Wrath: A Sinful Secrets Romance, page 31
“Tonight,” I tell him.
“You’re gonna be sore.”
I grin. “Make it hurt a little.”
He shakes his head like he thinks I’m crazy. Then he frowns down at my abs. “You want a shower?”
“In a second.” I rest my face against his warm chest. “What was it like for you? I want to hear more.”
“Fucking amazing for me too. Seeing your face…feeling you move,” he whispers. “Fuck, so hot. Seeing your dick oozing all over the place. God.” He looks down at himself and laughs; he’s getting hard again. “You were so good, Miller. Total prince.”
He snuggles up to me, and for a second we just lie there like that. “I’m in love with my stepbrother,” I whisper. “We just fucked and it was insane.”
His lips brush my temple. “Make it sound indecent.”
“I like it indecent.”
“What a naughty, naughty Miller.”
“Any time you want me.” I feel downright greedy for more of his dick. The feeling like…I guess it’s feeling helpless. Like I can’t move. Like he’s in me. It was so incredible. I’ve never come so hard in my life.
His finger taps my temple. “Whatcha thinking?”
“How I loved to have you in me. More than I knew, even.”
“Really? You did?”
“Yeah, Ez. I want more.”
I feel sore when we get up and walk together to the shower. Ezra washes me, then kisses me, washes himself, and when I ask him to, he hops out just a minute or two earlier than me so I can clean myself all the way. When I get to my room, he’s got a white FHS Band T-shirt and a pair of plaid pajamas laid out for me. Plus a pair of sky blue boxer briefs and a donut.
He’s sitting on the foot of my bed, looking hot as all hell in a pair of gray sweatpants, his damp hair hanging over his forehead and a small smile on his lips. I launch myself at him, giving him a tackle hug, and after I start, I can’t stop. I’m covering him like a blanket.
“Don’t you want your donut?” he whispers against my cheek.
“I want you.”
He grins. “You’re insane.”
“For that dick.”
He wraps me up. He kisses the scar on my forehead. “Josh Miller. You just got your cherry popped. How does it feel?”
He rubs my ass, which gets me even harder than I am already.
“Let’s do it again now. Pretty fucking please?”
* * *
Ezra
I lube him up again, and push inside again, and make him come again—this time using all the things I learned from last time to make sure it happens fast. I come half a second after he does, and I love how Miller moans as my dick throbs inside him. Afterward, after I draw out, he looks dazed.
“You okay?”
He gives me a big, drunk-looking grin. “So good.”
We get in the shower again, laughing as we wash with get-your-dick-up soap—again.
Afterward, I dry Mills’ shoulders off, and towel dry his hair. When we’ve both got towels wrapped around our waists, I rub his shoulders down with lotion. Before I finish, he’s turning around to kiss me.
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
We get caught up kissing—until I pull away because I’m scared he’ll ask for the D again, and I’ll give in and give it to him.
“You laid some good pipe,” he says, sounding sleepy, as we walk through his room.
“You…received it nicely?” We’re both laughing our asses off again as we walk downstairs to watch a movie on the couch.
We start Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, which I have no intention of watching, and I sort of hope he doesn’t either. I cover Mills up with a throw blanket and wedge myself between his back and the couch’s spine. He’s asleep before me, his big body twitching as the movie opens. I hug him and follow him down into dreamland.
In the dream, I’m in the closet, writing on the wall. I’m writing fuck you all. I’m writing please help me.
My mom is right outside the door. I don’t know why she won’t come in.
“Please…”
I can’t move. I’m lying on my side, curled up. I’m so cold. The floor is hard, and I think my hip’s bleeding.
Someone carries me out. There’s nurses everywhere. My mom is whispering. I open my eyes to a bright room and I’m strapped down to the bed. My mom’s not here.
“Ezra!”
I open my eyes, and Mills is blurry.
“Hey, angel.” He’s rubbing my arms, holding me against his chest. “You okay? That one took a minute.” He looks worried.
“What was I saying?” I manage to croak.
“You were saying your mom’s name,” he whispers.
He hugs me harder, rubbing my back. I’m still breathing hard and fast. “I gotchu, Ezzie. We’re okay. We’re on the couch.”
I nod. Tears are dripping down my face, still.
I wrap an arm around him. Miller is so warm and solid. He won’t let me be locked up.
“I love you.” He kisses my forehead, then my cheek. “Whatever happened, you didn’t deserve it. Okay?”
More tears drip down my cheeks, and I cover my face.
I realize I’m shivering—this weird thing that’s happened a few times after I wake up. I think it’s adrenaline or something. Miller hugs me tighter, puts his hand on my chest.
“You’re okay. Look at me. Breathe with me.”
I do, and when my eyes shut, he kisses my eyelids. His arms come around my shoulders, wrapping me up. I still feel weird. Like zoned out.
He tucks my head against his chest and rubs his palm over the back of my head…over and over—down my nape and down my back. My eyelids start getting heavy again.
“Every single day you’re alive takes you further from that shit,” he whispers.
Sometime later, I feel something tickling my forearm.
Mills murmurs, “Got some markers. Tatting you up.” He chuckles, and the feeling of him drawing on me puts me back to sleep.
Four
Josh
That’s one of the worst things for me. When his eyes open, but he can’t wake up. His brain stays where it was, and even if I rub him down and talk to him, and look into his eyes and kiss his cheeks, he can’t get back to me. Can’t stop crying. Can’t breathe.
I feel helpless. This time, he goes back to sleep when I start rubbing his back, but he’s twitching again just a couple minutes later. There’s some markers on the end table, left from when my little cousins visited a few months ago. So I grab the pack and draw a picture on his forearm, hoping that the tickling will feel good and keep his mind here with me.
I write Ezra and Josh in my best—still not that good—cursive and intertwine them, then draw ivy all around, and then an ocean in the background and a sunset on the left side. I tell him what I’m doing, and he’s smiling softly in his sleep like he approves. I add a little infinity symbol near the inside of his elbow, and his eyes lift open. He looks down and gives a sleepy grin, then leans up and kisses my lips.
He pulls me against him, wraps me in his warmth, and sinks back into sleep like he must be pretty tired. Probably the game and then the things we did today. We lost our virginities today. And it was fucking awesome.
I let myself relax with him and close my eyes. Think about college, in an apartment somewhere. Him and me, wrapped in some covers. Watching TV. Getting a shower together. In my dream, it’s cold outside and we’re putting our coats on. I can hear our parents talking.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask him.
He’s grinning.
Mom says, “Home a little early…”
I hear Carl murmur something.
There’s a part of me that’s not asleep. It’s the reason my eyes open, my heart racing before my retinas focus on the doorway to the dining room—where Mom and Carl are standing.
My mom’s mouth has fallen open. Carl’s brows are drawn together, his lips parted like he can’t find words. Ezra’s wrapped around me, his face pushed between my throat and shoulder. We’re both in our underwear.
I look from Mom to Ezra and back—as my pulse races and my body goes bloodless and cold. I can feel my hand tremble as I hold a finger up. I point to Ezra and then put a finger over my mouth.
There’s no logic in it. I just need to disentangle from him so he doesn’t wake up to this. Somehow, I manage to. Somehow, my legs hold me when I stand. I grab a pillow, holding it in front of me, and wave my mom and Carl back into the dining room.
“Come in here,” I say as I walk into the kitchen. I’m too scared to look back at them. I walk to the back porch door, and then I turn around and face them.
Time slows. My mom’s face has gone from shocked to what I think is fury.
“Josh!” Her voice is high and wobbly, damning in that horrified mom way. “What were you two doing in there?”
Carl’s mouth moves like a guppy’s. My cheeks and chest are burning. I can feel my eyes well as I look at Mom’s face. But I have to do this. I want to tell them while he’s asleep.
“Mom…um.” I swallow as my eyes well more and my throat tightens. “I don’t want y’all to freak out about this,” I say, one tear already falling. “But…I’m gay.” I feel my back hit the door, realize I’ve been moving backward.
More tears fall down my cheeks as Mom’s mouth presses flat and Carl’s eyes fly to her face.
“Don’t be loud, please.” My voice quavers. “Ezra will wake up, and it’ll scare him.” Thinking of Ezra finding out they know makes my chest ache, which makes me want to cry more. I cover my face and try to get myself together, but I know he’s gonna wake up and find out. He’ll probably never talk to me again. I put both hands over my face, trying not to really lose it.
“I’m sorry,” I manage through my tears. “It’s my fault.”
Mom’s hand on my arm startles me, and then my being startled startles her. She’s looking at me wide-eyed. “Josh…were you two—”
“We were on the couch, Mom. Sleeping.” I move away from her, my back to the wall by the porch door.
She looks at me, at my underwear, and I start crying more. “I’m sorry,” I’m starting—when I hear Ezra’s low voice.
“Mills?”
He’s at the back of the kitchen. His face is frozen in what looks like he wants it to be a neutral expression. But his eyes are pulled wide and his mouth is hanging slightly open. I can tell the second his eyes meet mine that he knows what’s up, and then he locks his face down, frowning at me as he stands there in his boxers.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
I wipe my eyes, and his face twists in sympathetic upset. He walks quickly over to me, but he doesn’t step between my mom and Carl.
“What’s the matter?” he asks again, looking only at me.
I shake my head, and that’s when he moves in between them. He comes to me, wraps his arm around my back. I’m not looking—I’m looking at my feet, wishing the floor would open up and swallow us both whole—but I hear him say, “Is there a problem or something?”
My mom laughs. “I don’t know.” She sounds insane. “What’s on your arm?” she asks, like she’s just seeing that. I feel like I’m going to pass out.
“I feel like there’s things we weren’t aware of,” Carl says in a slow, measured tone.
I hear my mom’s soft, “Oh.” Then Carl’s softer, “Wow.”
Ezra’s arm tightens around me. “If Josh is in trouble—”
“No, he isn’t,” Mom says quickly. Her voice is high again. I look up at the moment Carl puts his arm around her. Mom’s eyes meet mine. “So you’re both gay?” She asks it like she’s asking if we’re both secretly lizard people.
I’m opening my mouth when Ezra says, “Yeah. You got a problem with it?”
Mom’s mouth drops open, and her eyes fill with tears. Carl says, “Guys. Let’s all sit at the table.”
“You need pants on,” Mom says sharply.
“No they don’t. Let’s just sit down,” Carl says, as if he’s speaking to a four year old having a tantrum.
“I’m not mad you’re gay,” my mom says, sounding teary.
“Good, because if you were, you’d be a bigot.”
“Ezra,” Carl says in warning.
“She would,” he says.
His arm is still around my back, so tight it almost hurts. I look up at him, and I’m surprised—based on the tenor and tone of his voice—to find his face looks bleached out.
“Sit down,” Carl says softly.
I feel Ezra’s breathing pick up. “It’s not Josh’s fault,” he says, sounding breathless. “If someone has to go, it can be me.”
He drops his chin down to his chest, gritting his teeth as he inhales through his nose. His arm rubs a light circle over my back before letting me go. And then he’s striding, nearly sprinting, from the kitchen. I run after him as Carl calls behind us. But Ezra’s fast. By the time I reach his bedroom door, it’s locked.
“Ezra!” I’m still knocking when I see him shoot out my door, fully clothed and heading down the stairs. I guess he’s jetting down and he runs into Carl. I hear Carl’s booming “Whoa,” and then I hear my mom say something. The front door slams.
Ezra’s out the door and I’m not dressed, but I just know—like, deep down in my fucking bones, I’d bet the world—that if I let him go, it won’t be good. So I race out the door in just my briefs and dive off of the porch, catching him only because when he sees me in my undies, he freezes.
When I get my arms around him and we sink down to the grass, his whole body does this weird, hard shudder. He breathes heavy for a second, but then he looks down at me with his damp, dazed-looking eyes and he says, “You okay?”
He hugs me hard, his spread hands rubbing my ribs. When he pulls back so he can see my face, he says, “You want me to go?” His voice goes hoarse, and his eyes are welling up, but he adds, “I’ll say it’s my fault. That I…seduced you.” He huffs a laugh at that, but his hand goes over his eyes and I can feel his shoulders give a little quiver.
“It’s okay if you want me to,” he says, his voice going hoarse, even as he moves his hand down off his eyes, and they look earnest.
I cup his cheek. “Fuck no.” I grab his arm, pointing to what I drew. “You see that shit? If someone goes, it can be both of us. We’ll live…I don’t know where. Anywhere. In the forest. Together. Tarzan-style shit here.”
His voice breaks again as he says, “I don’t want to mess up your life.”
“Ezra. You could never, ever mess up my life. Ever.”
My eyes are holding his, and I’m so wrapped up in the moment that I don’t see Carl on the porch till he says, “Boys.” I look up to find him moving slow as always, holding a blanket. “Josh, you’re exposin’ yourself,” he drawls. Ezra looks over his shoulder—I can tell he’s worried—as Carl kneels down and wraps the blanket around me…and around Ezra, too. He clasps a hand over Ezra’s shoulders and wraps his arms around both of us.
I feel Ez breathing. His face is pressed to my neck.
“C’mon now,” Carl says softly. “Let’s go in and grab some food and maybe have a beer and hell, prepare for grandkids. You boys seem like you’re moving way ahead of what we thought. Not quite the same direction.” He laughs. He hugs both of us, and when he lifts his head, he looks…amused?
He laughs, and I realize that this must be the shock of his life.
“C’mon, son.” He ruffles Ezra’s hair, and then says, “I’ll give y’all a minute. Cover up what God gave ya,” he calls as he walks back toward the porch steps.
Five
Ezra
I’m awake a long time after Mills falls asleep, wrapped around me with his cheek against my shoulder. It’s so warm under his covers. He’s got the strobe light set to teal green, just a faint glow, like those blinking microbes in the ocean. My eyes shut and my mind drifts.
I can see Dad’s face—his eyes wide and his thin lips grinning—as we sit down at the table. I can still hear his voice as he says, “Well, who’s gonna give us a grandbaby?”
Suzanne’s jaw dropped, but then she laughed behind her hand.
Dad said, “Well, this is pretty awkward,” and then frowned and added, “Maybe it’s the pheromones. Like dad like son, eh?”
Mills looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. Suzanne laughed again, and that's what really broke the ice. Apparently my dad is sort of a comedic genius. Also, both of them are...well, not bigots.
Suzanne cried and told Miller she had figured for a while. When he asked why, she screwed her face up in a thoughtful look and said because he didn't look twice at some pretty girl babysitter she left him with when he was 13.
"I just...thought," she said. “Mom’s intuition.”
Miller squeezed my hand under the table, and he almost cried again.
Dad, of course, had no idea about me. He asked if my mom knew, and all I could do was shrug.
My eyes sting now, in the privacy of darkness. I have a fucking dad who's not a fucking bigot.
What they said to us was fucking perfect. I think Dad's exact words were, "Be safe, respect each other. If you break up, nobody has to move out, so don't ask us for that. Be mature and figure out how to share the bathroom. I think if you break up, no post-breakup boyfriends at the house..."
Suzanne agreed.
They said they didn't want us hiding.
"You're both over-age, after all."
They didn't even fucking say "don't share a bed." Nothing like that. When we got up from the table, they both hugged both of us, and Dad murmured he was proud of me. Like he could tell I had wanted to protect Miller from them.
I can't even think about him saying that without getting fucked up. I feel so...old. And sad. Like, I should feel so free now, but it’s the total fucking opposite. I realize everything about me will always be marked by…what happened to me. Like that shit's all I am, and this with Miller, this with my dad and Suzanne being accepting—it's just playing pretend. Isn't real.
I can't have a real life like other people. How can I? I'm so fucked up. Every part of me is damaged somehow.
