Wrath: A Sinful Secrets Romance, page 29
Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Mom and Carl did. They ask what we’re doing and Jenna says some people are going to hang out at Sunny’s house.
“You mean Sunny’s barn?” My mom shoots me a look, and I make a funny you-caught-me face. “I know what the kids do out there,” she says. She looks at Ezra. “You two keep each other in line. You’ll be twenty-one soon enough, and if you really want to drink that badly, we’ll buy you a six-pack to share on the back porch.”
Cara and James walk by at that moment, and Cara beckons Jenna over.
“I’ll call you,” Jenna tells me as she goes.
“Josh, you don’t have a car,” my mom points out, on schedule.
“Ride back with us,” Carl suggests. “We’re not so bad.”
“He can ride with me,” Ezra offers. “Are you going to Sunny’s?”
I frown like I’m thinking about it. “Yeah, I guess so. For a little while. You going right now?”
“Yeah. I’m not staying long, though.” He rolls his shoulders, making a face. “Need another ice bath.”
My mom asks Ezra if they really do take ice baths in the locker room, and my dick gets up again as I think about him naked. Then Mom and Carl are walking away. It’s just Ezra and me—and the two dozen or so other people around. His eyes hold mine, and he’s got this little smile on. Almost dreamy.
“Dude, you were incredible,” I whisper. “Like, I’m shocked. I’m in awe. Every week, just like. Damn.”
Ezra looks down, and I knock his shoulder with mine. “We gotta walk fast to the car now,” he says. “Or I’m gonna grab you here in front of everybody.”
We start walking, and I tell him, “In the second quarter? That sideways sack from their monster linebacker—made me feel sick. You okay?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, looking tired and happy.
“What about the scouts? Where were they? Did you talk to them?” I almost forgot about the scouts that have been coming here every week—such was my awe at seeing Ezra play.
“Yeah. They were near your dad. I talked to them right after.”
“What did they say?”
He shrugs. “They were cool and stuff. Gave their names and cards. Said they’ll be back.”
“That’s amazing. Which ones showed up this week?”
“Bama again, Auburn again. Clemson,” he says, like he’s surprised. “Also UT, Stanford.”
“Stanford. Holy shit! What were your stats like from before you came here? I feel like a slacker that I haven’t studied up.”
We walk through a shadow at the corner of the brick school building, and his hand grabs mine, squeezing for a second. He lets it go with a soft laugh. “Can’t stay away,” he rasps.
“Two more minutes,” I whisper.
“I’m gonna tackle you into the backseat. Honestly I’m not.” He laughs. “Sorta need the ice bath.”
“Did you get one in the locker room tonight?”
“Yeah. But only for a minute or two. Those shared metal tubs are pretty gross.”
I laugh. “I can imagine. We don’t get that rough in soccer.”
He looks at me with his head cocked sideways, a look on his face that says he’s tired but wanting me the same way I want him. “It’s good to see you. Miller.” His voice is low and husky. His damp hair is hanging in his eyes. I want to kiss him so bad, I feel almost dizzy.
“Let’s run to the car,” he murmurs. “Like it’s a race.”
“So I can lose?” I laugh.
“I’ll be slow. I’m already getting sore.”
“Let’s jog. But laugh like it’s a race?” I suggest.
“I can laugh.” He gives me another one of those smiles. It’s this small, sweet smile—like it’s only for me.
“Go now?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
We’re supposed to jog, but I pull ahead, and then he jets off in front of me a little. “Fucking liar,” I gasp.
He laughs, turning around to give me a teasing grin. He manages to turn around and still reach the Jeep before me.
“You’re a cheater,” I pant as he pulls the driver’s side door open.
“Get in.” He gives me an intense, almost-dazed look. Then we’re in the car and he’s just looking at me.
“Hey,” I whisper, smiling.
He leans down, putting his head in my lap, and locks his arms around my waist, squeezing me so tight it almost hurts.
“My Miller,” he whispers.
I stroke a hand through his hair, looking around as I do to be sure no one notices he’s leaning into my lap.
“Ezzie.” I hug him as well as I can without leaning over. Then he’s up. He’s looking at me—smiling at me—looking rueful as he cranks the car.
“I kept looking at you,” he whispers.
“I kept looking at you,” I say. “Couldn’t take my eyes off for a second. It was honestly...an art. Every week, I feel surprised again. And nervous again. But mostly surprised. You’re like a machine.”
He backs out of the parking spot. Then he takes my hand and squeezes. Then he brings it to his dick.
“Feel that machine?” he murmurs, pressing me against him.
“Oh shit.”
He lifts his hips—even as he’s driving us out of the lot.
“You’re so hard,” I laugh.
“I want you.”
“I want you too,” I tell him. “Pull over at the baseball field.”
I play with his dick till we get there, snickering at how hard he is.
“You’re already halfway there,” I tell him. “And so am I now.”
Ez leans over, rubbing me, so we’re rubbing each other as he parks behind a tall shrub.
I consider jerking him, but I want to taste him, to feel his soft cockhead in my mouth. I suck him in, and I’m rewarded by him tasting all salty and slick at the tip.
“Fuck,” I whisper, pulling off him. “You taste so good.”
I know I should make this fast, reduce the risk of getting seen, but I can’t help giving him some slow licks all around the rim of his head and that little soft spot on the underside. I know it’ll drive him crazy, and it does. He’s holding my head, groaning. When I start to pump his shaft, I reach my middle finger down to rub over his balls, and I can feel them drawn-up, tight and ready.
I lower my free hand to hold them, squeezing just a little, and he groans, “Mills,” and comes in a hot burst down my throat. His body shudders, and he groans again and wraps an arm around my back.
“Oh fuck.”
I lift my head and tuck him back into his boxers and his shorts, and Ezra wraps his arm around me again. He pulls me closer, kisses my throat, where I like it most. When my stomach feels all topsy-turvy and my dick is aching in my shorts, he reaches inside and starts pumping me.
“Get in your seat,” he rasps, and I do, and he leans down and pulls my dick out, wraps his mouth around it.
I have the idea that he might be too tired to blow me, but he does an all-star job, and I come in about forty seconds. When he’s finished swallowing, he hugs me long and hard before he sits back up and wipes his mouth.
“Best post-game meal I ever had.”
That makes me laugh.
“You embarrassed?” He looks charmed.
“Uh, I think maybe.”
He kisses my cheek and cranks the Jeep up again. “Where you wanna go, Millsy?”
“What about you? Are you tired?”
He laughs. “Maybe a little.”
“What about home? We could watch a movie?”
“Won’t your mom think that’s weird?” he asks.
“Hmm. You could say you’re tired. I could say I’m gonna turn in early. Would that be weird?” I ask him.
“Let’s go for a little while? Just so we don’t raise suspicions?”
“Good point. Or...we could not go. And they just think we did. You want to go somewhere completely different?”
He takes my hand. “Anywhere. That it can just be us.”
We go to one of the boat marinas on the south side of town. It’s got a parking lot shaded by trees that are all grown up with kudzu. There’s a tranquil lake view, and if somebody sees a lone Jeep parked here, it won’t ring alarm bells. The place is basically a parking lot for cars and boat trailers.
At this hour, it’s deserted, just like I figured it would be. There’s only two working streetlights in the parking lot, casting the place in soft, gold light. We get out and walk quietly down to the water.
There’s a tree with big roots I think we can sit on, but Ezra sinks down first, ass-planting in the sand. He looks up at me, and I sit by him. He’s got his legs stretched out in front of him. I sit cross-legged and he takes my hand into his lap.
He squeezes it a few times, almost giving it a massage.
“I should do that to you,” I tell him. I take his right hand, rubbing everywhere I think might feel good, and he slumps against me, making soft, moan sounds that—not surprisingly—get my dick up again.
He wraps his left arm around my waist, and I try to snap-shot the moment in my memory: the sound of water lapping at the shore and boat docks. The smear of moonlight on the water and the feel of Ezra wrapped around me, hugging me tight, leaning on me like he’s mine to hold. Like we’re a couple.
“Whatcha thinking about?” he asks softly.
I smile. “Feeling like we’re a couple,” I confess.
“We are. You’re my Miller.” He hugs me tighter. “I can’t let you go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
His cheek presses against my shoulder. “You’ve gotta tell me if it gets to be too much.”
“If what does?”
I can feel him exhale slowly. “Me.”
I lace my fingers through the hand I’ve been massaging. “You could never be too much. Could never be anything but just right. Everything that I was wanting but I didn’t even know it. Never let myself think of it. I figured I wouldn’t find someone till I left Fairplay. If then. Last time I saw Arnie, he told me he’s hooking up with lots of people up at Bama. One-after-the-other style. I didn’t want that. Never have. Does that sound stupid?” I ask in a burst of insecurity.
“Of course not.” He hugs me closer. Inhales...lets the breath out. “I don’t want that either.” He looks behind us. “You think anybody’s around?”
“Nah.”
His eyes find mine, and they look wide, maybe uncertain. “You care if I use your lap as my pillow?”
“Go for it.”
He does. He lies down so he’s looking up at me, and I start playing with his hair the way I know he likes. Just these light tugs, and then massaging his head with my fingertips.
He takes my other arm and wraps it around him.
“Noticed no nightmares again last night,” I whisper.
He smiles up at me—a gentle little smile. “You’re good for me.”
“I don’t think I do much.”
“You do so much,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around my leg. He likes to hold onto me.
“My mom’s religious,” he says softly, after some time. “She can’t find out.”
“About us?” I ask. “Or about you?”
“Either,” he says.
“You mean ever—or like, near future?”
“Ever.” It sounds so definitive, I’m surprised.
“You still talk to her and stuff?” I ask him.
“No.” His eyes shut as he says it.
“Not at all?”
“She calls sometimes,” he whispers. “I try to answer one of every four. Just tell her basics. So she thinks I’m okay.”
“And are you okay, angel?”
“Yeah.” He curls against me more. “Don’t be scared about that, Mills.”
“I am scared. I’m really scared of something happening to you.”
“Nothing will happen.”
“Those pills scare me,” I manage.
“You want me to toss them?”
“I don’t know. What if you need them?”
“I won’t need them.”
“You might need the Xanax.”
“Not the other ones. I never needed them to start with.”
“Why do you have them?” I’ve waited weeks and weeks to broach this subject again. I don’t want to make him feel pushed. “You don’t have to tell me,” I say quickly.
I feel him drag a breath in. He sits up. “It’s okay.” He looks at me and then down at the sand, as he crosses his legs. He looks at me again, holding my eyes. I can tell he’s gonna spill some deets, so I put my hand on his knee.
“My mom sent me somewhere. Last year,” he says softly. “She thought I was gay. She didn’t want that. So, she sent me to…this boarding school.” He blows a breath out. “It…wasn’t a good experience.”
Now his gaze breaks from mine, dipping down to his lap. “I ended up in the hospital.”
I frown, not understanding.
He looks at me like he’s trying to tell me the whole story—just with his face. He says, “I don’t want to take that stuff.”
My heart is racing as I urge him back down into my lap. It’s all I can do to keep my voice steady as I ask, “Do you feel good without it? It’s okay to take meds if you need to.”
He nods. “Better without.” He sits up again. “You lie down,” he whispers. I do—I lie on my back—and he lies on his side, so that he’s facing me, his cheek propped in his palm. He runs his hand under my shirt and then around my side, holding my hip. His hand comes back over my belly.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Not as cut as yours.” My lips twitch.
“You’re perfect.” He gets between my legs and kisses my throat, holds my face in his hands. “Every fucking freckle...” He gives my cheeks little, soft kisses. He kisses my temple. “Your soft hair. Wavy hair.” He kisses my forehead. “That’s why I hated you, you know,” he whispers, looking down into my eyes. “Too perfect. Tempting. Something that I couldn’t have. And shouldn’t want.” He kisses my mouth lightly. “But I wanted you. So fucking bad. It was fucking me up. So I started messing with you.”
He moves down me, kissing my shoulder. “I still regret it.” He moves lower, lifting up my shirt to kiss around my navel. “You deserve the best.” He looks up at me, and there’s something in his eyes—or on his face. I don’t know what it is, but he looks sad.
I reach down, ruffling his hair. “I forgive you, angel. You are the best.”
“When we get to college, if you want another—”
“What the fuck?” I pull him to me. “Angel.” I urge him to lie over me, so we’re face to face. “I don’t want another guy. In college, it’ll be like right now. But we’ll be in college.” I grin. “More time alone. Someone needs to get an apartment and we can live there all the time.”
His eyes look wide. “You want that?”
“Yes. Do you?” My stomach pitches.
“Yeah. Of course. You’re all I want.” He kisses my jaw. “Only my Miller.” His lips find mine.
We get hot and heavy, forcing us to the Jeep, where we jerk each other off.
After that, he looks zonked. I laugh. “Let’s go home, superstar. Make hot chocolate. Tuck you in.”
“Are you disappointed that we missed the party?” he asks.
“Fuck no. I don’t care.” He starts driving, and I take his hand. “I want to say...I’m really sorry for what happened to you. At both of those places. I’m sorry you were alone. I know it’s stupid, but I really wish I could’ve been with you.”
“It’s not stupid,” he rasps. “That’s the nicest thing anybody’s ever told me.”
Two
Ezra
October 12, 2018
It’s like someone flipped a switch, and now it’s all just good times. I don’t trust it, but I let myself sink in the way I did one day when we went to an island in the lake and swam together. Cool submerge, and when I look up at the surface, I see Miller through the sloshing water—his face, smiling. Miller like an angel telling me to come up. Telling me to stay.
I stay because I want to. Really. That’s my secret. All I’ve ever wanted since I was a little kid was play football and watch movies and drive in a Jeep with the top off through some trees, down a dirt road, and at the end there’s something good. There’s something worth it.
Miller loves me. I can tell he -wants- me in his room at night. One night I didn’t go in, just to test it, and he came and got me.
“C’mon angel. I get cold without you.”
That’s what he says now, like it’s just a fact- that he gets cold without my body heat up on him. I’m hot when I sleep, I guess. He says I’m like a heating blanket.
We take turns who’s in back. Lots of times, I like to wrap him up all snug and shit. Other times, he’ll spoon me. Sometimes I tell him I want him to do that. And he does.
Yeah- it’s that easy.
It feels good.
It’s October.
It’s October, and I’ve played six games now. Marcel and I fucking kill it. There’s been scouts there almost every week—for him and me. Last week, we won 78-21. I’m looking online, and my stats are better than damn near every other QB. There’s this guy in Texas, and another one in North Carolina. But I think I’m still ahead. Maybe. I’m not even sure how much it matters.
Other than at practice and on game days, I almost forget about it.
I think about Miller in the mornings with his sleepy eyes. The way he smiles and tucks his face into my shoulder. The weight of his arm around my back. It’s the best feeling.
It’s October 12th, and I’m sitting in my Jeep with ten minutes before game time for us players. Scribbling in a spiral notebook. Like old times. But it’s not like old times. I’m going to rip this up or fold it up or - something safe when I’m done.
I got here early to call mom. Mostly because I want to keep things smooth with DG.
Keeping this smooth is I guess all I want. For this whole school year. I get to wake up with him every morning, kiss his freckles and ruffle his hair before we go downstairs for breakfast. In the car, I get to touch his knee and feel him up through his pants. Sometimes we trade parking lot blow jobs. We meet up in school bathrooms twice a day. Sometimes out behind the school, and other times up in the library loft. I get to taste his warm, soft Miller mouth. I get his hands on my face.
