Waiting On Forever (The Carnal Tower, #2)

by E.M. Lindsey

“You tell me some kid dying of cancer wants me to play pretend with him, then say there’s no pressure?”

That went right to Taylor’s dick, which was odd because he’d always been mostly vanilla. He shook that off, trying to work out how the hell he was having a fetish-porn conversation in the middle of the mall with a sick kid waiting for him.

“So did Cody. Anyway, uh…you know I work there seven days a week, so if you get tired of annoying Maya, you’re free to come annoy me.”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t get to cop a feel or anything, but I really liked his voice. He has this husky laugh. Kind of reminded me of cinnamon and chocolate the way it was all warm and rumbly. And he really wanted to make that kid’s night, and…fuck, I’m turning into a sap, but it really got me going.”

Taylor wasn’t foolish enough to get his hopes up that he’d ever see Jet again, but he wanted to beg the universe to give him something. Even just a friend would be nice, though he wasn’t sure that was a good idea when all he could do was think about lifting Jet’s shirt and licking those abs.

“I’ll give you three guesses—one per day—and if you don’t figure it out by the third time we meet up, I’ll tell you.” Taylor bit his lip. He normally hated guessing games, but for some reason this one was intriguing. This one got him all hot and bothered. “Do I get a reward if I get it right?” he asked as he came around the car. Jet stroked his hand from Taylor’s wrist to his bicep, and Taylor was damn sure that wasn’t something he needed to do. “Maybe. You can let me know what you want, and I’ll decide after that.”

“Still here,” he replied. Jet smiled and shook his head because of course he was. Where the fuck was he going to go? But the admission was oddly sweet, and Jet was not used to sweet. “Would you mind snapping a couple of photos of my face?” “Oh. Yeah, no problem. I can get my camera ready…” Jet laughed and pressed his forehead to the wall. Oh, this man. “Just on my phone, love. I don’t need a photoshoot. I just need to have evidence of what she did and the fresher the better.”

“You’re adorable,” he couldn’t help but say.

“I’m gonna take a step back because you’re, like, at least eight inches taller than me.” For whatever reason, that made Jet hot all over. He could picture himself curling around Taylor, enveloping him, overwhelming him. He wanted to feel him all small and tucked in close and protected.

“Turn slightly to your left,” Taylor ordered. His tone went a little bit alpha—the same way it had when he’d directed the shoot with the kid—and it made Jet’s dick take a little bit of interest, not enough to show in the new jeans but it would if he wasn’t careful.

turned back to face him. “Yeah? What was it on?” “Oh,” Taylor breathed out, and he startled Jet when his fingers brushed the sleeve of his shirt, pulling it up toward his shoulder. “It was st—” “Don’t say stupid,” Jet demanded.

“My project was the dichotomy of light and then of negative space. So some of my photographs highlighted the way light played off objects. The way light could distort shapes when they were made from shadows. The other half of my project was showing the beauty of absence. How negative space can take on its own form and sometimes how that’s more important than the things we can see.” Taylor stopped and huffed a laugh. “The collective we, meaning people who have sight.”

“He’s hot to me. Nice voice, soft hands, gets all…commanding when he needs to.”

“Don’t bullshit an old man who used to bullshit for a living,” he admonished, slipping out of the scene and making Jet laugh again. “I hear it in your voice. You’ll find the person who suits you.”

“Hey, sweetheart, relax. It’s fine. Skye was just kind of worried you were a serial killer.”

“Baby, you’re tense. This is going to give you a migraine.” Taylor made a soft choking sound. “Baby?” “Sorry,” Jet said, but he didn’t mean it. “That bother you?” “Nope. No.” Taylor cleared his throat. “And, yeah, I know I’m tense. It’s been a bad night.”

Jet used his free hand to wrap around the back of Taylor’s neck, and he drew him close, knocking their foreheads together. The position was almost as intimate as a kiss—sharing breath, sharing warmth. Jet could get lost in this for so long if only he let himself.

“Go home and get some rest, sweetheart,” Jet ordered softly. “Cuddle with your cat. Jerk off, and think about me.”

“You look like a fuckin’ serial killer, running with a damn smile on your face,” King said when Jet turned his run to cool down.

“No, sweetheart. A lot of it was just talking.”

“You can tell me anything you want, sweetheart.” Taylor made a soft noise. “It’s that. I like when you call me that.” Jet bit his lower lip hard, then let it go when he felt a sting. “Sweetheart?” “Yes. Or baby.”

Jet grinned widely. “Sure you should. I’m a Sin after all. A fallen angel. I’m the exact person you can give all your uncharitable thoughts to.” Taylor laughed again. “Uncharitable thoughts. I love the way you talk.”

The sound of your voice was rough, and you smelled so delicious. I wanted to lick your neck to see if you tasted just as good.” His dick was definitely getting interested now. He rubbed the heel of his palm over it, and his breath hitched. He heard Taylor swallow thickly. “Are you touching yourself?” “Yes,” Jet told him, refusing to lie or tease. “But I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.” “It doesn’t,” Taylor said in a rush. “I, um, I am too.”

I got fucked tonight. It was better than I expected.” Taylor’s chuckle was a little strained. “You like getting fucked?” “Love it. But I’m easy to please,” Jet told him with a grin as his hand sped up.

“I like a bit of everything, but it’s nice when I’m taken care of. I love to just lie there and have someone’s mouth on me, sucking me until I reach the edge.” “Just the edge?” Taylor asked on a groan. “Mm.” Jet let go of his dick and pushed his hand lower, toying with his hole. God, what he’d give to have Taylor there right now, licking at him. “I like to wait. To draw it out.”

“Sweetheart, I have far better ways to make you feel better than blowing smoke up your ass. I mean, unless I’m literally blowing smoke up your ass. Some people really get off on that.”

Jet: Morning, sweetheart.

“How are you doing, sweet thing?” Taylor’s cheeks went hot because those words fell from Jet’s lips so easily, yet they never sounded anything other than honest. “I’ve been better.”

“I think I just need to…I don’t know,” Taylor said, pushing his fingers through his hair and tugging. “I want to say go slow, but I also really want you to touch me.” Jet laughed hard. “Oh, sweet thing, you couldn’t pay me to keep my hands to myself.”

“You want to kiss and make up?” Jet asked with a small grin, leaning in close. It bothered some sighted people how close he tended to stand to them, but Taylor didn’t seem to mind at all. “Yes, please.”

“I was surprised he’s single too,” he answered instead, making sure his tone was firm as he turned to face the spot where Taylor had walked off. “And I probably should have texted before I left, sweetheart, but I was busy having an outfit crisis.”

“I just don’t buy into this homogenized idea of relationships like the only valid way of loving someone is the way society says.”

“How did you used to do this before you became a hell hermit?” Jet laughed so hard he almost doubled over. “A hell hermit? Oh my God. Okay, uh…”

“My place is pretty small, and my kitchen table is where I have my photo station set up, so we’re gonna have to be heathens and eat on the couch,” he admitted. Jet hooked his chin over Taylor’s shoulder and spoke so low Taylor felt the rumble of Jet’s voice against the back of his bicep. “Heathenism is the perfect dinner setting for a Sin like me.”

“Did you finish your panic clean?” he asked.

“Sweetheart?”

“Considering where I’m willing to let you put your fingers, I don’t care if they touch my food.”

Their noses were nearly touching by the time he stopped. Jet breathed out, slow and heavy. “I love this.” “What?” Taylor whispered. “Being close like this. It helps me feel settled and like I know exactly where you are.” He moved one hand to the back of Taylor’s neck, then pushed fingers into his hair and held on with a firm grip. “I love that you let me in.”

“There you go,” Jet whispered, kissing along the top of Taylor’s shoulder. “Just let yourself feel it.” Taylor closed his eyes, letting darkness wash over him as he lost himself to the feeling of Jet drawing patterns over his skin. With every pass, Jet got closer to his dick, and with every denial, Taylor’s want grew. “Please.” The word tumbled from his lips the fifth time Jet denied him that touch. He still wasn’t looking, but he heard Jet chuckle darkly, and he could imagine the smirk on the man’s face. “Oh, please,” he begged again, that time on purpose.

“It really is okay. I don’t care how I get to be with you as long as I get to be with you.”

It was a plaintive question that triggered something primal, urging Sloth to the surface. “Turn around and hand me the shampoo.” Taylor did as he asked, and Jet poured some into his hand as he felt Taylor’s head tip back and press against his chest. “Good boy.” He passed the bottle off, then worked Taylor’s thick hair into a lather.

“Like this,” Jet promised. “A slow, careful build because I’m not willing to let you go for anything. I won’t risk you. You want me to be patient with you, and I can do that. But I also need you to be patient with me.”

“I promised to be patient, and I will be. I don’t want you to leave me either.” He felt Taylor’s jaw clench under his fingers, so he stroked his skin until he relaxed. “That wasn’t really a consideration,” Taylor admitted.

“No, sweet thing.

“Hen, this is Taylor. We’re dating.”

“We’re not gonna scare your boy off, are we?” Taylor cleared his throat, and Jet felt him step close and brush his fingers down Jet’s spine. “Of course not.”

Jet nodded, then felt around with his foot until his toe hooked under his cane. He flipped it up and tried to catch it but missed, and Taylor chuckled. “I was trying to be suave,”

Taylor sighed. “You’re a nerd. I can’t wait to come back.

“Okay. Walk away before I just give up on my business and stay here for the rest of my life.” “Not great incentive to leave,” Jet shot back. He felt a thrill of playfulness rush through him.

Sure enough, there was a dark, perfectly round mark just over his pulse point. He pressed his fingers against it and tried desperately to remember when Jet had given him a damn hickey, but they’d been all over each other. Every touch, every kiss, every pulse of their throbbing cocks bled together in a fuzzy blur of ecstasy and intimacy.