Page 34 of Patchwork
“Hero,” I whine. Is that even his real name? I’ve wanted to ask a thousand times, but I figured if he wanted me to know, he would tell me. I want to know all of him though. I want to be the person who knows him in ways no one else does, and I want him to know me the same way. But asking for that is a complicated web of decisions, a row of dominos I’m still trying to work up the courage to knock down. This part is simple though. The swell of a familiar symphony in my ears and his cock pummeling my prostate with every thrust, that’s the easy part.
“No one else has fucked you bare,” he pants.
I don’t know if it’s a statement or a question, but I nod and moan anyway. “No one.” I snap my hips to meet every one of his rough, deep thrusts. “Only you. Only you. Only…”
Hero pinches my nipple, and I lose the ability to do anything but moan from deep in my gut, my legs trembling to hold me upright and my cock drooling a steady stream of precum onto the cupboard door.
He fills me again and again, our grunts and moans echoing through the kitchen, becoming the chorus to the music in my ears. His cock gets stiffer and his thrusts get wilder, his mouth dragging against the backs of my shoulders and along the side of my neck.
“Hero,” I wail his name again, arching my back as the heat in my gut coils tighter and tighter.
The new angle puts pressure on my prostate with every thrust. I crane my neck and find his lips in a clumsy kiss, mumbling nonsense words against his mouth. Our tongues grapple and Hero slams his hips home one more time before he groans against my lips, his whole body trembling and his cock starting to pulse inside me. Without anything between us, all I can think about is his cum shooting deep into my guts, clinging to my insides, rope after hot rope of his release.
That thought is enough to send me over the edge right along with him. My toes curl against the damp tile floor, and I gasp as waves of pleasure crash over me. My inner muscles clench around him, milking his orgasm, coaxing more of his cum to spill inside me. We whimper and grind and paw at each other until my knees are too weak to hold me up anymore and I slump down.
Hero’s softening cock slips out of me, his hot cum dribbling from my hole and gushing down the backs of my thighs as we both collapse onto the cool floor.
“We made a mess,” I laugh breathlessly, catching sight of the splatter of my cum all down the front of the counter.
He chuckles, pulling me closer and wrapping his arms around me.
“Worth it,” he mumbles.
“Definitely.” I kiss his shoulder, smiling against his skin.
What if I did return those calls and tell my agent that I don’t want to renew my contract with Black Sheep? What if I stayed right here in Fall Crosse with Hero? What if we fucked in the kitchen and stayed up late watching movies and talking every night for the rest of our lives?
Chapter 16
ONYX
There’sadull,tenderache leftover from last night and a smile I just can’t seem to wipe off my face. Not that I’m trying all that hard. I shift in bed, groaning happily at the way my bones pop and my muscles twinge from the gentle stretch. Hero’s soft snores are rhythmic and slow. He’s still fast asleep with his fingers twitching against my back and his warm breath buffeting the hair on the nape of my neck.
The thought of getting out of bed and taking my guitar and a cup of coffee outside to enjoy the bird songs and fresh air is appealing, but not quite as appealing as the feel of Hero’s bare skin against mine under the covers this morning. I yawn and wiggle a little closer to him. He grunts in his sleep and drapes a heavy arm around me.
A morning like this is a slow piano melody, peaceful enough to drift away on. Except I can’t drift away. Not completely. The specter of what’s waiting for me on my phone has been haunting me, and I’m not sure how much longer I can avoid dealing with it.
With a sigh, I reach for my phone where it’s lying face down on the nightstand, careful not to wake Hero with my movements. I hold my breath as I press the power button and wait for it to come to life. It feels like it takes an eternity for the lock screen to finally appear. I type in my code and in seconds I’m flooded with missed notifications, calls and texts that have been coming in for nearly two weeks, an alert that my voicemail box is full, and emails with subject lines like “Where the hell are you?!?”
My stomach knots and my thumb hovers over the power button again. I can’t tell if turning it off is just running away from it or if it’s actually the better option right now. The alternative is replying to their messages with scathing, sarcastic apologies for taking a break during my fucking break. The only messages I actually feel a little bad about are the ones from my agent, Van, repeatedly letting me know that the label is breathing down his neck about getting a signature on my new contract and threatening to replace me if I can’t get it done before we’re booked for studio time. I’m tempted to tell them to fucking go for it. Get someone else to listen to Jade and Gray’s fucking and fighting. Get someone else to play video games with Jett and get secondhand stoned off of his weed. Get someone else to spend eighty percent of their life cooped up in a tour bus and performing like a goddamn circus monkey, because I’mthis fucking closeto being done.
“What’s wrong?” Hero mumbles sleepily, tightening his arm around me as he stirs and yawns.
“Nothing.” I turn my phone off again and toss it back onto the nightstand.
“You sure?” He yawns again and sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and blinking against the morning sun coming in through the gap in the curtains. “You seem tense.” He puts his large, warm hands on my shoulders and uses his thumbs toknead some of the knots that started forming the second I picked up my phone and looked at my messages.
“Yeah, there’s some stuff I need to deal with eventually, but it can wait.” It’s mostly the truth. Whatever the label is saying to Van, I don’thaveto sign a new contract or get my ass back to the studio for two and a half more months. They’re just impatient. And if they keep fucking pushing me, they won’t like my answer.
I roll towards Hero and prop myself up on my elbow, taking in the glorious view of his bare chest covered in tattoos, the sheets pooled around his waist, his hair messy from sleep, and I try to get myself to form the words I really want to say.What if this didn’t have to be temporary?
“Alright,” he says, brushing the hair off my forehead, but I can see the tightness around his eyes. He wants to push to know what’s really bothering me. If he asks again, I might crack and tell him. It feels like a standoff, our gazes lingering silently on each other, both of us waiting to see if the other one will work up the guts to talk about what we both keep dancing around. Finally, Hero opens his mouth, but it isn’t to have the relationship talk or to needle me about the messages on my phone. “Hey, do you want to do something fun today?”
I snort a laugh. “Nah, let’s do something boring instead. Oh, hey, do they still have that kick-ass farmers’ market on the square?”
His eyebrows scrunch and he looks at me like I’m crazy for a second before he laughs. “The farmers’ market is still there. Is that really how you want to spend a Saturday morning?”
“Are you kidding? Have you had the blueberry scones?”
