Page 34 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
“Yeah, and it’s weird. Feels like I’ve been raising myself since Dad died,” he said. “Maybe sleeping over should be limited to the nights she works the graveyard shift.”
“Do you think she suspects something?”
He ran his teeth over his bottom lip. “She can be perceptive when interested enough. If she were to ever get a whiff that I needed protecting from something…” he cut himself short. “Could be my paranoia, but better to be safe.”
I wavered for a second, then gave my agreement.
“What?” he asked, following me into the bedroom.
“I was going to ask if you thought you could get away for a weekend. Maybe after Thanksgiving.” The safety of our relationship and avoiding the pain of being discovered trumped everything. “But if you think—”
“I’ll work it out.”
“...Phoenix—”
“I won’t take any unnecessary risks. If I can’t come up with something that won’t blow back on us, I won’t do it.” He stepped into my arms, his hard cock nudged me, leaving a wet trail along my inner thigh.
“Oh, to be young,” I mused, answering his poke with one of my own. I cradled his face within my hands. “Tell me, what do you want, Phoenix?” I asked him this often. He wanted everything, I knew, all of it and all of me. But beneath my facade of surety more than a sliver of guilt and trepidation gnawed at me for what we were doing. For what I thought I was doing to him. Taking from him. And I needed the constant reminder—or confirmation that what his body asked for was aligned with his mind and heart.
He slammed the door on his shyness, on his fear of sounding young and pure under the heft of my experience. “I want your fingers here.” He led my hand around him and settled it between his tight globes. We’d only days ago progressed to me fingering him there, and he’d said that when I brushed againstthatplace inside of him it felt like fireworks going off underneath his skin. He ran a finger back and forth over my lips, and my tongue reflexively sought out the digit. “And I want your mouth here.” He placed my other hand around his curved erection before hitching a shaky breath at either the touch or his audacity.
“Well done,” I whispered, sinking to the floor. “Well done.”
I butchered the tomatoes on the cutting board while Phoenix regaled me with bad jokes, intent on making me laugh. My stoicism held firm, and he eyed me like he may have been having second thoughts about us. I gave in, dragging a matching chuckle from him and a hug from behind.
“I knew it,” he spoke into my back.
“All right, all right. Don’t get used to it, your jokes need work.” I slipped a tomato chunk into his waiting mouth as he leaned a hip against the counter next to me and checked an incoming text.
“Danny will cover me with my mom when we go away.” He slid the phone to the countertop. “It won’t be too challenging to do. She’s off for the holiday but picked up two double shifts for the days after,” he said in a resigned manner. As if how much she worked was a fact he didn’t like but had come to terms with.
“You must be excited to spend Thanksgiving with her this year. Taking the day off sounds promising.” With the sauce, cheese, and tomatoes spread along the pre-made dough, I placed it into the oven and wiped my hands on the dish towel.
“Yeah, I guess.” He took up a seat on the other side of the island. “I usually spend it with Danny and his family. I’m not sure what prompted the change this year.”
“Maybe she misses you?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“So Thanksgiving with your mom, and then I get to steal you away for a couple days?” I came around and spun his stool, kissing him sweetly.
“You love touching me,” he stated, punch-drunk, his blue eyes swaying.
My mouth met his neck, and I laughed against his skin. “And you love to be touched.”
“I...like that you’re so much bigger than me too,” he said as I lifted him onto the counter with my hands under his armpits, taking his abandoned stool in the process. His father had been affectionate and imposing. Phoenix promised that he knew the distinction between us, and I believed him. I was too selfish a man to dwell on the consequences of that not being true.
“Look who’s bigger than who now.”
He shook his head, gazing down at me with tenderness, his hands in my hair, and I tugged him closer to me. “What will you do on Thanksgiving?”
“I’ll be fine,” I answered, not wanting him to worry about me being alone.
“What do you think Emily’s going to do?”
“She still has a relationship with her family.”
“She does?” He sounded shocked but relieved. I wished Emily would give up the house, but she’d grown attached to it for some reason. I’d have to contend with Phoenix’s inquisitive eyes until he left for college, I supposed.
