His voice pitched on my name, making it sound like a prayer.
“Do you feel good?”
His moan was ragged. “Yes.”
“Then have faith when I say I can’t stand not touching you now that I finally have you all to myself.” I bent and licked a stripe up his cock from base to tip, then took him to the back of my throat, sucking him to the root, lifting off to tongue his slit and swallowing him down again, loving the taste of him, the feel, his submission as my name came out of him in a litany of mewling cries of base pleasure.
He was already so close, trembling under me, and when I slid one saliva-coated finger into his ass and pushed deep, he bowed up off the bed and came hard.
I drank him down as he shuddered, oversensitized, wanting the hot suction of my mouth even though I knew it was nearly unbearable. He was at that fine line between craving more and feeling too much.
Licking him a final time, from balls to head, I sat up and watched his cock bounce against his stomach, leaving wet smears of cum on his abdomen, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Kiss me,” he panted, his breathing rough, coming in staccato bursts.
Lying down on my side, facing him, I chuckled as he licked my lips, wanting to taste himself on me, on my tongue, his hand slipping around my throat to hold me still as I was devoured. When I took over the kiss, loving how he responded to me, the touch of wetness was such a surprise I pulled back, breaking contact.
“No, don’t do––”
“Hey, what’s with the tears?” I brushed them away with my hand.
He shook his head, not ready yet to use his words.
“Tell me, or I’m gonna think I did something wrong.”
“You do everything right and perfect and—stay with me.”
“Of course I’m gonna stay with you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re not making any sense.”
Sliding his hand up the side of my neck, where he’d been holding on, he moved his hand to my cheek and stroked my beard. “I just want us to be together. I want you to be mine.”
I scoffed. “You’re stuck now, I’m all yours. There’s no one to give me back to.”
His breath came out in a rush, and then he was all over me, hurting me a bit in the process of wrapping me in his arms, but it was worth a few moments of pain to have someone as amazing as Cameron Gallagher shiver with happiness as he held me tight.
14
Cameron
I was sitting in the shade on the steps in front of the Barrett Crossing police station on Monday afternoon, because waiting inside for Jeremiah was too overwhelming. I’d never had any run-ins with law enforcement, not even a speeding ticket, and five short minutes of listening as people approached the front desk made me count my blessings.
The majority of people seated on the benches—the arrangement reminded me of church pews—seemed angry, were openly crying, cursing, or praying, and their emotions swirled around me fast and loud. I’d never encountered anything like it in my life. It was ADA McCauley who suggested my psyche would be better served if I waited outside. He was there but wouldn’t be in the room when Creese Robinson gave Detective Turner and another ADA his statement.
It made sense.
“Besides”—he shrugged—“we have no idea how long this will take.”
On the stairs, leaning back against a limestone column, I felt like I could breathe again, so to kill some time I took out my phone to check my schedule. I may have been there to support my new boyfriend, but there were other things happening in my world as well.
We had signed the lease on our new apartment the day before, so the first thing I did in the morning was call to get the gas and electric turned on and to have the services put in both our names. The cleaners were there now, scrubbing every inch of the place, and a maintenance person was changing out any pre-moon-landing fixtures. Jeremiah had insisted I leave the patio and its jungle of plants alone, so we had to buy a hose, among other things.
Furniture shopping for the essentials had been done after breakfast. I had insisted he pick the mattress since he’d be sleeping on it every night, as well as the sofa, end tables, lamps, and TV, but the rest he’d left up to me—the kitchen table, cookware, dishes and utensils, linens, towels, hand towels, washcloths, and the stackable washer and dryer—since he didn’t care about those things. I duplicated everything I had at home, so it was easy.
I was working from the apartment tomorrow, to be there when the TV and stackable washer and dryer combo was delivered, and so someone was home for the nice man who would set up the all-important Wi-Fi.