“God,” I whispered, “Are you sure you have to leave so soon?” I asked.
He let out a sort of half-moan, half-groan, and then all at once sidled himself over my body, straddling me, his hips on top of mine and our cocks pressed together. He was as hard as I was, and apparently he was only wearing a pair of boxer-briefs, because I could feel the outline of his cock pressing against me even through the fabric of my pants.
“I’ve got a little time,” he said.
“Good,” I responded. “I need you.”
Normally I probably wouldn’t have been so straightforward, but I was still in the liminal stages of waking up, and any hesitation about anything had gone out the window. I felt desperately that I did need Adam, needed his touch, his mouth, his cock.
And it was all he needed to hear. It was like he’d been given permission, and soon his hands were at the bottom hem of my shirt, lifting it up over my head and tossing it to the side in one quick motion. He leaned down slowly and began to kiss up the side of my body, pressing tiny kisses from my hip to my chest and then to my neck, where he lingered and gave me a slow, wet kiss. I arched my hips up against him in a slow rhythm, pressing my body to his, practically begging.
I knew what I wanted and I knew that we didn’t have all that much time. I hitched my fingers into my own pants, bringing them down along with my underwear in one fell swoop, freeing my hard cock and pushing my hips once again up against Adam.
“Adam,” I whispered, slowly running my hand down the length of his body until my palm met his cock in between us. “Take these off,” I said, giving a little tug at his boxer briefs. He discarded the garment quick and then as he sank down onto me again, it was purely skin on skin, his cock rutting up against my own.
“I want you inside me,” I said, and it elicited a moan from him that I knew would be etched into my memory forever. His mouth only became more insistent after I said it, and while he kissed at my neck I reached over to my bedside table, extracting lube and a condom and placing them on the bed next to us. I pressed the small bottle into his hand. “Please.”
He moved between my legs and I spread them open wider as he slicked his fingers with lube. I reached my hand down to tangle into his hair, stroking through it gently, waiting for him. And then he looked back up to me, eyes meeting mine in a deep stare, and his finger was at my hole, teasing me, making small circles around the area and not quite yet pressing in. I whined at the contact.
“Come on,” I whispered, “Please give it to me.” I furrowed my brow at him, needing him to see how badly I wanted it.
He let out a small chuckle, bent to kiss me at my hip, and then pressed a finger inside me, gently but steadily entering me until it was fully inside.
“Fuck yes,” I uttered, relaxing under his touch. It was just one finger, but having any part of Adam inside me was so satisfying, looking down and watching him watch me, feeling him work inside of me between my legs. After building up a steady rhythm he slipped another finger inside, and then took his other hand and placed it around my cock, starting to gently stroke me while he fingered me.
“Oh my God,” I uttered, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment, and then snapping back open to look down at him and grasp my hands against his hair.
“I love seeing you like this, Grey,” he murmured above me. His silhouette was barely illuminated in the dim morning light. “Just coming undone under my hands….”
I let out a little whimper and he gripped my cock harder, working it while stroking his fingers inside of me.
“Fuck me,” I choked out, squeezing my eyes closed and gripping his shoulders. “Adam….”
“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you,” he said back, leaning forward a little to plant a kiss against my stomach. “I just need you to be ready.”
“I’m ready,” I blurted out quickly, a little louder than I’d been before. I grabbed at his wrist.
“Are you sure?” he said.
“I’m so fucking sure,” I said.
As if it was a challenge, he started stroking inside me in earnest, gripping my cock firmly with his fist and working it up and down.
“God, Adam, if you make me come before your cock is even inside me, I swear to God I’ll be so mad at you,” I said, glaring a warning at him. “That feels too fucking good and you know it.”
He just smiled at me again devilishly. Finally, mercifully, his hand slid out of me slowly and he released my cock. I watched as he picked up the nearby condom and rolled it over his cock, then slicked himself with lube with one hand, trailing his fingers over my thigh with the other. I felt so empty now without his fingers inside me and I lay waiting, cock throbbing and leaking precum in anticipation.
And then he leaned over me, bending closer and lower until his lips were on mine, bringing me into a hungry kiss. I buried my hands in his hair, pulling him close, wanting nothing more than to feel even closer, have him inside me. He smelled so damn good, his usual woodsy scent that I’d come to know as Adam, and I felt like I wanted him near me like that forever.
And finally he shifted back, leaning up again, and I felt the tip of his cock, slick and hot at my hole, as he began to press into me.
“Oh my God,” I said, his cock so much more than his fingers had been, a gentle pain and pressure but mostly just exactly what I needed. He only pressed in about an inch, and after I had opened for him and relaxed I looked back down at him.
“You doing okay?” he said. “Still with me?”
“More,” I said, “I need more.”
He slid further inside, gentle and slow, until his cock was in me completely, and I leaned back, pressing my head against the pillow, moaning incoherently.
“Oh fuck, Grey, you feel so fucking good,” he said, voice low and hoarse in a way I had never even heard before. He sounded utterly transfixed, and his head was thrown back before leaning forward to look at me again, his face almost looking pained.
“Fuck me, Adam,” I said again.
He moaned and slid out and then back in again, building up a rhythm and quietly panting over me.
There was something so urgent about it—of course, because our time was constrained, but also something about the morning that hadn’t quite begun yet, the fact that the sunlight was still in the stage between night and day. It felt slightly dreamlike, in a very hot, visceral way. I’d barely woken up before realizing how badly I wanted him, and as he fucked into me it was easy to feel like he and I were the only two people that existed, creating warmth between us.
“God I’ve wanted this,” I uttered, reaching down to dig my fingers against his shoulders. “I feel like I could just come from this,” I said, feeling him stroke into me, filling me so completely.
“Good. I want to make you come,” Adam said. “I fucking love watching you.”
One of his hands gripped at my thigh and the other closed around my leaking cock, beginning to stroke me in time with his thrusts.
“Oh holy fuck,” I said, the sensation of him stroking me both inside and out all coming together to drive me absolutely insane.
“You’re so beautiful,” Adam said, his voice broken and deep. “Jesus, I don’t know how much longer I can hold on, I’m so close.”
My body had begun to shake a little, twitching under his hands and on his cock.
“I am too,” I said, voice coming out breathy as I looked up at his eyes. “You’re gonna make me come.”
“Let go for me, Grey,” he said, thrusting into me even harder, getting deeper than I even knew he could go.
“Oh my God,” I said, loudly, as I felt the wave of orgasm begin to well up inside me, pooling deep inside as he worked over my cock. And as I looked up into his eyes, dusky and half-lidded, I felt myself begin to lose control, sensation cresting inside me as I moaned and started to come, my cock jerking inside his hand. I felt it hot against my stomach and chest as I came harder than I knew I could, squeezing tight around Adam’s cock still buried inside of me.
“Holy fuck that
is amazing—” Adam choked out, “I’m coming, Grey—” and my cock throbbed once more as he groaned loud, thrusting deep inside of me and coming. He thrust into me again, hard and quick, a few more times before steadily slowing down and leaning over me, breathing deep and starting to relax.
I trailed my fingers up and down his bicep as he leaned over me, the two of us just breathing there together, and after a few moments he bent down to kiss me, slow and gentle,
“That was amazing,” he murmured as he slid out of me, falling on his back onto the bed beside me.
“Amazing doesn’t even cover it,” I said, still struggling a little to catch my breath.
He moaned happily, reaching up to idly stroke my hair for another minute as we listened to a pair of birds starting to chirp their morning song outside the window.
“Your hair’s so soft,” he said softly. “I can’t get over it.”
“Mmm,” I hummed, smiling a little. “Feels so good when you touch it.”
We lay like that for a few more moments. He leaned over and kissed me one more time before getting back up, then bringing me a warm, damp washcloth and toweling off my stomach and chest. “Figure you wanna get a few more hours sleep,” he said to me.
“Mhm,” I murmured, already ready to fall back to sleep after the immensely pleasurable awakening. I still had at least two more hours before I needed to get up and go in to work. “Hope your work day goes well,” I said.
I watched his silhouette as he donned his clothes and got ready to leave. As he dressed, sleep claimed me, and I fell deeper and deeper until when he bent to kiss me goodbye it almost felt like a dream.
“See you, Grey,” he said quietly.
“You’re so good,” I said, barely aware of what I was saying. “So, so good. Bye Adam,” I mumbled before falling back into a dreamless sleep.
It felt surreal working the day at Freezy Sweet, even though on the surface it was a day like any other. The customers were slow but steady. Usually it wouldn’t be a remarkable day at all.
But now I knew that soon, this wouldn’t be my life anymore.
Like… I’d never get to see Mr. Binghamton, the 80-year-old man who ordered rum raisin ice cream every time and always tipped a whole five dollars, or Rachel and Andrew, the young couple who would share a chocolate milkshake every few weeks.
It was bittersweet, knowing that my life was going to change so drastically but finally starting to see the little things I loved about Fox Hollow. I didn’t want to admit it, but it was true.
It reminded me of how I used to feel at the end of every school year: I had always wanted school to end so badly, but in the last weeks of the year it always felt bittersweet. I’d have fallen into a comfortable rhythm in the classes, knew everyone so well, and the general happy mood at the end of the year would come together and cause me to be sad it was ending after all, knowing I could never hold onto the essence of what that year had really been like.
It kind of felt like that, now. Like everything was beautiful, now that it was ending.
After work, I had a short shift at the animal shelter. I walked there from Freezy Sweet, though I normally took the bus—I found I had been walking a lot more lately, as it seemed like the only way to quiet down my brain, taking walks no matter how bad the rain was.
And it seemed like even the shift at the shelter was specifically conspiring to make me feel sad about my decision to leave Fox Hollow. Three cats that had been there for months finally got adopted, despite the fact that they needed special medications, and two old golden retrievers who’d been sick now seemed to be happy as ever, greeting me with wagging tails.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone at the shelter about my plans yet. I didn’t want to disappoint them, but really I just didn’t want to feel like I was abandoning them, after having worked there so long. And even the dogs and cats—we’d had some animals there for months and months, and I felt like I knew them. For a moment I questioned if I could even leave all of it behind.
But then I remembered.
Remembered what it felt like going home day after day, never being able to save any money, never being able to pay more than the minimum on my mom’s bills.
Remembered what Fox Hollow had been like before Adam had arrived.
If I went to Portland and was able to get a higher-paying job, I could help my mom. It would make both of our lives tangibly better, and in a sense I felt like there was no other way.
And finally, after the end of the shift at the shelter, walking down my street again and passing by my mom’s house, I decided to do it. I was finally going to tell my mom that I was leaving Fox Hollow.
I could hear the news station blaring from inside her house before I even went inside.
“Ma,” I called inside as I opened the door, “It’s me.” I found her in the usual spot, watching the TV.
“Oh, Grey, honey,” she said, turning around on the couch to look up at me. She was in an oversized shirt and sweats, messy hair pulled back into a bun, bright blue eyes staring up at me. “I tried to call you last night, where’ve you been?”
I walked over to the coffee table, picked up the remote and muted the TV. “God, that’s better. How do you even listen to it this loud?”
“You know, my hearing’s going,” she said. “So you were busy last night?”
“Yeah.”
“…On a date?”
I sighed and started picking up a few empty water glasses that were scattered on the coffee table. “No. No date,” I said, realizing only after the fact that it wasn’t actually true.
Whatever I’d done with Adam last night actually was a kind of date, now that I was thinking about it. We’d gone to lunch. Watched a movie. I’d slept on his lap, cooked us dinner, and then we’d gone on a long walk. That all sounded pretty date-like to me.
Not to mention him fucking me senseless in the morning, but that was a whole other story entirely.
I crossed into the kitchen, loading all the cups into my mom’s dishwasher. Soon she was hobbling out on her walker, watching me as I did the dishes.
“Mom, I’ve got something to tell you,” I said, suddenly more nervous than I should have been.
“Honey, watch that glass you’ve got there—I got that as a gift from your aunt Mary—” she said, pointing at the cup I had in my hands.
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to be slightly gentler. I turned off the sink afterward, drying my hands and turning to look at her. “I’m serious, I have something big to tell you.”
“Oh God, what is it?”
“Let’s go back to the living room,” I said, crossing back over to the couch. I sat down and she sat next to me, slowly and cautiously letting go of her walker. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started to extract one, and I lifted my eyebrows at her in an obviously judging look.
“I’ve been cutting back,” she said.
“You say that every time,” I said.
“Honey,” she said to me with the cigarette pressed between her lips as she lit it, “You’re freaking me out with this ‘I have big news’ crap. So tell me, what’s going on?”
I resisted the urge to bug her more about the smoking because I really did need to tell her the truth.
And as I told her the story—starting with what Randy had told me the day before, all the way to the decision I made to try to go to Portland—her face took on many expressions: first shock, then maybe something like horror, worry, relief. When I finally finished my story I realized I was sweating a little, nervous and anticipating what she was going to say.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I had to tell my mom something as big as this. Maybe never. I didn’t know what to expect from her, and she was silent for a good few moments after I stopped talking.
“Well,” she finally said, “I can’t say I’m not worried, but it’s your life, sweetie.”
I blinked at her a couple times. “Really?” I said. “That’s it?” I had thought she would flip out,
call me crazy, say I was being rash.
She took a deep breath. “I think you might be right, Grey. Maybe this is what you’ve been needing. A real, big change. Hell, I can survive with only seeing you on some weekends. If you really think this is best for you.”
“I really do,” I said. “And it’s better for both of us, if I can help pay off your bills faster.”
She shook her head a little. “I can’t believe Randy’s closing the shop,” she said, eyes wide and staring down at the floor.
“I know,” I said. “It’s wild.”
“Everything changes, you know?” she said, turning to me with a sad little smile. “Everything.”
I breathed out a long breath and then leaned in toward her, giving her a firm hug. “This will all be for the better,” I said. “I can’t wait to start the next chapter of my life.”
She nodded against me. “I hope it works out just the way you want it to, Grey,” she said, pulling back. “And hey—I’m sure there are plenty of beautiful young women in Portland,” she said with a grin. “Maybe I’ll finally get to see you get married… see some grandkids….”
“Ma,” I said, standing up. “Lay off about that.”
She shrugged animatedly. “I’m just saying….”
I thought about how absurd the concept was, me meeting some nice young woman in Portland. In reality, the thought probably would have intrigued me, just a few months ago. But I realized with a start that the reason it seemed so ridiculous to me now was because I could only picture myself with Adam.
And that fact fucking terrified me.
“If you want some, I cooked some homemade graham crackers a couple days ago, and they’re in the kitchen,” my mom said, but I was too in a daze suddenly to even register what she was saying. “You okay, Grey?”
“Uh, yeah, I—I’m just gonna go out back real quick and check on the rose bush—” I stuttered, making my way to the back door. I stepped outside into the cool misty air, taking a deep breath and leaving the back door open to air out the faint smell of smoke.
Wild Star: Under the Stars Book 3 Page 11