Hopper tugged my ring-decorated hand to his fly, pressing it close. He was sporting an impressive hard-on of his own.
“I love you,” I told him, caressing his rod.
“I know it’s a little unorthodox,” he said, thrusting into my palm. “But you’ll take my name?”
Pulling my head back, I locked eyes with him. “I’ll change it tomorrow if that’s what you want.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you. Your name. Your ring. A lifetime with you.”
His eyes closed as if he relished my words.
“I also want you inside me.”
They sprang open at the same moment he lunged for me. As we locked around each other, our lips crashed. A definite urgency filled the tower. Even though we’d just basically promised each other a lifetime, it seemed as though in this moment, it wasn’t enough.
I raised my leg, about to lock it around his hip, but he reached under my ass and lifted. Both my thighs locked around his waist, Hopper carried me as if I weren’t almost as heavy as him a few steps away from the window toward the bed.
Instead of putting me down, he stood there holding me. With my lips a little above his, I took control of the kiss, working his mouth with all the passion inside me. There was a lot of it. I’d bottled it up for years and years before Hopper showed up at this airstrip many months ago.
Rubbing my palms over his stubble, I groaned and rocked against him. His hands gripped my ass, kneading the flesh through my jeans, and I moaned.
Yanking free of his mouth and dragging my teeth across his cheek, I latched onto his earlobe and sucked.
“I want you so fucking bad right now.” Hopper groaned.
Sliding up the back of his neck, I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back to stare down into his face. “Take me.”
His eyes flared. Suddenly I was on my back, staring up at the ceiling and all the lights draped there.
My legs were halfway off the bed, my feet on the floor. Hopper stood between my spread knees, gazing down at me with possession in his face.
It didn’t make me nervous, I didn’t even stop to think about it. I wanted him to want me. In fact, I wanted to possess him just as fiercely. Over the course of the last several months, his touch was something I grew very familiar with. When I told him I trusted him, I meant it wholeheartedly. Even physically.
The fact I was raped would always be there. I might always be weary of new people and being touched by anyone.
But not Hopper. His patience, gentleness, and the kind way he always treated me made it near impossible to not look at him with anything but love.
I had to say, though, something shifted tonight—something within me. Like a final lock being thrown into place. Or maybe the last shackle from that night behind the dumpster finally broke free.
All I knew for certain was without Hopper, none of this would have happened. I would still be stuck, hurting, in a suspension that was destined to last forever.
The intensity burst inside me, leaving it impossible for me to remain on my back. I pushed up into a sitting position, reaching for his pants. My face was in line with his crotch. Moving furiously, I undid his cargos and yanked them down. His snug, black boxers molded around his rock-hard dick, making my mouth water.
I covered the bulge with my mouth, too hurried to bother pulling down the boxers. He moaned and gripped my shoulders. Latching my lips onto his rod, I teased him through the cotton, grabbing his ass with my hands.
Hopp bunched my shirt beneath this fingers and pulled. I sat back long enough that he could pull it over my head and I could yank down his boxers. The smooth, silky cock called to me. I took him instantly into my mouth, sucking hard with persistent, deep strokes.
He whispered my name. I cupped his sack and sucked deeper.
I felt him take his shirt off as I pulled back a little, licking over his tip. His salty flavor hit my tongue and exploded.
Gently, Hopper pushed me back with a hand to my shoulder. I lay down and watched him kick off his shoes and slip the pants and boxers onto the floor. Completely naked, he reached for me, for the button and fly on my jeans.
In seconds, I was just as naked as he was, except I didn’t stay that way. He covered me with his body. The warmth he radiated seeped into my skin, and I sighed. He felt like a hot shower on sore muscles. I stretched beneath him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and held his body against mine.
Touching from toe to chest, his weight was delicious. The way his back arched pushed his hips into mine, allowing him to lift his shoulders, and his light eyes stared down.
He looked at me like I was all he saw. Like I was some kind of painting that was so exquisite it didn’t matter how many times he saw me; he’d still find something new and just as equally amazing.
Overwhelmed was an understatement. This was the last thing I expected. A ring. A proposal, a request to change my name.
I wasn’t alone, and I wouldn’t be ever again. There was a connection between us I knew would never fade. All the insecurities I might have felt about Matt, about Hopper’s past… they were gone. He chose me.
And deep down, I knew even if Matt hadn’t died, Hopp and I still might have found a way to each other. We had to, because there was nothing and no one that would be able to severe the connection we had.
Hell, if anything, I was grateful to Matt.
He paved the road that led here. To us.
As if he knew my thoughts, Hopper leaned down and picked up my left hand. I stared as he lifted it between us. Flexing my fingers so the ring was on full display, I watched him stare. The look on his face was just as awestruck as I felt.
“Hopp,” I rasped.
Hopper kissed my hand, the ring, and the finger it was on. Releasing my hand, he came over me. When his skin lay upon mine, breath hissed between my lips.
I got lost in his kisses. In his touch and the feel of his heart beating so forcefully against mine. The lights illuminating the room and the flickering candles played over his skin and left a sort of roadmap for my lips to travel.
We teased each other so much with endless kisses. It peaked with the pair of us tangled together in nothing but a heap of limbs and our weeping cocks.
Hopper ripped his mouth away, his lips red and swollen. I felt the mild stinging of my skin from the constant rubbing of his beard. Hot, wet kisses trailed down my abs. I reached blindly for him, but he gently pushed my hand away and continued lower.
The second his lips wrapped around my swollen cock, my eyes shot open. I didn’t see anything, though, but the shimmer of the lights overhead, rocking my hips as he gave me head. All the muscles in my body tightened with the insane urge to release.
As he sucked, his fingers delved below my sack to caress my entrance. I murmured something incoherent. Hopper released my dick, dragging his tongue down my taint to swirl around my sensitive hole.
I relaxed into the mattress and succumbed totally to his hands and mouth. When he pulled away completely and stood, my body followed.
A warm chuckle filled the room. He pushed me back onto the bed. “One sec.”
There was a small duffle by the door. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle. As he carried it back over, I spread my legs and moved farther up on the mattress. Hopper went back to work, coating his fingers and my crack with the silky-smooth lube. The sight of him between my legs, on his knees, with his strong cock jutting out below his rippling abs took my breath.
Snatching the lube from beside us, I sat up and generously coated him. The feel of his fingers running through my hair as I worked was a reward. When he was nearly dripping with the stuff, I lay back, gazing up at him with passion-filled eyes.
Hopper didn’t enter me right away. Instead, he leaned down to kiss me languidly. Between us, he stroked and pumped my cock until my toes curled.
His tip slid against me, and I moaned. His lips came back, and ours locked together as he filled me. The feel of his thick, hard dick s
liding in and out of my body was bliss. As he pumped into me, I caressed his chest and hips, occasionally leaning up to nip at his shoulder and kiss his neck.
With a shudder, Hopper folded over me, our chests colliding. Brushing my lips along his cheek and hairline, I felt him smile.
“If you don’t stop that, I won’t be able to control myself.”
“I don’t want you to.”
He drew back just enough to meet my eyes, and the hunger there was unmistakable.
I made a split-second decision and pushed lightly on his chest. “Up.”
Even though he was fighting release, even though I knew he wanted nothing more than to pound into me until he spilled out every last drop of his intense desire, he pulled back instantly.
The hawk-like way he stared at me and the grimace twisting his lips made me love him more. If that were even possible.
“I hurt you,” he half spat, angry at himself.
I held up a hand before he could torture himself further. “You didn’t. You never have.” Pushing up off the mattress, I tossed a smile over my shoulder. “I just can’t see the lights outside from my back.”
I knew he didn’t understand what I was saying. When I stepped up to the control panel, I planted my palms on the counter and showed him my bare ass. Slowly, realization dawned.
He sucked in a breath. “Babe…”
He’d never entered me like this. From behind. We shied away from the position because of my past. It didn’t matter anymore, though. With Hopper, nothing was off-limits.
“Come here,” I beckoned.
His teeth sank into his lower lip while his fist closed around his dick.
“I want to feel you inside me while I look at the lights below.”
“You kill me, babe,” he whispered, moving up behind me.
“I hope not,” I mused. “I need you.”
Strong arms locked around my waist from behind; his lips latched on my neck. Arching into him, I rubbed my ass along his hard dick. His groan vibrated my throat.
“If—” He whispered, but I made a sound, cutting him off.
“No ifs, Hopp. I know what I want.”
His hands moved to my hips. My palms flattened on the counter as I looked down at the words. His dick slid inside me with ease, and both of us groaned.
My head fell back. He gathered me close, and I lay against his shoulder. My stomach dipped and flipped with every stroke. This angle allowed him deep, and I shuddered against him.
His hand came around me, closing over my dick to stroke.
I leaned forward, slapped a hand against the glass of the window, and moaned.
Hopper surged deeper. His head brushed over my G-spot, and my knees threatened to buckle.
“Okay?” he murmured, voice strained.
“Don’t stop,” I pleaded.
He didn’t. He fucked me so good. Sounds ripped out of my throat, and I didn’t bother to hold them back. We were alone in this tower, alone and in love.
The candles flickered around us, and his hand… it was magic.
“I’m gonna fucking come,” I rasped.
Hopp shoved deep, rotating his hips as he jacked me firmly. I started coming, the release pouring out of me, over his hand, and my body shook.
His free arm wrapped around my waist like a vise. He thrust in me twice more. His teeth sank into my shoulder, his arm tight at my waist. “Babe…”
“It’s okay. Let go.” I urged, still quaking from my own release.
I felt him pulse inside me. His lips latched onto the back of my shoulder as his orgasm ripped him apart.
I pushed down onto his dick and swiveled my ass. He made a sound, and I felt more seed spill within me.
When both of us were finally steady enough, still clinging together, we collapsed back on the bed, tangling our limbs.
“That was…” His voice was breathless, and his sentence trailed away.
I smiled up at the ceiling, stroking his back with my hand. “I know.”
“How soon will you marry me, babe?” Hopper asked.
Another one of those really big smiles filled my face. “As fast as we can get to an altar.”
When a man gets married, he’s got a lot to think about.
You know, stuff.
Not the kind of stuff like last-minute jitters or thinking to himself, “Shit, this is the last dick I’m ever going to have in my lifetime.”
Well, maybe some men think that. Those men probably shouldn’t be getting married. But that ain’t my business.
Not me.
I was goddamn lucky to be getting married. Doing something like that seemed so far out of reach it wasn’t even on my bucket list.
Fuck. Who was I kidding? I didn’t have a bucket list.
I might have once. A lifetime ago.
Now I just resolved to grab happiness and hold tight.
Happiness = Arrow.
I wasn’t much of a romantic guy; I was pretty simple. Still, the night I proposed to him was the best night of my life.
Seemed like I had everything, right? A second chance, a new family, absolute love.
I did have everything. More than maybe I deserved. More than I would ever think of giving back.
Everything included just what it implied. Everything.
Guilt.
An emotion that seemed to be the bane of my existence. My cross to bear. Everyone had one, didn’t they?
Everyone probably hated theirs.
I did mine. ‘Course, that made me feel guilty, too.
For the first time in a long time, sleep was hard to come by. I remembered this feeling, though tonight it seemed somehow worse. Probably because I wasn’t used to it anymore. I’d been given a reprieve. How hard it was to go back to something that didn’t seem all that difficult when it was the norm.
I was tired right now. Weary but wired. My body was done, but my mind was amused. As if it laughed in the face of my desire to rest. The energy gathering inside me threatened to spill out, presenting itself in fidgeting feet, tapping fingers, and an insane urge to get up and pace.
I didn’t want to.
I wanted to lie here with A. The weight of him against my side and across my chest was the only thing holding me in place. Of course, wanting to lie here with him while the urge to move gnawed away at my insides left me frustrated and annoyed.
I wanted peace. And wanting peace made me feel guilty as well. Just when I thought I had a handle on it, there it came, rearing its ugly head. It was a vicious cycle to which I saw no end.
Matt’s face appeared in the back of my mind. My eyes popped open, staring up at the darkened ceiling. It was like a sky without stars. Endless.
Even though my eyes were open, his image didn’t go away. With it came memories and thoughts. More pictures, more feelings.
Carefully and gently, I wiggled out from beneath Arrow. Sliding out of the bed, my bare feet hit the floor. Wearing only my boxers, I stared down at my blond-haired love and longed to crawl back in bed.
Instead, my torso twisted. I shuffled out of our bedroom and into the living room.
Everything was dark out here, but all the shapes and shadows were familiar. The middle of the night looked exactly as I remembered it. Empty.
Yes, even with the familiar shapes. Even with Arrow in my bed. Even though I no longer lived alone.
If anything, those things made me feel worse. I didn’t want to feel this way.
It was inescapable.
I wandered to the window, peeking through the blinds to stare down into the lot surrounding the apartment building. Golden, artificial glow spread out over the concrete, blasting everything with harsh light. There wasn’t much green space here. This building wasn’t far from the speedway; we could see it from the bedroom window.
Sometimes I missed the green. The rain. The way the leaves would get so wet they stuck to everything, the streets, the roads, my shoes. The tires of a Ducati.
I’m getting married.
Sof
tly shuffling feet cajoled me out of my thoughts. Arrow moved out of the bedroom and into the dining room. His face widened in a strong yawn. Blond hair fell over one of his eyes and stuck out at the back of his head.
Just looking at him, my lips curved. He made me so happy.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck, his words thick with sleep.
“I tried not to wake you.”
Grunting, his bare feet padded across the tile toward me. “I don’t know how to sleep alone anymore, Hopp.”
Palming the side of his face, I felt my chest cave a little. Just when I thought he had all of me, he would go and claim another little piece. One I didn’t even know I had.
I felt his eyes, the piercing way he always saw me. Avoiding the stare, I glanced down. Frowning, I asked, “Why are you wearing pants?”
“I’m hungry.”
The incredulous sound I made floated between us in the dark. “It’s three o’clock.”
“My stomach doesn’t have a clock, Hopp. You know this.”
“Want me to make you some eggs?” I offered. Eggs was about as good as I got in the kitchen. At least for now. I was trying to get better. Someone had to feed my husband-to-be.
He shook his head, leaned around me, and snagged a set of car keys off the counter. “We’re leaving.”
The intimacy of the conversation changed. Even though technically we still spoke of food, we weren’t really.
Arrow knew I was struggling. The urge to walk the sidewalk, find an almost empty diner with horrible coffee and blurry windows looking out onto the street, was so overwhelming for me he felt it, too.
Without another word, he walked off, passing by the sofa, snagging a T-shirt he’d thrown there, and shrugging into it as he went to the door. With his feet barely shoved into a pair of black high-tops, he gestured for me with his chin.
I dressed in silence, barely paying attention to the jeans and shirt I put on.
We said nothing at all in the elevator or parking garage as we walked to the “incognito” car we had there.
The press were rabid lately. They wanted a piece of Jayson Hamilton. Although Gamble wanted us to stay longer at his mansion, a few nights was all we could take. We liked the bubble we lived in, the world we’d created together.
#FinishLine (GearShark #5) Page 7