Page 30 of Damaged

“Silver—”

“Don’t,” he said softly with a shake of his head. His eyes dropped to where his spent dick still lay against my skin. Streaks of white cum covered us both.

I had only seconds to take in the gorgeous sight before Silver untangled our bodies and climbed off me. He turned away, pulling up his sweats in the process. After reaching down to grab the blanket off the floor, he walked out of the kitchen. I heard the snick of his bedroom door a moment later.

The physical pain from my body’s exertion hit me all at once, but it had nothing on the pain in my chest I felt as I kept replaying the only thing he’d said before disappearing.

Don’t.

My back screamed in pain and my stiff muscles protested when I forced myself to stand. I all but stumbled to my own room, barely managing to close the door behind me before I staggered to my bed and sat down. I couldn’t help but look at the spot on the floor where I’d attacked Silver.

It had to have been a dream.

All of it.

Except the cooling cum on my abdomen and dick were cruel proof that it hadn’t been. I carefully removed my shirt and used it to clean up the evidence of what Silver and I had just done.

In my kitchen.

On a fucking vinyl chair that was probably as old as me and had come with the house, much like most of the other furniture.

I knew I should take another shower but even if I physically could have made it to the bathroom, I didn’t want to chance running into the young man who’d unknowingly just changed the game on me. I managed to fumble through the process of getting my pants and briefs off, but not without jarring my half-hard dick that was still painfully sensitive.

“Fuck,” I whispered before reaching for the bottle of pills and the nearly empty bottle of whiskey.

It’ll be over soon.

I wanted to tell my inner voice that it wouldn’t be soon enough as I downed a handful of pills and finished the alcohol. I eased my body down on the bed so that I was lying on my stomach. It felt like little spikes were digging into my flesh from my neck down to the top of my ass. My muscles began to lock up one by one and it wasn’t long before I knew I wouldn’t be able to move even if I wanted to. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on slowing my breathing, but I couldn’t manage it. The only thing I saw behind my closed eyelids was the image of what Silver and I must have looked like on that spindly chair, our bodies wound together as if we’d been one.

But we weren’t one.

We were nothing.

I needed to remember that.

As the pills began to kick in and relief eased the pain in my muscles and back, I pulled in a deep breath.

“Nothing,” I quietly reminded myself in the moments before sleep finally made it true and I fell into the abyss of darkness that promised me peace for as long as the drugs did their job. My last thought was that when I opened my eyes the next time, I’d be back where I belonged.

Alone.

Chapter 10

SILVER

My endless trembling caused the few pans I’d found in the cabinet next to the stovetop to clang together. I instantly froze, waiting for that squeak of his door and the footsteps that would follow. I sighed in relief when there was only silence, then carefully put the two pans on the stovetop but didn’t turn the burners on. I stared at the scratched-up pans but quickly got lost in the memory of what I’d spent the last twenty-four hours trying to forget.

I shook my head to clear out the image of my release all over Dalton’s muscles. Thankfully, I’d had the sense to retrieve my own clothes from Dalton’s SUV the day before and after a little bit of experimenting, I’d gotten the small dryer tucked away in one of the closets near the bathroom going. My clothes had come out warm and relatively clean despite the fact that I hadn’t washed them. The washing machine had been too complicated for me to figure out, so it had been impossible to wash Dalton’s sweats to eliminate all the proof that what had happened the day before was real. It was one thing to ruin my own clothes in an attempt to dry them, but the last thing I wanted was to mess up Dalton’s sweats.

Liar.

I shook off the voice in my head because the idea that I’d held off on washing the man’s sweats just so I could stare at the damp spots, feel them, smell them, was ridiculous.

“Morning.”

I jumped at the sound of Dalton’s voice. My heart was running a mile a minute as I turned to look at him. He was leaning against the entryway to the kitchen. His hair was damp, and he was wearing a pair of jeans and a button-down blue shirt.

“I didn’t hear you,” I blurted.

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