Page 62 of Drifting Hearts
“When we get home, I want to get tested.” Clay plucked the words straight out of my head and spoke them for me.
“When we get home.” I agreed, loving the sound of that. Until then, I rolled the condom down my cock. I reached for Clay, gently pressing my slippery fingers against his hole.
More than watching part of myself disappear inside him, I loved watching the look on his face when he finally got his own way. When I finally breached him with my fingers, a flush of lust turned his chest pink. I wanted to kiss his skin to see if it was as warm as it looked. Instead, I tormented him with slow movements in and out, gliding over his prostate now and then to make him gasp and squirm.
Clay’s cock jumped and twitched, dribbling precum that collected in a sticky pool on his skin. I laid my free hand on his leg, followed it in a slow glide upward. I avoided his cock and went farther up, watching the way Clay arched into my touch, the way he sought after my fingers whenever they retreated from him. It was like he was at war with himself, unable to choose which pleasure to chase.
I dragged my thumb over his nipple, the nub hardening under my repeated touch. I kept going until Clay whimpered. His hands were tangled in the bedding. His hole was definitely ready for me, loose and slick, but I loved the way he looked like this. How unbothered he was by anything except how much he needed me.
He wasn’t the only one suffering, and when he was messy and begging, rocking and writhing on my hand, my cock was so hard it ached. He moaned a protest when I removed my fingers from his ass.
There were a million ways I could take him. A million more I wanted to have him. But most of all, I wanted him like this. Sheltered beneath me. Eyes looking into mine, lips easily accessible. Arms and legs tangled around me, pulling me tighter to him.
His body took me like I was meant to be there. I grit my teeth and buried my face in the curve of his neck, breathing in the scent of him as I tried not to blow my load like a two-pump chump.
Clay’s voice whispered in my ear, begging breathlessly for me to kiss him.
I devoured him instead. Kissed him with my whole body. He twined his limbs around me, clung to me, dug his fingers into my back, grabbed my ass. He met every one of my thrusts, keening. Moaning. Melting into me. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck. My forehead. But I only cared about kissing him endlessly. Breathing against his lips when we needed oxygen, when the force of our bodies moving was too much to handle while we kissed.
Nothing had ever felt this good. Had been this monumental. I wanted to live in this moment in a way that I’d never wanted to live in any other.
Clay’s fingers sank into my hair. His grip made my scalp tingle and pushed me closer to the edge. My breaths sawed in and out of me like ragged gasps. He licked at the inside of my mouth in a messy, wonderful, imperfectly perfect kiss.
I slammed my mouth down over his and held on to him as my hips snapped and I drilled into him. His moans were broken, staccato things, increasing in frequency and pitch. Heat built in my stomach, and lower, pooling in my balls, drawing them up tight. I was treacherously close to coming, but I didn’t want to come without him.
Managing to get hand between us, I stroked his cock. Impossibly hot and hard, slick with his own precum, it didn’t take much to set Clay off. His back bowed. Heels dug into my ass, and Clay tipped his head back, panting and half-sobbing as he coated my fingers. He still gripped my hair and used it to pull me down to him, stealing my breath with a kiss, dragging my orgasm out of me.
I saw stars. Hearts. Fucking rainbows. I saw a life with him, a dream, a fantasy I wanted to bring to life flash through my mind.
Breathless, spent, slick with sweat and lube and Clay’s cum on my fingers, I went still. I sucked in stuttering breaths. “I want to do that forever.”
Clay laughed. “As long as we can take breaks in between for food and naps.” He wriggled and laughed again. “And showers.”
After a quick clean-up, we lay tangled together under the covers. I was content to stay here with Clay and bask in the warmth that thrummed between us, but somewhere down the trail, a waterfall waited for us to discover.
And a future waited for us to discover it too.
Chapter 31
Clayton
I drew him waterfalls.And trees. I drew him. In profile and pieces. His hands. His ear. He seemed amused by my sudden burst of creativity. I drew until my hand ached, which didn’t take half as long as it used to. My disappointment was written on my face and Kieran sat with me after, letting me lean against his chest in the cradle between his legs. He held me and kissed my hand as if he could heal my wounds.
As if he weren’t doing that already.
After we left and the miles ticked away, leaving adventure behind us, I asked, “Are you sad we’re almost home?”
“No.” Kieran glanced at me, his face a picture of sincerity and warm affection. “I can’t wait to get you home.”
He looked back at the road, but he reached for me, putting his hand on my thigh.
“Besides,” Kieran continued, “there will be other road trips. Plenty of them.”
I let myself believe it was true. It was getting easier to believe that I was allowed to have good things. At least when Kieran told me, I believed him. I had a harder time listening to my own inner voice. But I’d get there. I was a work in progress.
I still had a lot of boxes to unpack, but I had a better support system now than I’d ever had. It wasn’t fair to say that Archer hadn’t been there for me. The truth was that I hadn’t known how to let him. Istruggled to ask for help. I never wanted to believe in the good things that came my way because I never got to keep them. There were so many reasons I did what I did, and none of them justified my actions. But they weren’t meant to. They were meant to show me what I needed to do in order to avoid the same pattern of behavior.
Come hell or high water, I wasn’t going to fuck things up with Kieran. And I loved knowing that he wasn’t going to let me.
