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To anyone still trying to figure out who they are: It’s okay not to know just yet. You’ve got your whole life to find the missing pieces.
“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” — Henry David Thoreau
No doubt the guy is straight, because my luck is never that good, but the anxiety causing my stomach to churn doesn’t care.
Dragging my eyes up a pair of now-coffee-stained jeans and Henley, I find the Greek god I was checking out in line. The Adonis with two sapphires for eyes. Right now, they’re more like shards of ice as he glares at me.
“Hayes Lancaster?” I ask slowly, praying like hell the next word to pass his sinful lips is no; that he says his name is James or Brad or fucking Reginald.
“I’m Kason Fuller. Your new roommate.”
And after pinning Dad’s drunken ass to the kitchen floor when he came at me with a broken beer bottle, I made myself a promise to never set foot in that house again.
Let the record show, if this guy just doesn’t come home for days on end at any point during our time living together, I will not be the one filing the missing person’s report. I will be too busy relishing in the silence.
“You actually sound-proofed your room?” “There’s one thing I don’t joke about, and it’s sleep.”
Me too Hayes, me too
Some people go through their entire lives without understanding themselves to the fullest.
“Fuck, Hayes,” Kason mutters into my mouth before sealing his lips to mine again. He walks us backward until I’m trapped between the counter and his body with no means of escaping.
and do this.” “I know,” he mutters, eyes falling to the floor again. “Believe me, I don’t understand what is happening inside my head any more than you do.”
“I don’t think that’s really up to me here, considering I’m the one who mauled you without prompting.” Oh, you beautiful fucking fool. “Then let me return the favor,” I murmur before cupping the back of his neck and reeling his mouth to mine.
Paired with his tongue flicking against mine, teasing me, it’s the most pleasurable form of torture. “Think you can come like this?” he rasps after breaking the kiss again.
He’s lean with muscle mass in all the right places—his shoulders, biceps, and chest—almost like the body of a swimmer, complete with flat stomach and a tapered waist that disappears beneath the sweats resting on his hips.
Ceccone
That thing they say about the tall, skinny ones? Absolutely true.
There’s a brief pause before he murmurs, “I’m well versed in just how hard you come, yes.” Holy fucking shit.
Please, for the love of fucking God, do not let me puke on this man’s dick, because I will never hear the end of it.
Hahaha
stare at him, half in shock, the other half in awe, while he nods again, giving me permission to…butter his asshole.
“We don’t want everyone in here to know you’re letting me finger-fuck your ass with popcorn butter, do we? You gotta be quiet.”
“How many licks does it take to get butter off a booty hole?” I muse, lapping at his hole a few more times before he fists his fingers in my hair and yanks me away.
“Quit looking at me like that, or I’ll butter your asshole.”
Yet in the span of this week, I’ve never felt more alone. Not when my mom left. Not all those years being bullied or beaten. Not after everything that happened with Phoenix. This tops it all, and I don’t know how I’m gonna survive it.
“Lobotomies are still legal, you know,” Camden offers from where he’s sitting on the couch. “Live, laugh, lobotomy.”
“We don’t, actually. My therapist tells me I have a little bit of a hero complex, always needing to be needed. To do the saving.”
Son of a fuck-knuckle.
Theo’s wearing a pained expression now as he glances at Phoenix, giving him one of those don’t talk about Fight Club looks. “Madden’s my step brother. He was just here to deal with…parent stuff.”
