by Joey Bush
Jaxon and I both hit our orgasms almost at the same moment—I could feel him holding back, knew that he was trying to make me come again before he gave into the pleasure that was building up inside both of us. He reached down between my legs, rubbing and stroking my clit, and I couldn’t stop myself. The first wave of pleasure shot through every nerve in my body and I felt myself gushing around him, even as I continued to ride him harder and faster, twisting my hips and tightening around him. Jaxon was only a moment behind me; I felt his cock twitching inside of me, and then I felt the sticky-slick slap of his fluids shooting into my body.
I collapsed against Jaxon, panting and gasping for breath. Jaxon chuckled in my ear, holding onto me tightly. I could feel his pulse fluttering against my lips as I dragged them along his throat. We were both sticky, soaked with sweat, and I was tingling from my head to my toes. My legs didn’t feel quite real underneath me. All I knew was that I was so full of pleasure, so happy and so exhausted that I didn’t want to move.
For a long moment I lie there, just savoring the feeling of Jaxon’s body pressed against mine, basking in the fact that we didn’t have to hide from anyone anymore. “We can do this every night, you know,” Jaxon murmured. I laughed lowly.
“You’re right. I mean, we’d never get anything done…” Jaxon kissed me lazily.
“We can get stuff done during the day. You can hang out with the guys, watch the game, and then you can come up to my room and I can get you off over and over again.” I chuckled.
“Okay, that’s doable.” Jaxon pulled me up against him and kissed me hungrily.
“I think,” he murmured, his hands wandering over my body, “we should get a shower and do this all over again.” I nibbled along the column of his throat.
“We could do this all over again in the shower,” I pointed out. Jaxon smirked.
“Got an extra towel?”
I got just dressed enough to drag Jaxon into the shower room in my dorm, giggling excitedly. I knew my roommates weren’t around—I would have heard them, even with my stereo on, even crying as I had been. I closed the door behind us and Jaxon untied the sash of my robe, tugging it off of me all at once. I turned on the water in the shower and kissed him eagerly while I waited for the water to heat up. Jaxon gave me a playful shove into the cubicle and I pulled him in behind me, wrapping my arms around him as the water flowed down over us, just warm enough.
Jaxon and I let our hands wander over each other; I giggled, pulling Jaxon’s head under the shower flow, standing up on the balls of my feet to kiss him hungrily. I’d come twice already—but I wanted more. Jaxon’s cock started to stir, hardening as we teased each other.
For a while we pretended like we actually wanted to get clean; I grabbed my wash cloth and poured shower gel on it to scrub Jaxon. Instead, he snatched it from my hands and lathered it up, scrubbing up and down all over my body, covering me in suds. He used the soap as an excuse to touch me everywhere, teasing my nipples into firm little nubs, massaging my ass in his hands. “You want to be nice and clean, right?” he asked me playfully, rubbing my wet pussy with slick fingers. I laughed and shoved him away, standing under the showerhead to rinse all the lather off.
I soaped up my hands and did the same to him as he’d done to me, getting more and more turned on by the moment. I lingered at his cock, soaping him up thoroughly, rubbing him up and down with my slippery, soapy hands. He moaned, leaning back against the shower wall, letting me do what I wanted to him for a long moment. Jaxon finally broke free of my touch and rinsed off, pulling me into his arms and caressing me all over while I trembled, so turned on I could barely stand it.
Before long, though, Jaxon and I were both driven to distraction, and he was lifting me up against the wall, holding me pinned by the hips. He kissed me hungrily, touching me everywhere, and I felt his hard cock brushing against my slick labia. Jaxon thrust into me all at once, filling me up, and I moaned out in the shower, not even caring whether anyone had come back to the dorm, or if anyone could hear either of us. Jaxon rocked his hips up into mine, pushing deeper and deeper into my body, and I pushed down to meet his thrusts, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders.
We moved together, our bodies slipping and sliding, our hands moving over each other everywhere. Jaxon’s hip bone pressed up against my clit, rubbing me with every movement of his hips. We twisted and writhed against each other, barely holding ourselves up, supporting each other as it got hotter and better. I felt my pleasure mounting and mounting—I could barely believe it as I got more and more turned on. Jaxon held me up, thrusting faster and faster into me. I pushed down to meet his movements, my skin tingling, my nerves crackling with sensation. The shower was steamy and hot around us, and the slippery feeling of our skin made it just so good.
It seemed like only moments before we were both coming, crying out and moaning in the tiny, echoing room. Jaxon tensed against me and I felt my muscles flexing around him, pleasure lighting up my nervous system. We kept moving until we just couldn’t anymore, sagging against the wall as the water rained down just a few inches away from us.
Jaxon and I managed to regain our feet, managed to finish cleaning up. Jaxon wrapped a towel around me and then one around himself. We went back into my bedroom and threw ourselves into bed together and I curled up to him, kissing him hungrily. I was exhausted down to my bones, but I was so happy it almost didn’t matter. “Do you have enough energy for one more?” Jaxon asked me. I chuckled lowly.
“What, now your dad’s okay with me you’re going to screw me to death?” Jaxon laughed.
“We can be done for the night if you want. No classes tomorrow, we can spend the whole day in.” I nodded. I wanted more but I was so tired.
As I lay there in bed, not quite able to fall asleep in spite of how bone-tired I was, I thought about everything that had happened to me and Jaxon over the past months. I remembered how good it had been from the beginning—how much I liked him, how much I wanted him. Before we had even known that our parents were going to be together, we had so much in common.
Even without snowboarding, Jaxon and I had a lot in common. I had wondered more than once after we discovered our parents were married to each other whether we only wanted each other because we couldn’t have each other. If it was just the attraction of forbidden fruit. But as Jaxon and I lie in bed together, teasing and caressing each other, talking to each other, I realized that I had wanted him—really wanted him—long before he’d been forbidden fruit. We had had so many good times even before we’d had sex for the first time.
Now that we could really be together, it would only get better and better. Jaxon and I talked about the future tournaments in the season, about our classes, about what we would do for the future. Jaxon was on his way to a successful life; his father’s connections would be helpful once he graduated, and he was smart and worked hard. I had no idea what the future held for the two of us, but I couldn’t help but think that we would at least be happy together.
I started to drift off into sleep, loving the feeling of Jaxon’s body pressed close to mine. I would never have to hide my feelings for him ever again in my life. I would be able to be with him, to love him the way I had all along, without worrying about who would find out and judge us. Of course, just because our parents knew about it and had finally decided to be okay with it, that didn’t mean that everyone in the world would think it was okay. I knew that there were plenty of people who would judge us, who would think it was every bit as repellent and disgusting as Bob had considered it. Probably we weren’t at the end of the struggles that we would have to get through to be together. But the fact that things were so much easier now made anything else seem possible.
I thought about what Jaxon had told me about his father calling him. I woke up a little bit and whispered to Jaxon, asking him for details of his conversation with his father. Jaxon smiled and pressed me closer to him, telling me word for word the conversation. He asked me about wha
t I had done, and I giggled. “You would never believe it,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t even know what came over me. Bob was half-drunk, and he just wouldn’t get off the topic of you and me and how disgusting it was.” I told him everything that I could remember of the tirade I had launched at Bob—not even omitting the fact that I had told Bob basically that if I had been his child I would have killed him by now.
Jaxon shook his head. “You have no idea how many times I wished someone would stick up to him,” Jaxon told me. We both agreed that while it could have ended a lot differently, that we were better off either way; even if Bob had cut us both off, and we would be better than dealing with his hatred and need to constantly humiliate Jaxon.
We talked about the possible struggles to come. I knew that things were not just going to be perfect and peachy between us—but now that we could at least give our relationship a real shot, we would never have to wonder what could have been. We could love each other.
I fell asleep gradually, as Jaxon and I both started to slow down our conversation. I felt so warm and safe in his arms, I couldn’t imagine anywhere else I would rather be. It may not be perfect—and I was not so sure that Bob’s decision that we should just be happy together would hold up—but for now, we had each other, and we didn’t have to worry about our parents. It was enough for the moment. It was enough to make me happier than I had been in my whole life, and I was going to hold onto that as long as humanly possible.
Click here to continue to my next book.
Get Each of My Newly Released Books for 99 Cents By Clicking Here
Click here to get my book Swipe for free
PRIEST
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams
CHAPTER ONE
JACE
I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in my room at the church where I’d served as parish priest for the past two years. I stared at myself in my black cassock and thought about the days ahead.
It wasn’t moving to a new church that troubled me—it was moving forward with a crucial piece of my life no longer intact. I’ve been devout in my faith since I was a child. But as I gazed at my reflection…I was having doubts.
I looked at the man in the mirror and instead of seeing Father Jace, I saw the reflection of a frightened little boy. That little boy had been brought to where he was through the love and devotion of a woman—and now she was gone and I was questioning everything about my life.
My grandmother used to say, “Be humble and respectful to everyone, whether you are sure they deserve it or not.” She taught me not to judge people too harshly and that if you worked hard and did good things, you would always prosper.
When Grandma talked about prospering, she wasn’t talking about money. She taught my brothers and me that prosperity was about your family and your friends. The people that you kept within your inner circle said more about you than anything, according to her, and I had come to believe that myself.
She also always said that if you looked hard enough, no matter how far you stray, it was always possible to find a path back into God’s good graces. That one I used to believe without a doubt, but those doubts had started to work their way in.
I had strayed from my faith the moment they told me she was dead. I had spent most of my nights since railing against God, instead of praying to Him. My grandmother didn’t need my prayers for her soul. She was the purest soul that ever existed. The irony is if she were still here, she would be the first to tell me to hit my knees and pray hard for forgiveness.
I was holding out hope I’d be ready to do that soon, but for the time being, I’d have to fake it. That day, repentance was not on the agenda. I knew that when I had to stand there and helplessly watch them lower her into the ground, instead of rejoicing for her soul, I would be agonizing over the pain in mine.
I was angry, but I was not supposed to be. I was a priest, but damn it, I was also human. My grandmother was dead. She was the light that always beckoned me home, no matter how lost I’ve been. I was angry and sad and confused, and no amount of praying would give me the answers to my questions. How was I supposed to find my way any longer?
It was just after 12 o'clock. The old church bells rang out, and from my second story room, I could hear the flock of pigeons the bells sent into disarray as they cooed and flapped violently away from the bell tower of the old church.
I heard the echo of each slow chime as I made my way through the cavernous inner halls on my way to the vestry. The sounds reverberated off the stones that held the sacred building together and bounced off the stained glass windows and polished, oak pews.
With a heavy heart and a deep ache in my soul, I draped the white stole about my neck in preparation for the mass I was about to say, as was tradition. I begged God to give me on the last day the garment of immortality that was forfeited by our sinful first parents.
I was on autopilot. I was a priest; it was what I did, what I knew to do.
The mourners filled the church, and I believed that I handled the mass with as much dignity as humanly possible. I had a hard time suppressing my own grief as I watched the broken faces of my brothers in the front pew. I managed to keep it together, and even remain pious in my thoughts, until we reached the cemetery.
When I stepped out of the black car into the brilliant sunlight and looked around at the vibrant colors of spring that surrounded me, my anger returned with a vengeance. My grandmother was dead and the sun was offensively bright and cheerful.
It was as if God and the elements were conspiring to show me that the world would go on just fine without her. It shouldn't, and that’s what I was so angry about. As far as I was concerned, everything should be as dark and gray as my emotions were. The weather should have been damp and cold, and the birds should not have been singing in the trees overhead.
I walked through the cemetery like a silhouette of myself. I wished that I was as insubstantial as the shadows. Shadows don’t have to feel the tangle of emotions that were twisting around in my gut. I stood near the freshly dug hole and waited for the coffin to arrive.
I was no longer apologetic to my Father in Heaven. I was pissed.
******
“Touching service, Father,” a young congregate said to me as she shook my hand after the funeral. I forced a smile and nodded at her.
“My condolences for your loss, Father. Your grandmother was a great lady,” the next one told me as he shook my hand.
“We’ll all miss her, Father…”
It went on and on. My head felt like it might literally explode and shoot off my shoulders before the last member of the congregation shook my hand and headed for their car. Finally, I was alone with my grandmother and my brothers.
“How are you doing, Jace?” My brother Max was at my side. He was the oldest and the one that would be counted on to hold us together with Grandma gone.
“I’ve been better,” I said, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. “How about you?” My other brother, Ryan, walked up as we talked.
“I’m hanging in there. I’m not sure what to do without her. She will be sorely missed.” I had no doubts Max would miss her, but he’d been independent since we were taken from the house of horrors that was our life and placed with Grandmother when he was ten. I was six at the time, and Ryan was only six months.
Ryan’s eyes and face were swollen and red. He still lived with Grandmother, and I had no doubts her death would leave the biggest void in his life. She coddled him a little too much, and at twenty-five, he was more dependent on her than a man really had a right to be.
“Hey,” he said with a chin tilt. Even at a funeral he was still clinging to the cool-guy, motorcycle st
ud stereotype. I opened my arms and it all fell away. He folded into them and sought the strength of his big brother and priest. I could at least be one of those for him.
As soon as I closed my arms around him, his shoulders began to shake and he unloaded the grief that he’d been trying so hard to hold back. “I know that I’m not supposed to think like this,” he said between sobs, “But I’m so angry, Jace. We all still needed her. Why does God let things like this happen? She was nothing but good. Why does he take the good ones so soon?”
Ryan, out of all of us, had struggled with his faith the most. It was the first time I didn’t have answers for him. I’d been asking those questions myself.
“I wish I knew, Ryan. All we can do now is have faith and trust that she’s at peace and we’ll see her again someday.” Such a priest-like thing to say…but I was at a loss.
My brother seemed to accept it. He nodded against my shoulder and then pulled back and looked at my face. His green eyes were so much like mine, and his sandy-blond hair fell down across his forehead the same way that mine did when it got too long.
He was a younger version of me, but even priest compared to biker, he was a more innocent version. Ryan hadn’t known our parents long enough for the scars to take hold of him. Grandmother was all he’d ever known as a caregiver, and she did a stellar job.
“I have to take off,” Max said. “I have a meeting across town at four. Maybe we can all have lunch Sunday?”
“If it’s a late lunch,” I said. “I’ll be serving my first Mass at St. Luke’s on Sunday.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re moving to Lexington tomorrow, I almost forgot. At least it’s only thirty minutes away.”
“Yeah, I’ll still see you guys a lot. Let’s plan on three for lunch at Mike and Patty’s. Will that work for you, Ryan?”
My little brother looked like I’d pulled him out from under the water as he refocused his attention. “Mike and Patty’s at three. I’ll be there.”