My hole clenches around his cock, and his hips stutter. “Fuck,” he groans. “So close, sweetheart. Come on. Come for me.”
His stroking picks up, and I cry out. “Fuck.”
My dick throbs, and I nearly close my eyes as the pleasure overtakes me.
“Eyes open,” Hunter says, voice low and commanding. “Watch yourself.”
I force them back open, watching my reflection. The flush on my cheeks deepens, my eyes going half-lidded and my mouth falling open as the first rope of cum shoots out, spraying across the mirror.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip to muffle my moans as more shoots out, covering the mirror and dripping down.
I look… fuck, ifthisis what Hunter sees, maybe he’s right.
“God,” he moans. “So fuckin’ tight, you’re milkin’ my cock.” He thrusts deep one last time, stilling as his dick jerks and pulses deep inside me. His groans are ragged, and when my knees give out, he has to catch me with an arm around my waist.
Slowly pulling out, he discards the condom and picks me up, holding my sweat-slicked body close to his as he carries me to bed. Laying me out on it, he crawls up me, dropping kisses in every place he can reach. When he makes it to my mouth, I sigh against his lips.
I’m expecting his kiss to be harsh and heavy, given how intense our sex just was, but it’s not. It’s soft and sweet and seeking, and I melt into the bed as his weight presses down on me.
He pulls away with a long exhale, his eyes darting between mine as he stares down at me. Bracing himself over me with one hand, he traces a line from my temple to my jaw with his fingertips.
I get lost in his eyes, in the warm browns and greens as he searches my face.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, worried that if I talk any louder, I’m going to ruin the quiet moment we’ve built.
“I’m in love with you,” he says, and my heart slams into my ribs as my mouth goes dry. “You don’t have to say it back, that’s okay, but I needed—”
“I’m in love with you too,” I say, cutting him off.
His eyes widen, then close, and he drops forward, pressing his weight into me again as he finds my mouth. I sink my fingers into his hair, feeling our breathing sync and our hearts pound as we kiss. Hunter’s is frantic, beating so hard I can feel it where his chest is pressed to mine, and I can hear my own in my ears, so I’m sure he feels it too.
Pulling back, he smiles, his eyes looking suspiciously wet. “I love you. God, I feel like I’ve been dying to tell you that forever.”
My stomach swoops. “I love you too. Thank you for finding me.”
“You found me, gorgeous.”
That makes me smile. “Okay, that’s true.”
Hunter lies down on top of me, pressing his face to my throat. His breath tickles a little, but it’s mostly soothing, feeling him there. So I close my eyes and slide my fingers into his hair.
I rub his scalp with my fingertips, listening to the slight whimpers and soft moans echoing in his throat. I keep going until his body turns into dead weight, and he’s asleep, and then even more. Until my eyes are growing heavy. Until my fingers slow. Until I can’t keep myself awake anymore, and I fall asleep with the solid weight of the man I love sleeping in my arms.
Chapter 35
Theo
Iwonderwhatmymom and dad look like now. Glancing down at the photo album in my lap, I swipe at the tears gathering in my eyes. The living room TV is on, but I’m not watching it. I’m too busy staring at photos.
Me as a kid. My mom holding me on her hip. My dad pushing a bicycle with a baby me sitting on it, helmet securely on my head. Birthday parties and movie nights and snow days. My entire childhood, laid out in 4×6-inch photos.
I’m not having a great day, and this isn’t helping.
Depression, like anything, isn’t a monolith. It doesn’t affect all people the same. And it doesn’t even affect the same person the same way all the time. There were times I felt great. Times when I easily held a job, when I slept for eight hours and felt rested enough to get through the day, days when I laughed with my coworkers. Where happiness existed and was real.
But those days never lasted. They stuck around long enough for me to feel like I was flying, though. Climbing up, up, up, like a roller coaster. But just like a roller coaster, there’s always an inevitable drop.
I understand in theory that the medication I take every morning after breakfast is supposed to stop that from happening. It’s supposed to keep me from falling. But nothing is perfect, and on days like today, when I’m feeling less than my best, it makes me worry that it’s the beginning of the end.
