“As soon as I get those seat belts.”
“You should get Jenny to order you some. Her parts guy is pretty quick. Not sure how long it will take to find some to fit this model.”
“I’m not even sure if they ever made any to fit this model.”
“If they don’t, she can rig 'em.” He grinned. “You might have me back in the driver’s seat in the next two weeks.”
I’d call Jenny, but I’d ask her to take her time. I wasn’t sure I was ready for another near death experience. Although, the smile, the joy, the pride Morgan exhaled because he’d managed to circle the block made my head fill up with the most wonderful feelings. I think for the first time I understood why some people got hooked on drugs after just one use. ‘Cause I was hooked on Morgan.
Okay, maybe I would ask her to hurry. And if by some chance she couldn’t pull off a miracle, there was always Alabama Chrome.
Duct tape.
I followed Morgan inside. He sat the box by the back door and emptied the tray into the garbage.
“Aren’t you going to open those?”
“If I was, I wouldn’t have thrown them away.” He got out the bread. “You want chicken salad or a ham sandwich?”
“Chicken salad is good.”
He nodded. “One or two?”
“Just one.” My stomach disagreed. “Better make that two.” He’d already gotten out the extra slices of bread and laid them on the plate. As I passed by the garbage can, I glanced down. Keller and Associates was on the return address on every visible label.
“Reading other people’s mail is rude.”
“Sorry.” I walked over. “Want some help?”
“You can get the chicken salad out of the fridge. Green bowl. Top shelf.”
I did. “What if it’s important?”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know? You haven’t opened them.” There had to be close to a dozen. “How long have you been avoiding those letters?”
“Obviously, not long enough. They’re supposed to send them back after ten days.”
“Want me to get the drinks?”
He nodded.
“Tea?”
“Sure.”
I got the glasses. Morgan made quick work of our sandwiches. He cut them into squares and put them on plates. I followed him back to the table with our drinks.
I handed him his tea, and he put my sandwich on the table. “Why don’t you want to open them?”
Morgan flicked thoughts while he picked the crust off one square and ate it.
I drank my tea.
He ate the square.
I propped my elbow on the table.
“There’s no need for me to.” He snapped his fingers. “I already know what they say because it’s always the same.”
“And what do they say?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His shoulder jerked hard enough make him slosh his tea. I started to get up and grab a towel. “I got it.” He went back in the kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels.
“You know you can—” My cell phone rang. I checked the number. It was Price. “Can you excuse me? I need to take this.”
Morgan nodded, and I went out front.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kessler. I got your message.”
“Since when did I become Mr. Kessler to you?”
She laughed. It was a thick hearty sound belonging to a man not a woman of eloquent beauty. “I figured since I haven’t heard from you in a while, that we’d gone from good acquaintance to strict business associates.”
I leaned against the post. “You haven’t heard from me because I haven’t been in need of your services.”
“Until now.” There was a bit of a chill to her tone.
“It’s nothing serious. Retired life is working out better than I hoped.”
There was movement in the background. “I’m glad to hear. Real glad. Now tell me about your not-too-serious problem.”
I gave her a rundown on Dillon, the parole hearing, and Morgan’s fears of the man coming back. When I was done, Price sighed in a way I knew things were not in my favor. Or in this case, Morgan’s favor.
“Even dirt bags have a right to parole.”
“Can’t you petition the court, or whatever it is you lawyers call paperwork now days?”
“It would be better if Morgan could show up.”
“He can’t.” The gentle melody of classical music drifted from inside the house.
“Grant?”
“I’m sorry I got distracted. What were you saying?”
“I said, why not?”
How much could I tell her without hurting him? I settled on vague. “It’s personal.”
“All right, I’ll make some calls and have an associate attend the hearing.”
“You can’t?”
“I’m not licensed in Georgia. That and I have an important trial to prepare for.”
Important was Price’s code word for very wealthy and usually criminally connected client. I wish I could say she’d never used the word with me. At least it wasn’t for killing someone.
“But other than the snafu with your friend, things are good?”
“Yeah.” I picked at a splinter on the railing.
“Sounds to me, they might be better than good.”
“They are.” A soft wind pushed leaves from the branches stretching out over the front of the house. Flashes of gold cut the sunlight. The bottles around the picket fence were almost lost among the fall colors piling up around them.
Could the sands of a beach be any more magical?
Probably. But the beach didn’t have Morgan.
I cleared my throat. “I need you to do something for me.”
“All right.”
“I’d like to change some of my financial arrangements.”
“Money problems?”
“No, no, not at all. But I’d like to extend the deposits.”
“You make it sound like your three year plan just got longer?”
“Hopefully infinitely longer.”
I could practically hear her smile. “Those plans have anything to do with your friend?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, Grant. You’re just full of surprises.” She laughed again, this time it was softer and as feminine as the average woman. Only there was nothing average about Harriet. At six foot, skin so dark it was close to blue, and eyes black as onyx, she was the epitome of beauty but nothing close to fragile.
No, Harriet bled strength and confidence.
“Why do you say that?” I said.
“Because it’s hard for anyone to forgive. And it’s twice as hard for you to forgive.”
“You can’t forgive a rattlesnake for doing what come’s natural.”
“Not Jeff, yourself.”
I pushed a leaf off the porch with the toe of my shoe. “Yeah, I guess I surprised myself then.”
“I’m glad.” Someone spoke in the background. “I’ve got to go. I’ll make those calls and let you know what I find out. Tell your friend not to worry, if anything can be done, I’ll do it.”
And she meant it.
We said our good-byes and hung up.
Violins and flutes sang in chorus with cellos and clarinets. The flow of music matched the afternoon perfectly.
Back inside, I froze in the doorway. Morgan had moved the dining room table up against the wall, clearing a space. He stood on tiptoe, arms up, body curved, then dropped with the fall of the music, tipping forward and lifting his leg toward the ceiling. His flip-flops and shirt were gone, leaving his raggedy blue jeans and miles of perfect skin.
The music filled him, turning him liquid, twisting his body in the most beautiful ways.
I admit, I didn’t know jack shit about ballet, but it didn’t take an expert to see he was flawless or damn well close to it.
Those people at the dance school had truly missed out.
He switched feet, arching ba
ck over a curved leg. His eyes were closed, and he wore a blissful expression. One I’d seen when he watched the light, or when I made love to him.
There wasn’t enough room to leap, but I knew just by watching how he danced from one foot to the next, he’d jump like a deer.
The most amazing thing was the lack of tics. They were just gone, leaving behind a gorgeous man who would never be normal. Not because of the autism, but because he was too extraordinary.
I didn’t want to disturb Morgan, but my feet weren’t listening. In just a few steps, I found myself close enough for the current of air to brush my skin as he moved. He didn’t open his eyes when he lifted my hand and pirouetted so fast he made me dizzy.
Then he stopped and looked at me.
It was then I knew. Staring into those eyes. Eyes that saw where no man could, I was falling for him. I take that back. I’d already fallen for him. I couldn’t say when it happened or how. There at the doorway, before in the truck, at the diner, at the movie, but it didn’t matter.
My heart was his.
I seriously began to wonder if it ever wasn’t. That he’d always held me and I just didn’t know it. Like seeing the light in a way I couldn’t, he’d seen a love that hadn’t happened yet, but knew it would.
Of course it might have all been in my head. But it wouldn’t have surprised me if it wasn’t.
Morgan ran his fingers from my chin to my throat. A shiver danced down my spine becoming an electric heat as it spread over me. I leaned down, but instead of taking my mouth, he brushed his lips against mine and drank my exhale.
His brow crinkled.
“What are you worried about?” I cupped the back of his head. Morgan continued to search my face. I wished I knew what it was he looked for. Or what he saw when he found it. Sometimes it happened in seconds, sometimes in long aching moments.
Morgan tugged on my shirt, and I helped him pull it over my head. He kissed my shoulder, the center of my chest, then he dragged his teeth back up to my jaw.
I didn’t even try to suppress the shudder.
His caresses flowed down my ribs and traced the edge of my jeans. I was already hard by the time he pulled down the zipper.
Morgan continued to sigh against my skin. Sometimes it was my cheek, or my ear, but mostly my lips. All the while he held my gaze. I had a feeling it was the longest he’d looked at anyone.
I was willing to bet he’d never wanted to before.
My jeans fell to the floor. I stepped out of them as I pushed Morgan closer to the wall. He tugged on the zipper of his pants, and I knocked his hands away so I could take over.
A devilish smile flashed on his lips, but it vanished into an open mouth gasping as I gripped his freed cock. He avoided my mouth again by turning his head. My confusion must have shown in my face because he shushed me.
I pressed Morgan against the wall, and he used the newfound leverage to climb to my waist. His exhale heated the tender flesh on the side of my neck.
I ran my thumb over the head of his cock, and he thrust his hips, sliding the crack of his ass over my dick.
“Do you want me, Grant?”
As if he needed to ask.
Morgan peppered my jaw in light kisses. “I think you do. I think you want me. I think if I asked you, you’d fuck me right here.”
I would. God help me, I would.
“I’d like that.” He raked his nails up my back. The sharp lick of pain pulled a groan out of my chest. “I think you’d like it too.”
“No lube.”
“Don’t care.”
“I do. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m tougher than I look, Grant. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“I have no doubts about how strong you are.” Not anymore.
“Then go slow.” Morgan slid around me until he was at my back. In long slow strokes, he milked my cock until it ran over his fingers, turning them shiny. I have no idea how he coaxed so much fluid to the tip.
“Still won’t be enough.”
He twisted his wrist as he moved to the tip and the combination threatened to push me over the edge. A thick line of precum stretched from the tip. He caught it and smeared it over the head.
“Morgan.” Oh god, I did not want him to stop. I couldn’t even jack my own dick with the same kind of skill. “There’s oil in the kitchen.” It was only a few feet away. He made the move again, and I bucked back. His cock slid between my legs. I closed them to give him friction, but he was already in motion again. One leg hooked around mine, his arm over my shoulders. He swung using me like a pole and faced me before I could even turn my head to watch him move. His jeans were gone now, and nothing restricted the flexibility of his legs.
“I want you to fuck me, Grant.” He held himself up with just one arm around the back of my neck. I found his hand at his back, his fingers buried in his ass. Three, stretched him wide, and the puckered flesh around his digits was wet. The saliva wouldn’t stay for long. We needed lubricant.
“Just let me—” He yanked my hair hard enough to cause me to stumble back. My hip hit the table, and his mouth found mine. I begged him to kiss me, but he only played with my lips and tongue.
“Sometimes I like it to hurt.” He bit my lip. “I promise, go slow, and I’ll be fine.”
“Condom.” Maybe he had one in his pocket.
Morgan breathed against the shell of my ear. “I want to feel you. All of you. Your cock, your cum, your heat. Fill me, Grant, please.”
I’m not even sure at that point I could have told him no. I leaned forward, resting his ass on the edge of the table. My cock was already at his opening as if it had a mind of its own. I gripped my length, rocked my hips, and milked myself for every drop of precum I could to smear over his opening. He’d prepped himself, but every time the tip of my dick touched the ring of puckered flesh, it tightened. There was no way, no way, I wouldn’t tear him. Maybe if there was a little less of me.
Morgan inhaled deep, and from head to toe, the tension in his limbs bled away. “Now.”
I hesitated.
“Grant.” He moved his legs higher and locked his heels behind my back. “Now.”
I pushed, and between his control, and the precum, the amount of resistance I expected wasn’t there, but the friction brought a whole new element I’d never experienced. Every crease of his entrance rubbed every inch of flesh on my cock. Slick with lubricant, those details were always blurred, but not now, every nerve ending reacted.
In one long stroke, I took him, then the breath I’d been holding whooshed out on an agonizing moan. Morgan panted in my ear. I wanted to move, I needed to move, especially before the precum dried too much. But it felt so good to be there, like that, wrapped in heat, our bodies pressed together, his leaking cock crushed between us.
I kissed his chin, went for his mouth, he turned his head just enough to make me miss.
“Why won’t you let me kiss you?”
Morgan smiled as he brought his lips back to mine. I tried again and got the same result. The third time, I made no attempt to take his mouth, and he claimed mine.
There was no gentleness in how he thrust his tongue or the weight he put into the contact. Our teeth scraped together, his caught my lip, blood smeared across his chin when he yanked back only to dive at me again.
I didn’t realize I moved my hips in rhythm with his attack until the table hit the wall hard enough to knock a picture loose.
“Don’t stop.” Morgan pulled my hair and crushed my ear against my head. “Fuck me, Grant. Hard.”
I pulled to the tip and shoved deep. His body clamped down around me with enough force to break my rhythm. I reached between us, and he pushed my hand away.
“I want you to come.”
The fire in his eyes darkened. “Make me.”
I huffed a laugh. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder.” He bit my jaw. The shock of pain made me jerk hard enough to pop the table off the floor. “Like that.”
Again he tightened around me, squeezing my cock with his hole like someone could with a hand.
“How the fuck do you do that?” Without my consent, my hips were moving again. I kept my thrusts short and deep, angling myself in hopes to hit his prostate. Morgan helped by drawing his knees up. I knew I found it when his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth fell open in a silent howl. The position also left his cock vulnerable. I stroked him faster than I fucked him. “Want you to come for me.”
He grinned at me through the veil of euphoria. His breathing hitched, and I waited for him to blow his load, but he held on.
Sweat ran down my neck, made droplets on his chest, my hair slid into my eyes. A cramp started in my big toe, but any attempt to work it out would have forced me to break rhythm.
Under me, Morgan made small deep sighs and a flush spread over his skin, making him look sun-kissed. I lapped at the hollow of his neck, ran my teeth to his jaw, and when he tried to control the kiss, I begged him to deliver, it was my turn to deny the contact.
“Two can play that game.” I huffed against his lips. “Come for me, Morgan.”
“No.” His entire body shuddered, and more precum bled from his slit until the foreskin squelched.
“Please.”
He shook his head until his curls were a blur. Morgan arched his back and keened. I was so sure he’d lose it then, but unlike the tics controlling him, he was able to rein in his climax.
I’d been with a few who edged, taking themselves to the height of an orgasm then stopping. Some did it because it was just a kink, others because they liked how it built up the end, a few to increase their stamina. But what Morgan did, was nothing like I’d ever seen.
And while he might have been able to hold back, my body rapidly reached its limit. The fire in my muscles turned into an electric crawl. The rush pulled my nuts tight and yanked me to my toes. I barked out a cry that became a series of grunts as my body seized up and pulse after pulse rippled down my cock. I emptied everything I had, and Morgan undulated against the table as if the sensation of cum filling him was a whole new pleasure.
In The Absence Of Light Page 22