Page 82 of Ruin
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Bullshit.” My dick slips easily through his crease from the soap. “You know exactly what you did.”
“Slipping in your control, old man?” he says smartly.
I grin, sinking my teeth into his shoulder. He growls, body going stiff.
“I’m doing exactly what you want.” I widen my legs and press against him more, thrusting my dick between his cheeks. “Giving you the control. Letting you take what you want. You know you can do that with me, and I won’t judge you.”
“I wouldn’t care if you did.”
“Liar,” I hiss, resting my forehead on his shoulder. I groan deeply as I thrust against him, already feeling like I’m going to come again. I’m so fucking close when he yanks his hands from mine and spins so we’re face to face. Kolton grabs our dicks in one hand, stroking slowly.
I rest my palm against the tile wall, beside his head as I look down at our dicks. Precum glistens along our tips. He’s longer than me, but I’m thicker than him. Still, they look so beautiful together. His large, tattooed hand wrapped around us. It’s a sight I won’t soon forget.
I thrust into his hand, and he jerks us off. Right now, I don’t care who comes first or if we come at the same time—I just want to come.
“Kolton,” I groan, working to keep my eyes open to watch the show.
He moans, hand moving faster and sending me over the edge. Cum spurts from my dick, coating his hand and his cock. Heworks me through my orgasm before releasing my dick and working on himself.
“Come for me, Kolton,” I tell him. “Let me see your dick explode.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, body stiffening as his orgasm takes him. I watch his hand slow its pace, watch as his stomach muscles contract and his breathing gets louder, echoing in the space between us. When he lets go of his softening cock, I grip his wrist and suck each of his fingers clean, a mix of us on them. When I look up, he’s watching me with awe in his eyes, and something else, too. Something he once felt for me, that I hope is still there.
I huff out a laugh when I release his hand. “Guess we need to wash up again.”
He smiles brightly this time, a chuckle leaving his lips. I’ll take that as a win.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kolton
After the shower, Lucian lends me a pair of soft cotton pajama pants since I have nothing to wear. He says if I walk around naked, he’ll need to fuck me again, but he wants to get us something to eat first. As much as fucking again sounds good, so does eating.
It’s weird, doing this whole domestic thing with him. With anyone, I guess.
I’ve never fucked someone in their bed before. I’ve never showered with someone. I’ve never done this awkwardafterthing, where I wait around for them to cook me food with memories of what we just did together. It’s strange, but I don’t dislike it. It’s even more weird that it’s with Lucian. I never thought we would have this, and now, well, we do. Sort of.
It’s not like I’m moving in or anything. Hell, I don’t even know what this is. He’s made it clear that he wants to apologize and likes fucking me. But what more is there than that?
I browse through the books on the shelf in his living room. They’re all works of fiction. Some old and some new that look like they haven’t been read yet.
Even if he hadn’t told me, I’d know he was working on the house by the smell of sawdust and plastic over the furniture. There is wood laid out against one wall, with buckets of nails and a tool box. The hardwood floors are well-worn and warped. It’s an old house that needs a lot of work, and it seems he’s up for the task. Guess he doesn’t have much else to do. I can only assume him moving here means he’s retired.
I head down the hall and spot a small bar beneath a window. To the left is a short hallway behind the back of the stairwell that leads into the kitchen, with a door beneath the stairs that goes down to the basement. On the right is what looks like an office. I pour myself two fingers of some fancy bourbon he has, then walk into the office to be nosey.
It’s mostly bare, save for a large hideous painting on the wall of cherubs and a desk. On it, is a laptop that’s opened, a legal pad and pen, and some printouts from the internet, though I don’t see a printer anywhere. A few boxes are piled in the corner, and I assume they’re all things that will have to be unpacked and put in here. He needs more furniture first.
I pull the desk chair out and sit in it, looking around the room. I can imagine him sitting here, thinking, working. I don’t know what he does these days, but he’s doing something. One of the cardboard boxes in the corner is labeledmedical books, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s writing one.
Lucian is a smart man. He was a surgeon for years, and spent plenty of years working in the ED. He never did have to work, though. He had plenty of money, but chose to work for other reasons. I used to think it was to get away from his wife, but I think it was more about helping people.
I guess maybe all those times Lucian told me I wouldn’t understand, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Though, all I needed was for him to explain and not brush it off and blame it on my age. I’ve always been smart and mature beyond my age. I didn’t like when he treated me like a child who didn’t know anything, just because I was younger than him.
I take a sip of the bourbon. It’s dangerously good. I push around the papers on the desk and catch a few headlines.
Traumatic Brain Injuries. Waking Up: The Science Behind TBI’s. Brain Death.
