by Jo Raven
So I settle for sucking in as much of him as I can and gripping the rest, dragging my fist up his cock as I work him with my mouth.
“You boys are so hot,” Candy whispers, and a quick sideways glance shows me she’s cupping both her tits now, her nipples peeking through her fingers, hard and juicy.
Getting my own body under control is a struggle. I only have to drop one hand to my dick and jack off while blowing Jet. I’m real close.
But I want to fuck Candy, right here, in the kitchen. I fucking love how she looks, sprawled on the table, flushed and horny, watching us like I watched them before.
“Oh fuck, J…” Jet is close, too. I hear it in his strangled voice, I feel it in the way his cock swells more and jerks in my mouth. His hands are painful in my hair. “Goddamn…”
I randomly wonder if I curse as much when I’m about to come, too, and if my dick also tastes so nutty—and then he’s shouting hoarsely and shooting his load down my throat.
It shouldn’t be so damn sexy. He shouldn’t be so sexy. He’s a guy. I’m a guy.
And sometimes I can’t fucking believe how much I want him.
His hands relax in my hair as I suck him dry. He slumps against the wall when I pull away and slowly slides down, landing on his ass, and chuckling.
“Jesus, man. You killed me.” His head rolls to the side. He nods toward Candy and he huffs. “My turn to watch, huh?”
Looks like it. Candy crooks a finger at me, and I have to steady myself on the wall by Jet’s head to get up, so hard that I’m clumsy and walking is a struggle.
Jet chuckles again, and I’m not sure if it’s because he finds my clumsiness funny or because he’s dopey after coming so hard.
I carefully extricate my dick from my briefs, let them drop to the floor, and move between Candy’s legs. With my thumb I check and find her wet and hot, so ready for me. Grabbing my cock, I push into her in one go, all the way in.
She sits up, puts her arms around my neck, taking me in deeper, and I groan, the pleasure of being inside her frying my synapses.
“Let go,” she whispers. “Let go, J.”
I don’t know what the fuck’s happening to me, or if it’s the feel of her, so soft and warm and perfect in my arms, on my cock, if it’s her voice or her acceptance of me, but suddenly I’m coming, moaning her name, and shaking so hard I’m afraid I’ll hurt her.
She holds on tightly, her nails digging into the back of my neck as her pussy clenches around my dick, and another wave of pleasure rolls over me until I find myself bent over her, shaking even harder than before.
Shit. Why can’t I stop shaking?
“J.” Jet is behind me, his arms folding me back against his chest, and Candy’s legs tighten on either side of me. “What the hell’s wrong? What happened today?”
Fuck. “My dad called.”
Jet’s breath is warm against my neck. “What did he want?”
“Nothing.”
“J…” Jet sighs, and I close my eyes.
Nothing.
And everything.
I don’t want to think about it. I don’t wanna remember what he said. His words are right there, under the surface of my thoughts, a thorn, a sting, a decision waiting to be acknowledged, a certainty I want to challenge, or to ignore.
So I ignore it, leaning into Jet’s body, letting him and Candy hold me, keep me together.
I’m not ready to poke that sore spot just yet.
***
As it turns out, I don’t have to poke it. Sleep does that without asking for my permission. Waking up for the second time in a cold sweat with angry words ringing in my ears and my dad’s scowling face flashing through my head, I decide, fuck it, and get up.
Noticing Jet isn’t in bed either, I make sure Candy is covered up and in a deep sleep before I slip out of the room.
I close the door behind me and shiver with the sharp shards of the dream—or perhaps a memory. Something my dad told me the last time we met. Something lurking in a corner of my mind, pouncing as I sleep.
He didn’t really say that… did he?
He did, and not for the first time, my memory helpfully informs me, and I shiver harder.
Goddammit.
Raking my hands through my hair, I stumble into the living room and find Jet sprawled on the sofa, drawing on one of his big pads with a charcoal pencil.
I lean over the backrest. He’s so absorbed in what he’s making, he only frowns harder at the design. It looks like a man holding a stick.
Or a long knife?
“Jet.”
He gasps and his pad clatters to the floor as he knocks his head back on the armrest. “The fuck?”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Give a man a heart attack.” He sits up, blinking dazedly, his face white. “Jesus. What are you doing up?”
“Nightmare,” I tell him shortly and he throws his legs off the sofa, making me space. I shoot him a look as I sit down. “You?”
“Nah, mate,” he drawls, “I just felt like wandering the apartment in the dead of night for no reason.”
“Smartass.” I grab him in a headlock and ruffle his hair until he laughs and pushes me away.
“Asshole.”
“Whatcha drawing?” I bend over to grab his pad and he pushes me aside, sweeping the pad away and stashing it beside the sofa.
“None of your business.”
“Is it your dad?”
Jet stills, the blood draining from his face once more, his jaw clenching. Silence stretches, full of echoes.
Shit.
I knew it. A drawing of his father trying to kill him. He keeps having nightmares with his dad stabbing him, chasing him. When will it end?
“Jet. Come here.” When he doesn’t move, I reach for him, draw him to my side.
He’s stiff like a board at first, but he’s not as thin as he was after coming out of the hospital. His ribs are wrapped in strong muscle, his hair is thick and soft when he finally gives in and leans against me, resting his head on my shoulder.
“You can talk to me about it,” I tell him quietly.
“Yeah, man, you say that to me, but what about you? What did your dad tell you?”
My turn to stiffen. “Nothing much.”
“That’s fucking bullshit.”
“Kiss my ass, Jet.”
“I could do that,” he says, grinning. “You have a fine ass.”
“Shut up.”
He sighs and lies down, throwing his legs over the armrest and resting his head in my lap. “What is he doing to you, J? Has he insulted you? Threatened you? Does he even know you’re with us?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.
“Right. I figured.” Jet sighs. His lashes lower, hiding his eyes. He has such fucking long lashes for a guy. “Will you ever tell him?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is. You just tell them, J. And the weight is off your chest.”
“Both my parents think that I’m… someone else. Something else.”
“And what will they do when you tell them the truth? Disown you?”
I snort. Disown me. Not ever want to see my face again. Yeah, that’s one of my worries. I’ve often wondered how my sister has managed to live with that.
But I’ll live with it. I’m sure I can do it.
It’s the other things, the other words my dad has said more than once that don’t let me breathe. The words I try not to hear inside my mind, the words that put the weight of responsibility on my shoulders.
I’m the oldest child. I’m supposed to make my parents proud, and look after them.
Not cause their death.
Chapter Nine
Jethro
I had a family. And then I didn’t.
But I was given a second chance. I found Joel, and then Candy, and now I have a home.
Never realized how scared I’d be to lose it all again.
“You look like crap,” Candy informs me
as I sit gulping down coffee in the morning. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I did.” Half-truths are my forte.
But Candy knows me and won’t be fooled. “Not much. Not enough.” And she comes right to me and straddles me. “You had nightmares again.”
“What do you want me to say, Sugar pop? I often do.” I slam my mug back down on the table. My hands slide up her sides to steady her. “But I’m okay.”
“Both you and J are stubborn like donkeys.”
“Hung like them, too.”
She laughs delightedly. “What’s in that coffee and can I have some, too?”
She’s only dressed in one of Joel’s white T-shirts and a pair of panties. My fingertips skim over the scratchy lace hugging her ass as she settles on my lap and puts her hands around my neck.
“You don’t think I’m well hung?”
“You’re perfect,” she says and kisses me.
It’s a light kiss, sweet and soft, and I fall into her, into her embrace, her taste, letting her warmth seep into me.
The nightmares don’t matter. Not when I can be here, with her, and Joel. Not when I can be this damn happy when I’m awake.
Maybe I should just give up on sleep altogether and have sex instead. Endless sex with Candy and Joel.
The thought makes me snicker.
She drags her lips over my cheek and whispers in my ear, “What’s so funny?”
“It’s not funny.” I draw in her scent. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“What is?”
“How much I love you.”
She smiles and catches my face in her hands. “Don’t change the topic.”
“Of how well hung I am?”
“Of the nightmares.” She strokes my jaw. “Joel also left the bed last night. Did you two talk?”
“Not really. He won’t talk about the phone call. Did he tell you anything?”
She shakes her head. “Do you think they fought?”
“Nah.”
“He really won’t come out to them, then? About being with us?”
“I’m not sure. And maybe… maybe I don’t want Joel to talk to his parents, either. He left once. What if he leaves again?”
“Jet…”
Yeah, I know. I sound chicken-shit. And I am. Deep inside I’m scared shitless that if Joel faces his parents, he may change his mind. God knows he almost did once or twice before. If I hadn’t been stabbed, would he have made up his mind to be with us? We haven’t been together all that long.
What if he decides we’re not worth the fight?
I know I should trust him, have faith in him. He’s been by my side ever since I moved to this town years back, and he’s here now. He’s made his choice.
Right?
Candy climbs off me and I fight the urge to stop her, to keep her here, in this early morning bubble where everything is okay, when the day is full of possibilities.
I remind myself I’ll be back here in the evening. That I like my work. That everything’s fine. That Candy and Joel will join me after work and that this is now my life.
A damn good life. Joel said I deserve to be happy. Candy said I deserve to be loved. They’re here for me, with me, and I should stop acting as if this happiness will be snatched away from me at any moment.
***
Joel streaks through the kitchen just before we leave home, drinks the rest of my coffee and runs back out, mumbling something about being late for work.
The company he’s working for now is right around the corner, though, so I’m not too worried he’ll make a bad impression on his first day. I’d kiss him for good luck, but he’s gone already, and it’s time to drag my sorry ass into the shower and get ready for work, too.
Chronic insomnia caused by gory nightmares sucks donkey balls. I’ve learned to live with it over the years since Mom died, but the past few weeks have been brutal. Ever since Dad attacked me, the nightmares have grown worse, and I feel like shit warmed over.
Still. I’m alive. Living a good life. Remember this, Jet. Repeat after me.
Everything’s fine.
The day goes by fast. Christmas season starts early for bookstores, and we have way more customers than I’m used to. Plus, Donna is lost in fluffy pink clouds, daydreaming about her man, and I swear I saw a hint of lacy bra peeking through her blouse today.
Hey, I look. I’m a guy. And I doubt that the lace-and-love-struck-look combo is a coincidence. I hope it turns out fine for her. Despite her firing me a few weeks back, I like her, and hey, she took me back.
Go, Donna. Go get him, tiger. Or cougar, whatever.
I meant what I told Candy the other day. Who the hell cares about age? Age, gender, allergies or favorite book—what does it matter? Main thing is to find a person you click with, a person who will stick by you and take care of you.
A person to love you.
All these thoughts make me impatient to finish work and go home. Candy isn’t coming to the store today, there’s too much to do, and the lack of sleep is catching up with me. By the time Donna makes the rounds, checking the shop before locking up, I can barely keep my eyes open.
What’s even worse, images from the nightmare keep flashing in front of my eyes, fucking with my head. You know you’re seriously sleep-deprived when you’re dreaming with your eyes open—and not the good stuff, either.
Why couldn’t I dream of Candy and Joel, huh? Why the fuck does it have to be my psycho dad, chasing after me with a knife?
Jesus.
“Do you need a ride, Jethro?” Donna asks, peering out of the glass door. “Looks like there’s a storm coming.”
Oh shit. I stifle a yawn behind my hand and grab my jacket. “Nah, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” I slip on my jacket. Some fresh air will wake me up, anyway.
“Suit yourself. Maybe I should have you sign that. If your boyfriend and girlfriend come looking to hurt me for letting you walk home in the storm, I’ll be in a world of trouble.”
I blink at her stupidly. “They wouldn’t…”
Would they? The thought of Candy and Joel coming to threaten Donna in case she ever lets me out alone again is so funny, I let out a bark of laughter.
Funny, and bittersweet and heartwarming.
“Glad I can entertain you,” Donna mutters darkly and buttons up her long coat. “Hey, take a couple of books with you.”
“What for?”
“To weigh you down, so the wind doesn’t blow you away.”
“Har har. Very funny. I’m not that skinny.”
“No,” she agrees. “You’re not, not anymore. Congratulate Joel for me. He feeds you well.”
And now I feel like a kid. A strange, unusual feeling that leaves me unsteady, torn between pissy and happy.
Damn.
“Don’t wear out your man,” I tell her as I step out, the wind slapping me in the face like a frozen hand. “Be gentle.”
“Shut up,” Donna mutters as she locks up. “And if you say a word about his age, I’ll punch you.”
“Wasn’t gonna say anything about his age,” I say, “but what about yours?”
I hurry away before she has a chance to make good on her promise, and I grin as the wind carries her curses to me for a good long while. Then I brace my shoulders against the cold and trudge on home, definitely awake.
That’s when the thought strikes me, making me falter in my steps: Oh shit, I hope she doesn’t fire me again.
***
My cell phone starts ringing as I close the building door behind me and start up the stairs, shivering so hard I think my teeth will shake loose.
I hate the cold.
I stab at the Answer button on my phone, missing it twice, my fingers numb. “Yeah?”
“Jet. How’s it going, man?”
It takes me a long moment to place the voice. Haven’t heard it more than once or twice since I came out of the hospital. Plus, he’s out of breath.
“In the flesh.”
It’s Riddick, my older cousin. It was at their house that I crashed after Mom died. They don’t live that far now—him, and his younger brother, Xavier. They moved out of their parents’ house two years ago.
Calling me shouldn’t start the alarms in my head—he’s always checked up on me, and he’s the one who warned me when Dad came to town.
But maybe that’s what’s gotten those alarms ringing like mad. Simple association.
Also, I’ve been worried about him and Xavier. If I hadn’t still been shaken from the attack, with the added bonus of extra-bloody nightmares, I’d have called him myself by now.
“How are things?” I ask when he doesn’t speak for a long moment. “How is your bro?”
I start climbing up the stairs, needing the movement to warm up my frozen body. I can’t feel my nose and I hope it won’t drop off tonight. It’s a good nose. I feel attached to it and I’d like to keep it.
Note to self: next time it’s so cold and windy, take up Donna’s offer for a goddamn ride home.
Also, don’t wait so long to check on your cousin that you’re afraid of the next words coming out of his mouth.
“We’re okay,” he says casually, and I heave a sigh of relief.
Wait. That was said too casually for someone who’s been riding an edge as bad as mine for so long.
“How’s your mom?”
“Hey, Jet…” He clears his throat. “Can I come over? Just to talk to you about something.”
That stops me in my tracks—and the fact that he hasn’t replied hasn’t escaped my attention. “When?”
“Tonight. Now, in fact. I’m not far from your place.”
Those alarm bells inside my head are deafening. “Sure, man. Come on over. I’m about to enter the apartment myself.”
I hope Joel and Candy won’t mind. I also hope they’re not already naked and waiting for me in bed, because damn, that will be hard to resist. I’d be so tempted to lock the door and say to hell with it.
So it’s sort of a relief when I open the door and find Joel watching TV and Candy in the kitchen. She’s talking with someone. Is she on the phone?