Page 63 of Nothing To Lose
My hand wraps around his cock and strokes it, an internal chant ofpleasecomeplease comepleasecomerepeating in my head as our movements become more frantic. He thrusts into my hand with every roll of his hips, bouncing a little as I buck my hips up. A minute later, his body tightens, movements becoming slow and jerky. His ass clenches rhythmically around the base of my cock and cum splashes across my stomach and chest, coating my hand as I jerk him through his climax, wailing through my own.
When we finally come down, we're both lying flat on our backs, arms and legs spread wide across each other. I don't even know when Isaac climbed off of me, but my dick is wet and cold, flopped across my thigh.
"Holy fuck," I rasp.
Isaac hums his approval.
We're quiet for so long his voice startles me out of an internal dialogue that’s switching betweenthat was the most amazing thing I've ever doneandwhat could I have done better. He came, that's good, but next time I should move, actually do something other than lay there and take it.
"I almost came untouched," he says. "That's pretty fucking good. In case you're over there overthinking whether it was good for me."
I huff out a laugh and throw my arm over my face. "I didn't exactly do much to help. I was just afraid I was going to come before you again."
Isaac rolls over to me, propping his head on his elbow and smiling down at me. "It still would have been good. And it would have ended the same way," he says with a shrug.
"How's that?" I ask, curious.
He swipes two fingers over my chest and holds them up to show me the glaze dripping down his fingers. "With you covered in my cum, and yours dripping out of me."
A shudder runs through me, and my cock twitches in an almost painful way.
Isaac brings his fingers to my lips, coating them before pushing them into my mouth. He hooks his fingers behind my teeth and pulls me to meet his lips in a soul searing kiss.
"Fucking perfect."
20
ISAAC
My truck rattles over a patch of uneven road, and I tighten my grip on Tyler's hand where it rests on the center console. He smiles a little shyly at me and squeezes my hand back. He returns his gaze to watch the passing landscape through the window.
Every few minutes, I glance over at him, watching for any reaction as the back country road gives way to chain-link fences, sun-faded trailers, and yards that resemble scrap yards. His expression is unreadable, and my stomach knots.
"Not exactly a gated community," I joke. It comes out sharper than I meant it to, losing the edge of humor I was going for.
He turns to me, eyes looking greener today. "I didn't expect it to be."
My smile is tight, but I nod. I knew he wasn't expecting anything grand. He knows about my background. I just know what this place looks like, and I know what he's used to. I know what kind of house he grew up in, the kind of life he left behind. And this? This is the kind of place people work their whole lives to escape.
I pull into the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. Our double-wide is the same as always: old and kind of dingy, in need of a pressure wash or new coat of paint, but otherwise neat and well-kept. The small porch has a happy-looking welcome mat and two planters on either side. Mom's flowers are looking a bit rough, considering its winter, and she's had a lot of hard days recently, but the little pop of purple and yellow flowers cheer the place up. This place has seen better days, but the small yard is mowed and the sidewalk swept.
Before I can kill the engine and warn Tyler to brace himself, the front door swings open and Mom steps out onto the porch. The dish towel over her shoulder and bright smile let me know she's having one of her good days, the second in a row according to Chels. There's a bounce in her step as she makes her way down the three steps and hurries down the sidewalk, and I can almost pretend this isn't going to catch up with her tomorrow, or the next day. The more she does, the worse it'll be, but she just can't help herself. I can understand why, though.
"Well, there's my favorite son," she says, pulling me in for a tight hug. She only comes up to my chest. I'm always struck by how small and frail she is.
Mom lifts her head and smiles up at me. Then she lays eyes on Tyler, who is standing quietly a few steps behind me. "And look at this one."
Her gaze takes Tyler in from head to toe, her smile warm and assessing. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing to ever step foot on this lot?"
Tyler's ears go red. "Um. Thank you?"
I groan, despite loving seeing him flustered. "Ma?—"
"Oh, hush." She waves a hand at me before reaching to pull Tyler into a hug. He stiffens for a half a second, then melts into it. Something in my chest twists at the gleam in his eyes when he smiles down at her. "Well, you come on inside, sweetie. I've got dinner cooking, but I've got some snacks ready if you're hungry."
"Here she goes," I sing-song as I pull my duffel bag and Tyler's small suitcase out of the bed of my truck. I'd warned Tyler that my mother is overly concerned with feeding people. I think it's a byproduct of worrying that we wouldn't have enough growing up, especially with my monstrous teenage appetite, but I didn't tell him that.
Inside, the house is neat and clean. The smell of lemon cleaner tinges the air, a surefire sign that Mom is overdoing it. The closer we get to the kitchen, the more the house smells like heaven. The rich, warm scents of what I know are going to be my favorite foods. It smells like the holidays, despite it being mid-February. My stomach grumbles, and Tyler laughs. I nudge his hip with mine as we make our way into the kitchen.
