Page 34 of Burn the Script

There were no better words he could’ve said in that moment, and I had no idea how much I needed to hear them. The atmosphere changed. A heady, sweaty cocktail of pure heat replaced the fumbling moves and safety net of humor.

I held his jaw and crushed our mouths together. And with every lash of our tongues, I released more of my inhibitions and the deeper he sank.

Graham let out a deep groan as he bent his legs and planted his feet on the mattress like he was about to take over. “You feel good riding me. So tight.”

“Go easy,” I said, the reminder a plea and a rasp between panting breaths.

We found a natural rhythm, a contrasting ebb and flow of measured thrusts. He stared at me with lust and wonder in his eyes, never looking away while he mastered restraint. His hands remained on my thighs, splayed and at the ready, like he’d throw me off the moment I showed any sign of discomfort. He wouldn’t find it.

Graham stretched and filled me in a way I hadn’t been in years, but with him, every clench, gasp, and shudder was the good kind.

The steady pace we set drove me to the brink of insanity. Soon, I was riding him with purpose, one hand on his chest while the other jacked my cock. His palms inched toward my ass, fingers digging deeper into my flesh. Sweat glistened on his skin, proof the tight hold on his restraint was unraveling as his thrusts became erratic.

“Miguel, I’m close. I’m gonna come.”

“Do it, baby. Come in me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stiffened, muscles flexing and teeth bared. An animalistic sound scraped his throat while his cock pulsed in my ass.

I leaned back, hand flying up and down my dick. The tension in my gut built, swift and fierce, and my balls drew up. “Oh god! Oh shit!” I yelled.

Cum exploded on his chest and stomach. My brain abandoned me, and my body shook. I hadn’t come that hard or that much in ages, and his chest became my focal point so I wouldn’t pass the fuck out. In all the dizziness, a new problem arose. The sight of my cum all over Graham filled me with possession. It also caused a shift inside my head, unlocking the door that hid the scary things I wasn’t ready to face.

The second I was spent, I slid off his cock and fell down beside him. Between our labored breaths and my frazzled head, I couldn’t think of what to do next. He took the lead, pinching my chin and owning my lips with unexpected tenderness. Deep gratitude flooded my eyes as I returned the kiss, and the tears spilled over before I could get control of my emotions.

My ex had taken so much from me, but somehow, I managed to reclaim trust and physical intimacy. In a matter of months, I had given those gifts to Graham, someone who deserved them. Someone who cared if I was relaxed and present in moments like this.

We broke apart and stared for a beat, then tumbled into fits of laughter. He snorted like a pig, which made me laugh even harder. My smile hurt, it was so big, and my cheeks were on fucking fire.

I flung an arm over my face and groaned in misery. “Please forget I cried after sex. Wipe it all from your memory.”

“The amazing, spectacular sex? Not a chance.” He moved my arm to my chest before his featherlight touch brushed the tears away. “I hope you’ll tell me everything someday, but there’s no rush. I’m keeping you forever, darling.”

With a parting kiss to my stunned lips, Graham removed the condom and swaggered to the bathroom. Lying on my back, butt naked in the middle of the bed, I reveled in the aftermath of residual aches and tentative victory. Maybe I wasn’t as damaged as I had thought.

A few minutes later, he returned with minty breath, a clean torso, and a wet cloth for me. Limbs tangled and bodies sated, we played footsie. For someone who walked around barefoot all the time, his feet were surprisingly soft.

Graham was soft, period. Inside, he was a mushy marshmallow of sweetness that still seemed too good to be true, even if I knew different. I’d never met a more genuine person on earth.

The thing that shifted in my head earlier came knocking again, begging for attention, asking to be acknowledged and defined. I jackknifed to a sitting position and looked around for my clothes.

“I should rinse off and head home.”

Before I could roll off the bed and run, he snagged my wrist. “Don’t even think about leaving. It’s the weekend. You’re staying the night.”

“Not without a toothbrush or pajamas.”

“I have everything you need.” His earnest gaze conveyed the real meaning behind that bold statement, but right then, I wasn’t in any condition to examine it.

Instead, I ignored the scary thing and relented, sweeping the wayward hairs off his forehead. “Can I have a shower, clean sheets, and your side of the bed? I can’t sleep near the door.” My stomach growled, reminding me it had been hours since my last meal. “And food. I need all the food.”

His tired eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. The amusement shining in them was gratifying, but the love? It was arresting. My cynical heart cracked wide open as he captured my hand and kissed each knuckle.

“Anything, Miguel. Name it, and it’s yours.”

15

MIGUEL