I moan my agreement to that last statement, and he groans. “I’m—fuck—I’m close, baby. Can I come down that pretty throat of yours?”
I nod the best I can, said throat currently being speared aggressively, giving me everything I asked for. Everything Icraved, and he’s delivering on. Holy crap on a cracker, this man can deliver.
In case you haven’t guessed yet. I’m a big fan of blowjobs. Giving, more than receiving.Loveit. Seeing a man, spread open and vulnerable, waiting for my eager mouth—it really is chef’s kiss. I love my face being right at the epicenter, watching from below, as he erupts. Agh, it’s unreal.
Don’t even get me started on cum.
I feel his body starting to tense, feel his balls drawing up close, like a wave drawing up before cresting and breaking. And break he does. He shudders and shakes through his release, his fingers getting impossibly tight in my hair. His thighs are like vice-grips on my shoulders. His moans, groans, and curses almost sound like he’s being gutted.
I almost can’t swallow all of what he pours into me, some of it leaking out of the corners of my mouth as I struggle to drink it all in. He tastes as amazing as I’d imagined.
After he goes boneless below me—sinking back into the blanketed sand, his thighs loosening their hold on me—I untangle myself, wipe the back of my mouth off with my hand, and settle myself back at his side, after tossing another big log on the fire. With a victorious grin, I watch him as his heaving chest rises and falls as he gulps air. He loosely wraps an arm around me again, and with what little strength he has left, he pulls me in close, craning his neck and searching for a kiss.
“You sure?” I ask him. “I just sucked down roughly a gallon of your release.”
He nods. “I’m sure. I want to taste myself on your lips.”
I give in, we kiss until his heart rate returns to normal, and he comes back down from his post-orgasm high. When we finally break apart, he seems content to just want to stay laying here for a bit longer, listening to the water lap at the shore. I yank my hoodie back out, and slip back into it. It’s warm from being underneath him, and I feel cozy just like this—tucked underneath his arm, enjoying the comfort of this silence.
This is perfect. Maybe I’ve subconsciously needed his constant touch just as much as he seeks mine. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to try to push this away, too afraid to get my heart hurt. This man right here has shown me that I’m someone worth loving, even without saying the words, if I just make time to let it all in.
I’m about to drift off, when I suddenly become aware that Evan’s heart rate has kicked up again. I feel his pulse battering against his chest, from where I had been using his pecs as a pillow. The soft strokes he was plying my back with slow down, almost to a stop, and I feel him start to shudder a little.
I prop myself up on my elbow and peer down at him, noting that his eyelids glisten with unshed tears. “What’s wrong?”
I’m willing to bet it was that wretched inner voice of his again, taunting him in the silence after everything we’ve done tonight…
He looks tormented about how to answer. The look guts me. Whatever the reason for this sudden shift, I’m sure I’m about to be wrecked—like a ship sailing headlong into an oncoming storm. I hate seeing him being battered by the sea of turmoil that is his past; I only ever want to navigate him through it, but I don’t know how. I wish he’d share with me what that past entails, but he needs to be ready to tell me… I can’t force that upon him.
“I don’t deserve this…” he finally rasps, sounding like he’s gulping back a sob.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Ifeel like I’m just a terrible fucking human,” I admit, not daring to look at Brooks, so I don’t completely break down in front of him again. He’s already seen me cry so much already, and that’s embarrassing enough. So, instead, I just say aloud the one thing that keeps repeating in my head, “I don’t deserve any of this,” before I turn on my side, facing away from Brooks.
“What don’t you think you deserve, Ev?” he asks, sitting up behind me and stroking his hand up and down my shoulder and upper back. “You can talk to me, you know. You’ve kept your secrets long enough. Let me have them. I’m told I’m a decent listener,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood, but I still hear the desperation in his voice, through the levity.
“This,” I grunt, gesturing around at our surroundings. “Everythinglately. It’s been fucking perfect. I meet you out of the blue, and suddenly I feel like I’ve connected with you on a deeper level, despite having just met you. Even without the sex, I feel like we’re just fuckingthere—riding the same wavelength or something sappy like that, you know?”
You sound like you’ve watched a few too many chick-flicks. You’re not a Disney princess, Waters. You think this is your happily ever after, like you aren’t thevillainhere?
“I like to think I’m an educated man,” Brooks says, “but I’m failing to see the problem with that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I feel the same way about you and I. You may have goaded me into something with you, against my better judgement, but I only hesitated because I knew I’d probably end up head over heels for you, and you’d think I was a lunatic for how obsessed I am.”
He urges me to roll back over so he doesn’t have to talk to my back. When I look up into his green eyes, I see they’re wet. “Evan, if I’m coming on too strong, please tell me. I know everything’s been a whirlwind. I want everything to move atyourpace.”
“I just can’t—god, fuck—I don’t deserve this.” I repeat, cutting myself off.
“What are the voices telling you? You’ve got that look again, the one you get when you’re hearing them…”
I huff out a disparaging chuckle. “You must think I’ve got schizophrenia or something.”
He shakes his head. “No. Clinically speaking, that presents itself differently. I think you’ve got a voice or voices in your head that have been present for so long that they almost seem to have taken up a new entity of their own. The fact that you’re becoming aware of the lies they spew, and are fighting against them so much so that you hear less and less of them, tells me that it’s something we can continue to vanquish together. If you tell me what they’re saying, though, I can be like your knight in shabby sweats, who helps you conquer them…”
He smirks, and I see his dimples peek out, even in the shadowy glow of the moon.
“It’s telling me I’m a shit person for never allowing Miranda to have this—this side of me you’ve seen. As far as I know, she never cheated on me, so the only love she’d ever known was the feeble attempt I made. I thought, at the time, that I was doing my best, but now I’m seeing it wasn’t nearly enough.
“She didn’t deserve to die before she’d gotten a man who was totally committed to her in the ways I just—fuck, I couldn’t. I gave her physical things: a house, a car, a life of material things. But I didn’t ever go out and lay a blanket on the sand and just stare up at the stars with her. I didn’t give her any of that, and I should have. She wanted that, and I never even gave it to her. To her very core, she was a wonderful woman and my best friend, but she wasn’t ever mylover.”
