The Story of Us

by Logan Meredith

  “Fuck, Lucas,” I murmured.

  He slid his tongue up my shaft and the head of the plug teased my opening.

  “Mm, baby… You’re so eager for this. Let me hear you,” Lucas said, then slid the plug into my ass and my cock down his throat.

  I made a strangled cry as he thrust the toy in and out of me. “Fuck, baby. You’re so hot like this,” Lucas said. “So fucking hot.”

  “Fuck me,” I begged.

  “Not yet. I want this ass nice and open for me.”

  “Yes,” I moaned again and took my cock in hand, desperate for more pressure.

  “No, baby. You come when I give you this big dick and not one second before.”

  “Want that big cock in me. Need to be fucked.”

  “Oh, baby. I’m gonna do you so good. You’ll feel me all week, Kyle.”

  “Want it. Turn around. Fuck my mouth.”

  Lucas didn’t hesitate to reverse his position. He knelt at my head and fed me his cock while he fucked me with the plug, frantically working my hole open. I tried to deep-throat him and quickly gagged. He retreated, but my mouth chased him.

  “Fuck, baby. You want to be slutty tonight? Let go and tell me what goes on in that head of yours,” Lucas said.

  “Want to go back to the library. Want it over the table, hard and fast. Wanted you so much that day.”

  “Yeah? You want me to strip you naked and hold my hand over your mouth, so no one hears you scream? Hold you down and make you take this cock with just spit for lube? The things I wanted to do to you that day, Kyle. I went back to that study room the next day, baby, and I jerked off on the table just thinking about you bent over for me.” He thrust his hips and moaned loudly while my throat squeezed around him.

  “On your side, baby. I need to feel that ass.”

  I was vaguely aware of Lucas placing a condom before a wet slick of lubed fingers massaged the nerves around my hole. Lucas moved my top leg forward and guided the head of his cock into place. I pushed back, chasing more of the sensation. Lucas stilled me, and he kissed my ear and the back of my neck, setting off a cascade of chills down my spine. “I’ve been driving this dick for a long time, baby. Let me do this.”

  He lifted my knee higher to my chest and pushed in. The sensation was overwhelming, the stretch eye-wateringly intense. I quickly sobered as the hot length of Lucas’ cock slid farther inside. The needy sound that left my throat was unrecognizable.

  “That’s it, Kyle. Hold still and relax.”

  “I need—”

  “I got you, babe. Let me give this to you.”

  He worked himself inside me slowly until I swore I could feel him in my stomach. “Wait. Don’t move,” I begged, afraid one stroke would either split me in two or make me come.

  He froze, giving me a few seconds to adjust before taking a long stroke. “Not so drunk now, are you?” He kissed along my neck, reassuring me with endearments far more tender than I expected.

  “Yeah. Fuck, Lucas. Your cock is… I’ve never…”

  “I got you, baby. You feel amazing too. I love it when you talk to me. Don’t stop, okay? Tell me what you want.”

  When I couldn’t find the words, Lucas took over, biting me, kissing me and talking me through all the naughty things he wanted to do to me. “Tell me I can have you like that, Kyle. Tell me you want it.”

  “Want everything with you. Do anything…fuck. Shit. Oh, fuck.” The tide of my orgasm started deep in my ass. The powerful spasm stole my breath, and I gasped with the convulsion. Suddenly, my cock jerked and shot rope after thick rope of semen onto my thigh. Instinctively, I brought a hand down to stroke myself, but Lucas groaned and pushed into me with so much force that I could do nothing but brace myself against his punishing thrusts.

  “Fuck, baby.” Lucas released a guttural cry and shook violently against me. He bit into my shoulder at the height of his release.

  He held me tight to his chest, his hot breaths a rhythmic cadence, lulling me asleep with his cock still inside me. I shook awake when he carefully slid free from my body. I touched myself where he’d been, marveling at how my body had accommodated him. Lucas rolled on his back, his hand still on my side. I lay there, sated and embarrassed, recalling all he’d coaxed out of me, and I waited for Lucas to speak.

  Finally, a deep sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips. “C’mere,” Lucas murmured. I rolled toward him, tucking myself alongside him, and splayed my hand over his abs. He tilted my chin toward him and kissed me. “You okay?” he asked. “Sore?”

  I nodded.

  “In my defense, this was all your idea,” Lucas said smugly.

  I chuckled, buried my face into his armpit and inhaled his musk. “It was good,” I mumbled.

  “Good enough to do it sober?” Lucas asked.

  I nodded.

  “Good enough to try what we talked about?”

  “Lucas, I—”

  “Don’t hide from me.” Lucas coaxed me to meet his eyes. “You just need to be honest. Do you want to or do you just like fantasizing about it?”

  I knew there were countless guys—some he worked with, others just randoms from social media—who would give their left testicle to fulfill every one of Lucas’ sexual whims. I’d be an idiot to refuse when Lucas could have his pick. “Maybe if I get really drunk.”

  “No,” Lucas said emphatically. “I don’t want it if you have to be drunk to give it to me. It’s just a question. There’s no wrong answer here.”

  I sighed, because any possibility of what we’d talked about doing would require more than one kind of lubrication on my part. It wasn’t that I didn’t get turned on by it. I did. But what Lucas was suggesting? I closed my eyes and tried to find something sexy or flirty to say to reassure Lucas I could be who he wanted.

  Maybe there was no wrong answer but there was clearly a right one. Lucas and I were a summer fling, and I’d been fooling myself that we’d ever be compatible for the long term. I shook my head. “Nah,” I said, “it’s just a fantasy.”

  Chapter Eight

  I showered alone and took inventory of my worse-than-usual aches and pains resulting from that weekend’s rigorous activities. A bite mark adorned my lower neck and a mysterious bruise explained the tender spot on my hip. I felt slightly debauched and had to admit that I loved it. Ever since I’d discovered Lucas’ ability to turn me inside out with his sex-drenched voice whispering amazingly creative filth into my ear two weeks earlier, I’d been asking him to top me. Hell, that weekend, I hadn’t even had to ask. Oh, we still took turns. Lucas loved the daddy-boy dynamic far too much to give it up. He read me like a book and adjusted accordingly, and I seemed to do the same for him. I had never enjoyed a more gratifying sex life.

  I stepped out of my shower to find Lucas naked at my vanity, his back to the mirror. He held his cell phone, frozen in his preferred selfie angle.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  He lowered his phone and frowned. His neck and chest were somehow even hotter covered in the marks I’d given him. “If you’re taking a picture for me, I’d prefer your front. Love those abs, baby.”

  His frown neutralized, and he at least tried to smile for me. “I have to tell you something, but I don’t want to break our rules.”

  I laughed. “Oh? Like the rule about no sleepovers? That worked out well.” I hip-bumped him out of the way to grab my toothpaste and brushed while he stewed.

  “Kyle…” He exhaled my name like a prayer.

  I spat and rinsed my mouth. “Say it. Rules aside, I’ll deal.”

  He turned and showed me his back. “Damn,” I murmured. Deep purple fingerprint-size spots dotted his hips, and there were several clear bite and scratch marks on his neck, back and shoulders. I didn’t realize I’d gotten so carried away. “I’m sorry.” I turned so he could see the damage he’d caused. “I’ll have to wear a collared shirt today. Again.”

  Lucas cleared his throat and chewed his lip. “But I don’t wear a shirt to work,”
he mumbled. “And makeup will cover the bruises, but the bite marks? I’m not allowed to film with these. I should have said something earlier.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  I should’ve elaborated but couldn’t find the words. Reality had invaded our little bubble, and all my concentration focused on holding in my resentment. “So, can you… Is there a way to reschedule?”

  “The other model was flown in for the shoot. I’ll call the director and see what they want to do. They may let me shoot anyway—or they could recast me.”

  Lucas’ noise of disapproval ejected my smile. “Kyle, you have to understand that, either way, this impacts my reputation.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said and managed to feel some remorse for any damage caused to his career. “I won’t do it again.”

  Lucas’ eyes widened. “You will absolutely do it again, but maybe not right before I film.” He glowered at me and seemed to realize what that meant. He’d have to tell me when he filmed. Another rule to toss in the trash heap. It’d fit right next to the one about no sleepovers.

  I tossed my head back and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. I guess let me know if I need to be careful.” I toweled myself off and channeled my anger into progressing through my morning as quickly and mechanically as possible. Lucas tried to smooth things over with affection, but I found for the first time that I could resist his charms. The entire conversation needed to be zapped from my memory, and I couldn’t pretend otherwise.

  Work was…not good. I’d accidentally emailed the wrong blueprints to my electrician, sent pictures of drywall defects to the client rather than my contractor and lost my shit at some kid who’d delivered a twenty-five-thousand-dollar custom, hand-blown glass chandelier to the wrong house—all before noon.

  I was absolutely no use to anyone, and I took my frustrations out on the staff, vendors and random office equipment.

  Lucas hadn’t texted me the outcome of his conversation with his boss, so my imagination vacillated between images of Lucas fucking some other guy and crying over the loss of his job—both of which left me slightly nauseated. We’d said goodbye that morning with a passionless kiss. He’d said he would see me in class, which sort of suggested he planned to leave me alone. As much as space seemed like a good thing, it bothered me that he was giving it to me. I’d fallen for Lucas too hard, too quickly, and my rational self hated the man who’d spent the last two months being unbelievably freaking happy.

  The thought of Lucas keeping such a big part of his life—which his work clearly was—segregated from me inexplicably made me angry. It wasn’t only the porn. Since the day of our beach trip, Lucas had stopped accessing his social media accounts from my house. Intellectually, I knew he maintained Tommy Bruiser online, but out of sight, out of mind.

  Waves of emotions rolled through me too fast to process. One minute I was sure I had to end things and the next I had keys in hand, determined to make up. I hated knowing Lucas had sex with other men. I knew I would. It was why I had walked away from him on our first date. But, the alternative had become equally unbearable. Tommy Bruiser was a stranger. Unless I got to know him, I wouldn’t know things about Lucas. Things, it had occurred to me, that his fans probably knew—and that his fans wouldn’t know about me. Like we were dating while still in the closet and it didn’t feel right anymore, not with how strongly I felt about him.

  I sat at my desk and stared absentmindedly out of the window. Part of me wanted to call Kayla, but as much as I loved her, I knew she would tell me to end it. Lucas was supposed to be a fling, and for Kayla, flings came and went all too easily. I wasn’t built that way. It was the same reason I never fostered a puppy, leased a car or rented my tools. When I liked something, I got attached. And when I considered it mine, I didn’t give it up without a fight.

  The fact that I hadn’t sought her advice was a damn good indicator of where my heart landed on the matter. Lucas was mine.

  Intellectually, I’d always thought Matt’s need to keep things separate had led to our breakup. We might have lived together, but we never overtly committed to being together forever. Even though he’d slept in my bed, he’d still paid rent on his fully-furnished apartment. During the holidays, he visited his folks, and I visited mine. He had his own bank accounts and credit cards. He had his goals and dreams—and I had mine.

  I didn’t want that in a partner, and without even asking, I knew Lucas didn’t either. He was an all-in kind of guy, just like me, which might have been the very thing that made him perfect for me.

  I palmed my phone, scrolled through the messages exchanged with Lucas and reminded myself why I liked him so much.

  “Well, you’re smiling, so it can’t be that bad.” I peered up to see Rocco standing in the doorway. “Bob called me, said I needed to send you the fuck home before you killed someone.”

  I rolled my eyes. Bob was a project manager who’d happened to witness the chandelier debacle. “I wasn’t that bad.”

  Rocco shrugged. “Still… I can’t remember having any complaints about you. This morning I’ve had two.”

  “Who else?”

  “The Smithfields’ real estate agent wanted to make sure the drywall redoes would be comped since, as you so eloquently worded it, ‘they screwed the pooch.’”

  I groaned. “Sorry, Rocco. It’s been a morning.”

  “You need to leave?”

  “No, I need to work.”

  “Can you do that without losing me any more money?”

  Rocco had never been one to mince words. “I’ll get it together.”

  “See that you do,” he said and walked away.

  Alone again, I picked up my phone and decided to rid myself of the burden of guilt until I could figure things out.

  Hey, sorry about this morning. I was an ass. Hope you’re having a good day.

  Lucas didn’t respond, but that wasn’t the point. I considered following up with a text that told him I loved him but thought the better of it. I’d been in love before. My head may not have been entirely there, but my heart surely was. Regardless of how much I wanted to erase our rough morning, I needed to see his face the first time I said it, and I needed to be sure my head was in on the decision. We’d both been close to saying it. I could just tell sometimes by the way he looked at me. Yet neither of us had, and if I had to guess, the same thing that held me back held him back too—fear that we wouldn’t find our way around our obstacle. And the knowledge that at some point, sooner rather than later, we’d be forced to acknowledge that fact.

  A flooring defect discovered on a final walk-through consumed my afternoon. I pulled into the university parking lot with mere moments to spare before class and ducked into the classroom. Dr. Mandell had already begun his lecture on growth planning.

  After nearly an hour, he transitioned to explaining the details of the next assignment.

  “This assignment will span the remaining weeks of the semester and make up a substantial portion of your grade. You will work in your pairs to develop an analysis based on the idea established during week one. Using the readings to assist you, you will study the operational management of your chosen field and submit a single growth analysis and marketing plan for your business. This analysis must include an executive summary, a SWOT analysis, financing considerations and, most importantly, a target demographic and marketing plan. You’ll want to view the industry from all perspectives—owner, consumer and regulatory agencies.”

  Dr. Mandell opened the conversation to questions, and I took the time to glance in Lucas’ direction. His head hung low, and I got the distinct impression he was avoiding me. When the question and answer portion of the lecture ended, Dr. Mandell gave us the remaining time for group work.

  “Mr. McMillan and Mr. Cass, a word please.”

  Lucas’ frown asked if I had a clue, and he stood to approach the podium. I trailed him and braved a brush against his fingers as we stood side by side. “Gentlemen, it seems Steve Reynolds decided to withdrawal from my
class.”

  “The drop deadline was weeks ago,” I protested.

  Dr. Mandell nodded. “Yes, it’s unfortunate and very late in the game, but there’s not much I can do since he also withdrew from the school. I understand he had to return home—an illness in the family. I’ve shuffled the teams, and since Mr. Cass was in a group of three and you two seem to have gotten friendly, I thought pairing you would be the least disruptive solution. Now then, I’ve spoken to your other team members, Mr. Cass, and they’ve decided to use the adult toy line aspect of your research. Therefore, you’re free to continue with the website or video production business line. It was ambitious to try to do both, and either on their own would make for a reasonable scope. I’ve done some research on your industry. While unconventional, it certainly makes for an interesting case study. Of course, you could also pursue Mr. McMillan’s original topic.”

  Lucas’ brows furrowed, and he glanced away. I could feel his disappointment, and I spoke without considering my words. “We can use Lucas’ topic.”

  Lucas turned back to me, his eyes owl-wide before he dropped his gaze to the floor.

  “Very well. I look forward to seeing your work.” He dismissed us without a second thought, but Lucas waited a full two minutes to look at me again. I knew because I counted every single second.

  “You didn’t have—” Lucas began.

  “I texted you.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have blamed you for the marks. I never gave you any reason to think it wasn’t okay with me.”

  “Lucas—” I said at the same moment he’d started talking.

  “Send me what you and Steve came up with.”

  “No. Neither of us cares about that topic. You were really excited about your project.”

  “I’ll read up on the bakery market.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “We can’t even…” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Kyle, how is that supposed to work?” Lucas’ voice rose in exasperation. A student in the first row cleared his throat and flashed an annoyed scowl. Lucas smiled apologetically and kept his gaze lowered when he sighed. “I’m not going to do this here. I’m going home. We can talk later.”