Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

"Must have wanted this big dick." As soon as I say it, I feel my face heat up. He leans in toward me. "All damn morning."

He gives me a crooked smile. "Wanted something else, too."

"What could that be?"

He runs his fingers into my hair. "What a tease." His eyelids look heavy, and when he speaks, his voice sounds low and soft and sleepy. "I'm just fucking with you, though. Don't want you feeling pushed or something."

"What kind of something else?" I'm grinning as I ask, because of course, I know. I turn partway around, trying to keep my lower body still so cum doesn't drip off my hip, and I pull my pillowcase off of my pillow.

I clean him up first, realizing as I do that Ezra hasn't answered. When I glance up at his face, I find he looks…nervous? Maybe more like cautious.

I thump his newly cleaned abs. "I'm just kidding, bruh. You talking about anal?" I ask it softly, my voice sounding breathless—because even though I've seen the term used on the internet, I've never said it out loud before.

The relief on his pale face is so obvious it makes my gut twist.

"Gay, remember?" I smile softly as I wipe my abs and dick with my pillowcase. "I like dicks. Figure I might like one in my ass, too."

"Don't say that, or you might get one."

I chuck the pillowcase onto the floor and stretch out on my back, reaching for him as I do. I'm pleasantly surprised when he lays his cheek against my lower abs, right there on the smooth, hard V beside the ridge of my hips.

I run a hand into his hair. "What about you, angel?" I whisper.

"What about me?"

I press my palm lightly against his forehead.

"Would I take a dick?" I feel his cheek round as he smiles—or smirks, more likely. "Guess that would depend on the dick."

"It would have to be a really nice dick." I reach down and cup mine, and he chuckles.

"Would you bottom for me?" he asks in a low voice. He wraps an arm around my right quad, nuzzling his hand behind my leg and pressing just below the curve of my ass. He lifts his head, kissing my hip. "You can say no."

"But I wouldn't," I say. I take in another deep breath. "I can't say no to you, can I?" I shut my eyes, which are suddenly feeling sore and kind of prickly.

"Yeah you can." He hugs my leg and wraps his other arm around my waist. "You can say anything." He pauses for a half a heartbeat. "I'd want anything you gave me, Miller."

I can feel him swallow right after he says it. I keep waiting for his eyes to flicker up to mine, but they don't. His shoulders tighten and he draws them in a little. He takes a deep, quick breath. "You shouldn't fuck with me, though."

"But if I do, you want it,” I say sharply. “You want me. Say it again." My throat aches and my heart races, and he looks up at me.

"I want you,” Ezra whispers. “I wanted you since—" His lips press together.

"Since when?"

"I don't want to tell you." He moves off me, sitting up, looking pale, with his jaw clenched hard and his nostrils flaring. "I was right when I said in the car…this is a fuckup. My fuckup."

I sit up, too, and put both hands on his shoulders. "Ezra. Look at me.”

He does—and he’s all angst and misery.

“Don’t do that. Just don’t. Quit going hot and cold. It’s making me feel crazy.”

“I’m never really hot, though, am I?” His voice is bitter. “Remember how I left you at the hospital?”

“Why, though? Why did you?”

His lips press together, and he shakes his head, not looking at me.

“It’s because you’re scared of hospitals. You said so last night.” I play with his hair at the nape, thumbing it gently. “I know something happened to you,” I whisper. “And it doesn’t change a thing for me. When I think of something hurting you, I want to fucking murder whatever it is. Whatever gave you nightmares. I would rip it apart. If I could.”

He stares at something over my shoulder. “I’m not the right person for you.”

“You don’t believe me? It’s like…I say this, and I mean it so much, but it doesn’t sink into your head. I can feel it.”

His face is expressionless. Dammit. I grip his chin. “Look at me, Ez. Look at my face.” He shuts his eyes. “Tell me this much: Who fucked up before me? Who fucked around with you and made you feel like loving you was hard work?”

Now he looks at me. There’re tears in his eyes.

I lock my arms around him, squeezing, rolling onto my back, pulling him down on top of me. He’s pinned against my chest, his cheek on my shoulder.