Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cyrus

Crow didn’t respond, but I hadn’t expected him to. I leaned my head against the window, watching the world travel by as he drove to his house. I hadn’t had to get into the truck. The odds of this being another mistake were high, but as angry as he made me, I wanted to go. It didn’t make sense that I could be furious at his caveman form of protecting me, feel hurt that he thought I couldn’t take care of myself, yet also feel wanted and happy, all at the same time.

I wasn’t sure what Crow expected from me. Maybe he felt some strange obligation because I’d brought him food once and he saw me as helpless. Maybe he was queer and wanted nothing more than a hole, the way Eddie had. The difference was, I would welcome it with Crow. I would share my body willingly with him.

Maybe he was trying to recruit me into this cult of one and he still believed those things he’d been raised to believe: That the world was destined to end—whether from God or something else, I couldn’t say. That his father, The Chosen, had been…well, chosen to enlighten those who would be left behind to rebuild better. That following The Chosen was the only way not to be taken out in said ending of the world, and that Crow was supposed to lead, or whatever it was, with his father.

Either way, time would tell, so I closed my eyes and relaxed. Crow would do to me whatever he did. I didn’t feel the need to fight back against him the way I did with Eddie.

I felt the difference when he pulled onto the gravel road. The gate squeaked open, and then he was moving again. I didn’t open my eyes until he killed the engine and we sat in the driveway beside his home.

It looked slightly different as the seasons changed—less flowers, the garden not as full as it had been two months ago. It was also darker, the sky grayer, and you could see the cold in the air.

Crow got out of the truck, then grabbed his bags from the back seat. I didn’t move because I wasn’t sure what to do, but then he stood in front of his vehicle, watching me expectantly with those eyes of his that reminded me of a day like today.

I followed him inside, where he went directly to the kitchen and began putting the groceries away. When I tried to help him, he rasped out, “Sit,” and pointed to the lonely chair at his bar.

I loved the sound of his voice, the grittiness and how it wrapped around me like a blanket. Maybe that didn’t make sense because it wasn’t soft, but I liked the feel of something a little sturdier against my skin, a little heavier, like those comfort blankets. It made me feel less alone.

Crow finished arranging the groceries, then pulled out bread, mayo, lunchmeat, and other sandwich fixings. Apparently, he was hungry.

I watched as he made a ham-and-cheese sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and onion. He plated it, then grabbed freshly cut peppers and veggies that I assumed were from his garden, and added them to the plate before handing it over.

My heart rate accelerated. “This is for me?”

He nodded. “Eat.”

“What if I’m not hungry?”

“You’re losing weight,” he said gently, his gaze not meeting mine.

I had lost a few pounds since I was up here last, but I hadn’t expected him to notice. No one else did, or if they had, they hadn’t said anything. Sometimes food held more interest to me than others. It all depended on my mental health. The meds made some people eat more, but they didn’t seem to have that effect on me.

Though I didn’t feel hungry, I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. It was kind of him to think about me, to make me food because he thought I needed it. Plus, I’d had my coffee but nothing else when I’d walked to the pharmacy for my meds.

Crow pulled iced tea from the fridge, and I asked, “Do you have any soda? Preferably something with caffeine in it?” because I needed another caffeine fix. He shook his head and made a face that said he was judging me. “What’s wrong with soda?”

Again, he didn’t answer—was this something from The Enlightened? No soda?—but surprisingly, his silence didn’t bother me.

He finished getting me iced tea, so at least I’d get a little caffeine, then crossed his arms, leaning against the fridge while he watched me eat. And when I say watched me, I mean that literally. He didn’t look away from me the whole time, making my cheeks heat up because it was strange and a little embarrassing to be watched while you ate.

“Are you queer?” I asked. Was this just about fucking me?

Crow frowned. “I’m…nothing.”

What did that mean? He was ace? Didn’t feel attraction? Didn’t crave sex? Or maybe… “You’ve never…?” Christ, was he a virgin? But then that made sense. He’d been alone up here since he was eighteen years old.

“I fuck. I’ve been fucking since…” He took a breath like he was working through what he wanted to say, or how to say it, or hell, maybe his voice was just getting used more than it typically did. “Sixteen.”

“Sixteen?” I snapped. I mean, I had too at that age, but… “You were the only minor up here…” Which meant he’d been fucking someone older.

His stare turned cold, putting off enough ice to make me tremble. He shut down, the kindness I’d seen in him completely dead. He knew now that I’d been looking him up—that, or people had talked to me—and he clearly didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry… I…”

“Don’t. Talk. About. That. Again.” His words were choppy, but that wasn’t what made me rear back; it was the venom in each and every one of them.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Eat.” He pointed at my food again.

For whatever reason, that pissed me off. “You know what, Crow? Fuck you. I don’t know which way is up with you. First, you follow me through the woods, then when I hurt myself, you bring me to your house. You take care of me, ice and wrap my ankle, watch me sleep and piss. You give me crutches, then send me on my way and ignore me for months. Make me feel like I don’t matter, and I get it, you don’t fucking know me. I don’t matter to you. Then suddenly, you see a black eye and go into protective mode, force me up the mountain and feed me when I have no fucking clue what is going on! I’m done with this!”

I shoved off the stool, hearing it clatter to the hardwood behind me. I headed for the door, and the second I opened it, Crow’s hand came down on the wood, slamming it shut again.

His front pressed against my back, his breath hot and hard against my ear, and like the needy slut I was, I pushed back against him, savored his heat, needed to feel something good, something that reminded me I was alive.

Crow inhaled a sharp breath, then another like he was trying to suck the scent of me into his senses forever. His hand came down on my hip, holding, squeezing, so tight that I knew there would be marks, but I didn’t want him to let go. I might die if he let go.

I had no idea if he was queer or straight or sexual at all, but when I pushed back against him again, I felt the hard column of his erection behind his fly. I wanted to melt into him, wanted him to fuck me hard until I forgot who I was, until I was nothing but an extension of him.

It was too much. It was a raw, obsessive way to feel about anyone, especially a man I didn’t know, but I’d always been broken inside, and maybe this was just another way.

“Crow.” His name fell breathlessly from my lips, and like last time, it seemed to jerk him out of whatever trance he was in. His body stiffened, his hand loosening, but I grabbed it, held it to me. “Please. I need it. If you want me at all, please don’t stop.”

His growl was deeper, more urgent and wild than any I’d heard from him before. When he pulled his hand away, I thought he was going to stop, but all he did was use both of them to unbutton and unzip my jeans. He ripped those and my underwear down my thighs, then collapsed behind me, spread my ass cheeks, and dove in.

For a moment I was nervous, but I had showered right before going to the pharmacy, so we should be okay. Crow licked at my hole, made a fucking meal of it, rasping it back and forth like he was ravenous for me. Pleasure sent tingles shooting down my spine, fireworks going off inside me.

He groaned when he couldn’t spread my legs more. He jerked my pants to my knees, I heard him spit, and then Crow pushed one thick finger inside me. “Christ yes!” I cried out. Needing this. Needing him.

He fucked me with it, rubbing my prostate and making my cock throb with need. All I heard were his deep breaths, the sound of him finger-fucking me with one, then two digits. It was tight and not as lubricated as it should be.

I moaned, and somehow he could tell it was different. Crow pulled back, but I begged, “Please don’t stop,” so he spit on his fingers again, then continued pleasuring me. He used his mouth on me again, alternating between both to open me up, to soften me and get me ready for his cock.

I was mindless, as wild and feral as he was. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” In that moment I felt like it could sustain me for life, better than anything else. Logic told me that was wrong, but right now I didn’t care.

Crow shoved to his feet. I heard his pants open and felt him tugging them down. There was more spit, which I knew he was stroking his cock with. This would hurt, but not as much as not having him.

The head of his cock pressed against my rim. He pushed, the familiar pressure there, but slightly more because there was no lube and I could tell Crow was a big man. He kept going, but slowly, so as not to hurt me. One of his hands reached around to my mouth. He pressed his fingers inside, and I let him. The other he wrapped around my cock and began to stroke. He fucked into my ass, my mouth, and jerked me, before taking my precum and spit and trying to slick up his cock some more.

“Keep going,” I pleaded.

Then, as if we’d read each other’s minds, I pushed back while Crow thrust. He filled me, a puff of his breath against my neck while I said his name. Crow’s hips pulled back, then snapped forward again.

Yes, yes, yes!

He started jerking me off again, fucking into my ass, his cock rubbing against my prostate. I welcomed the burn, the pressure he gave my body. I wanted him to speak, but he didn’t. Wanted him to kiss me, but he didn’t do that either. Still, the way he fucked me transported me to another time, another place, where none of the bad shit happened and all I did was feel this much pleasure.

When his hand wrapped around my throat, I froze for a moment. When I didn’t tell him no, Crow tightened his hold. Not too much, but enough that I knew he was there. He could strangle me if he wanted and no one would know. He could fuck me to death while choking me and no one would miss me. He wouldn’t, yet knowing he could made me fly even higher.

My orgasm hit me out of the blue, pummeling into me like I went too far out to sea and was being punished by unforgiving waves. I cried out, balls drawn up as I shot, my release spurting from my cock while my head spun.

Crow let go of my dick, rubbed his rough beard against my skin, then bit into my neck in the spot where it met my shoulder. Sharp pain pierced me as his body jerked and spasmed behind me, his balls emptying in my ass.

Without a condom.

I hadn’t even thought of that.

Crow didn’t move right away, staying inside me until his dick softened. Then he took a step back, tugged his jeans up, which had never made it past his thighs, and walked out of the room, leaving me there, pants at my feet, hole dripping his cum.

I felt utterly alone.