Page 121 of Wilde's End
What we’re going through, we’re going through together.
We won’t always get it right, but as long as we come back to this, to need and pleasure and remembering what we’re all about, we’ll be able to handle anything.
“Fuck, Hudson, touch me,” he commands. “Make me come.”
A shiver ripples along my spine. I’ll never get enough of him telling me what to do, and nothing will get me there faster than hearing him say my name in that uncontrollable rasp.
My hand dives between and closes over his cock. I match up my strokes with each thrust as he sucks his way along my throat. It’s sensory heavy, turning my limbs to jelly, and if I wasn’t so fucking determined to feel him tighten around my cock as he comes, I would have blown my load already.
But he’s close.
I can do this.
His sticky precum is building between our stomachs, and my balls are getting concerningly tight. I’m so checked out, unawareof anything but his mouth on my neck, his ass around my cock, and his heated shaft fucking the tight grip I have on him.
“I’m close,” I warn him.
His teeth sink into my neck as his hips shudder, and his release floods between us.
Fucking finally.
He clenches around me, my high mixing with my relief, and then it’s all too much.
I come hard, in a vision-shaking, limb-trembling high, and as I unload into Wilde’s ass, I remind myself that I get to do this again.
Whenever the fuck I want.
That thought is too much for me, that when I can think straight, I pull out of him and flop onto the side of the bed.
It’s funny how, when you’re that close to the edge, coming is more important than breathing, and I’m paying the price for it now. I lie there, trying to fill my lungs, satisfaction so deep it’s surging through my limbs, and every one of the shitty feelings I was wading through earlier has gone.
Well, almost all of them.
I still have to make things right with my brothers, but for all the faults the three of us have, we’ve never let an argument cause irreparable damage.
So for right now, I want to take a minute—maybe an hour—with Wilde and do something we’ve never done before.
I roll over onto my side, looking down at where he’s also catching his breath, and hesitantly set my hand on his chest. He doesn’t tense or get weird, so that’s a good start.
“I was good, wasn’t I?”
Wilde lifts his eyebrows. “Not bad for a city boy.”
For maybe the first time, those two words don’t sound like an insult. “Come on, admit it. I rocked your world. Fucked yougood.” I lean over him with a teasing grin. “Took you to pound town.”
He grunts, face scrunched up, and instead of answering, he tugs me down until his lips claim mine. I want to point out that I know he’s trying to shut me up, but when he kisses me, it’s like the second hand stops, and we have all the time in the world. A million more endless moments.
“Ready to come home?” he asks.
Home.
It’s weird to think that when he says that, he means Wilde’s End, but then I think of the pine trees and the trails and our swimming hole, and there’s no other word for it.
I don’t know what it means for the future, but for now, it feels right.
“I never should have left.”
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