Page 51 of Never Stay Gone
Shane was suspended, impaled on Dakota’s cock, trapped in Dakota’s hold with both legs up and spread on Dakota’s shoulders.
It was so fucking raw, all his nerves cut open and exposed, and Shane had never felt this damn sexual in his life. Never felt this passionate or desired. No one had ever craved him like Dakota did: his body, his mind, and his soul.
Shane tried to chase Dakota’s kiss, but Dakota teased him, played keep-away with his lips as he kissed everywhere but Shane’s mouth. Shane’s jaw and his neck, then a nibble to his earlobe, a gentle bite on his throat. Shane bucked, desperate for Dakota to keep making love to him, to never, ever stop. He was helpless, completely at Dakota’s mercy.
Slowly, Dakota started moving again, gentle slides all the way in, somehow going farther inside Shane, to a place Shane never knew existed. His fingers tangled in Dakota’s and he gasped, his vision going watery.
Dakota kissed away Shane’s tears before they fell. Nuzzled him and, finally, kissed Shane as tenderly as he ever had.
Every part of Shane clenched down on Dakota. His hands, his ass, everything. All his broken pieces were being swept up, and the tornado Dakota had loosed inside him was growing tighter. He felt a howl rise, felt his spine start to burn. The world was spinning again, but this time he wasn’t afraid of falling.
“Tell me again, Shane?” There was a hint of pleading in Dakota’s voice, like he wasn’t sure Shane would say it—or mean it if he did.
“I love you, Dakota. I love you.”
Dakota groaned, and he captured Shane’s lips and kissed him, his tongue spearing Shane just like his cock. Every slam of Dakota’s hips made Shane’s vision go white, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned, one long, incoherent sound that Dakota wrung out of him. Dakota worked Shane’s ass up and down his cock like Shane was a rag doll, was Dakota’s to move how and where he wanted, where he needed.
Fuck, he was: he was Dakota’s, forever. What Dakota wanted, Shane wanted. They were so fucking perfect for each other, Dakota knowing exactly how to make love to him, exactly how to find the deepest, neediest part of Shane.
Every thrust pushed Shane farther up the mattress. Dakota chased him, always bringing them back together, always moving harder, deeper, claiming more of Shane. His hands rose from Shane’s ass to his knees, gripping Shane’s thighs like they were handlebars for Dakota’s thrusts.
Dakota’s ring fell to the hollow of Shane’s throat. He could feel its weight with every shaking, desperate inhale.
Perfect pleasure sparked at the base of Shane’s spine, setting fire to that wild tornado. He howled as heat and joy and memories and Dakota roared through him. Dakota, Dakota. He bucked, seized, went tight and clenched and held, and held, and held—not breathing, staring up at Dakota, at the man he loved so fucking much.
His whole life, he’d felt like he was walking a tightrope spread across the mesas, too afraid to move forward, doomed if he stayed still. That tightrope had been fraying from both ends, and he’d been desperately trying to paste the scraps together… but it was okay now. Dakota was there, ready to catch him. He’d always been there.
Shane fell, his back bowing and his legs quaking as his toes curled beside Dakota’s head. He arched and broke free from Dakota’s handhold, grabbed Dakota’s back and dug his fingernails into the muscles of Dakota’s shoulders. He went wild, screaming Dakota’s name as his orgasm ripped through him. Come burned his belly. Something broke inside him—sprang free—a tightness that had wound around his heart like brittle steel and rusted barbed wire. “Dakota,” he moaned.
Dakota cried out, cursed, and buried himself inside Shane. He kissed Shane desperately, thrusting, thrusting, even as his come flooded Shane’s ass. Groaning, Dakota finally collapsed, trembling as he buried his face in Shane’s neck.
Shane’s legs slipped from Dakota’s shoulders and fell wide, splayed open. Dakota’s come soaked his ass and the bed beneath him. God, he was so sensitive, so wet and open. Open for Dakota. The way he wanted to be.
Shane nuzzled Dakota’s hair, dropped a kiss to his temple. He felt the burn of Dakota’s tears on his shoulder again, raindrops falling where Dakota hid his face.
“Dakota,” he breathed, “come here.” He guided Dakota up until they were cheek to cheek, noses brushing, Dakota’s tear-soaked eyelashes caressing Shane’s skin. He ran his thumbs over Dakota’s face, slipped his fingers through Dakota’s hair. “I love you.” He kissed Dakota’s closed eyes, once, twice. “I love you.”
“You could break me, Shane.” Dakota’s voice was hushed, almost nonexistent. His lips moved against the corner of Shane’s mouth. “No one else in the world could break me, but you could. If this isn’t… if you don’t wanna— You need to tell me if you want me to go.”
He hushed Dakota with a gentle kiss. Let his lips linger on Dakota’s until he couldn’t taste the salt of Dakota’s tears anymore. “I’m never letting you go again. I swear.”
Dakota’s fingers were still trembling when he lifted his ring from Shane’s throat. “I gave you my heart when I gave you this silly thing. I thought I was gonna die when you tried to give it back.”
Shane closed his hand over Dakota’s. “It’s not silly. It’s the only possession I’ve ever cared about. I’ll never take it off.”
“Promise?”
Shane could see a thousand questions in Dakota’s eyes. Dakota was asking Shane more than whether he’d wear his ring. He was asking to trust Shane again, asking whether it was safe to let Shane into his heart a second time. Dakota was never scared, not ever, but he was afraid of Shane. Of what Shane had done… and what he could do, if that poison slithered into Shane’s heart again.
Shane wasn’t the same boy who’d been too frightened to admit who he was and who he loved. His whole life, he’d been fighting to keep those two truths inside him, and now that he’d spoken them aloud he felt flayed, like all his skin had been carved away, revealing the real Shane beneath the fake. The world beyond the bed, beyond the motel room, was uncertain, and Shane still felt achingly tender—vulnerable—about tearing off his old life, but…
He loved Dakota. He’d always loved Dakota. He always would.
That was the truth of his life.
“I promise.”
Chapter Thirteen
