by Cara Dee
I grinned, zooming in on Haley's beautiful face. Even with the tug at my chest, I was happy we were where we were. She was having a blast with her aunt and uncle, and I…I was with Ellis.
After flushing the toilet, I washed my hands and started brushing my teeth. I grabbed the phone again and took a selfie where I winked and fired off a pistol shot at the mirror.
I wish you were here, too. In the bathroom, specifically. Because sharing is caring.
"Dammit." No service. I'd have to send it later instead.
I was back in bed a minute or two later, and it was possible I buried my head in Ellis's pillow to see if it smelled like him. And it did. It was a scent I could bottle and sell for a shitload—to myself.
A voice at the back of my mind was getting increasingly louder about the uncertainties of where all this with Ellis was leading, and a giant ball gag couldn’t silence the warning. Maybe, if I tried really hard, I could get one day before I went there.
Things were bound to get complicated. Gut feeling.
When I heard Ellis returning, I dragged myself up and leaned back against the headboard. I scratched my bicep, scanning the room. It looked much like the one I used on the other side of the yacht, only this one was a bit bigger and looked more lived-in.
The smell of coffee hit me as the door opened, and my stomach growled. I wasn’t sure what I wanted the most—the food served on him as a plate, or me being the plate. I wasn’t choosy.
He set a tray with two plates of heated leftovers and two cups of coffee on his nightstand, though what made me cock an eyebrow was something already on the little dresser. How the hell had I missed that? A bottle of baby oil was hidden poorly behind a box of tissues.
I didn’t mention it.
Ellis got comfortable next to me before handing over a plate and a mug.
"Thank you." I blew off some steam, then took a careful sip of the coffee. Ahh, sweet nectar.
He cleared his throat, picking at a piece of bacon with his fork. "I realize you have questions."
I stifled my smirk and took another sip. "Only a few hundred."
He nodded with a dip of his chin and sighed quietly. "I'm not sure I have answers for any of them."
Side-eyeing him as I began eating, I thought of questions I knew he'd be able to answer. Answers I probably wouldn’t be afraid of, because there were several of the crappy kind. The "What happens now?" hung heavy in the air—or maybe only I felt it—but that was an answer I wasn’t ready for.
"Is it only a need for comfort?" I avoided the word he'd used. Affection. It was what he craved, affection and connection.
"No." He shook his head and wouldn’t look me in the eye. "I'm having issues keeping my hands off you even now. I'm very much attracted to you."
Well, hey. I smiled around a mouthful of bacon and chicken smothered in bourbon sauce from last night. Except, the bacon was new. "I'm very much attracted to you, too."
He huffed, most likely finding me insufferable. "I get formal when I'm uncomfortable, all right?"
"You get cute as fuck, too," I pointed out.
In response, he sighed and sent a skyward look to—I assumed—ask God for help. Because I wasn’t easy.
I could be a good boy, though. I quit the teasing and inhaled my food so I could sit back and savor my coffee. Coffee was the most important meal of the day, anyway.
"Have you been with men before?" I wondered.
Another headshake. "I've… It's complicated. I've been attracted to men before, but nothing like…" At last, he faced me, and he narrowed his eyes. "It wasn’t until you. Seeing you more often, getting to know you better—God." He released a breath and drank from his coffee mug. "I cannot for the life of me get you out of my head."
I beamed at him, half self-conscious, half falling for him.
I couldn’t just sit here after hearing that, nor was I eloquent enough to say anything, so that left one thing. I grabbed our plates and set them on the nightstand; our coffee followed, and then I hitched a leg over his so I could straddle him.
"I like being in your head." I lifted his chin and kissed him briefly. "It means we're square."
He was good at shaking his head this morning. "You don't understand." His hands did the talking by sliding up my thighs while he thought of what to say. "I think I've reached the point where I could wax poetic about your goddamn eyes."
"My goddamn eyes…" I locked my fingers behind his neck and nuzzled his jaw. This moment—this one right here—was the best part of any relationship I'd been in. Before they left, before they realized I didn’t fit their mold. "What about my eyes?"
He closed his, and he rested his forehead against mine. "They're fucking beautiful. It usually takes hours in editing to get that intense blue." More than half self-conscious now. Jesus. He opened his eyes again and searched my face, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "At the risk of inflating your ego, you could be a model. Those eyes, the fair skin, and with the jet-black hair? But it's more than that." He continued before I could splutter something about my features. Was he losing his mind? "You wear your life like an outfit, in a way. There's an edge about you—"
"I'm definitely not edgy." I had to interrupt, and I was honestly wondering if we were still talking about me. No one had ever called me edgy.
"You are, though." He ghosted his knuckles along my jaw. "Don't you think people see it? You check your surroundings more than others do. You're alert." Except, I missed the baby oil on the nightstand. "You're easily triggered by sounds. You tense up and scan the area if anything's out of place."
I sat back and frowned. The little things he mentioned… They were second nature and nothing I thought of. It wasn’t how I would describe myself at all.
Getting to know myself through the eyes of another was strange.
For the record, I didn’t think people saw any of that.
So why did Ellis?
"You've been through numerous experiences that've made you more guarded." He gathered my hands in his, palms up, so he could brush his fingers up the insides of my arms. My scars had faded and were barely visible. "Your childhood wasn’t easy, either. Then prison, learning about Haley, Kendra leaving…"
Maybe I didn’t like this anymore. I withdrew my hands and thought of lighter topics—
"And you hide," he said.
My gaze flashed to his.
The bastard was smirking. "You're doing it right now. You may be a refreshingly honest man, Casey, but you have fears that you stash behind your humor."
"Are you psychoanalyzing me?"
He smiled. "I've only paid attention."
"You make me sound like a boring textbook case."
"You're anything but boring," he corrected mildly. "Being a textbook case is also one of the broadest definitions known to man. I'm sure we're all textbook cases. Cause and effect, coping mechanisms—we're textbook human."
I swallowed and looked down between us.
I put myself out there all the goddamn time; I was honest, I spoke of what I wanted, what my goals were, I wasn’t afraid to take initiative, and I didn’t let fear of rejection hold me back. But motherfucker…what was it gonna take? Should I shout to the entire goddamn world that I was lonely as fuck and despising it? Was I supposed to believe good things about people when I knew they'd eventually take off?
Actually, I did believe there was good in people. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be drawn to them. It was just extremely hard to stay positive at times. In a world where everyone seemed to be looking for their idea of perfection, I wanted someone who didn’t mind a few flaws.
I remembered an ex-boyfriend of mine. He was the first man I dated after coming out as bisexual, and he eventually dumped my sorry ass for a stupid argument we'd had. He'd spoken up about self-harm and how those who did it only wanted attention, which… Christ, we didn’t talk for three days afterward, and then I got a text about us not working out.
I thought he was genuinely wrong, but we were different people. We had
different backgrounds. There were certainly things I was ignorant about, and it often took personal experience before we got it. His ignorance on one matter was a flaw I'd be happy to overlook if it meant we could meet in the middle once the moment wasn’t so infected. I couldn’t see his perspective; he couldn’t see mine. Then he'd ended things before we could even try work it out.
I wondered idly what the last drop would be for Ellis.
"Casey?"
Okay, time to pull my shit together. "Yup." I lifted my gaze and smiled stiffly.
"I hide things, too. I hope you didn’t take that as a personal attack."
It was what it was. "I don't think concealing some things makes me any less honest."
"I agree with you." He smirked softly. "In my case, however, it does. I haven't been honest with myself in so long that I've forgotten who I am." Once again, he grasped my hands and pried them open, the insides of my arms facing up. "Since that night at the restaurant, when you came over to my table, I've been trying to do better, starting with acknowledging what I want—to myself. And much of it is thanks to you."
I chewed on the inside of my cheek as he traced a finger over a crisscross scar on my wrist. "What do you want?"
"Right now? You."
I suppressed a shiver and took a slow breath. It was fucking vital I didn’t get ahead of myself. He said right now. There were no promises of tomorrow.
"I want to be completely open with you." He inched closer and pressed his lips to my collarbone. "I get the feeling you'd take a stream of consciousness with immediate acceptance. You're safe."
I'd thought the same about him last night. At the same time, I felt ridiculously exposed.
Something told me he had the power to tear me down pretty good.
"You can tell me anything." It wasn’t my place to judge, and I knew how much that shit could hurt, not to mention ostracize. "I have no expectations—as long as you keep doing that." Because his mouth on me was fucking wonderful.
His lips stretched into a smile, and he nipped at my shoulder before trailing kisses up my neck. "In the spirit of transparency, then… It's amazing to touch you." His hands roamed my back, making it too easy to be seduced. "I could watch you for hours. Read your expressions, learn your reactions."
I grinned a little and kissed the side of his head. "Because I wear my life on my sleeve, right?"
He hummed. "You do. You cut me off earlier, so maybe I should continue."
"Oh yeah, let's see what you've got. I still don't think I have an edge."
He chuckled quietly, and then he captured my mouth in one of his unhurried kisses. "Let's see…" Before he could go on, I stole a deeper kiss where I could taste him properly. One for the road. "Mm—fuck. You wear your fatherhood with pride, often in the shape of nail polish and macaroni jewelry. It says a lot about you."
I laughed breathily. Was it so wise to discuss this while I was getting a serious hard-on?
"You struggle with anxiety sometimes, too," he whispered. "That's when you wear a ratty old beanie."
That one was a gut punch. My grandmother made me that the year before she died. While I was in prison, I rarely took it off. Until Lincoln was getting out; I gave it to him, though he gave it back to me when I was released on parole.
"How do you notice these things?" It wasn’t something I advertised.
"Hmm, well, to be fair, I've always paid extra attention to you," he murmured into another kiss. "I've admired your openness since day one. It's quite ironic, actually."
"How so?" Wanting to feel more of him, I scooted off of him so we could lie down instead. It was about damn time I got reacquainted with his ass.
Side by side, I could kiss him some more all while slipping a hand underneath his boxer briefs. He groaned under his breath as I gave his ass a firm squeeze and pulled him closer to me.
"For saying you're complicated," he replied, out of breath, "you never complicate communication. Simple truths are simple truths for you."
"And it's not for you?" I explored his scruff with my lips and made sure he felt my cock against his thigh.
"Christ—no. I hide too, remember? Behind expectations and the norm."
The norm could fuck off harder than fears.
Fuck conversation, too. For now.
Sensing his willingness to follow rather than lead at the moment, I took charge and told him to turn around. I wanted to get up close and personal with his back and thighs. And ass. Definitely ass. Mostly his ass.
His legs and thighs could wait 'til later, even.
He hesitated, then rolled over to be the little spoon again. "Should I worry for my virtue?"
I chuckled and stroked my knuckles over his shoulder blade. I fucking loved the definition of his muscles. Down, down, circling a birthmark…down, past his perfect back dimples, until my fingers played with the waistline of his underwear.
"Are you okay with exploring a bit? Just fingers."
"God, yes."
I flushed with heat. "Then, no, nothing to worry about." Impossible to keep the sex out of my voice now. I helped him get rid of his underwear, and my own followed. "It's like I was just given the key to the candy store."
He tossed a smirk over his shoulder, and I leaned over and kissed him before he could say something cute.
"I wanna make you come," I mumbled into the kiss. "Get me the oil over there."
That ended the amusement, and his eyes grew darker.
With the bottle of baby oil in my hand, I instructed him to lift his leg while I got him slick. He was about the discover how much I loved the feeling of bodies slipping and sliding together. I poured a generous amount into my palm, ready to tease the wit out of him.
At the first contact, Ellis sucked in a breath.
I stared hungrily, my hand sneaking between his thighs. My cock throbbed as I rubbed oil in sensual strokes along his most sensitive areas. Under his tight balls, between the cheeks of his ass. I teased his sac with brushes of my fingers, and when I flicked a glance at his cock, I saw it was getting harder and harder.
"Goddamn." Ellis turned his head and moaned into the pillow.
Scooting farther down, I kissed his shoulder blade and reached between his legs to slick up his erection, too. This was probably as much for me as it was for him. Getting my hands on his cock for the first time was making my mouth water.
He hissed and thrust into my fist. "You're dragging it out."
"Damn right, I am." I swiped my thumb over the glistening head and gave the next upstroke a slow twist. Then down again, I applied pressure along the thick vein on the underside of his cock. He liked that one. Noted for the future. "I think your cock was made to be sucked and choked on."
"Jesus," he panted.
It was enough. It wasn’t, but it had to be—for now. I shifted higher again and spent some time rubbing the spot between his cock and ass. I cupped his balls, rolling them in my hand, not releasing him until every inch was coated in oil and he was groaning.
In a selfish moment, I grabbed my cock and pushed it between those delectable cheeks. Fuck. I swallowed dryly as a heavy fog of desire weighed down on me.
"I could come like this." I fucked the tight, slick gap slowly, and every time the head of my cock brushed against his opening, he let out sounds of pleasure. If nothing else, he was curious about taking more in his ass. He would in a minute.
"Casey…" He growled.
I chuckled huskily and dropped an openmouthed kiss on his shoulder. "Patience."
Sex shouldn’t be rushed. Ever. Unless I was the bottom. I needed things when I needed them then.
For the purpose of prolonging the moment, I did have to give him a break before I lost my composure. I gave my cock a few firm strokes and then reached for the oil again. We were going to have to change the sheets after this. Fingers dripping with oil, I found my focus—on his pleasure. I slid a hand along his ass, my index finger slipping between to tease his hole. Ellis grunted and pushed back, and to keep him on his to
es, I didn’t wait. I forced my middle finger deep inside him.
"Fuck," he exhaled sharply. He stiffened for a beat, only to relax when I went back to slower movements.
I wasn’t even part of the equation anymore; it was only about him, and I felt like I could do this forever. Fucking him gently, watching the excitement take over, hearing his reactions, seeing the muscles in his body strain… It went to my head. I wanted him more than ever, and the physical bit was just a portion of that.
He took a second finger with a hiss and a groan, and then he was carefully meeting every thrust. I pushed in; he rolled his hips. Tilting his head back to me, he wordlessly conveyed what he wanted, and I lowered my face to kiss him.
"Sexy as all fuck." I nibbled at his bottom lip before swiping the tip of my tongue into his mouth. "Let me know when—"
His gasp cut me off, and that kind of answered the question. I brushed my middle finger over the rough surface inside him, caressing it in slow, persistent circles. Every time my fingers entered him, I made sure I rubbed him there.
"Fist your cock," I told him. He did, and the sight made me jealous of a goddamn hand. "Stroke yourself and match my pace."
Applying more oil, I began fucking him with three fingers, and that was the magic number, it seemed. For the first time, as far as I knew, Ellis cursed as much as his cousin, and he pushed back quicker. It spurred me on, and I fingered him faster, harder, deeper. Our kisses turned bruising, and the smell of sex was back.
"Fuck, I love this," he whispered. "Oh, hell." He shuddered and screwed his eyes closed. "It's—fuck, more. Too intense."
Did that mean it was too much or he wanted more?
There was no time to dwell on it, because he tensed up, his jaw set and abs more pronounced. A second later, he let out a gritty groan and started coming. Burst after burst shot out of his cock, landing on the mattress and his chest.
I was pretty sure I forgot to breathe. I definitely forgot I was still massaging his prostate, and it was his breathy growl that snapped me back to what I was doing. Carefully easing out my digits, I excused myself and hoped he'd let me indulge in taking care of him. It'd been over a year since I last got to do any boyfriend stuff, and though I was far from his partner, fucking sue me. I was gonna draw us a bath, so help me God, and we were gonna cuddle in the hot water.