Page 101 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

“They’re close in age.”

“Huh.”

“Closer than I am, to either of them.”

“Do you at least know your approximate age gap?” I flashed him another grin. “I have no idea if we’re talking about full grown adults, or babies right now.” I could guess, based on the fact they were searching for him. Buuuuut, I wanted to hear Prudence talk. And if I kept pushing maybe…maybe we’d get to a place where this actually felt like a full blown conversation, and not me poking a bear with a stick.

“Ten years.” Prudence was quiet for a few minutes, and even though it was reallllly fucking difficult I managed to stay patient. So, they were close to my age. “I don’t know them well.” He frowned, a real one this time, not the smile I’d grown to lo—like. “They think they know me, but they don’t.”

“I see.”

“I died when they were too young to remember much about me.” Prudence’s expression was stoic as he glared out at the trees surrounding us like they were the ones that had offended him, and not his sisters. “When I came back, they put me on a pedestal.” Shit. That sucked. I knew better than anyone how being put on a pedestal could hurt someone. “I wasn’t my own person…” He struggled to find the words he wanted and I waited with baited breath to hear what he’d say next. “I was the big brother they’d lost, and their memories had already twisted their expectations of who I would be. They had a role picked out for me to play. A martyr. A prisoner. A saint. They bent over backward to please me, terrified they were bad people because they hadn’t known I was still around, and somehow my torture was their fault—even though it wasn’t. They felt so guilty, knowing I’d been trapped, that they were willing to do anything to fix it. ”

“Oh.” So much was making sense. People who didn’t know Prudence, would probably suspect he’d feel relieved by his sisters breaking their backs to cater to him. Buuuut I knew him. “Must’ve felt like another cage.”

Startled by my words, his gaze snapped to mine, eyes wide. An expression almost like wonder crossed his face as he stared at me, lips parted, his breath escaping in a panicked little burst.

“I didn’t want them to be nice to me,” he said, quietly. “I don’t want to make up for ‘lost time’.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be the brother they missed.”

“You just…” His eyes were still on mine, and I was lost in their writhing, tumultuous depths. “You just want to be Prudence.” He nodded, the tension between us snapping like a rubber band pulled too taut. “You just want to be a person. To move forward. Instead of shackled by a past you can never escape.”

When our lips met his kiss tasted like summer air and heartbreak.

His hand squeezed mine so tight the knuckles nearly popped.

When he pulled back, my lips were swollen, and my head was spinning. Any more of those drugging, delicious kisses and I’d be lost.

“You don’t have to be anything when you’re with me,” I promised him quietly. “You can just be…whatever it is you are.” The words were stupid, honestly. They didn’t mean much of anything, if you really broke them down.

But Prudence got their meaning because he kissed me again.

He kissed me, and kissed me, and kissed me.

My back met a tree trunk as he shoved me against it, teeth sharp, his hands greedy. He clutched at my body, fingers digging into bruises, his tongue demanding as he cataloged every inch of me with newfound wonder.

His mouth was cold and wet when he took my cock inside it. Every suck had me gasping and whining, my back scraping against the bark as I clutched his dark hair in my hands and fucked his throat, searching for God along his palate.

His fingers dug into my ass, toying with my cleft, tapping against my hole as the backpack he shouldered fell to the forest floor with a quiet thump.

By the time I came, I was a babbling, sobbing mess. And when he pulled back, his eyes bright, lips swollen, a grin splitting across his face—I knew.

I knew.

He didn’t mind.

Messiness and all.

Prudence liked it.

As we walked, I talked. A lot. I had never, in all my life—and un-life—talked as much as I did for those first few hours in the woods. Maybe it was the warmth of his hand in mine that gave me the courage to open the doors to my past. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me, compassion etched in every facet of his expression. I told Luca about my childhood. I told him about what it was like growing up trapped inside a snow globe of my mother’s making. I told him about the galleries, the charities, the galas, the travel that was never for me—but always for her.

I told him about the day my mother had brought my sisters home.

How I knew I should’ve been furious because she’d told me she needed more children because I wasn’t doing enough. Instead all I’d felt was relief.

Relief that someone else could please her for a change.

Relief that I wasn’t alone with her anymore.

---