Stupid Dirty (Possum Hollow, #1)

by Erin Russell

Judging from the peaceful expression on her face, she’s still high enough to be blissfully numb to the guilt of her shitty actions. Not on my watch.

It’s so cute I could puke all over my bike.

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

“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.”

But it’s fucking exhausting. Every word, every expression, every shift in body language has to be analyzed and then I have to figure out how I’m supposed to respond. The worst part is, I’m not allowed to be honest about the fact that I don’t know what to say to these people and don’t really want to spend time with them. I have to pretend that it all comes naturally to me. As if it isn’t the single most draining activity a person can do.

The real Silas—my Silas, my brain prompts me, which is a weird way of looking at it but not technically untrue—is so much brighter than the old version. He smiles more: still small, shy smiles that are mostly for me, but they’re so genuine. He laughs and talks more easily with me and the open, unguarded way he gives affection to Maddi and Sky makes me want to beam at him and never stop.

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.”

Cade is already asleep, his breath deep and rhythmic beside me. I don’t let myself think about anything else, and I don’t let myself stare at his tattoos. Instead, I listen to the sound of his breathing and remind myself that he’s safe, and that’s the only thing that matters.

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.

“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.”

“My dude, you had your dick in my ass, and then you blew your load in my ass, and then you stared at your cum dripping out of my ass, said it was beautiful and finger-fucked me until I cried. This was like eight hours ago, Silas. I realize that a lot of shit has changed for us in a very short space of time, but I think you should be able to say the word ‘condom’ in front of me.”

He’s mine. My job is to take care of him and keep him safe, like no one has before.

People aren’t possessions. And I don’t want to control him. I just have this irrepressible need to keep him close to me, so I know he’s safe. If his father tries to put his hands on my person again, I’ll rip out his spine.

“I feel like I’m living in Santa’s ass.”

Hold me. Promise you’ll never leave me. Be my family and let me be yours. I can only breathe because you’re still here.