Page 87 of Something Good
“Just…give me some time. Be patient with me, okay?”
“I can do that.” I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “For the record, I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t want you. Wanting you was never the issue.”
“I know. Or, at least, I think part of me does. The rest of me is still working on believing it.”
I kissed his forehead again, then worked my way down, placing kisses at his temple, his cheek, along his jaw, and finally, his lips. I pulled back and swung my leg off him, preparing to get off the bed, but he grabbed my hip, stopping me.
“Where are you going?”
I looked pointedly at his dick, which had gone soft during our conversation. “Under the circumstances, I assumed you would want to pump the brakes on the physical side of things.”
“Not so fast.” He pulled my leg back over his hips until I was straddling him once again. “I asked you to be patient with me, not give up altogether.” He grabbed the lube, squirted some on his index finger, and slid it under my balls, moving back until he found my hole. My cock instantly started filling again, and I rolled my head back as he probed my entrance.
“I wasn’t giving up. I was just trying to?—”
“Shh.” He pushed one finger all the way in, pushing in and out in steady strokes, and I couldn’t help the moan that escaped. It had been months since I’d felt that delicious burn of penetration, but knowing it was my golden boy working me over had my cock leaking all over his abdomen in anticipation.
“Feels good,” I said as he added a second finger, stretching me open. I grabbed the lube and poured some into my palm, then wrapped both our dicks in my hand and stroked. We both groaned at the feel of our cocks sliding against each other with my hand wrapped around us.
After only a few strokes, I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled off his fingers, moving my hips forward until I felt his cock align with my hole. With my gaze locked on his, I lowered myself onto his dick, bearing down until his head slipped past the first ring of muscle.
“Shit, Sammy. You feel so fucking good.”
His lip was caught between his teeth in a look that was sexy as hell as I continued to lower myself until I was fully seated ontop of him. I took a couple of breaths, allowing my body to adjust to his intrusion. He grabbed my cock and stroked, sending lightning bolts through my body, and suddenly, I was moving, riding him hard and dirty, chasing the release that was barreling down on me like a freight train.
I opened my eyes and, for a moment, I was back at the overlook, riding Will under the stars on a warm August night. I closed my eyes against the bittersweet memory, not wanting to think about what came after but focusing instead on the feel of him inside me now.
He shifted his hips, and I gasped as he pegged my prostate. His eyes darkened, and he quickened the pace of his hand, shuttling over my dick as I matched his pace with my hips. Over and over, he hit that sweet spot until I thought I might die if I didn’t come. With a shout, his hips surged upward and I felt his dick pulse inside me with the force of his orgasm. The feel of him coming inside me, with the knowledge that there was nothing between us, had me shooting hot ropes of cum over his abdomen, chest, and the pillow behind him.
I leaned forward and kissed him deeply and passionately. If my words wouldn’t convince him that my intentions were legit, perhaps I could convince him with my body.
I was so fucking in love with him, and I just had to hope that, with time, he’d realize he felt the same way too.
49
WILL
Our lives became intertwinedin the quiet moments…flirting and fucking and falling in love.
Not long after I came back to Nebraska, I told Sammy he still had my heart, but the way I felt for him now was so much deeper, so much more complete than what I’d experienced at eighteen.
I’d loved him then, but now, with a decade of life experience—fucking nameless men in college, moving to Chicago, marrying a man who I was realizing had never really cared about me—I realized love wasn’t in the grand gestures. It was in the small ones.
Love could be found in the little things. In the way he brushed my hair off my face. In the way he cooked dinner for me several nights a week. In the way he made sure Goldie was always stocked with treats and food. It was in the way he checked in with me when we were intimate, making sure he never crossed a boundary. It was in the random text messages he sent me about meaningless things just because he was thinking of me.
And still, on the first Friday in May, I boarded a plane to Chicago alone. I’d spent the last several weeks debating how toask Sammy to come with me to this wedding, and every time I opened my mouth to do it, I hesitated. And I couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
He hadn’t done anything to indicate that he wasn’t fully committed to our relationship, and I felt like a dick for that little sliver of my heart I was still holding back. I wanted him. Knew I was desperately in love with him. But I didn’t know how to get over this last hurdle. I couldn’t make myself take that final step into free fall.
I’d finally told him about the wedding a couple of days ago, and when he’d asked me if I wanted him to come with me, I’d told him not to worry about it. He had booked an art show, and I told him I didn’t want him to rearrange his schedule for this. Told him it wasn’t a big deal. But now, as I rode the L to my downtown hotel, I was second-guessing my decision.
I wanted him with me. And not because I couldn’t face these people alone. Dmitri and most of my former coworkers could go fuck themselves. I wanted Sammy there because he was my person. My smile. My warmth. My comfort. My happiness.
My future.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket just a few stops ahead of mine and swiped to answer the incoming call from my mom.
“Hi, Mom.”
