Tad doesn’t resist, which assuresme I made the right decision.
“Bryce,” Kira says, “we don’t haveto—”
“I’m afraid we have to cancel,” Isay, “but thank you for your time. If you want to reschedule it, you’ll have toget in touch with Debra Haverton. Come on, Tad.”
I grab his wrist and urge him tohis feet. While I escort him past the cameras—which the cameramen turn tofollow us out of the room—he gazes off, clearly trying to sort through whateverthe fuck just happened.
Darren hops up from his chair.
“Just get the car,” I tell him.
***
I walk Tad back to his room. He hasn’t spoken since I pulledhim out of the interview. Darren went to Kiernan’s room to handle him while Itake care of Tad.
He just needs a moment to breathe.We all do. Too much has happened in such a short time.
As we enter his room, he turns tome. He doesn’t look me in the eyes, but he looks tired. Defeated. Vulnerable.Helpless.
“Tad,” I say, “I’m sorry.”
It’s all I have to offer him rightnow. Mad as I’ve been about the pics, I’m willing to excuse it for today toconsole him.
I want to ask about his mother.About why that question evoked such a powerful response from him. But I cantell he doesn’t want to go there, and right now, I feel like it’s better to behere for him than to pry.
I just wonder if he or Kiernanknows the real story behind his mother. Is that what’s so tragic? Or is it thatTad didn’t realize his mother had taken her own life and that Kiernan had beenkeeping it from him all this time?
I decide it’s probably best that Ileave him alone, but as I start to turn, he snatches my arm and pulls me back,kissing me passionately.
It’s the kind of kiss that tellsme he just wants to be fucked. That’s begging me to give him the one thing heneeds right now, and considering how weak he is, I won’t deny him. I can’t.
We race out of our clothes, and Imake quick with putting on a condom and lubing up.
I want to offer him sweet relief.I want to grant him a moment where he can forget whatever tragedy he’sstruggling to forget.
Forty-Three
Tad
It hurts like hell. I shouldn’t have encouraged him to get insideme so fast. I should have asked him to pace himself…or at least to use more lube,but I feel like the more it hurts, the less I’ll think about what Kira Wilde broughtup in the interview.
Each thrust forces me to grip theheadboard I hold with one hand tighter as he fucks me, gazing at me with aserious expression.
He looks angry, as if he’s pissed.I’m appreciative that he’s granting me this, despite how furious I know he’sbeen at me since his dick went viral.
I raise a hand and grip theheadboard with my other hand to show him that, in this moment, I’m completelysubmissive to him. He moves his hand from my leg to my cheek, which he caressessoftly. I lean my head into his touch to let him know that I want him.
Another thrust. I grit my teethand take it. I’ve taken worse pain than this in practices when I’ve pushedthrough a stiff muscle or a cramp. I just have to endure.
I’m good at that.
He leans down and kisses me butcontinues his movements so that I can’t help but pull away to gasp as he continuesclaiming me.
This doesn’t feel like the othertimes we’ve fucked. Before, our kisses just felt like the connection of theinexplicable spark between us. But there’s something sensuous this time. Asthough he’s working to heal my wounds with his passion. And I feel that I’mtrying to do the same with the pain I know he carries from the loss of hispartner.
He pulls back and gazes at me, theserious expression on his face relaxed. He’s not looking at me with angeranymore, but something kinder. Something gentler. He cups his hand behind myhead and strokes his thumb beneath my ear. And his look changes to somethingfar worse. Pity. He pities me. And I hate that.
I don’t need anyone’s pity, but ashis cock jams against my prostate, my back arches in response, my nerves soshot with excitement that the energy forces me to forgive his judgment. As hecontinues hitting the place, he leans down and kisses me again. It’s muchsofter than the sort of kiss I’m used to receiving from him. It almost feelslike an apology for how upset he got with me, though he doesn’t have anythingto be sorry about. I’m the one who’s gotten him into all this trouble. Who’sthrust him into a world he doesn’t belong in.
