Lost in a Moment (Trials of Fear Book 4)

by Nicky James

  Gray guided me back on the bed, lying me flat out on my back. Staring into my eyes, he dipped his thumb under the band of my underwear and pulled them down, exposing me in all my glory. My cheeks burned, and the rush of embarrassment made me cover my eyes.

  Again, I laughed.

  Damn nerves.

  Gray peeled my hands away and knelt on one knee, his injured leg extended and resting against me. The soft hairs on his upper thigh tickled my bare skin. He kissed me again, touched me without a barrier of clothing, and I groaned. Fuck it felt good.

  His hand was callused and rough, much larger than a woman’s. He wasn’t tentative. He knew exactly what he was doing.

  Our mouths came apart, and he scooted lower on the bed, a gleam in his eyes as he planted open-mouthed kisses along my stomach and licked into my navel on his journey south.

  “Oh, shit. Gray… are you fucking serious right now?”

  It was his turn to laugh. “As serious as a heart attack. Beckett, I’ve wanted to do this for as long as I can remember. Don’t deny me.”

  Like I would fucking tell him no. No guy in their right mind would deny a blowjob. Unless maybe the chick had braces and poor skills. Gray was neither a chick, nor did he have braces, and I somehow got the sense his skills would make me weep.

  He peeled my underwear the rest of the way off, and I couldn’t look. I knew he was right there. Face to face with my dick. Face to face and ready to…

  “Oh fuuuuck!” I cried, arching my back.

  His hot tongue licked a slow circle around my head at the same moment that his hand palmed my balls. I couldn’t breathe. It was all fire and ice. Hot waves of pleasure crashed over me while a bone-deep shiver made me shudder.

  Gray traced his nose down the side of my dick and buried his face in the crevice at the top of my thigh. He inhaled and moaned. Nipped the sensitive flesh. Worshiping me like no one ever had.

  I chanced a look down, and our eyes locked. Gray’s were rich with desire, sparkling with undiluted lust and need. Without breaking our connection, he lifted his head and mouthed my crown again. Licking my slit, he watched every reaction as they played out over my face.

  I was embarrassed to admit, I gave him plenty.

  Gasping, I snagged a handful of his hair and pushed him back down, guiding him to take me all the way into his mouth. He made a thorough pass before lifting off again.

  “You like that?” he asked, a teasing smile quirking his lips as he licked me again.

  “Please don’t make me talk while you’re doing this. I can hardly fucking think right now.”

  He chuckled, wrapped his mouth around me and sucked me down about half way before pulling off again. I wanted to smack him.

  “Not a talker, huh? Too bad.”

  “Gray, shut the fuck up and blow me. Jesus.”

  Without warning, he took me right to the back of his throat, and I bucked off the bed with a cry that cracked my voice. Then the bastard swallowed around me, and the muscles in his throat squeezed in the most delicious way imaginable.

  “Fuck, you are an evil asshole!” I held him in place, refusing to let him up while his throat massaged me and my entire body tingled. “Oh my God, that’s amazing.”

  In less than five seconds, I learned something. I’d either had really bad luck with women and blowjobs over the years, or Gray was some kind of fucking cock sucking professional because holy hell I’d never felt anything like this in my entire life.

  He smacked my hand away, giving himself relief and air as he came off my dick again.

  “Are you trying to suffocate me?”

  “Are you trying to kill me?”

  Gray climbed back up my body and clasped my jaw in a tight hold, pressing me against the bed. He kissed me brutally hard before lifting off again and grinning. I couldn’t help but laugh. I hadn’t seen him look so happy in a long time.

  “Now,” he said, smacking my cheek. “Lay here and behave while I suck your dick and show you what you’ve been missing all these years.”

  “You think I haven’t enjoyed a good blowjob before?”

  “Not like this you haven’t.”

  “You’re pretty cocky.”

  “Mmhmm. I’ve never had complaints.”

  “So far you’re all talk.”

  He shut me up with another bruising kiss then proceeded to make good on his word.

  Every wet glide up and down my shaft, every bit of tugging suction as he drew me deeper managed to turn me inside out. I muttered nonsense words of encouragement, voiced my pleasure through moans and pants, and laced my fingers through his hair—guiding but not demanding like before.

  His tongue and the muscles in his throat worked in unison to send me soaring. Pleasure crept up slowly. It started as a budding seed in my groin and bloomed, spreading its tendrils through my veins, over my scalp before branching down my spine and centering in my balls.

  It gathered. Grew. The pressure increased, and I knew when I cusped the edge, it would be more intense than anything I’d ever known.

  There was no warning. Gray knew exactly what he was doing. The tremors in my legs intensified until I was unable to catch my breath. He took me all the way down, and before I could brace myself, I was coming. Hard and explosive. I shot down his throat, and his swallows only added to the pleasure, keeping me in an endless loop of spasms for a long time.

  When the final dredges of orgasm ebbed, I opened my eyes. Gray had shed his underwear and knelt awkwardly over top of me. Hard and swollen, he pumped his dick with a purpose. I probably should have acted, helped, but I watched, stunned as my best friend jerk himself into orgasm and spilled all over my chest.

  It was a whole lot of firsts all at once. My first kiss with a guy. My first blowjob from a guy. My first time seeing Gray naked—at least as adults. My first time being covered in another guy's jizz. My first time getting turned on staring at another man’s dick.

  Part of me was a twisted ball of nerves, but another part of me was reveling in the experience and desperately trying to memorize it all.

  Gray collapsed beside me, both of us winded from the exchange. We stared at the ceiling, neither of us quite knowing what to say.

  Gray broke the silence a few minutes later when we could both breathe again. “So?”

  I tilted my head and smiled at him. The low light glimmered against his messy hair, highlighting a single strand of silver I’d never noticed before. “So?”

  “You gonna run away again?”

  “Are you kidding? Where the fuck did you learn to suck cock like that?”

  His smile was self-satisfied. “Not my first time.”

  “Do all gay men suck cock like that because, fuck me, if I’d had any clue…”

  Gray laughed out loud. “Believe me, they do not. I’ve had plenty of horror cases over the years.”

  “Good to know.” I stared back at the ceiling. “Maybe I’ll keep you around. Although you should note, the only dick I’ve been acquainted with over the years is my own, and sadly, I’m not flexible enough to suck myself off. So, I’ll probably have shitty skills in that department. All departments, actually.”

  “Are you worried?”

  I shrugged, but the truth was, I was a little worried. I knew the gist of gay sex but never considered being an active participant. The idea of giving a blowjob was a little daunting, never mind taking a dick up my ass.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Um…” And words failed me yet again.

  “Just say it. I think I know what you want to ask.”

  “Oh yeah, then save me the trouble and just answer me, smart ass.”

  That blinding smile returned as he threaded his fingers with mine. “You want to know the next step.”

  “Go on.”

  “Am I right?”

  “Maybe. Now answer the question before I have a coronary.”

  He squeezed my hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. �
�How about you don’t worry about it, and we stick to whatever is comfortable for you. We move forward when you’re ready.”

  I considered this, but it wasn’t a good enough answer. All I would do was worry if I didn’t know. “How about you just be blunt and tell me if you normally top or bottom.”

  “Aw, look at you pulling out all the gay terminology.”

  “Yeah, well, when you have a gay best friend, it’s par for the course.”

  “Honestly? I enjoy sex either way. So if you aren’t comfortable bottoming, then don’t worry about it.”

  I chewed on that bit of information for a few minutes. I couldn’t believe we were talking about having sex. A handful of hours ago, I was still shitting a brick back at Maria’s, unsure if I could do any of this. A dozen knee-weakening kisses and a blowjob later and boom, we were discussing anal.

  “Beck? You went quiet on me. You all right?”

  “Yeah. Do you have a preference?”

  “My preference is being with a guy who is equally vers. Because there are just days you want it one way or the other.”

  “Okay.”

  So my ass was potentially in for a surprise someday. I wasn’t sure I was ready to think about that.

  I took that opportunity to escape to the bathroom to clean up. When I crawled back into bed, Gray was comfortably positioned on his side—facing the clock. His underwear still decorated the floor, so I knew he was naked, which I had to admit was a bit of a turn on.

  But somehow, we’d switched sides of the bed.

  “Wanna shut the light off?” I asked once I was comfortable.

  He hesitated, and I caught the subtle stiffening in his limbs before he reached over and complied. In the moonlit darkness, I studied his rigid form. He was far from comfortable.

  “You okay?” I asked after a few minutes.

  “Yeah.” His response was tight. Guarded.

  My indecision lasted all of ten seconds before I shifted over and tugged him against me, spooning him, encasing him in my arms. I kissed his shoulder and breathed him in.

  “This okay?” I asked.

  He clutched my hand on his abdomen and squeezed. The tension left his body, and he sagged in my arms. “It’s perfect.”

  It kinda was. I could get used to this.

  “Goodnight, Gray.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grayson

  I woke to a face full of fur. Turning my head away from the animal who was trying to smother me, I cracked my eyes open and blinked into the bright rays of sunshine bleeding into the room from the open blinds.

  Ringo was curled up on my chest, and for a minute, I panicked. I was still not accustomed to this newer, friendlier version of Satan’s cat. He was being excessively lovey lately, and I wasn’t sure how to take it.

  His steady, rumbling purr vibrated through my chest as he continued to sleep. Cautiously, I rested a hand on him and stroked his fur. His purr deepened.

  Aside from the cat, I was alone in bed. There was no sign of Beck, and the blankets beside me were cold. My skin tingled and buzzed as I referenced the digital clock on the bedside table. Eight seventeen. Out of habit, I knocked the cat off me—who hissed in protest—to root in the pocket of my shorts from yesterday, finding my watch so I could cross-check that the time was accurate.

  I flipped my gaze between the two numerous times with my heart knocking. Then, I taxed my ears and listened for signs of life in the apartment. Stillness and an absence of noise grated on my nerves in recent days. It gave the eerie perception of time not moving, and if I couldn’t find proof to counter those threatening feelings, I slipped into a state of compulsive time checking and studying the second hand of the watch to ensure I was wrong.

  In the distance, the early morning traffic rumbled along. A stray horn honked its protest, and birds chirped their morning songs. I fumbled with my crutches and made my way over to the window, opening it so the spring air could filter in and clear the stuffiness. It also helped raise the volume of noise and settle my head.

  Only when the drumming in my chest calmed did the flood of memories from the day before restore themselves. Every mouth-watering ounce of them. Had Beck agreed to pursue something together?

  Jesus… it was almost too hard to believe I wasn’t dreaming.

  Beck. My Beck. The man I’d known and loved for a lifetime had given himself over to me last night. I’d sucked his dick and kissed him. We’d talked about more.

  I rattled my head in disbelief as I peered down at the traffic zipping by on the main street below. A rush of morning travelers. People hurrying off to work to start their day.

  As was the new course of things in my life, the dizzying scramble of cars no longer registered as calming. Between thoughts of all the lost years Beck and I could have had if he’d decided to follow this path earlier, to watching the surge of strangers frantic to get to work, racing to be on time, propelling through life as though competing to be the first to reach the finish line, my mind slipped.

  And what was the finish line they were after but death.

  And even after death, time dragged on, ever marching forward without a care for the casualties left behind in its wake.

  Minutes. Days. Weeks. Years. Decades. Centuries.

  Always going forward.

  And we the people were victims fighting against an enemy we couldn’t defeat.

  My heart flopped around like a dying fish, losing rhythm. I clutched my chest as my wind tunnel closed and air struggled to journey to my lungs. The cars drove faster and faster. Racing. Until they blurred and left paint-like smears for trails behind. Pedestrians no longer walked languidly. Their legs carried them with such frenzied madness I could barely make them out. Colors blended like an abstract painting.

  It was happening again. I never knew what was worse. Time stopping or time racing.

  I clung to the window sill, turning my head away from the distorted reality outside. The motion was whip-like and jolting. The room tilted with the small action, and the urge to flee the nauseating impression was overwhelming.

  One of my crutches hit the floor, and I was falling before I knew enough to try and stop myself. I hit the wardrobe hard, jarring my shoulder before crashing to the ground. It didn’t slow me. I crawled toward the bedroom door, frantic and fighting the sickening pace at which the world moved around me. Always faster than I could process. It left me bruised more times than not due to the over-powering urge to flee.

  There was never an escape. And once I’d made it halfway down the hall and confirmed the inevitability of my situation, I curled in a ball, covering my head, and squeezed my eyes closed. It would stop eventually. It had to.

  It had to.

  Organized thoughts didn’t return for some time. I didn’t know for how long I stayed in a ball on the floor, and I was afraid to look at the clock out of fear of plunging back into the thicket of a warped reality.

  Ringo sat beside me, grooming my forehead. The scratchy scrape of his tongue when I noticed it made me cringe and draw out of his reach.

  “You lick your ass with that tongue, get away from me.”

  I opened my eyes and stared into Ringo’s amber slits. Penetrating and judging. It was almost like I could hear him scolding me, “Yeah, and you’ve never licked an ass and shared kisses afterward.”

  My shoulder ached. When I sat up and examined it, I had a wicked bruise forming from where I’d hit the wardrobe. It wasn’t one I could hide either—especially with things taking an intimate turn with Beck and me.

  I propped myself against the wall and took a few calming breaths, seeking a functioning balance internally. With my legs outstretched, naked on the floor, it was hard to ignore the physical changes I’d endured over the past few months. My head was not my only complication.

  Last night, I’d slept better than I had in days. Maybe it was the release of pent up sexual tension. Maybe it was knowing Beck’s feelings had shifted and we might become more
than friends. Either way, I was still exhausted. Life was weighing me down. The compulsion to crawl back into bed and hide from myself and my mounting issues was strong.

  Every time I tried to function on a normal basis, I failed.

  I touched my residual limb, staring at the empty space where I’d once been complete and now sat broken. All it had taken was one storm, one poor decision to retreat to the basement. Everything I knew was lost in one terrifying moment. In the blink of an eye. My leg, and more frighteningly, my sanity.

  Everything terrorized me lately and coming home from the hospital hadn’t helped. I was worse, not better. This was one rollercoaster I didn’t want to ride anymore.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. For a long time, I sat and soaked in self-pity and self-hatred. My dream of having Beck in my arms was finally coming true, and what did I have to offer him?

  Nothing.

  The only reason I finally pulled myself off the floor was because I’d made an appointment with Doug at noon. Regardless of my lack of motivation and new piss poor attitude when it came to life, I still maintained a sense of responsibility.

  I showered, dressed and consumed a cold cup of coffee from what remained in the pot Beck had brewed earlier that day. Since the easiest thing to wear that wasn’t joggers was shorts, I’d opted to suck up my pride and bare my leg to my co-workers. Summer was coming. I figured I better get used to it.

  It was still early to call a cab, so I wandered down to the shop in search of Beck. Stairs made me nervous, despite my stability using my prosthesis. I clung to the banister on both sides, edging down one at a time, fearing a wrong step.

  Beck was on the computer at the gift room counter, scrolling through what appeared to be a site of online auctions. I recognized it as one he’d shown me in the past.

  “Hey.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and smiled before swinging back around and squinting at the screen. “Hi. Sleep okay?”

  I mumbled something that neither confirmed or denied his question. “No Maria today?”

  “I believe her words to me were, ‘Fuck you, asshole, run your own goddamn shop. I’m taking a day off.’”