue Ann's living room.

Before I met her, I'd been judging Johnny: He was too selfless. A martyr. Giving too much to her, when he should've been treating himself better.

But now I've seen how much that care means to her, and there's something about feeling that love—from him to her and back again—that makes me understand.

Johnny's a caregiver. A provider. He's done it all his life, despite not having the resources that I do.

I want to figure out a way to give that kind of care to him. Because in his own way, he's giving me just as much.

I'm falling for him. Maybe that should scare me. But it doesn't.

As we near Ventura, he brings up the lawsuit, telling me that Danny mentioned some breakthrough on the evidence but won't give him any details yet.

"When do you go to trial?" I ask. "It sounds like it's been pending a long time."

"It has. Trial's set for late March. We have mediation early next year." He sighs. "It's a chance to settle it, they tell me, maybe get some money and not have to go through the hassle in the courtroom. But all I can think about is that I'm going to have to be in a room with Gary again. The idea makes me want to hurl. He didn't lay a hand on me, but he damn well violated me just the same."

Anger flares within me, and I vow to contact Sam's friend … Colleague? Colleague's friend? And make Pinkerton hurt.

"What happens if you don't settle?" I ask.

"We go to trial, and the whole story comes out. I'm torn. Part of me wants to tell every gruesome detail. Get out the video and play it." His cheeks redden. "It's just so fucking embarrassing."

I gulp. "Have you seen it?"

"No. But my lawyers have a copy."

"So they've seen it."

He nods. "And they had pretty grim faces after. I'd assume that none of them are prudish, so I don't think it's the porn that set them off. But the circumstances—knowing it wasn't consensual or even CNC …"

Shit.

Johnny's shown me all the parts of him that he wants to hide from the world. His broken parts that are precious and vulnerable, soft or fragile or bruised.

Johnny's an amazing person, and I want to prove that to him in as many ways as I can. I want to give him anything he needs.

I'll get in touch with Rowan about justice, but there are other things I can do right away.

"I was wondering something. You said you sold your truck. What kind of truck was it? Something special?"

A wistful look crosses his face. "Special to me. It was just an old F-150, but I liked it. It suited me."

"Who did you sell it to?"

"A neighbor." He whips his head around to face me. "What are you thinking?"

"Do you wanna get it back?"

"If I get the money," he says, emphasizing the I, "I can buy another truck. You don't need to go tracking down my old one. I can save money from my job and get one in time."

"But …" I sigh. "Okay." I drop it for now. Still, I'm resolved to figure out where his truck went or to get him another like it.

The rest of the trip passes in amiable chatter and easy silence.

When we get home, Johnny stops me at the foot of the stairs before I can even take off my shoes. "Wha—?" I say, before his mouth crashes down on mine.

I grunt in happiness as he pushes me against the door, caging me in with his hands on either side of my head.

Yes. He's reclaiming this part of himself.

He licks and sucks at my lips, making me hard for him. Making me want him.

When we break apart, I chuckle. "Um. Wow. I. Yes. Thank you."

"Do you know how much it means to me that you took me to go see Mama?" he growls.

I shrug. "It seemed like the right thing to do."

Johnny rolls his eyes heavenward. "‘Right thing to do,' he says." He fixes his gaze on me. "You have absolutely no idea how much I needed to see her and how much it meant for me to check on her in person. Thank you."

"We could move there. Or get an apartment near her. Something?—"

Again, he cuts me off with a kiss, only this time one of his hands goes roaming, cupping my pec, then sliding down my side to my hip and grasping my butt.

I love the fire in Johnny. The depression had banked it for so long, but now I'm seeing the intensity, the passion that always came across on the screen. Only it's directed toward me.

"I want to fuck you again, darlin'," he says in a quiet, almost dangerous voice. "You ready for that, or do you need to wait?"

I'd optimistically done some extra cleaning that morning in the shower. "Stretching and lube," I say.

"'Kay." He picks me up like I weigh nothing.

"For fuck's sake, I can walk," I yelp.

"Not after I'm done with you," he mutters darkly, and that makes my dick go from curious about the proceedings to fully hard and busting out of my zipper. I laugh as he carries me up two flights of stairs like I'm a sack of potatoes. He's barely breathing hard.

When we get into the bedroom, he tears off my clothes and his. I've never seen him this animated before.

I. Fucking. Love. It. I love that he's getting back to who he really is. And if this is the beginning, I can't wait to see how happy he'll—we'll both—be when he gets a little more recovered.

He tosses me naked onto the bed on my back, then lies on top of me, his hard dick rubbing against mine while he kisses me deeply, slowly, passionately.

Judging by his movements, what we're doing could end up a hard fuck or a slow bone. Either way, I'm fully on board.

Johnny kisses me one more time before shifting over so I can roll onto my stomach. Then he reaches into the nightstand drawer for the lube.

"We really should just get a big bottle with a pump dispenser," I grumble.

He laughs, but two fingers coated in cool liquid are soon nudging at my entrance. Apparently he doesn't want to waste any time.

I gasp at the intrusion, but I fucking love it. I love the fullness and the hint of pain. I love how he brushes against my prostate every once in a while. It's clear he knows he's doing it, but he doesn't want to make me come. Not yet.

While he expertly stretches me, he's murmuring how gorgeous my ass is. He's kissing my skin. He's reaching a hand around to stroke my cock, and then he's taking a break and rubbing his cock between my ass cheeks like he can't help himself.

"I want you inside me," I say, trying to make it more of a demand than a whimper.

"Patience, baby boy. It's for me to decide when you're ready, and you're not ready yet."

"Whatever," I mumble into the pillow, not sure why I'm being bratty but knowing it's okay for me to be that way with him. That I don't have to be a mature adult when I'm in the bedroom. That I can rely on my husband to give me what I need when I need it.

After two fingers, he stretches me with three, and then a fourth. I'm dying here.

I say so.

"Patience," he says again, and slaps my ass. He seems mesmerized by the way it moves, given the way he gets quiet and then does it again.

I look over my shoulder. "You okay back there?"

"Fuck, your ass is so smackable." Another slap, and while it stings, it's not hard enough to do anything other than create more want in me.

"It's also really empty, and I want you inside me now," I say.

He smacks my ass again. "I'm in charge."

But he does dribble on some more lube, and I can tell that he's putting on a condom and slicking his cock, too. Then he runs his cock up and down my ass crack, which just drives me bananas. "Put your cock in me."

"Fine," he says, and he lines up the head and nudges it against me. My body resists, like it always does, but he steadily presses his way inside.

I need to scream. I need to yell. But he's just spent all this time prepping me, and I don't wanna complain after all my bravado about being a size queen. Turns out I can't always immediately take my porn star husband? The one I've wanted my entire adult life?

Johnny, of course, reads me and stops. I can tell his muscles are contracting as he holds himself above me. "Talk to me, Kurt," he says. "Tell me how you're doing."

"It's a lot," I admit. "Give me a moment."

"'Course." He leans down and kisses my shoulder, and as he does, my body gives way a little more just from gravity, and he edges deeper inside me.

"Fuck!" I shout.

"Do I need to pull out?"

"Absolutely not," I snap. "I fucking love your cock." He waits, a bead of sweat dropping from him to my back. My muscles release and let him in.

Johnny slides forward all the way, his pelvis meeting my ass, and we both groan in satisfaction.

"Holy fuck, that's it," I whisper.

"Almost," he says.

I freeze. "You're kidding."

He chuckles. "I'm kidding. I'm all the way inside your gorgeous ass, and you're taking me so well, baby boy. Look at that pretty hole swallowing my cock."

"You can." I swallow. "You can take a picture. If you want."

Johnny's silent for a moment. "Yeah?"

I nod. "I want to see it."

He pulls out, which makes me reconsider my life choices, then returns with his phone. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says.

"Just stick your cock in me again," I grouse, and he does. My eyes widen as he pushes steadily and my body takes him like it's where he's meant to be.

I don't know how he's filming and holding himself up at the same time. He's pretty damn coordinated.

"Want me to fuck you?" Johnny murmurs.

"Yes. God, yes. Please."

Johnny starts a rhythm that's slow and deep and hard, and I'm at his complete mercy. I fucking love it. I'm scrabbling at the mattress, loving that he's just taking over, using my body to get off, that he's both taking what he needs and giving me the best prostate massage ever.

"Gonna have to turn the camera off," he mutters. "I wanna rub your cock."

"Just put it off to the side on a pillow," I beg, so he does, setting it near my head. In the selfie mode, I can see what we look like. My big, hot husband—boyfriend?—mounting my ass expertly, his face set in concentration and so fucking sexy. His lips parted, eyes intense. He adjusts our angle, tugging my hips back so he can reach around for my cock, and now he's banging me at the same time he's jacking me off, and the noises I'm making are obscene and loud.

But no one can hear us, and this is what I've always wanted. To be fucked by Velvet the Cowboy.

No. I wanted Johnny. At any rate, Johnny's who I want now.

It's even hotter than I could have imagined, because I'm watching him fuck someone on a screen, only the person on the screen is me. My wide brown eyes are watching the scene. I'm the one whose ass he's pounding into the mattress. I'm the one he's cooing to, who he's saying is such a good boy, who he's telling to take his cock just a little longer.

"Fuck!" I snarl, because if I don't swear, I'm going to blurt out something else. Like that I'm in love with him.

Because I fucking am.

Johnny again changes his angle, and now it's pure, perfect torture. Utter bliss. He's got me at every pleasure point he could, and I'm not going to hang on much longer.

"Come for me, darlin'," he drawls, and I lose it. My brain fuzzes out as my body stiffens and my legs lock up and my back tenses and my abs get tight and my dick starts gushing come.

"Such a good boy," he murmurs into my skin, and before I come down, he's shoving into me hard and groaning this deep, delicious sound of pleasure. I can feel him pumping into me, the way he shudders and his hips undulate against my ass. "You make me come so damn hard. Damn."

Then he collapses atop me, kissing every part of me he can reach. The back of my neck, my shoulders, my upper back, the top of my head. I turn so he can kiss my cheek, and he manages to find my lips before his softening cock slips out of me. He reaches out and shuts off the camera, and I turn onto my back so he can settle over me again. He kisses me fiercely but slowly, with measured intensity. It's passionate but not frantic.

"Damn," I whisper. "I loved that."

"Best fuck ever," he says.

I raise an eyebrow. "Thanks for the compliment, but let's be real. You can't be serious."

"I can."

"I mean, it was for me, no question, but for you?—"

He cuts me off. "Precious, you have no idea what you mean to me. And between that and how gorgeous you are, it was the best. No question."

That makes me feel warm inside and out, and the only thing I can do is kiss him some more.

Eventually we get out of bed and clean up … pretty much everything, since we've made quite a mess of ourselves and the sheets. But when we're settled back in, he spoons me, his big arms around my body, and for the first time in my life, I think I know what it feels like to have a lover. Not some random person to get off with every once in a while, but a real lover.