He went so fast that it was like he was trying to come as quickly as I could. I understood it—he would not last long his first time raw in me. And weirdly, we didn’t even want sex the most.
We wanted to just cuddle, to be with each other, to hold each other. After a night like this, the best comfort we could have wasn’t sex, but intimacy.
Brock gasped, pulled out, and finished on my stomach. I helped him along by grabbing his cock and stroking him empty. He let out a pleasured groan when the last of his seed had finished on my belly. He slowly stood up, washed a towel, came back, and wiped me off.
“Damn, baby,” he said, moving like a blissful zombie. “I don’t think I’m ever going back to rubbers.”
“Nor should you,” I said. “Come, hold me.”
Brock tossed the towel to the side and pressed his body on mine. We shared a gentle, long kiss.
“So, I got a question for you,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“I know this is only our second time having sex,” I said. “But we’ve known each other for years now. You know me better than anyone in this world. Is it…?”
“Weird to say I love you?” Brock said.
Damnit, you beat me to the punch!
“I sure hope not, because I love you.”
“Oh, Brock.”
I kissed him again. Yes, maybe from a “dating” perspective, we hadn’t been together long at all.
But the seeds of our love had really been planted the first time I’d met him. Ironically, the fertilizer for that seed had come not through flirting, intimacy, or dates, but through genuine friendship. I would never wish what had happened to Steele on anyone, but what Brock and I had, it had started long ago, back into my relationship with Steele.
In time, Steele would come around. He already had with Brock. But it didn’t much matter to me. My focus was not on Steele. It was on Brock.
Just like, yes, it had been for years now.
So, if it was weird to say those three words after knowing someone for two years, I guess I was the biggest weirdo of them all.
“I love you too.”
Epilogue
Three Days Later
“All right, guys, let’s get to cleaning up.”
The six of us, once the Bernard Boys, now the Black Reapers MC, stood outside the office of NME Services in Santa Maria. Although I had come and cleaned up some more dangerous elements—the broken glass, the splintered door—on Friday and Saturday, I had now rallied everyone together to help clean up the building before more people came on Monday. The message was simple: not every act of protecting the town was glamorous or glorious.
Sometimes, it just involved putting sponge to floor.
The six of us split up into different parts of the building. I didn’t expect the project taking more than a couple hours because the damage was confined to the atrium, the hallway, and one office room, but also because I knew as an MC, when we had a job, we’d get shit done.
But half an hour in, we paused as a car we hadn’t seen before pulled up.
“It’s me!” Tara said as she got out of the car—with Elizabeth on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” I said, coming up to give her a kiss.
“I came by to thank you all,” she said.
“Yeah, thanks for not making the place gross,” Elizabeth said, although a hint of nervousness underlined her tone. “Actually, we came by to check on progress.”
