Page 28 of Brought By the Storm

There was a deep frown on Carrington’s face. “I don’t ever want to meet them. I could never forgive them for what they did to you.”

I brushed my thumb over his lips. “You won’t ever have to. I haven’t talked to them in years. I tried once. When I landed my first job in the city, I called my mother. I had a new cell phone, so she didn’t know it was me calling. I asked how she was, and she said she and my father were fine, and asked what I wanted. I told her that I didn’t want anything, and before I could say another word, she replied ‘good’ because they had given me years of love and financial support—and me choosing a disgusting lifestyle was the thanks they got for it. She told me not to bother her again, so I haven’t.”

“You can’t still love them!”

I shrugged. “A small part of me did for a while. I’d remember the few good times and some things they did. They were kind to me at Christmas and on my birthday. They bought me a lot of presents, which is weird. It did feel like they loved me sometimes, but all the hitting, expressed disappointment and criticism made it confusing. I’ve gotten to a place where I know I can’t live for them. Long way of saying, I guess they’re as dead to me now as I am to them, and I don’t cry about that anymore.”

Carrington’s face looked pained, and I felt bad that I was making him unhappy. I had said enough. “My mother always says, be kind to others because everyone carries a burden, and it’s often one we don’t see,” he shared.

“Your mother is nice,” I said. “Would she be upset if she knew about us?”

He upturned his lip a bit. “She already does.”

“What?”

He chuckled. “She figured it out. She knows me so well.”

“Does she hate me now?” I worried.

He laughed again. “Not at all. She told me she wants to squeeze you because you’re so adorable. I told her to back off. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours?” I asked.

Although it was dark, I could see Carrington was blushing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Of course, you’re not mine. I just meant, I wanted to be the one to win your favor.”

I smiled. “You talk funny.”

He play-punched me on the shoulder. “You talk funny.”

Once we stopped laughing, I whispered, “I know I don’t know you well, but I know whoever gets to be yours one day is a very lucky person.”

Carrington’s pupils enlarged and he pulled me into a kiss. I tasted the mint from the mouthwash strip, felt the wetness of his lips and tongue and basked in the heat of his breath. I wondered if he could feel my dick hardening against his thigh. “Eric, would you do me a favor?”

“Hmm,” I responded, somewhat dazed—resuming the kissing I was enjoying so much.

He pulled away, catching his breath. “Eric, don’t do anything just to please me. Okay? It’s all right if pleasing me is giving you pleasure, too. But I don’t want to be another man you remember as someone who took advantage of your nature.”

“Carrington, you are not doing that. I have loved every minute of this. I promise, you can tell me what to do that will please you, and it will be my pleasure, too.”

“Why? What’s different about me? You don’t know me well. You said you wanted to wait for Prince Charming.”

I pondered. “Well, you’re not a prince, but you’re a president. Kind of close.” He chuckled. “You’re way better looking than any other guy I’ve been with, and my dick gives you its seal of approval.” He laughed some more. I became serious. “And I may not have known you very long, but it seems to me that there are people you can be around for years and not truly know. Then there are people you meet, and you feel like you’ve known them for years. I already trust you.” I swallowed hard. “And I like you a lot.”

He kissed me. “I like you a lot, too. I’m glad we’re sharing these firsts together. It could never have been any other man for me.”

I tried not to focus on the word ‘firsts, as it implied there would be other men to follow. In my head, I was already fantasizing about something everlasting. “But you’ll be leaving.”

He began to stroke my hair again. “Come visit. My mother already suggested it. I’ll show you Yastarus.”

“I work.” I pouted.

“You don’t get holiday?”

“You mean vacation, funny talker?” I joked.

He ignored my barb. “Take vacation. Right away. We can be discreet. Of course, I’ll pay for everything. You just need to show up. What do you think?”

“Maybe,” I replied. It would require checking with my supervisor, finding someone to watch the house and many other things I hadn’t yet considered.