In The Absence Of Light (14 page)

I swallowed several times in an attempt to alleviate some of the scratchiness in my throat.

Morgan danced his fingers over my face.

“All right, let me up.”

He closed his eyes.

“Morgan, I want to touch you.” Because if I didn’t, I’d lose my mind.  He sat back, and I moved my feet to gain purchase. The clink of more metal echoed from the end of the bed.

At some point, he’d managed to cuff my ankles to the footboard.

“Morgan?”

He took out a bottle of lubricant and condom from the drawer.

“Morgan, this isn’t funny anymore.”

He unwrapped the condom and sheathed my cock. Then poured a generous amount of lubricant into his palm.

The oily liquid ran down his fingers. He rubbed them together until they were shiny.

Morgan rose up on his knees and put his hand behind his back.  The squelch of lubricant let me know exactly what he did.

One, two, or three? How deep did he go? What did he look like stretched tight around his fingers?

Not knowing twisted my insides more than all the times I’d ever watched those details with past lovers because being denied the show let my imagination take over.

Morgan gasped with each roll of his hips. The movement tightened his muscles, and they cut shadowy lines down his torso and thighs. A low lean groan echoing in his chest turned into an open-mouthed cry. The sound shot through me.

I fought against the restraints hard enough to make the bed tremble. I needed to touch him more than I needed to breathe.

A slice of sunlight broke through a gap in the curtain and flowed over Morgan’s body, painting his tan golden, turning his blond hair a fiery orange.

My heart missed several beats, then surged in one hard thump in my chest.

Morgan removed his fingers from his ass and knee-walked over me until he was positioned over my hips. He gripped my cock with his slick fingers. Static points flared under his fingertips, and a tremor ran through my body.

Then the smooth dip of his ass cheeks brushed the head of my cock as he pressed it to his opening. The tight ring of muscle was forced over the sensitive tip. It gave just enough for the head of my cock to enter and then tightened again just below the glans.

Again he took me another inch, and again his body clenched. Morgan relaxed his legs, and the weight of his body pulled him down until he sat cradled against my pelvis.

Tiny droplets of sweat beaded over his skin as the flush underneath darkened. Morgan stayed there with his chin on his chest.

“Morgan?” Had he hurt himself? The occasional shudder of his thighs muscles and his leaking cock suggested just the opposite. “Morgan, talk to me.”

He slid his hands up my chest, tapping his fingers and tracing unseen lines. A sigh left his lips as he stretched forward.

Morgan caressed my face, traced the cords in my neck, and drew lines down my shoulders. Then he made bizarre patterns on my chest each point of contact growing hotter until every nerve in my body burned.

I thrashed under him, trying to get closer, trying to get away because each brush of his flesh to mine was a threat to my sanity.

“Goddamn it, Morgan.” I made an attempt to thrust, but I couldn’t get enough slack in the ankle restraints for purchase.

Morgan dragged his hands up his body drawing those strange patterns until he cradled his own head. He tightened his thighs, and his ass cheeks clenched like a vise. Then he shifted his weight, riding forward and back.

The muscles in his abs flexed in a wave of tension that passed all the way through his body and down my cock. Again he rode back and forward, but this time rolled his hips. The movement only took an inch out and back in, but it was more intense than a full stroke.

He swiveled his hips one way, his torso another, rocking, rocking, rocking until he undulated like something liquid.

A desperate cry escaped his parted lips. With his eyes clenched shut, his brows down, I couldn’t decide if the expression he wore was pleasure or pain.

Then he looked at me. Not the fleeting kind of glimpse but a hungry, feral gaze belonging on a wild animal.

I’d been wrong to think Morgan was the naive one.

He arched back, twisting his body, lifting himself up and dropping back down. With every stroke, he rode higher.

The movement was slow, but it was enough friction to push me back to the edge, just not enough to shove me off the cliff.

“Please, Morgan.” I ached with a kind of pleasure I’d never known. “Please, please, please.” My eyes watered. Morgan put his hands closer to my knees. He leaned back until most of his weight was held by his arms and his feet were flat beside my hips.

The new angle tugged my insides. While Morgan fucked himself with my cock, he fondled his balls on his way to his dick. There he teased the folds of foreskin, pulling it over the head to massage the tip.

There was no escaping the cuffs, but I fought them in hopes of finding some way to increase the friction.

“Morgan, Morgan, oh God.” Fighting the tears cascading down my temples and soaking my hair was as useless as fighting Morgan.

He repositioned his knees until they flanked my sides again and reached back. The elegance in his movements proved again what the ballet school had missed.

The cuffs couldn’t have been standard because they fell away with a flick of his fingers and fell from my ankles. Morgan sat up just in time to counterbalance my body as I planted my feet against the mattress and lifted him off the bed. Hands on my chest, he stayed mounted only because of the strength in his thighs.

The urgency to come took over. Sweat joined the tears but did nothing to cool the fire spreading under my skin, and the bit of freedom he’d given me wasn’t going to be enough to find release. After what Morgan had done, I wasn’t sure I’d ever come again. Or at least survive it. Frustration boiled out of me in a half yell, half groan.

And suddenly my hands were free. I grabbed Morgan and flipped him over, pulling out in the process. Driven by the need for release, I pushed his legs up and his limber body folded. In one hard thrust, I shoved my cock back in his ass.

Then I fucked him. I fucked him harder than anyone I’d ever been with. Like some mindless animal, I took him over and over, knocking him against the headboard.  The pain in my nuts broke free and the electric crackle seared through my body. Muscles in my legs seized up, but I couldn’t stop. Everything whited out, and for a moment, there was nothing but the explosion of pleasure. I roared as I came, and the euphoria washed through me in waves. With every pulse of my cock, my strength drained until I could barely hold myself up.

I breathed, but there wasn’t enough air.

A drop of sweat fell from the end of my nose to Morgan’s lips, and he smiled.

*******

I couldn’t remember the last time I slept so deep after sex. I could, however, remember the last time I came so hard that I thought a heart attack was imminent.

Never.

Maybe, I was getting old.

No. No I was not even going down that road. I was not old. I had at least another twenty years of hard sex, and if things went south? Like Morgan had said, they made little blue pills.

But something told me even if I fucked every day for the rest of my life, no other man would make me come like that.

Dear God, what the hell?

Maybe Morgan was right. I’d never had good sex.

Thing is, I knew I had. It was Morgan. Whatever it was I experienced with him was something close to religious. The thought made me laugh.

Morgan stirred. Tucked against my body, he was a line of warmth that went from shoulder and ended somewhere around my ankle.

The reddish-orange sun breaking through the gaps in the curtains had been replaced by a cool line of purple.

I’d not only slept. I’d slept all the way till morning.

Morgan exhaled a sigh and made a small sound. Almost a whimper but softer. A wrinkle cut across his forehead, and his full lips turned down.

Was he dreaming about Dillon?

I turned enough to cradle him close to my chest and rubbed his back in long, languid strokes.

“Shhh—” I kissed his forehead. He sighed again, and the tension faded. “That’s it. You’re safe.”

I might not have been there to save him then, but I was here now, and I was going to do my damnedest to never let him have nightmares again.

Again?

Again was forever, and I wasn’t going to be here forever. Just a couple of years, three at the most. My destiny was unspoiled beaches and clear blue water. A place as close to heaven as I could get without actually dying.

But who’s to say I wasn’t going in the other direction? I could almost guarantee I was. It might have worried me if I believed in those sorts of things, but I could only believe in what I could hold, see, and feel. So far, I’d never had a reason to have faith in anything.

Until the day I experienced one of those fairy tale miracles, I never would.

I caressed Morgan’s cheek.

And miracles were no more real than fairy-tale true love.

Morgan pressed closer. His touch wandered up my chest. Along the way, he tapped his fingers in measured beats that left me wondering if the world he looked into sometimes had music along with the secrets hidden in the light.

His hand went to the side of his head but did nothing more than brush against his temple before tucking back under his chin.

I moved a lock of hair hanging in Morgan’s face, and he opened his eyes. The distant gaze I’d come to know was different, and I had the strangest feeling he wasn’t looking through my reality and into the world only he could see. He was looking through me.

Then he blinked and his gaze returned. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the window. “It’s morning?”

“I think so.”

He pushed himself up.

“What’s wrong?”

“The sunrise. I can’t miss it.”

He grabbed his boxers off the floor and put them on, hopping from one foot to the next, on his way to the door. Morgan headed to the back of the house. I grabbed my jeans and followed.

My attempt to dress and run was far less graceful, and I wound up stumbling into the wall. After that, I took the ten seconds to pull them up before I wound up falling and busting my ass.

I caught up to Morgan on the back porch. The morning sky was bleached white around the line of trees at the edge of the pasture beyond the east side of his house.

Morgan knelt in front of the odd mass of wire and glass I’d seen yesterday. Close up, it was even stranger, but every bend and coil of copper had been arranged with care around droplets of colored glass.

Morgan’s expression tightened with concentration.

“What’s going on?”

He put his finger to his lips and continued to stare. I stared too.

The thin fog rising to the sky glowed and pale yellow rays poured into the screened-in window as the edge of the sun broke the horizon. With each second, the light shifted until it spread in puddles on the wall behind me.

Geometric shapes appeared within the droplets of light. They split, sprinkling dots of color over my shoulder and the wall. I knelt beside Morgan so I wouldn’t be in the way. More color appeared as the sun climbed. What began as points turned into shapes. Their movements were minute, but time seemed to have slipped away, leaving only us and the fragments of light.

My knees protested, and the tingling sensation crawling over my feet turned into a numbing blanket. I needed to move, but I was held in place by the shift of glowing line. The sections touched, squares separated, triangles shattered. As the sun rose higher, the light intensified until the kaleidoscope of color covered a large section of wall.

Morgan used a pair of pliers and adjusted the branches of wire holding the glass in place. The changes weren’t noticeable, but it altered the collage, tearing spaces between the seams of color, turning the arc of light until the near flawless edges spiked with ridges.

Finally Morgan turned around. He tilted his head one way, then the next. His face scrunched up and he shook his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s still not right.”

“What do you mean?” It was incredible.

“The shape isn’t right.” The shadow of his hand followed the lines of color where they jutted beyond the blue and yellow squares. “These don’t move like they’re supposed to.”

“It’s supposed to move?”

“It is moving but not in the right direction. It should be cresting higher, otherwise it’s just gibberish.”

Even though I didn’t stand a chance seeing what he did, I squinted at the starburst built of colored shapes in hopes I might catch a glimpse at what Morgan saw. But my sight wouldn’t go beyond the beautiful kaleidoscope.

Morgan blew out a breath hard enough to pop his cheeks. He picked up the sculpture and the color painting the wall broke apart and disappeared.