Page 77 of Bruised

Lane opens his eyes and nods excitedly.

“Come here.” I open my thighs. Lane scoots into the middle of them until my legs bracket his hips. “Good puppy,” I murmur as I feed him another treat. I scratch him behind the ear with my other hand, and a surge of heat rushes to my groin at the sight of his response—his quiet little whine, the sweet parting of his lips as he leans even closer.

I inhale a steadying breath. Patience, Mason. This is the first time we’re alone since the day with the ice cream, and I want to savor him some more before we get to the main event.

I open the lid of a Tupperware container. “Want some fruit?”

He nods, and I feed him a piece of melon. This time, I hold the piece in front of him and wait for him to come to me. He leans forward and eats from my hand, little teeth tugging at the sweet piece of fruit.

I groan under my breath. By this point, I’m painfully hard, which wasn’t my intention. This was just supposed to be a fun game between us. One I’d be in control of, but I suppose it’s not much of a surprise that my dick’s in control whenever Lane’s within a two-mile radius.

“Come here.” I lie on my back, nudging Lane to lie by my side.

The trees and bushes shield us from the worst of the sun, but it’s still a bit too hot to be comfortable. Even so, we should savor it. A few weeks from now, there won’t be much left of the summer heat, and there’s not supposed to be anything left of Lane and me, either.

I glance over at him, frowning. I don’t want him to go.

He scoots closer until he’s lying on my shoulder, his messy hair tickling my nose. I stiffen at the casual, mundane intimacy that isn’t purely based on sex or control, but I initiated this, so I can’t very well back out. When he reaches for my arm and slings it around his shoulders, I relax and pull him close with a sigh.

It’s nice—I can’t deny that.

His warm, soft body nestled against mine, the faint beat of my pulse against his skin. It feels… safe. Almost too safe. As if there’s no trouble in the world as long as I have Lane snuggled up at my side, a little sigh escaping his lips as he relaxes further, putting his full weight on my arm.

He burrows his face into my armpit, inhaling deeply, eyelids sliding shut in bliss.

“That smell nice?” I ask, amused.

“Yes, but… you’re wearing deodorant.”

I chuckle. “Want me to stop using it?”

He looks up. “You’d do that?”

“Of course. Anything for my puppy.”

He’s quiet for a while as he chews on his lower lip, arching away from me. I pull him back in, and he surrenders to my embrace, but his body is stiffer than before. When he finally speaks, his voice is distant, lost in thought, and tinged with a nuance of emotion I can’t seem to grasp.

“Anything?”

At first I don’t even understand the question, but then I remember what preceded it.

“Anything for my puppy.”

I say a lot of shit I don’t mean, and when push comes to shove, I can’t own up to it. Lane’s doubts aren’t unfounded; I can’t give him everything. Even my flirtatious jokes are a sick lie.

This is just supposed to be some fun—it’s not supposed to feel like this. Uneasy. Dangerous. I should’ve put some boundaries between us long ago, but I don’t know what to say that won’t split my chest wide open and let him see inside.

No words. Only action. He’ll get the picture soon enough.

I grab the back of his neck, tilt his face up, and capture his lips in a kiss. He tastes like candy and melon—sweet, like he always does. I roll toward him, deepening the kiss and guiding my hand down his back, sneaking it into the seam of his shorts.

He gasps, pulling away a little, but then relaxes as I only pull him in by the small of his back, nudging our crotches closer. I have something different in mind than just some kissing and clothes-on frotting, though, so I run the hand deeper, gripping his ass cheek and sliding a finger down his crack.

He stiffens and breaks the kiss, breathless. “People could see.”

He’s right—the joggers running by in the valley below can glimpse us through the trees if they look up, but what does it matter? It’s not like we’re in a park with children or something. Granted, I don’t think my parole officer would approve of semi-public sex, but what’s a little fun without a little danger?

I turn Lane over onto his stomach and straddle him, sliding my hands up the seam of his shirt. He shudders, stiffening at my weight on him, but he doesn’t protest beyond a little wriggle.