Page 63 of Racing Hearts

With a gasp, I fall over the edge. Ropes of cum splatter my chest, his hand, and the leather as I shake and jerk from the ecstasy racing through me. He continues to fuck my tightening ass, his crooning voice in my ear. He drags his hands over every inch of me as I whimper.

“Alek.”

“Shh, you can take it. I want you to come again.” He turns my head, kissing me deeply and swallowing my moans as his thrusts become slow and rolling. Slowly, my cock starts to harden again. My need for him is great, and I push back to meet him, nipping his lips in the dark.

“There you are, pretty boy,” he praises as he leans back, wrapping his hand around my throat and dragging me up to my knees as he pummels my ass. His other hand slides down my abs to grip my dick again, working it hard and fast with my own cum. His massive cock swells inside me, and I know he’s close, his breathing heavy in my ear.

“Come for me,” he orders, slamming into me so deeply it hurts, hitting that spot that has me bellowing in ecstasy. As he wanted, I come again as he groans my name, pushing deeper still, and I feel his hot cum fill me as his hand tightens on my throat, pressing me against him so neither of us have an inch of space.

He turns my head with his hand and drops a kiss onto my lips. “Good boy, now let’s clean you up and get you in my bed so I can start all over again.”

The wicked promise sends a shiver of need through me, one I know he controls.

Alek is sleeping soundly on his back, with one arm behind his head, and the other gripping me tightly, his leg thrown over mine. The sheets are pooled low, showing off his abs and muscles, and I get distracted for a moment by his beauty before I focus on his face.

I can’t sleep, unease making my mind turn.

He struggled tonight. He didn’t want anyone to know we were together, yet he got jealous. That’s a good sign, right? It leaves me feeling . . . vulnerable. Will he ever be able to admit what we are? I thought so, but I’m scared he won’t. I’m scared I’ll always be a secret in the dark he reaches for. The brutal truth is, though, that I don’t think I could ever get over Alek Anders. He showed up in my life like a whirlwind, and I might have acted like it, but I never hated him. I wanted him, and I think I always will. There’s something in this broken, brutal man that calls to me and makes me want to fix him, to love him.

I’m starting to love him. Maybe that’s why I’m sitting here with fear pounding in my chest—because I’m falling in love with Alek, but I don’t know if he could ever love me or accept that he loves me.

Where does that leave me?

I’m so scared to fall alone, afraid he won’t be there to catch me and will turn away from me like everyone else. I’m terrified I still won’t be enough to be loved. Maybe I’m more fucked up from my past than I realized, but as I stroke his peaceful face, I can’t help the terror that races through my blood.

“Please love me,” I whisper. “Please don’t be like everyone else. I don’t think I could stand it.”

Everyone I love leaves and hurts me.

Will he be different?

Laying my head on his chest, I close my eyes and fight back tears as he sighs and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight without even realizing it, and for the first time in my life, I feel hope.

Hope that we can face this together.

That hope is crushed early the next morning—no, not crushed, shattered, stomped on, and left behind like a glittering pool of glass, the shards so sharp they cut into me, making me bleed as I stare at the man I care for.

Sitting at Alek’s table, I scroll through my school emails when it pops up.

I quickly scan the text and sit up straighter, my hand almost shaking as I reread it to make sure what I’m seeing is correct.

“You okay, rich boy?” Alek murmurs, his foot locked around mine under the table as he eats. He pauses, looking me over. “You look like an excited, yappy dog about to pee.”

“Lovely,” I mutter, sliding my phone over, excitement racing through me along with trepidation, although I don’t know why.

He reads it swiftly before pushing it back across to me without saying a word.

“Well?”

“No.”

“No?” I repeat, blinking. “No what?”

“You need my permission. That’s why you showed me, right?” he asks, shoving toast into his mouth. “No.”

“Alek, my professor wants to put my images in the end of term showcase. That’s a really big deal. Industry professionals will be there?—”

“Even more of a reason for me to say no,” he snaps, his fork clattering to his plate as I stare into his angry eyes.

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