The Love Series Complete Box Set (165 page)

Attacking his lips, I needed to taste him, needed to know we were okay. It was a rough kiss. My fingers dug into his back, clawing, grasping onto him. He did the same, never letting me move more than an inch away from him.

“When are your parents coming home?” I muttered breathlessly against his lips.

His hands dove into my hair, pulling my face to the side as he pressed his lips against my neck. “Not till five. We’ve got time.” Pushing me back, we stumbled toward the bed. My knees hit the mattress, but before I could fall backward, I turned us around so that he fell beneath me.

Dylan lay there, shocked and wide-eyed at the forwardness of my move. I grabbed the hem of my shirt and in one, long, painfully slow drag from behind, I pulled it over my head. Dylan watched it fall to the floor next to me as he swallowed hard.

“It’s my turn to make the first move.” I pressed my body into his as he sank further into the mattress. His hard cock pulsed against mine as we moved in a perfectly erratic rhythm. Dylan’s hands roamed all over my body—scratching angry red lines across my back, gently ghosting whisper-soft fingertips across my chest. “More,” his voice trembled.

He must have seen me deliberate for a moment longer than I should have. Roughly, he grabbed my face and attacked my mouth. There was so much hunger, so much desperation in that kiss; his words weren’t needed, but he said them anyway.

“Stop. Now. Just stop thinking. We wouldn’t be doing this,” his eyes roved down to our writhing bodies before holding my anxious stare, “if it wasn’t right. We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t feel something. So just feel it.” He pushed his cock up against mine and I swore I could feel it pulse and lengthen even more, despite the fabric separating us.

His mouth crashed into mine again and I kissed him back with everything I couldn’t say—the words just didn’t exist in my mind, yet. I shoved his shirt up and over his head, and grew at least another fucking inch as my eyes roved over every inch of his perfect chest. I was straddling his hips, but the sight of him half-naked beneath me made me lean back, just so I could devour him with my eyes.

“You see me without my shirt all the time in the locker room.” His words had this breathlessness about them that made my mouth go dry.

“Yeah, but it’s different now.” He shifted underneath me, pulling himself up so I was essentially straddling his lap.

He drifted his fingers through my hair, sending a river of goose bumps to flow across my skin. “Nothing’s different. And that’s the best part. We’re still us, except now we’re actually being honest.” He paused at my confused look. “With ourselves.” He kissed me softly, more tenderly than he ever had in any of our stolen moments. “And with each other.” He pulled back marginally and made sure I was still with him. “Shane . . . it’s always been you. I may not have been confused over being gay, but falling in lo . . . I mean wanting your best friend when you’re not sure that
he’s
gay, that shit fucks with your head. But I know how I feel, now.” The bastard chose that moment to reach between us and stroke my cock.

I couldn’t form words at the feel of his hand gripping me over the fabric of my pants. I arched my back; my head fell between my shoulders and I flinched when his fingers lightly danced along my exposed neck. “This is fucking sexy as anything,” he growled as he lightly brushed his fingers over my Adam’s apple.

“Can I?” he asked as his fingers trembled at the button of my jeans. The subtle nod of my head was all he needed to not only unbutton and unzip, but to pull the waistband down over my hips, too, leaving me in just my boxers before him. He outlined my length with his finger before gripping me with my strong fingers.

“Fuuuuck, Dyl,” I growled and shoved myself shamelessly into his hand. His other hand went around my neck again as he pulled us back down on the bed. We rolled to our sides, and I repaid him the favor of getting rid of his jeans as well. Dylan toyed with the edge of my boxers, forcing me to bite my tongue, to swallow back my desire for more.

And then a single finger dipped behind the thin cotton fabric, brushing the ready-to-explode tip of my cock. “Yeah, I thought so.” He grinned proudly as he spread the bead of moisture around. “These need to go.” He smirked as he playfully snapped the elastic waistband.

I don’t know if it was my desire to feel more of his touch, or my desire to touch him in return, but I nodded, and in an instant, my boxers were on the floor. He fused his mouth to mine and he stroked my shaft, root to tip and back again, over and over until I was right on the edge of my control.

“Dyl . . . fuck.” I lost all sense of control when he gently cupped my sac, lightly scraping his short nails over the pulled-tight skin.

I’d felt this feeling a million times before, but tingling gathering at the base of my spine was different now. It was a huge. It meant more than coming.

It meant something else entirely.

Chapter Seven

May 21, 2007

To say I was hurt and surprised when I felt Shane pull back from my hand would be an understatement. He didn’t want this. I was pushing him too fast. This was too much, too soon for him. He would leave and that would be the last of whatever this thing was that was brewing between us. Anxiety and sadness bloomed dreadfully in my chest, but I bit those feelings back and attacked his mouth instead.

When he kissed me back with just as much intensity, I felt like I could breathe again. But it didn’t stop me from making sure he was okay. “You still with me?” His hazel eyes were hooded with lust; a storm of desire brewed there as I continued to lightly stroke him.

His hands went to the waistband of my pants, deftly unfastened everything and slid them down my legs along with my boxers in one less-than graceful move. “Yeah, I’m with you, but I needed you to be with me.” His words were raspy and flowed like liquid desire over my body.

He wrapped his strong hand around my cock and I returned the favor. “I’m definitely with you, but if you keep touching me like that, I won’t be with you for long.”

“I can’t hold out much longer, either.” We both looked down and watched in awe as we touched each other—a mixture of reverence and need. “Fuck . . .” Shane growled on a long hard thrust into my palm. “I’m coming . . .” I swallowed his words, sealing my lips over his as the hot jets of his orgasm flowed like lava over my hand.

“Oh shit . . . that’s too fucking hot.” Shane’s hips moved erratically as he continued to come on my hand. “Oh fuck . . .” I gritted through a clenched jaw and Shane’s hand loosened just a touch, gliding smoothly over my cock.

“Oh, my God . . . yes . . . just like that . . . fuck . . . Shane.” His name tumbled from my mouth like a curse—a beautifully tortured curse.

We looked down at the mess between us, not sure what to say. “Wow,” was the only word my brain could process.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed before kissing me, nibbling on my lower lip.

I looked into his eyes, searching for how he felt. “I guess this means . . . I mean, what does this–”

Cutting me off before I could finish saying anything, he repeated my words from earlier, calming my racing heart. “We’re still us. Just more honest now.” Shane’s satisfied and happy smile settled everything in me that was unsettled. He was right.

Now we were an
us.
That thought forced a similar smile to pull at my lips.

Our smiles vanished when we heard a car door slam shut. “Shit. My mom’s home.” I jumped from the bed, tossed him a small towel to clean up, and grabbed one for myself. We were both dressed in seconds, just in time to hear my mom call up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, boys. Shane, are you staying for dinner?” It was a question she had asked hundreds of times. Shane was kind of a permanent fixture around here—except for the last few months. His recent return made Mom happy to see we had been able to work out whatever issue caused us to fight in the first place.

Shane looked over at me, unsure of what he should say. I nodded and laughed before answering Mom. “Yeah, he is Mom. We’ll be down in a minute. Just finishing up studying.”

“So is that what we were doing?” Shane joked as he padded—no swaggered—to the door.

With his hand hovering over the doorknob, I put my palm against the door, locking him between it and my body. Snaking my arm around his waist from behind, I felt him melt into me. I rested my chin on his shoulder, inhaled his scent—a mixture of sweat and sex that had me hardening again. “Somehow, telling her that we were busy jerking each other off might make for awkward dinner conversation.” I licked and nibbled at his neck and swiped my hand under his shirt, up over his warm chest.

“Wanna study again tomorrow?” he nearly moaned, tilting his head to the side, offering his neck up to my roving mouth.

“Fuck, yeah.” I ground myself up against his ass before pulling away. “But let’s eat first, yeah?”

He mumbled something as he nodded his head. We both had to readjust ourselves before walking down the stairs to join my parents for dinner.

They didn’t suspect anything was different, and if they did, they didn’t say anything—that night or every other night that Shane was over
studying.
Since it was the end of the school year, it was the perfect explanation.

We
studied
a lot over the next few days, but with school ending and senior finals looming, we actually did do our schoolwork.

Work first then play, we’d joke with one another.

But to be honest, it was the after-play moments that I enjoyed the most. Those were the moments when I felt like we were really connecting. I caught myself daydreaming about those times throughout my day and night—long after Shane had already left for the night.

He hadn’t been gone longer than fifteen minutes before my phone vibrated on my nightstand as I laid there. A smug grin spread across my face as I picked up the call. “Miss me already?”

I expected to hear a “fuck off” or a soft “yeah” like I usually did, but instead, the muffled sound of angry tears filtered over the line. Fear shot through me. Did his dad find out about us? He’d already confided that being found out by his parents was his greatest fear; it was one that I understood. I feared for his safety daily.

He still didn’t say anything, which only made me grow colder, more afraid. “Where are you? You’re scaring me Shane.”

“In my car.” His cryptic response didn’t help abate my fear, but at least he’d said something.

“And where is your car?” My words were clipped, serious as I moved around the room, throwing on a shirt and shoes.

“Turning down your block,” he responded just as I peeked out my window, seeing his car speed toward my house. Something was definitely up, and by the sound of his screeching wheels, I could tell it wasn’t good.

I called out to my parents that I’d be back later and they barely lifted their heads from the TV, waving at me as I stormed out the door. Quickly, I slid into my seat and Shane jetted away from my house before I could even click the seatbelt in place.

We drove for a solid five minutes before either one of us said anything, letting the pulsing music fill the silence. Shane pulled down what would appear to most as a random side street, but I knew that it was the entrance to the town little league fields. It was past nine on Friday night, so there was no one around, and all the lights had already been turned down. The only glow came from Shane’s car as it pulled into a spot next to one of the many fields.

I let another song play, allowing myself to get lost in the nostalgia that this place held for me—for us. When the lyrics of “Home” by Daughtry began playing, I turned the volume down and laced my fingers together with Shane’s as they rested uneasily on his bouncing thigh.

“Talk to me? Please?” I twisted in my seat, my words carrying an air of hope that he’d open up.

He took a deep breath, squeezed my hand, and turned to face me. I growled in anger at the red welt covering the left side of his face. “Fuck, Shane.” I ghosted my fingers over where he’d obviously been slapped and he winced at my touch. “What happened?” He leaned into my touch as a tear streamed down his cheek.

Grabbing my hand from his face, he pulled it to his mouth, letting his lips linger there as he gathered his words. “Scranton dropped me.”

“What? Why? When?” My world spun around me as the implication of what this meant for him and for us raced in my brain.

“The letter was waiting for me when I got home. In my dad’s hands.” He chuckled humorlessly as he stared blankly out to the field before us. I sat there, quietly, letting him gather his thoughts, trying desperately to ignore the “what ifs” that were parading through my own head.

“He wasn’t happy,” he huffed. “And neither am I,” he added with a touch of sadness as he turned back to face me.

Hanging his head in shame, he averted looking in my eyes. “I fucked up, Dyl. I fucked everything up, just like I always do.” I couldn’t stand his self-deprecation, the seed of doubt his father planted long ago took root deep in his identity and colored just about everything he did. I knew when he was out on that field, he was truly happy; I hoped he felt the same when he was with me.