Page 32 of The Weight of Your Wishes

My ass squirms against the floor of its own accord. The thin cotton between my cheeks rubs against my hole agonizingly, and I barely stifle the moan working its way up the back of my throat. His round pecs rise and fall as his breathing turns heavy.

“Fuck, look at you,” he breathes.

I’m basically a puddle of shameless lust at his feet, and I just wish he would do something about it. He’s looking at me like he never has before, devouring me. It’s clear there are filthy thoughts swirling behind his dark eyes. My back arches a little as my hips continue their subtle writhing beneath me. “Daddy.”

Keeping my head locked in place, he trails his other hand over my chest, his callouses scratching against my hardened nipples. My knees fall open wider, and although I can’t see it, I know my dick is tenting my sweats.

Flames ignite across my skin as his hand moves lower. His fingers slide under the elastic band of my thong, stroking the skin there. My hips twitch upward, urging his hand lower. It works because then, I feel his palm press against the head of my aching dick. He drags his hand down my shaft all the way to my balls where he grabs them tightly in his large hand. “Would a good man do this? Touch you even though he knows he shouldn’t?” he sneers.

I hiss, and it turns into a rough groan. But then, the pressure disappears. His hand lands on the other side of my face, and he brings his mouth to my ear. “I love you; I really do. And that’s why we can’t do this.”

CHAPTERTWELVE

GRANT

Icast my fishing line out into the pond behind my house; the murky water ripples calmly as it breaks through the surface. Usually, my mind is empty when I’m out here. It’s how I unwind—how I find peace. But Hendrix has unraveled every last thread of peace that I once had. My mind spins and spins.

I can’t erase what happened last night, no matter how badly I wish I could. It’s hard to even make sense of it—this power he has over me. It’s turning me into someone I’ve never been before, someone who doesn’t care about doing the right thing.

He’s been whittling away at me all week long, bit by painstaking bit. I tried to avoid him, but it only made me feel worse. I could tell how much it affected him, how confused he was, and it killed me. I hadn’t realized just how much I would miss our conversations, our late-night movies, the constant idle touches and hugs andcomfort.I was quickly plunged back into the way my life was before he came here, and I never realized just how empty it had been.

So, when he finally took what he wanted, I was done for. There’s only so much I can take, and apparently, seeing him needy and writhing beneath my hands—at my feet—was my breaking point.

Iknowhe wore that thong in hopes that I’d see it.

And I saw it alright.

I saw his flushed face, his eyes glazed over with lust. I heard his intentionally soft, sweet voice when he asked me to play with his hair, when he called me, “Daddy”.

My hand tightens around the fishing rod.

He might’ve been held in my grip, but I was under his control. There’s no other explanation for the things I did, the things I forced myself to not do. The fire he ignited in me was like nothing I’d ever felt before—especially not for another man. I wanted to tear into him, needed to give him everything he so desperately wanted from me.

Now that I’ve given in to him, he won’t be able to move on from it. I know this because he’s a lot like myself; I notice it more by the day. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s going to douse this fire with all the fuel he can, and I’m not strong enough to endure it.

Maybe it would be for the best that I just take him back to Cynthia’s. I know it’s the right thing to do. It’s the only way to stop this in its tracks, and it’s not his fault. It’s mine for giving in knowing damn well I shouldn’t have.

The fact of the matter is, this cannot happen between us. It simply can’t. People would make assumptions. They’d think I groomed him as a child or even worse, Cynthia would never talk to me or trust me again. I don’t even want to think about how that would go.Nothinggood could come from this.

Hendrix is still young. He doesn’t really know what he wants, and this will be a passing infatuation for him. Someday, he’ll thank me for putting an end to it—to us.

I reel in my line and gather up my tackle box. It’s resolved. I think about how I’ll break it to him the entire walk up to the garage where I stow my fishing supplies away. My hand trembles slightly as I turn the doorknob and step into the house.

Hendrix is sitting on the couch, spine stiff as he watches something on TV. His eyes are wide as saucers when he breaks his attention from the screen to look at me. “What’s wrong?” I ask, skin prickling with nerves.

“There’s a hurricane coming right for us.” He points the remote toward the TV. “Look, it’s a category two right now, but they expect it to be a three when it makes landfall.”

Shit. I’ve been keeping an eye on this all week, but the meteorologists were sure it’d head up north. It was just a tropical storm that wasn’t supposed to strengthen into a hurricane. The ticker running across the bottom of the screen claims it’ll start pushing through our area in two days.

I rub the wrinkle between my brows. Can’t catch a fucking break. I’m not going to be able to take him home now. The highways will be at a standstill with people evacuating. It happens every time.

And I need to board up the house, the bar, Patty’s house, too—even Sky’s apartment. I drop down onto the recliner, heaving an exhausted sigh. “I’m going to need your help with putting up shutters around town.”

He nods quickly while chewing on his lower lip. My gaze lingers on it for a beat too long before I manage to tear it away, filthy thoughts swirling in my mind. His lips have always been this deep reddish color, a stark contrast from his skin. They’re plumper than what you’d usually see adorning a man’s face. Yet, I’d never thought anything of it until this past week. These thoughts are jarring. I can’t help that I want to see them wrapped around my cock, that I can imagine how wide they’d stretch as he sucked me.

The thick vein in my forehead throbs.

“Are you okay?” Hendrix asks hesitantly.

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