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Peace.That’s what I want for him the most.
Quiet.So he can process.
Only he doesn’t seem to want to be alone once we get to the stables. He misses the lock with his key twice before I take it from him and open the door, but his tight hold on me doesn’t let up, and it’s far from shaky, which I guess makes sense if he’s spent the morning with the kids instead of using power tools.
I can’t help thinking some part of him has got to be shaking after witnessing a conversation that rocked him to his foundation. To his core. To a part of him that matters. My problem is that for all I’m usually a chatty fucker, I don’t know what to say next, or what he needs after getting his chest cracked wide open.
All I can do is crack open my own right along with him.
“Mitch was right, you know? You are brilliant.”
Hayden’s face creases again, so I lead him inside where no one else can follow, and I keep talking.
“Seriously, you’re so fucking brilliant. I think it each time I see you. Every single time I draw you.”
I swallow, not sure if this will be helpful, but fuck it. I place a hand over his heart and push, and yeah, he’s heavier than me, but he goes so easily where I move him.
His back lands against the door, and I step into the space between those long legs of his. “I think it every single time I get to touch you.” I slide a hand under his shirt and reach for the same place that I just shoved him.
His heart hammers under my palm, and he shudders.
He also pulls me closer, and so what if sex isn’t always the answer. I kiss him and guess it’s the right decision.
For him.
His mouth is a hot press against mine, his lips instantly parting, and I know that kind of desperation, don’t I? This fraught and frenzied need to do anything other than think. It’sexactly what I sank into each time the tide washed up tiny life vests. The difference now is that I don’t want to fuck away my fury with some random project worker, or to draw a story to raise cash to stop more kids from sinking.
What I want least of all is a time limit.
With him.
After everything he’s shown me, I want more time with him, not less, and it’s annoying as fuck the news I got this morning means I’ll be leaving even sooner.
It is good news for my project, but after sitting in on today’s conversation, it feels like the worst timing—a missed chance to know even more about him. To fill all those gaps making no sense between how he sees himself and how my pencil or stylus draws him.
It also sparks a different kind of desperation from me. Our kiss deepens enough for both of us to sink into. He’s right here with me, his tongue in my mouth, his arms clinging like I’m his lifeline, which feels desperate enough that I have to check in.
My hand slides down from his chest, heading lower, while the other unthreads our fingers to reach up. I clasp his jaw where his regrowing beard prickles. My other hand does the same along the hardening length of his cock. I squeeze both while double-checking. “You want to?”
Hayden doesn’t say yes. He doesn’t say no either. A whole new low sound tears from his chest, and his back isn’t against the door anymore.
Mine is.
He drops to his knees, getting his mouth on me so quickly, I have to brace against the doorframe.
I’m meant to be the one giving comfort. His mouth on my dick means I’m almost falling.
Almost?
I already am.
For him.
That has nothing to do with this hot, wet suction, or with the sensation of his teeth dragging where it shouldn’t feel good but actually makes my toes curl. I fell for him at some point I’ll pinpoint later when I’m not fighting the urge to fuck into the softness he offers.
The urge is difficult to resist when he sucks me to full hardness, his grip on my hips tight enough to be bruising. My dick nudges deeper than can be easy for him to take, but he sounds grateful. That’s what slips out, pure and primal, and I’ve never felt more connected.
Not because he blows me.
