Stupid Dirty (Possum Hollow, #1)

by Erin Russell

Just focus on the win. These are a bunch of amateurs. Just ride until you win. If you lose here, you really will be useless. Just win. I ignore the fact that the voice in my head sounds more like my dad’s than mine.

He never had heart, though, even when we were little. From day one, he was like a dirt bike robot.

Affectionate physical touch, without expecting anything in return, does everyone a world of good.

The noise creates a buzz that settles into my bones, making my entire body vibrate with discomfort. A buzz that insists that everyone else is normal, and I’m the one that doesn’t belong.

Thanks, Dad. Because spontaneous socializing is clearly my thing.

This is the most physical contact I’ve had in months, and every time his fingertips brush my chest through my t-shirt, it makes me shiver. It’s not quite as good as a hug from a loving parent or something, but maybe picking fights with strangers is as close as I can get.

Being threatened is distracting.

Duct-taping broken people back together is all I do, really.

“I’ve got you now, buddy. You’re stuck with me,” he murmurs in my ear. Something in my chest cracks open so my guts and my heart and everything else can spill out onto the floor. “Okay.”

“I never said that. My aunt Jaz is bi and I don’t think she’s had sex since the Bush administration. Bush Senior. That woman fucking loves quilting.

“First of all, please don’t lump me in with the normies when you’re assuming shit; I worked long and hard to become the white trash wackadoo you see before you. Second of all, I get that the whole friend thing is new to you, but I’m gonna let you in on a secret. Not only can you have friends, but you can have friends that are girls. You don’t even sleep with them. It’s like they’re whole people with their own thoughts and personalities and shit. It’s magical, honestly.”

“And I’ve watched you watching him. Watching you. The whole thing is giving off some real Wuthering Heights vibes.”

Every inch of me is screaming that whatever I do in my life, I cannot let him go. Like as soon as I do, all the broken pieces of him will fly apart.

I’m invested now, whether he likes it or not.

Everyone else might be tiring for him, but somehow, I know how to make him laugh. It’s like I was born with the cheat codes. Power like that can’t go to waste.

“Thanks for your support, Mom. You clearly did a lot of active parenting while I was out. Have you considered a career as a mommy blogger?”

The flat look I get in response tells me I’m not as cute as I think I am, but I disagree. Still grinning, I explain.

It’s even better right now, because my second favorite place is filled with just me and my favorite person.

“Come on, bitch. We’re going shopping.”

my Silas,

He looks like some kind of Magic Mike mechanic pin-up shit.

And those tattoos. Fuck. I’d never cared about tattoos before, but something about the intricate tendrils of black creeping over every dip and curve of muscle is breathtaking.

If constant humiliation is what a high sex drive buys you, I’ll pass.

I’m always aware of where he is. As if his presence is too big for my body not to notice.

surrounded by the familiar Cade smell of wood smoke and pine trees that shouldn’t be comforting, but is.

I can feel his lips brush against my skin and even though his breath is warm, it leaves goosebumps in its wake.

My body feels too light without him wrapped around me. Like I might float away.

‘Please will you drive us to Franklin because Cade is too hungover and needs to nap on the way?’.”

And if I’m spoiling him with attention, so what? He fucking deserves it. He deserves everything I have to offer, so I’m not going to hold back because of whatever arbitrary decisions society has made about men needing to be independent. Fuck that and fuck you for suggesting it.”

Silas and I were sitting on my bed and I felt enveloped by this warm, safe, contained feeling I’d never encountered before. I wanted to…something. I don’t know. I wanted more. And when he looked at me with that intense expression, I felt like he wanted more of it, too.

“You’ve got puke in your hair. Might want to shower after your existential crisis is finished.”

Would his skin be soft, or could I feel the scarring of each tattoo if I closed my eyes? What would he taste like if I traced them with my mouth? What would it be like to wrap myself around him, breathing him in and letting his hands touch every inch of me, so warm and reassuring?

I can see the way his mouth hangs open slightly, with his lower lip looking so thick and pouty I have the most inexplicable urge to bite

He’s my best friend. He keeps me safe. I keep him safe. This is just another part of that.

Sometimes it feels like I was created specifically to undo every shitty thing that’s ever been done to Silas. Every smile gives me a bigger sense of accomplishment than anything else in my life, and it’s literally my job to save people’s lives.

If I could hollow out the space inside my ribs and place him there for safekeeping, I would.

I’ve never thought a dick could look pretty, before. Never thought about dicks that much in general. But if there’s such a thing as a pretty cock, Silas has got one. I’m kind of jealous.

He never, ever needs to run away from me.

The skin over his cock feels velvet-soft and impossibly hot, and the weight of him in my hand is more reassuring than any other way we’ve ever touched.

I’m powerless to do anything other than melt into him, and it feels like my body was born to do this.

I’ve kissed girls before, and it’s been nice. This is epic. This is all-consuming.

I desire all of him, wrapped around me until I can’t touch or see or breathe anything that isn’t him.

“Fuck yes, Silas, that feels so fucking good. I always want you on top of me like this.”

My hand goes back to his ass, where I think it should live forever now,

I’ve never needed something the way I need him right now.

“You want me to fuck you? To be inside you and fucking own you? Because I thought you were mine before, Cade, but this-” My voice is a dry rasp. I push my fingers back into him, making him gasp. “This is something else. This isn’t something I can forget about.” “Do it.” He sounds so sure. “Fuck me. Own me. You already do, I just didn’t realize it.”

The sound of his gasp will be trapped in my memory as the single hottest sound a person has ever made.

I have no idea how we got here, but I’m not going back to before. This feels too right.

“So messy,” I mumble, watching my fingers disappear back inside him where they belong. “So fucking beautiful.”

Silas doesn’t kiss like someone who hasn’t had a lot of sex. Silas kisses like someone who fucks.