Page 31 of Connor

I flipped him over and positioned myself behind him, leaning over him to thoroughly lick and taste his sweet, hot little pucker. He shuddered and began to make air raid noises, so loud I had to cover his mouth with my hand. When he’d calmed down a little, I reached for the lube and worked it in nicely, while I pushed my hand underneath him and gave his cock a few thrusts at the same time. He squirmed and begged and tried to push back against my fingers and began talking in tongues. The lube was slippery on my fingers as I massaged his prostate, and I bent down to plant a kiss on each cheek of his little ass. It was all I could do to calm myself enough to go slowly.

I pulled my hand away and pressed some kisses on his back and he turned his head blindly for a real kiss. I obliged him and my cock was rock hard as I eased inside him and felt that velvety tightness for the first time. It was so good, and I thrust into him mindlessly, again and again, until I could feel the orgasm come barreling toward me. I wanted an even deeper connection and I tried to drill deeper, harder, until the climax hit me like a freight train, crashing into me and dragging Connor right along with me. Neither of us moved when it was over, but just lay there in the surprisingly soft couch, trying to breathe after the waves of the mind shattering, soul searing orgasm. I had to admit I was a little shaken by the unexpectedness of it.

Afterward, I lay spent beside him and he rolled over and threw a leg over mine, cuddling against me. I held him through all the little aftershocks, until his body relaxed, and the soft puffs of breath started up.

It was a while before I could ease up and go to his bathroom to clean up. I didn’t want to wake him, so I tried to sneak out quietly, but he suddenly sat up as I reached the door and held out a hand to me.

“Are you leaving so soon?”

“I have to get up early in the morning. I need to get home.”

“But I’ll see you again soon, won’t I?”

“Of course, you’ll see me. But Connor, we talked about this. I’m not the right man for you. This can’t be a regular thing.”

“Why not? I won’t bother you or get in your way. I’ll stay away from the club if you like.”

“Honey, no, it won’t work. I’m too old for you and I’m hardly ever at home. I work all the time and even if I could find the right balance, I still am not right for a relationship with someone like you. You need a different kind of person. Someone to take care of you. I’m not that guy.”

He buried his face in his hands, breaking my heart, and I went over to him and stroked his hair. “Baby, don’t do this. You and I together would be a horrible idea.”

He only started crying harder. “I do care about you, Connor, and I won’t just walk away from you. I promise I’ll find you someone.”

“No,” he said, pulling away from me violently. “I can take care of myself. I’ll find my own man, and I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Baby, tomorrow is Christmas. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ve been alone a long time, Jared. I guess I should be used to it.”

Chapter Eleven

Connor

I hated the way I’d left things with Jared. He’d stayed for another twenty minutes, trying to get me to agree to come over to his house for Christmas dinner. He said there would be plenty of food and plenty of people there. But when I questioned him further, he admitted it would be a family thing, and I didn’t feel comfortable. I lied and told him Cruz had invited me to dinner, and he finally accepted that and left me alone.

Jared still had groceries delivered to me on a regular basis, so I had plenty to eat. I’d probably spend Christmas day on my couch, watching old movies and Christmas specials. And that didn’t sound bad to me. Business as usual. The late, great Robin Williams once said, “All it takes is a beautiful fake smile to hide an injured soul and they will never notice how broken you really are.”

Not that I considered myself to be broken. Maybe dented a little and banged up around the edges, but I was still mostly intact. I just needed to stop being a burden on everybody and make something new for myself. My soul had been injured too—in fact, it had been on life support for far too long, and at first I’d just been too young to help myself out of it. But as the years went on, I should have been able to heal. I hadn’t, and that was on me.

I’d told Jared I’d tell him one day about my mother and what really happened, but I never had. I just continued to make up stories about it that were better than what had really happened. It was like putting bandages on a wound that really needed to be cauterized.

Around mid-day, a knock came on my door and a messenger was leaving a big box on my doorstep. I opened it up right away and though there was no card inside, the box contained a beautiful, black leather jacket with a zip-out, quilted lining. I knew who it was from. I wished he had delivered it in person, but I understood why he hadn’t.

He’d been trying to let me down easy since I’d met him and I hadn’t taken hell no for an answer.

Cruz called me late in the day and asked me if I’d had dinner and would I like some fruitcake his papi’s aunt had brought over.

“Seriously, Connor, there’s a ton of leftovers. And cake. And we don’t even like fruitcake.”

“So you want to foist it off on me?”

“Exactly,” he said, laughing. “It’s wrapped in a brandy-soaked cloth and you could get drunk off the fumes.”

“Thanks for the generous offer, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Really? Well, how about some pies? Or some of the huge banana pudding his mother brought?”

“Now you’re talking. Save me some pudding.”

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