Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I didn’t think I had it in me to do that. Not anymore.
“I don’t know how to do this.” I eased out, then snapped my hips forward again.
“And I do?”
“The town.”
“Fuck the town.”
“It won’t just be me. It’ll bleed into your life, your friends, your family. If they know you’re mine.” In and out, slow-fucking and deep-dicking him like we had all the time in the world.
“Don’t I deserve this? Don’t I deserve happiness? Don’t you?”
We did, but that didn’t mean everyone else would see it that way.
I kissed his shoulder, let my arms travel around him again, just lived in this moment of being inside Sam, his body so close to mine that we were one. “Kiss me,” I told him, and he turned his head and covered my mouth with his.
I fisted his cock again, stroked the thick, hard rod while I fucked into him over and over and over again. Shower sex had never been my favorite, but sex with Sam was. All that mattered was that it was him and me.
Water rained down on us, our bodies slapping together. We kissed, and I bit his shoulder before he gave me his sweet mouth again.
My balls were heavy with cum, full and ready to unleash. Sam made whimpering noises in my mouth. I swallowed them down, needing any part of him inside me that I could get.
I felt the difference in his movement, the sharpness of the gasps and the jerkiness of his body. When his hole tightened around me, Sam’s load spurting from his cock to cover my hand, I didn’t hold back anymore. I snapped my hips over and over, let loose, felt my dick pulse inside him as I filled his hole with my cum.
Sam fell forward against the back of the shower. I went with him, the wall holding us up as the water turned cold and my cock softened and eventually slipped out of him.
“I’m in love with you…you know that, don’t you?” Sam asked, no fear, all courage and honesty.
“I love you too,” I admitted. “I’ve never felt this…the need for someone. Didn’t know what it was like to feel complete, and now I do. I don’t know how we—”
“Don’t go.”
“Sam…”
“Without me,” he continued.
My head snapped up, and my gaze held his. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You don’t want to ask me, or you just don’t want me to go?”
“I want…damned if I don’t want you with me.”
Sam gave me my favorite smile in the whole damn world. “How am I ever gonna know what’s out there if I don’t explore it first?”
“Your mom…”
He closed his eyes, his pain radiating out of his body and into mine.
“I can’t lie to ya. I can’t pretend I’m not scared, or that I don’t feel guilty as shit. I’ll feel like I’m abandoning her, but I’m tired, Em. Deep in my bones, I’m tired. I’m twenty-five years old, and sometimes I feel like I’m a hundred. Don’t know if I can do it forever, not now that I know how good I can feel.”
I didn’t understand how it was possible, how I could give Sam that, but I’d do whatever the fuck I had to do to earn it. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Sam’s smile grew. “Together.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sam
After the shower, I’d spent my first Sunday night at Emerson’s. We’d locked ourselves in his house and tried to pretend the outside world didn’t exist. I’d messaged Molls so she knew where I was and told her I was okay. She was worried, but I asked her to trust me and told her Emerson was innocent.
He’d called and talked to Charles to make sure his friend knew he didn’t blame him. I didn’t know if it worked or not, but Charles came over to see Emerson on Monday before he flew back to New York.
Emerson was giving me time to get things in order before we left. I was both scared and excited, but neither of those emotions outweighed the guilt. I kept trying to tell myself it was okay, that I deserved to live my life, but I didn’t know how to do that if I didn’t make sure Mama was okay.
I needed to tell her I was leaving, and I needed to quit my job, but I hadn’t done either yet. She knew nothing about me and Emerson, of course, but when I told her, I knew it would be even worse to say I was leaving with the man who’d been accused of killing his boyfriend.
It had been four days, and I just kept putting everything off, telling myself it would be all right despite the fact that Em had been right. Things were really fucking ugly.
Someone had hit his mailbox with something—a baseball bat?—knocked it down and beat it up.
He hadn’t left his house at all. He was all people in town were talking about. They wanted him out, were suddenly mentioning locking their doors at night because we had a murderer in Ryland. It didn’t matter that he’d been found innocent and that he’d lived there for years without a damn thing happening. There were stories about queer cults and wild sex games Emerson had supposedly used to lure Daniel. It was crazy, and it made me feel even more shitty that we were still there.