11
Slade
Icouldn’t remember the last time I had gotten a full night’s sleep without the help of a good buzz. I felt, both, refreshed and like I could drift back off for a few more hours. The latter was all because of the heat radiating off the body draped over mine. Who needed to adjust the thermostat when I had Jack in bed with me?
Jack.
I opened my eyes as I slowly rolled onto my other side, so I was facing him. Last night hadn’t been a dream. I had bent over and begged him to fuck me. I shifted on the bed. From the way my ass felt, he had given me exactly what I asked for and more.
It was awesome waking up and still feeling the effects of the night before. Too many guys saw my slender body and delicate features and assumed I was fragile. I couldn’t even remember how long it had been since someone had manhandled me the way Jack had as he plowed into my ass.
Getting used to the way he made me feel was dangerous. I was in serious trouble, because I wasn’t flipping shit about him still being sound asleep in my bed this morning. It left me open to hoping for more nights like last night, followed by more mornings waking up in his arms. It was completely foreign to me.
That’s because he’s different,the voice in the back of my mind reminded me.
“You can’t know that,” I muttered out loud. Jack scrunched his nose, tightening his arm around my waist. A sense of peace washed over me as I slid lower in the bed. The shitshow that was my life would still be waiting for me later. For now, I was going to savor every second I had of feeling like there was someone out there who not only gave a damn about me, but cherished me.
Again, I was dreaming up scenarios that couldn’t come to life. No way would he stick around. We were oil and vinegar, night and day—we might complement one another, but we were never made to coexist. Eventually, he would quit slumming it and head back to his fancy house in his fancy car, and he would change back into his fancy suit and head off to his fancy job. Meanwhile, I would sulk around the house, complaining about how miserable my life was but too paralyzed to do anything about it.
Okay, so maybe sleep wasn’t going to happen.
“Go back to sleep, boy,” Jack mumbled, tightening his grip on me.
“Too keyed up to sleep,” I admitted. Still, I scooted back so I pressed against Jack's morning wood.
He pressed a hand firmly against my stomach. “Keep that up, boy, and I can't be held responsible for what I do to you.”
“Maybe I want you to do something,” I teased, giving my ass a wiggle. Jack groaned, and I laughed. Not the halfhearted chuckle I let out when it was expected of me, but a sound of honest enjoyment. No matter what happened once reality set in, I would always be grateful to Jack for giving me a brief respite from my shitty life.
“You're not too sore?” Jack shoved a hand between our bodies. I winced when he pressed a finger against my hole, grateful that I was facing away from him. If he saw my discomfort, I knew he would refuse to fool around, and I didn't want him to put on the kid gloves now. Without knowing if this had been a one-time deal, I wanted to get my fill before we got out of bed.
“I'm good,” I lied.
Jack's palm cracked against my hip, causing me to jump. “Don't lie to me, boy. If you hurt, you tell me.”
“I'm fine,” I insisted. “A little sore, sure, but I like it that way. Besides, you're the one who warned me he was going to make sure I didn't forget what we did last night.”
“As true as that may be, I never want to hurt you.” A lump formed in my throat at the tenderness in Jack's voice. My eyes drifted shut when he reached up and began threading his fingers through my hair. “You like that?”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed. “Feels good. Going to put me to sleep if you keep doing that.”
“Good. I don't have to be up early today, and I can't think of a better way to spend the morning than in bed with you.” As I drifted to sleep, it was almost possible for me to imagine this as my new normal.
A while later, I awoke again with Jack's body still plastered against mine. I lifted his arm, easing my way off the mattress. Nature called and, no matter how sexy he was, I couldn't wait any longer.
I leaned against the wall as I took my morning piss. Once I was done and had washed my hands, I stared in the mirror, scrubbing a hand over my face, still trying to wrap my head around how much everything had changed in the past few days. I waited for dread to settle in my gut, reminding me that this wasn't a life I could have. It never came.
In its place, there was hope. Jack didn't run off as soon as we were done fucking last night, so maybe he was telling me the truth when he whispered in my ear that he thought I was a good boy, that I was sexy, and that he planned to keep me, as long as I wanted to be with him.
When you do something often enough, you tend to become immune to certain emotions. In my case, I shuffled out of the bedroom every morning and was immediately consumed by dread over the state of my apartment. It had become my normal, and I don't think I fully realized how horrible I had gotten used to feeling on a daily basis until, suddenly, I exited the bathroom and caught a glimpse of the living room on my way to the kitchen.
There was a sense of peace that washed over me. It was like I had been suffocating in my own despair, and now I could breathe. Sure, I still had to worry about finding a job so I could keep paying the rent and, maybe, someday, move into a place I could, if not be proud of, then at least not be ashamed of. I’d never believed people when they said they felt lighter when they weren’t stressed out, but that’s the only way to describe the way I practically floated through the apartment knowing Jack was still sleeping in my bed.
I found myself humming as I pulled the canister of coffee out of the cupboard and started brewing a pot so I could surprise him with breakfast in bed. I paused, trying to place the melody. It wasn't familiar and, yet, I couldn't stop myself. I barely caught the container before it crashed to the ground. Coffee could wait.
It wasn't until I raced into the living room and began scribbling down notes, that I realized what was happening. I was writing again. Maybe it was a fluke, but I wasn't about to let this chance get away from me. I felt around under the couch, rejoicing when I found a rubber band. I quickly threw my hair into a messy bun, then hunched over the table, tapping out a rhythm then doubling back to work out each line of notes. The song was slower and less angry than anything I had written in over a year, but something in my gut told me this was what I was supposed to be doing.
“It's never easy to let go of something you want. And even though it's not exactly my type of music, I can admit that you have a hell of a lot of talent. Have you ever thought about going solo?”When Eli had made the suggestion, it was all I could do to not laugh in his face. Me? A solo act? Not a chance in hell. I needed a band behind me, supporting me, or at least I thought I did.
