Page 77 of The Darkness Within

Nashville Sommers

Cute, Brewer.

“Don’t ever forget to put yourself first. You owe yourself a huge apology for everything you put yourself through. You should never be last.”

Point taken. My gaze collides with his, and suddenly, the minutes stop ticking by, the air between us thickens with unspoken thoughts and words, with feelings we’re both trying to keep a lid on, but they’re boiling over. My stomach churns with heat. My skin prickles with awareness. One minute we’re filling out a list, and the next, I’m ready to pin him to the table and climb on top of him.

His throat slides as he swallows. “We should—”

Fuck that. I’m tired of what we should do. All I know is what I want to do, what I need to do.

“Brewer, I can’t keep fighting it. Every machine needs fuel, and you’re mine. Your touch is what fuels me, gives me the energy and the strength and the determination to get through each day. I want to keep going, but just give me something. Just a little taste.”

He groans, like he’s suffering physically, and drifts closer, inch-by-inch, closing the distance that separates us. I can taste his breath. Toothpaste and coffee. I want his taste in my mouth. I want to carry it with me the rest of the day, to think of him every time I swallow.

“Eighty-seven days, Brewer,” I whisper over his lips, like a caress. Like a kiss.

“Just a taste,” he agrees. “To keep you focused,” he murmurs, sounding almost hypnotized.

The only thing I’m focused on right now is seeing if he can make my dick hard again. It’s throbbing like it has a pulse of its own, like it’s trying to fill with blood. And if it does? I’m not wasting this opportunity.

Nothing could prepare me for the taste of his kiss. Not the three months I’ve already dreamed of it. Not even if I waited another three months. It’s not just the brush of his lips against mine, the way they tingle, or how my mouth waters. It’s more than that. My heartbeat trips over itself, trying to sync with the whooshing of blood in my ears, the way it’s pumping too fast through my body, thinned by adrenaline and endorphins. The buzz of dopamine in my brain, tricking me into believing I’m high. High on lust. Yeah, my dick is definitely growing thicker, thanks to Brewer.

The first slide of his velvety tongue against mine steals my breath. But when his lips seal against mine, I’m convinced we fit together perfectly in every way, not just our mouths. Nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing ever will again. Everything I endured, everything I survived, was for this moment. This is my reward. His kiss is my salvation. Everything that comes after this only gets better from here on out.

He gasps into my mouth, and I swallow the sound, growing fully hard. It’s actually throbbing now, possibly even dripping. Weeks, no, months of unspent seed collected in my balls, aching and full, begs to be released.

My tongue dances with his, transferring to his mouth, my fingers tangle in his hair, just above his collar, and I’m practically climbing over the table to get closer to him.

“God, yes, Nash. Finally,” he breathes into the kiss, his words vibrating against my lips.

He fists my shirt like he’s reaching for a lifeline. Me. I’m his lifeline.

The way he feels in my arms, his scent, the way he tastes, there’s nothing else but Brewer. He blocks out everything. There’s no anxiety, no memories or PTSD, no acid reflux or ED. No migraines. There’s nothing but his kiss. It’s the best healing therapy I’ve found. If only it could last forever.

Except I’m about to blow, so it’s only going to last another ten seconds. Fifteen at most.

Brewer rises from his seat, like he’s coming across the table, and the kiss turns frantic, wild and desperate. I’m breathless, and his harsh panting grows louder. He claws at me, and I fist his hair.

I need…more. If I could just get him under—

“Who’s hungry?” Nacho’s deep voice echoes down the empty hallway, and Brewer and I jump apart like we each received an electric shock. I struggle to catch my breath, trying to play it cool as he enters the kitchen. “Oh, you’ve already got food. I guess I’ll just have a sandwich, then.”

“My settlement cleared my bank. Let me know when you find a good truck and we’ll go purchase it.”

“You really wanna do this with me?”

“We’re not going over this again. I offered the money. It’s yours.”

“I’ve got my eye on a truck. Maybe we can go take a look at it tomorrow.”

“Sounds perfect. Let me know when.”

He brings his sandwich to the table, and Tex strolls in. More like struts in, which is his usual style when he’s in a good mood. My head snaps up, and the look on my face catches everyone else’s attention.

Nacho whistles. “It’s a little early to dress up for Halloween, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, which is why this isn’t a costume. It’s my new work uniform.”

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