Page 75 of The Tomorrows After You
“We don’t need it, if you don’t want. I’m on birth control and there hasn’t been anybody…” Her eyes danced between mine, wondering the same from me. I nodded.There hasn’t been anyone else for me either.
Iwonderedif there ever would be anyone else ever again. Not after this. Not after her.
I lined myself up at the center of her body and hesitated until I saw her nod her head, urging me forward. I took in every expression, every dip and curve of her open mouth, fixed in a silentoas I buried myself slowly. Pausing for a moment, I waited for that desperation in her eyes. She let out a breathy plea.
One last push and I was wholly consumed by her body. I wanted to live inside her. To grow and weaken and come and harden and give her everything within me until I had nothing left. I swallowed, needing to take a breath. Her eyes were softer now. Her legs wrapped around my waist, somehow plunging me deeper.
My head fell between my shoulders and her hands grazed either side of my neck, tender, bringing my lips to hers. I moved rhythmically inside her. Already, the heat and tension swirled in my lower abdomen. Our breaths came out in short, heavy pants.
God, she felt so good, like her body was made to receive mine and the thought only sent more blood rushing to my cock. She cried out like she felt it and I wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. But I needed her to come again. I wanted to feel what my fingers had when her body convulsedaround them.
Her facecontortedin a look of unbridled desire and pleasure and pain andwanting. Our eyeslocked. Her lipspartedin a silent cry. Ipickedup speed,close to losingcontrol entirely. But Iheldback,waitingfor her so that I would finish with her. Together.
Her body shook beneath mine. I pressed more firmly, burying every inch of me inside her with each stroke. Until her head fell back and her voice made the most wonderful sound as it garbled my name. Her body squeezed me tight, and I let myself go, spilling into her, warming the very little spaces left between us.
The pleasure shuddered through her body. I claimed her lips with mine, drinking in every last moan, praying for tomorrow to never come.
28
Nicolette
Apart of me had suspected Riot hadn’t been the one to kill his mother after my first night here. I had looked into the eyes of evil men. I mean truly, evil, heartless, sell-your-own-daughter-into-slavery kind of men, and after I’d spent that day with Riot; the Center, our breakfast then him bringing me home like some kind of stray dog… something felt truly off about the story that he’d told and then retold so many times.
When he flew into Brennan’s house after hearing us yelling while playing that robot game, I thought it was because he didn’t want me too close to Brennan. He didn’t trust me not to ask questions. But when he came outside once again with that wild look in his eyes, I realized he had never been afraid for Brennan. He’d been afraid for me.
I hadn’t waited for an answer when I asked him. I didn’t need one. The look of pure despondency in his eyes was all the truth I needed. But I still wanted to understand.
As welaywith our legs and bodies stilltangledtogether in the top bed sheet, Iwantedto understand. Ineededto understand why hehadgivenup everything; his scholarship, his education, his future,his life— for ten years. My fingersdrewcircles in the tiny curls of thin chest hair, my cheekpressedagainst the warmth of his shoulder.
His heartbeat was slow now, calm. I expected to see him asleep but when I gazed up, he was staring at the ceiling, a listless expression on his face.
Ipartedmy lips to ask him a question, but hebeatmeto it.
“The summer after I graduated…” he began, and I stilled. “I went away to training camp in early August. I had been nervous about how they would do. She and Brennan never got along, especially after Dad died. It was like my mom’s empathy and patience died alongside him. I had made a point to call home every couple of days. I called one Sunday and my mom picked up, we chatted, the usual. I asked to talk to Brennan, and she said he wasn’t there. She had enrolled him in a program that would ‘get him the help he needed’.”
Riot’s throat bobbed.
“She said it was some kind of therapeutic wilderness program. No phones allowed but I could write to him. I assumed he was getting evaluated by some social workers, behavior therapists, I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his chin. “He had always spent most of his time holed up in his room on the computer before that. I was glad he was getting out, maybe meeting friends in therealworld.” He laughed humorlessly, and I leaned in a little closer to him. “I wrote him a letter ofencouragement.” He shook his head, an expression full of shame. “I told him I was proud of him. That I hoped he couldembracethe experience and that it was the right thing, thegoodthing for him.
“It wasn’t until I came home Labor Day weekend that I saw what they did to him. Brennan was back but…” Riot shuddered. “His eyes. I knew something was wrong. He was a shell of himself.”
Riot’s chest hitched. He closed his eyes. “His skin was... translucent. He had these black circles under his eyes and would flinch at every sharp sound.” Riot took one more deep breath. “As you may have deduced, Brennan has always been kind ofasexual. Never showed any interest in girls growing up and I think he probably thought there was something wrong with him. So, Brennan being Brennan, needed empirical data. So, he looked upgayporn.” Riot waved a hand. “I think to see ifthatdid anything for him.” He frowned sadly. “Mom went snooping on his computer. She found it and freaked.” He turned his head, and we locked eyes fora fleeting moment and I thought I saw Riot’s heart crumble to pieces all over again.
“You know, I don’t think it was the possibility of him being gay that made her snap. I think it was some kind of loss of control. Her children were the only two things she recognized about her life and I guess she felt like she was losing him.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s not an excuse, either way.”
He looked down at our tangled bodies before meeting my eyes.
“It wasn’t a wilderness camp, Nic.” He blew out a breath. “It was a conversion therapy program.” I furrowed my brow, resting my chin on his chest. “One of those camps that basically, if they can’t pray the gay away, they’ll beat it out of you.”
My heart lurched and my mouth fell open.
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“Those still exist?”
“Apparently.”
