Page 17 of Finding Delaware

Inwardly, I cringe. Not only because I threw up earlier but the scent of her skin against mine is making me ill right now. She trails a line of kisses down my neck, her hands pushing under my shirt to run along my chest.

“We gotta make it quick, lover,” she whispers, grinning as she drops to her knees.

The fact that I had to piss ten seconds ago is forgotten when she starts unbuckling my belt. Her fingers pop open the button on my jeans, reaching inside to pull out my soft cock, and she jerks it until I harden slightly.

Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes as she works me, but something’s off. Her hands feel too small, her grip too light. And when she wraps her lips around my shaft, even the tentative flick of her tongue sets my teeth on edge. A whine leaves her throat at my half-hard dick, but when I open my lids to stare down at her, it jumps painfully to full attention at the dark brown eyes looking up at me.

Because they’re her eyes, yes, but they’re alsohis.

No. That’s not the reason. It’s just that I have a girl on her knees for me. It has nothing to do with that. But I keep staring down into those eyes, my hips beginning to move against her tongue as I tangle my fingers in her hair. And even that doesn’t feel right, the dry, straight strands sticking to my skin.

Unlike silky soft curls, which would feel amazing.

No.

I pump myself inside her mouth harder, pleasure vibrating my body as I grip her head in both my hands. She moans around my cock, her eyes fluttering closed, but I command her to keep them open. And fuck, the tears glistening in those brown eyes are almost enough to have me spilling my load down her throat.

She’s whimpering as I fuck her face, but the sound is too high. Too breathy. Toofeminine, so I slide my cock deeper to hush her up. And still, I watch those eyes, imagining a bigger, muscled body connected to them. It feels wrong, but in my drunken state, it’s the wrongness about it that’s getting me off right now.

My balls tighten when those tears finally spill over, trickling down her cheeks, and I’m coming before I can hold back.Hot cum fills her mouth, seeping out the sides of her lips as I milk my cock on her tongue until she’s taken every last drop.

Only then does a breath gunshot from my lungs, burning my throat.Jesus fucking Christ,what just happened?

Tatiana blinks up at me with watery eyes as I tuck myself back into my jeans, makeup tracking down her face, and I notice how her hand shakes as she raises it to wipe her mouth.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Reaching down, I gently grab her arm to help her up. “I’m sorry.”

She grins, about to respond, when her eyes catch on something over my shoulder. They widen in shame and fear as she pulls from my grip, and my spine stiffens.

Fuck.

I feel his presence behind me before he even speaks.

“What the fuck is this shit?!”

I whirl around in time to see my best friend’s fist flying toward my face, and then pain erupts as everything goes dark.

Huckslee

Ihate these pills.

Swirling lights from the speaker reflect on my ceiling, melding into an explosion of color and sound. ‘Routines In The Night’ by Twenty One Pilots echoes softly around the room, the melodic beat helping to ease my pounding skull and racing heart.

These pills always give me a headache. To be honest, I don’t know if they even work. I try to calm my breathing as I lay on my back on the bed, hoping the darkness of my room and the meds will lull me to sleep.

Dad doesn’t know about them, and neither does Logan. I’d made the appointment as soon as I’d turned eighteen, no longer needing parental permission to see the doctor. Hiding it only makes the anxiety worse, though.

I have everything a kid could ask for—a loving father and an amazing best friend who’s always there for me. I live in afancy house and have a car, plus a potential football scholarship as long as I keep up the hard work.

So why do I always feel like I’m fucking drowning?

Because you’d lose it all if they knew who you really were, a voice whispers in my head. And I can’t tell it that it’s wrong.

There’s a part of me that fears coming out to my dad and Logan. Because they’re religious, and this is Utah. Sure, I have people at school I hang out with at lunch. I get along well enough with everyone on the football team, but none of my friends at school are really anything more than that—school friends. Logan and Dad are the only two people I care about, and the more I feel like I have to pretend with them, the more messed up my head gets.

Having my fucking enemy in my house at all times doesn’t help with that, either. I feel like I’m constantly on edge, waiting for something to happen, like a fight or one of his shitty pranks. Keeping a steady eye on him at all times is giving me ulcers, I swear.

And it makes me so damn tired. I can’t sleep, can’t relax. The need to act like I’m the happy-go-lucky kid everyone believes me to be is exhausting. Something has to give. I don’t know how long I can go on like this. I just want it to end.

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