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All my life, hope had been made out to be this aspirational thing. A good quality. Something to grasp onto. But there was a dark underbelly to a hope held too long. At some point instead of lifting you up, it dragged you down.
They don’t teach that in ethics class. How a person can be so many fucking polar opposite things. It scares the shit out of me.
down my throat, do you reciprocate?” he asked and didn’t wait for my answer before wrapping his lips around me and taking me deep. I tightened my fingers in the golden brown strands of his hair. “Yes, fuck yes. Always.”
“You ever pop wood back when we were on the court?” “Actually on the court? Nah.” Chet laughed. “But sometimes if I was sitting on the sidelines and you were still out there it might’ve happened. Maybe. You know, your O face is the same one you make on the free-throw line, right?” “Bullshit.” “True facts.”
I was dizzy with desire. Up close to him, I couldn’t fucking think coherently, and I wanted this always, wanted it to be like this between us forever. The push and the shove, the way he occupied the back of my mind like he’d bought property there, moved in, and repainted. How fucking well he knew me, and how he wanted me despite my idiosyncrasies.
Chet didn’t move when I curled my fingers behind his waistband, but his breathing slowed, like he was making an effort to keep it steady as I found the tip of his cock. Deeper, lower, down his shaft, the skin smooth and hot all the way to the tangle of hair at his root. His unwavering gaze faltered, and his Adam’s apple rolled as he swallowed, and I felt…power, heady fucking power at the way I could make him react. I immediately wanted more. So much more that it scared me a little bit.
Lately, I’d started to feel more hopeful. Like maybe this could actually work out. The idea was both scary and thrilling, because even though I’d had plenty of fantasies about Chet, there’d never been anything about them that was domestic or day-to-day.
My dad had always commanded respect, but the pervasiveness of his power had never actually frightened me until recently. He snapped his fingers and shit got done, no question. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
“So you want some macho show of possessiveness? Want me to beat my chest and start growling if people get too close?”
“You going to pop off if I throw out some caveman-style grunts? Come up to you on the quad one day, grab you by that pretty-boy hair, and drag you back to my den?” “I might,” I teased back, though the mention of hair pulling got me harder. “This is definitely more of a lair than a den, though.” He pushed up onto his forearms, looking down at me. “What’s the difference?” “Lair just sounds more deviant.” “Lair, then,” he said agreeably, cock gliding alongside mine.
“I’d be jealous,” I admitted. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it.” “I think I like that,” he said, one hand finding its way inside my jeans, making me gasp. “I didn’t say I wasn’t jealous. Just that…I trust you.” He squeezed my shaft, and I moaned. “I know what you like.” Another squeeze. Another moan. “I know who you are.”
Life wasn’t black and white. Monsters and sociopaths didn’t always stick out like sore thumbs. Neither did swindlers or liars. And what did I know? I’d trusted my own father completely, and he’d been the biggest liar of all.
“You ever think about what a weird profession law is?” He arched a brow, ready to indulge me. “I mean, we have two opposing sides both trying to prove they’re right and whoever has the better proof wins, regardless of what the actual truth is—which is almost never black and white in the first place. There are all these monuments to the blind eyes of justice, all this bullshit about justice being served, but it’s never actually about justice, it’s just a convenient narrative.”
I kept hoping that, with each day that passed, I’d find him less attractive and more infuriating like I used to. But shit, even back then I’d back-of-the-mind assented he was hot. Now he was next-level devastating, because I knew exactly how that sensual mouth felt on mine, all too well how his dark eyes could pierce my best defenses.
“I like my beers the way I like my dicks: full-flavored and very filling.”
I wanted to reach for him, touch him. Actually, fuck it, since I was dreaming big: I wanted to haul his ass onto a plane and take off for a deserted island where we could eat mangos, build a lean-to, and fuck all day, our bodies slick with sweat and sunscreen. But in the absence of a fairy godmother to grant my wishes, all I had was the mundane.
Everything about him made me physically ache.
I wished I could give him back his family’s house and his Charger. Give him the walk-on spot on the U’s basketball team he’d been forced to pass up. But more than that, I wished I could go back in time, somehow stop his dad from saying yes when he should’ve said no. Stop him from taking when he should’ve been elated at everything he’d been given.
His voice chased itself around in my head, rebounding off images of him on the ropes course a month ago, fingers laced with mine, gaze burning into me as his feet wobbled on the rope. That’s what I felt like now. Unsteady, wobbly, hovering above an abyss of the unknown and desperately wishing I had the security of him across from me. That was the scary thing about love. It was unpredictable and unfathomable, and when you were walking a tightrope in its throes, the only thing that mattered was how much you trusted the person walking it with you. In Mark’s absence, the realization of how much
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After my dad went to prison and we lost everything, plans were what got me out of bed and kept me going every morning. The now was ash. The future was a sunrise. Every forward step was toward a brighter horizon. As long as I kept moving forward, my past would keep receding behind me. But now I’d stumbled into a murky twilight. What if I was giving up the wrong thing?
I’d been afraid he wouldn’t let me in. Afraid he had more willpower than me and that he’d leave me standing out in the dark, stripped and vulnerable.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I tried really fucking hard not to, but—” “I know.” “You do?” I pulled back just far enough to find his eyes. I didn’t want there to be any mistake. “I love you, too. Knew it that night at Kacey’s party. Knew it that night in your bedroom. Knew it that night in your car with Cam—God, did I know it then. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I—” “Shut up,” he murmured, and hooked a hand around the back of my neck, dragging my mouth back to his.
I spread my legs wider, ready for him, dying to feel him press inside me with that quiet, throaty rumble he made the second the tip of his cock hit the heat of my ass.
“Sit on it before I lose my fucking mind.”
“God, I want you so bad. I missed you so much.” Mark looped his arms around my neck and spread his thighs wider, gorgeous quads tensing every time I thrust inside him. He rested his forehead on my shoulder, breath coming fast and damp on my chest. “Feel good?” he whispered. “Best thing I’ve ever felt in my life.” And that was the truth. His body was perfect, sweat slick and cut, soft in all the right places, hard in even better ones. He was perfect, and every flutter and twitch around my dick sent waves of electric pleasure coursing through me.
“Are you mine, Farrow?” I growled, possessive and feral. He cried out as I speared into him brutishly. “Say it,” I demanded. “I am. Shit. I’m so fucking yours. Goddamn.” I fisted his cock and he keened again. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna—” And he did, all the fuck over my hand in hot, thick spurts that made his ass clench around me and a shudder race violently through his body.
Chet lifted a hand. “Hi.” Jesse whirled in my direction. “But you…I thought…Fuck me fucking sideways,” he spluttered. “It’s just…I don’t understand why all the hot ones keep picking these baby bi’s.”
Jesse put a hand up. “I swear to fuck, if one more person says I’m too sweet or something about boyish charm, I’m going to lose my shit. Yes, I had a boyfriend freshman year. Yes, I very much enjoyed holding hands with him and…and cuddling in the quad and giving him heart eyes or whatever. But Jesus, a guy’s allowed to change. I’m not about that life anymore. I just want the hard-core action now, thank you very much. No relationships, no strings. I just want a guy with a big dick—because, yes, I’m a size queen and—” “I have a big dick.” Sam wandered in, inserting himself effortlessly into the
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“Sore?” he asked, gentling his touch until I pushed back against the light pressure. “Not enough to stop me. I’ve got the only en suite in this house, and I plan on doing every dirty thing I can think of to you in the shower right after breakfast.” “You can fit every dirty thing you can think of into one shower? We’re gonna need to work on that.” “We have eight hours until your shift. Why do you think I asked?”
He makes room for you. He moves around you, anticipates you.
“Are you about to tell me that I complete you?” he murmured low into my ear when I pulled away. “Don’t get cocky. We both know you’d be lost without me.”
“Does anyone see anything remotely approaching an eligible bachelor under the age of sixty-five? I’m not too picky. Even sixty-five and a half is acceptable, but I’m getting laid tonight.” Jesse scanned the crowd again and pouted. “I see lots of cougars, for sure.” Sam grinned salaciously. “I don’t want a cougar. I’ll definitely accept a…what’s the male version of a cougar? How do I not know this?” “A manther.” Sam didn’t miss a beat. We all stared at him. “How do you even know that?” Jesse asked. Sam shrugged. “I pick up on things. I’m not an idiot.”
Oh Jesse you'll get your man!
My heart split down the middle between understanding and awareness of what my dad was to other people and the father he’d been to me. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to reconcile the paradox. But I realized I didn’t have to. I nodded to show him I’d heard. I thought he understood that I couldn’t tell him it was okay, that it’d never be okay, but that I could love him for the other memories he’d given me.
I smiled like a fool, my steps light on the warm asphalt. Lighter than they’d been in years. I had my best friend back, and I’d gained the love of my life, too. Three years, seventeen days, and thirteen hours. That was how long it had taken me to truly start over. And as I opened the car door, and Mark moved his arm to peer up at me with those deep sea-blues, I couldn’t help but think that despite the pain, it’d all been worth it.
I’d watched him in court a handful of times and would shamelessly testify the sight of him cross-examining a witness got me hard. He was lethal in a suit and killer in a courtroom.
Four years, and I still couldn’t get enough of him, proving that I’d been right all along. It turned out that it wasn’t the thing to fear that I’d thought it was, though. It was never enough at the same time it was completely fulfilling. I supposed that was one of the paradoxes of love. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“You know I’ll love you whether you’re a CEO or mixing shakes at Slurpy’s. I just want you to do something that makes you happy. Not gonna lie, though, I’ve got a hard-core teacher fetish, and I solemnly promise to let you practice disciplining me as often as necessary.”
“I think we should go out tonight. Celebrate your first…” He tapered off as I caught the ball, set it on the court next to me, and lowered onto one knee. “Farrow,” he said softly, his eyes widening. “I think you should marry me and we can celebrate for the rest of our lives.” For six months I’d come up with and discarded a hundred grandiose scenarios meant to leave him speechless. A hundred different ways to try to show him that I was one thing he was never in danger of losing again. “I wanted to impress you,” I admitted as his eyes roamed my face intently. “Kept dreaming up different things.
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In his eyes hope mingled with the stray bite of cynicism that still crept up on him sometimes. They were the eyes of the boy I’d once called my best friend, and the eyes of the man I’d fallen in love with over and over in the last four years. I’d seen them dulled by a bad day, shining with victory after he’d won his first case, hot with lust when they met mine from across a room. And my favorite of all: the quiet contentment that happened sometimes when we were just lying in bed facing each other.
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