Page 103 of Symphony of Salvation

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I woke before August to the sound of the toilet flushing. Briefly disoriented by the unfamiliar bedroom, I lay in the dark for a second, getting my bearings. August’s arm circled my waist—strong and secure—his leg wove between mine, and his face rested against my shoulder, so every time he exhaled, warm air ghosted my skin. He was a snuggler, an oddity for a manwho claimed to have never experienced a serious relationship. I reveled in the contact but counted the days until it was over.

The sound of running water echoed down the hall, and the clock announced it was half past five. Too late to sneak out. Too early to get up. We’d planned for me to spend the night, but the awkwardness of encountering Constance, who felt more like a student in the predawn hours, left me lingering beneath the sheets despite a full bladder.

I’d never dated anyone with a child before, so clandestine sexual encounters behind locked doors were not my forte. August, naked and wrapped around me, stirred a bone-deep arousal. Early mornings and lazy sex went together like sharp cheese and expensive wine. The craving echoed within me.

I wanted to roll him over and do something about the tingle stirring my groin but couldn’t determine if it was ethical with a teenager awake down the hall and possibly listening. The previous night, we’d gotten those urges out of the way while she was on a date. When we’d fallen into bed, handsy and horny again, we’d stopped short after a heavy make-out session. I desperately wanted to resume what we’d started and follow it to completion.

I turned into August’s embrace and faced the sleeping man, making out the contours of his jaw in the dark bedroom. In slumber, he lost the refined edge he carried around every day. With tousled hair, a dark contrast against the white pillowcase, he appeared innocent and boyish. I found it irresistibly appealing.

Dragging my fingers over the coarse hairs on his upper thigh, I inched closer, encouraging him to hook the leg over my hip.

Groaning, semi-waking, August complied, a smile forming on his once slack mouth. “It’s not morning, is it?”

“Hardly.” I moved my lips along his stubbled jaw, kissing and waking him further as I pressed my interested cock against his. “Do you care?”

“No.” He cracked an eyelid and hummed with pleasure, rocking his lower body with mine. “I like waking up like this.” His voice rasped, thick with sleep.

August rolled to his back, dragging me on top of him. We kissed and lazily rutted, both of us growing harder with friction. Knowing he wasn’t any more familiar with the art of silent sex, I reminded him to be quiet when a soft moan passed his lips.

Gripping my ass, he moved with purpose, arching off the bed, grinding harder. A finger slipped between my ass cheeks. The blissful pressure turned my skin hot. I trembled, wanting to find a condom and let him take me, but aggressive, uninhibited sex risked discovery. The bed might squeak or bang against the wall. The mattress springs would give us away. Before August could take it further—the tip of his finger penetrated me ever so slightly—I broke from his mouth and slipped down his body, taking him down my throat.

The groan that filled the room was rich with longing and lust.

“Find a damn pillow and shut up,” I said, coming up for air.

“No.” He brushed the hair from my face, peering down as I used slow, meticulous movements up and down his shaft, eliciting the greatest pleasure. I wanted to be inside him or have him inside of me. I wanted to ride the tantalizing edge of madness until our orgasms took us away. But if I forgot myself and got vocal, the embarrassment would stay with me indefinitely.

Instead, I let August use my mouth however he wanted until he came with a stifled cry, arching off the bed, toes curling with delight. I scaled his body, attacked his mouth, then fed him my cock, chasing my own pleasure all the way to completion.

After, we lay in a tangle of limbs, satiated, panting, and more exhausted than when we first awoke.

“Do you think she heard us?” I asked.

“Is she awake?” August croaked, eyes falling closed.

“Yes.”

“We were quiet… I think. Come here.”

August dragged me into his arms, his body a pleasant furnace in the chilly room, and before long, he fell asleep. We didn’t have to be up for another hour, so I let him slumber.

Wide awake and unable to lay still, I quietly escaped his arms and found the pajama pants and T-shirt I’d brought for lounging around the house. Both were still clean and folded in my bag.

I used the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to erase the guilty flush of our after-sex, and wandered to the living room where I found Constance on the couch in the same fashion as I’d discovered her Christmas morning—wrapped in a blanket and reading a book. It confounded me that a teenager would rise so early in the morning.

She made eye contact and smiled hello. I sought signs that she knew what had transpired in the bedroom but saw none.

“Good morning. I’m going to make coffee. Mind if I join you?”

Another smile signified she didn’t mind at all.

I stumbled around August’s kitchen, using the moka pot to make a single serving of coffee. Like Koa, August was a coffee snob and needed a fresh-within-minutes cup, or he wouldn’t drink it. The two shared enough interests I’d considered properly introducing them, but until I understood better what was happening with August, I didn’t want to risk bringing him further into my life.

With a steaming mug of coffee cradled between my palms for warmth, I located the thermostat and bumped it up a few degrees. For someone born and raised in a warm climate, Augustseemed unaffected by the cold, and the predawn air outside must have been brisk and leaking through the cottage walls.

Constance shuffled over, giving me room on the couch.

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