Veil of Scars (6 page)

He placed a chaste kiss to my lips, which shut me up. "We want you to be in a relationship with us."

"How?"

“Well, we'll need a bigger bed." The hint of the smile I loved crept over his lips.

I wiped at my eyes. "You're serious?"

He nodded, walking me back towards the bed and pushing my hand away from the towel. I grasped at it to keep it in place as his kiss made me start to harden. The effect he had on me was impossible to deny.

When we broke apart his voice was hungry. "The thing I've missed most about moving here is I don't get nights with you anymore. It's great sleeping with Charlie, but I miss you."

"I've missed it, too." My chest ached. "We can't. Charlie—"

He stopped my words with another kiss. "I told you she’s okay with it all."

He moved me to the bed so I laid back and he crawled up between my thighs. I moaned, and my head rolled back. I had to finish the conversation before I lost myself to what my body wanted. My head wasn’t in the right place for this. He kissed up my chest and over my Adam's apple.

Fuck! I pushed a hand into his chest, holding his mouth off my neck. “How? She's not even here. It was one thing when we were all together..."

Sam growled, forcing my thighs further apart with his knees as he reached between us, and all of a sudden I felt his dick against mine with just the towel preventing us from touching.

"I told you she’s okay with this, although she may jump you next time you two are alone. She’s a little sexual deviant, that one."

I relaxed my arm as he settled down against me. It all sank in, in feeling all of him. "Are you sure?" I was frantic for clarification at this point.

I turned my head dodging his kiss, but he went for my neck instead, placing open mouthed kissed over the length of it. He rubbed down on me, and my erection became painful. The contact and the closeness felt so good that I couldn't put words to it. It made sense why I was so easy with him. Everything I read clicked into place. He'd always taken care of me. I'd spent years falling in love with him.

“Shit, get those shorts all the way off." He had exposed himself, but I wanted them gone.

He shimmied them off then kissed me as he rutted against me, letting me feel every inch of him.

"Can I fuck you?" he panted when he finally lifted his face off my neck.

"God, yes. What are you waiting for?" I needed to feel closer to him. I craved the connection, the closeness. I wanted to give myself to him.

He dipped his head to lick over my nipples, my skin prickled and my back arched off the bed. How could anything feel this good? I wanted to get lost in the feel of him.

"I've never done it with a man," he said, his voice breaking.

"Me either." I chuckled awkwardly, pushing my fingers into his hair, and I gripped his head to bring his face up. "Go slow, please."

He nodded, crawling back up over me unknotting my hand from the towel. I let it drop away, and it barely covered my groin. I hooked a leg around him to hold his body to mine as I writhed under him. It felt so instinctive yet unnatural at the same time. My body seemed to know what to do even if my mind was whirling trying to find some solid ground where there was none. He bucked against me, and I met each thrust.

"I guess we'll figure it out," he said breathlessly as he lifted up and gripped the towel.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He pulled it away and looked at me. I squirmed under his gaze.

He returned his mouth to mine, whispering, "You're going to have to let me blow you."

"Now?" I said, wondering how it would feel to have his mouth on me like that.

"No, I want to be inside you now, but it's been a fantasy of mine for a long time. I want to taste it."

"Huh?"

He nipped along my jaw. "Your cum, like last time, but as you’re getting off.”

That sent a prickle down my spine. It did something to me to think he wanted that.

"You've thought about it for a long time?" I couldn't stop the words flooding from my lips.

"A few years at least." He ran his fingers over me causing my cock to jump.

"I had no idea."

"I hid it." His voice was a whisper.

"About who?" I inched his boxers down, curious to feel him against me. He made no move to stop me but did pull back to look at me, his brow creased in the middle.

"You don't know?"

It was like a knife to my chest thinking I had missed the signs. Had there been another guy he had been crushing on while we were best friends, and I hadn't noticed? "Sorry..."

I bit down on my lip ring, and he growled using his mouth to extract if from between my teeth.

"You, stupid. I used to lay in bed with you and wonder what it would be like."

I gasped. His words had more effect on my body and mind than his touch did.

"I didn't know."

"Fuck." I wasn't sure if we both said it or I thought it, but the sentiment radiated through me.

He opened me up further with his knees, setting his elbows on either side of my head.

"I like that you have long hair." He tangled his fingers into it and pulled.

Sharp pain radiated through my scalp, and I groaned. "God, that … please." My tone was begging.

His lips twitched up, and he growled deep in his throat. "Like that, don't you?"

I nodded, half whimpering, not even sure what I was saying anymore. My neck cocked back in to the pillow, and my mouth opened in a soundless gasp as I rubbed up into him.

I brushed my heel over his ass as he took another claiming kiss. Still gripping my hair, he seemed to get off on making me arch and bend at his whim.

"How do we do this?" I gripped his shoulder blades, clawing at him desperately. I'd never wanted a release at all, and now I felt like my life depended on it.

He dropped his head to my chest. "I need condoms and lube."

I didn't want to let go of him.

He bit down on my pec. "I'll be right back."

I shoved hard against his chest, breathing hard. "Hurry up."

He sprinted towards his bedroom. Once he’d left the room, I glanced down at myself. My thick dick stood straight up, and I wrapped my fingers around it. It was strange that this could feel so good, yet I didn't have any craving for it before. I watched my fingers work up over my shaft and groaned. It had never felt this good by myself. Maybe there was something to doing it with Sam.

Fuck. Why was he taking so long?

I glanced up and was about to call out for him when I saw him lingering in the doorway, his own hand stroking over his cock. My cheeks heated, and I dropped my length.

"Don't stop." He stalked toward me, stroking himself.

I didn't hesitate. Grabbing myself, I watched his expression change as he climbed back on the bed groaning.

"Don't hate me..."

My hand stilled, and I knit my brow. "What?"

He closed his hand around mine and started stroking with me. "Don't stop. I couldn't find any condoms. We'll have to go get some." He lowered his head, still holding my gaze and licked over my head.

Intense pleasure overtook me, and I gasped.

"There are other things we can do ‘til then," he said.

I half sat as he sucked my head into his mouth. "Fuck stop." I yanked him up by the hair and one ear.

He looked up frowning. "Don't like it?" I could hear the self-doubt in his voice.

"No! It feels amazing. But I don't want to wait." Using my grip on him to guide him up over me. "I don't want to wait..."

He looked into my eyes. "I've been with other people."

"I know."

"You only know about her." He rubbed his hands up my sides as he sat back. "There was one other."

"I don't want to know. I want you."

He grabbed the lube and pushed one of my knees up to my chest. The cold liquid dripped down over my seam. It was strange but exciting. He carefully massaged and played, trying things out with a finger massaging over my ring. The sensation was very … different.

"Doing okay?" he asked hesitantly.

I nodded and pushed against him, getting frustrated that all the passion seemed to be gone.

He pressed another finger against my entrance. "Sam!"

His eyes met mine. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"This isn't you, and I don't want it if it isn't you."

His hand fell away from me. "What do you mean?"

"I mean before with the hair pulling and the feeling that you couldn't get enough of me. That's what I want. This—" I waved my hand at him before pushing it into my hair. "This hesitant crap sucks."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"It's going to hurt, but I think it's also going to feel good, right?"

He nodded. I grabbed him by the back of his neck and drew him to me. We moved around kissing and touching until we were half on our sides. He didn't waver this time and shoved two fingers deep into me. It burned, but that was quickly forgotten as he rolled his cock into mine and twisted his fingers inside me. I moaned into his mouth.

"You like that?" It excited him.

I didn't hold back and let out another throaty groan.

"You're right, I want to be rough with you." He scissored his fingers, stretching me wide open.

"Do you?" I gasped unable to get any other words past the mixed pain and pleasure I felt.

He let his fingers fall away and rolled on top of me as he grabbed his cock, slicking it. I held my breath as I waited. It only took a second before I felt his enormous head now forcing its way into the tight muscles. I relaxed and opened myself up to him, letting my knees fall wide. Heat rushed through me, and I was impossibly full of Sam. It sealed everything. The worship type love I knew would never go away now even if I wanted it to. I was his.

He started to move, and his veined length rubbed over my tight entrance, causing me to clench down around him. I bucked into his thrusts as he fucked me. It wasn't just that. It was so much more. I could feel the passion radiating off of him.

Before I knew what was happening, intense pleasure licked over every nerve-ending in my body, as his tip hit something inside me. I lost it. My cock smashed between us and pulsed, spilling warm cum all over my abs. Sam's mouth hovered over mine as he gasped, and his whole expression changed. My name was on his lips as he filled me with his warm release. I locked my knees around him holding him as far inside me as I could, feeling his cock throb as it emptied.

I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, holding him to me, sweat drenched and aching in all the right places.

"Say it again," I said in a hoarse whisper when he collapsed on top of me.

A lazy smile formed over his lips. "I love you."

His words were all I needed.

****

Light streamed in through the window as I stirred. There were warm arms around me, and when I moved, I felt a wet, sticky stream between my thighs. I groaned, sore in all the right ways. I pressed my face into his chest. He didn’t make a sound or say a word, but his fingers found my hair. They pushed into it, stroking through the tangles, before sliding down my back. He shifted a little and pressed into me. I felt his hard-on and my morning wood that I had so often wondered if I would ever find a use for. He tugged me half on to him as he rolled to his back, and my knee slipped between his thighs. My face slipped into the crook of his neck, and I smiled against his skin. We had all day to lie here like this, and I was going to absorb as much of it as possible.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was thick with sleep like it had been so many mornings we’d woken up in bed together.

“Sore but good.”

“You are so much firmer than her. It’s weird finally feeling all of you like this.”

“I have to admit, it’s really weird being naked with another person for an extended amount of time. In the heat of the moment you don’t notice it as much.” I scrunched up my face. “I’m rambling, sorry.”

He chuckled, causing his chest to rumble against mine. “I like when you ramble.”

The door squeaked open, and Charlie peeked through. There was only a thin sheet covering us, and we were tangled in one another’s arms. Sam winced, and Charlie’s mouth fell open.

“Oh shit.”

Chapter Eight

Sam scrambled, and I froze in shock, half sitting, not sure what to do with myself. She looked at the two of us, her cheeks flushed.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'll learn to knock." She started to back out the door.

Sam scrambled to get out of bed. "You don't have to go, baby."

Charlie held up her hands and shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I have to run to the store, sorry." She closed the door behind her.

"Fuck," he cursed and flopped back down on the bed.

Bile turned in my stomach, and a shot of ice water rushed through my veins. I didn't know which was worse, Charlie seeming so shocked, or how crushed Sam looked by her reaction. I lay back down on my side not touching Sam.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I thought she'd be okay with this. She said she was okay with it.” He curled a protective arm around me.

“Maybe she wanted to be,” I murmured.

****

It took me back to the end of senior year, the times he'd shielded me from the world. I had just started to doze when my father pulled up in the drive, and I could smell it on him. He had a particular swagger to his step and the cockeyed way he disregarded his usually meticulous parking, instead pulling half onto the grass, told me I needed to get out fast. My room was at the back of the house, and I couldn't get out the front door without running into him.

The closest phone was in their room across the hall. I had to get there. I took a calming breath and twisted the handle of my door. I prayed it wouldn't squeak. Inch by inch I pulled open the door and peeked around the corner. It was empty. The bile in my throat burned as I darted out of my room and dove into theirs, quickly closing the door behind me. I waited, not sure if I'd been seen or heard.

When I heard nothing I grabbed the phone, knowing I would only have so long.

"Hello?" Sam's voice was throaty.

"Sam!" I didn't even try to hide the need in my voice.

"How bad is it?" He knew me too well.

"It's the worst I've seen in a long time," I whispered, clutching the phone until my knuckles were white.

"Shit." He sounded more alert. "Worse than two weeks ago?"

I nodded and pressed my eyes closed, muttering, "Yes."

"I'll be there as soon as I can to pick you up."

"Sam, who's on the phone at this hour?" his mother's voice said over the line.

He covered the phone with his hand, but I could hear Sam's muffled voice. "It doesn't matter, Mom."

Some scratching came over the line, and then Sam said, "I'll get there as fast as I can."

"Where do you think you're going?" his mom said, and the line went dead.

I tried to push back the panic I felt rising in my throat. He didn't have to come get me, I could walk. I clutched the phone long after it was dead, listening to my parents' screaming match in the other room. What if he didn’t come? They went on about something to do with my father's card getting denied at the bar. The next sound was blood chilling. The distinct pitch of shattering glass on the floor. I’d heard it so many times. Between liquor bottles and glasses thrown at walls, I could envision what it was and where it struck with scary accuracy. This was a handle of vodka against the floor, which either meant it was thrown, or dropped. Dropped was much, much worse. Wasted alcohol put him in a murderous rage.

I only had three months left before I could move out. Three months until I would be in a college apartment and as far out of his reach as I could get for the time being. The last month had me doubting if I would make it out alive. Injuries came and went, but they were always scattered far enough apart that I’d never drawn attention to them at school. But the last three months had been worse than the last three years combined. My body looked like a battlefield, to the point where I had to feign injury and sit out the last few games of the water polo season so no one would notice.

My only hope to escape unscathed was for him to pass out, but I knew that would be a long time coming. I let the plastic phone fall from my stiff fingers, and I started backing toward my room. I crossed the hall and shot a glance down its length. Both my parents’ backs were to me. I had four paces to go before I could close and lock my door. It had been kicked in before, but it would at least provide a barrier.

My mother was on her hands and knees mopping up the clear fluid. The smell of the spilt drink had permeated the hall, making everything smell like cheap vodka. Another step and the floor beneath my feet creaked. I stiffened and pressed my eyes closed waiting for the bellowing. It never came. They seemed to be so lost in their fight with each other I escaped notice. I backed another step, and my hand found the handle to my door. I closed it behind me and breathed for what seemed the first time in many minutes.

I went to my window to try and pry it open. I had tried many times, but it had been painted and repainted over so many times, by so many people who had inhabited this POS rental trailer, I knew it was impossible. My hands clenched into fists, and I barely resisted the pain as beating them against the window and walls, giving up I fell face first onto my bed to scream silently into my pillow. Life couldn't be this impossible. There had to be something better. I almost wished for the impending fight with my father just to get it over with. I was tired of it looming over my head night after night. It was mentally exhausting.

"Steven!" The bellow drew me out of my thoughts, and I exhaled. "Steven! Get the fuck out here and clean up this mess."

I glanced at the clock. It had only been ten minutes. Sam would be here soon. He had to be here soon, unless his mother stopped him. I might be able to keep my head down and avoid bruises. I pushed off the mattress that lay on the floor and went to my dresser. Grabbing a few things, I tossed them into a bag, then added what I would need for school tomorrow.

My father was screaming again by the time I walked out of my room. I hunched my shoulders forward and ducked my head giving him a wide berth as I went to clean up the floor.

"Hurry the fuck up, pansy,” my father screamed as I grabbed the dustpan.

I bit my tongue against my retort. Any moment I would be able to run out of here. I got the biggest pieces of glass and then went for paper towels to soak up the vile fluid. I moved to kneel, swiping the towels around the floor. My mother had abandoned helping and now lay sprawled across the sofa.

My father came over scowling down at me. "Aren't you done yet, boy?"

I told myself not to say anything.

"Is that how you answer your father, you little shit?"

"I'm working as fast as I can, Sir." I didn't look up, having learned long ago not to engage him.

"You look like you're slacking off to me. Lazy fuck." His breath was rancid, and it turned my stomach.

I made to clean up further away from him, getting every last drop of the liquid at the far end of the kitchen before working my way back toward the puddle at his feet.

"What are you fucking scared of? Your old man? You're missing a giant puddle right here."

I swallowed and saw he was still wearing his steel toed boots from work. My breathing caught in my throat as I came near. He took a step and stood in the middle of the mess of vodka. My hands shook as I wiped around his boots. Those boots had broken ribs written all over them.

"I told your mother you were a fag."

"James," my mother said from where she sat on the sofa. "Stop putting those ideas in his head. It's bad enough he looks like he does already."

My long hair fell forward, and I lowered my eyes. He needed to move so I could get the rest under his feet, but the last thing I wanted to do was ask him to. It was bad either way. If he moved, he would track the fluid back over the floor, but if he didn't, I wouldn't be able to complete the task he gave me. Typical of my father, making an impossible situation.

I got to my feet, getting a wet rag to start on the stickiest parts of the floor, hoping he would give up his stance and leave me alone. I knelt back down and felt his eyes on my back as I worked around him.

"Can you move, Sir?" I asked when I had scrubbed the rest of the tiny kitchen.

He scoffed, and I had a second to cringe, knowing what was coming. The steel of his boot met my rib cage and sent me sprawling out across the worn linoleum floor. My chest ached, and my lungs wouldn't expand to draw breath. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him coming at me. I curled into myself as the second kick struck my back. Pain radiated down my spine as the third blow caught me in the back of my head. I coughed, still unable to breathe, blackness eating at the corners of my vision.

"Get the fuck up." The damp rubber treads of the boots squeaked as he stepped over me. "Don't make me tell you again."

I tried to move, but my back and head screamed with pain. I pulled my arms closer into my body, protective of my damaged ribs. I started coughing and forced the first inhale of fresh air into my lung. Fuck.

"If you don't get up, I'll give you a reason to stay down there, boy." I could hear it in his voice. I wasn't going to make it out of the house alive.

His black leather boot pulled back, and I turned my face away as best I could. It started to swing forward but was interrupted by a knock at the front door.

"Who the fuck is that? Deb, get the damn door." He turned away from me.

I sucked in hiccupped breaths, pushing myself away with one arm, trying to hide myself in the kitchen so I could escape notice until he passed out.

Sam's voice pulled me from my terror. “Is Steve here?” he said in his most charming voice.

I looked up but was hidden from view from all but my father.

"He's busy. Go away," my dad barked.

"Sorry, hon. Not a good time," my mother said. I could see the top of the door begin to swing closed.

"Steven?" Sam called.

"Help," I rasped with the last big of oxygen in my lungs. It wasn't loud enough.

Something stopped the door. "Where is he?"

"He ran off," my father growled.

The door roughly shoved back open, and I heard Sam step into the house. "I don't believe you."

My dad took a step forward out of view. "What are you going to do about it, kid? Beat it."

I scrambled, using all my strength and the counter to haul myself to my feet. My father was in his face, blocking Sam with his girth.

"I'm not scared of you." Sam had a few inches on him, and whereas my father was fatter, Sam was covered in muscle.

"You should be, boy."

I hobbled out of the kitchen, arms wrapped around my injured chest as Sam stepped forward. "Tell me where he is."

"Sam," I croaked.

His eyes darted to me, and he shoved around my father and wrapped an arm around me. My father moved to block our escape.

Sam pulled a phone from his pocket. "I will have the police here in under five minutes. If you think you can harm a hair on my head and not get tossed in jail by my parents, you’re higher than your wife is. Get. Out. Of. My. Way." He emphasized each word in a growl I had never heard come from him before.

My father wavered, then stepped to the side letting us free. I limped to the car and collapsed as Sam set me in the passenger seat.

"Hospital?" he asked as he slid into the driver’s side.

My eyes flickered up to the door where my dad stood. I hoped he wouldn't remember this.

"Steve!"

"No, I'm okay," I wheezed.

He glared over at me and threw the car into reverse and backed out of my drive. We were back in his drive within ten minutes, and he came around to help me out. We hadn't spoken the whole way home.

"Come on, if you don't want my mom asking questions, we better get you upstairs before she sees us."

It hurt when he touched me, but I gritted my teeth and hobbled up the four porch stairs. He let me lean against the rail while he unlocked the door before helping me inside. It was dark, but I knew the house by memory and we started toward the stairs.

The light flipped on, and his mom stood blocking our path with her arms crossed. Her expression was hard until she saw how Sam was helping me.

"Steven!" She rushed over and made me sit in one of the oversized chairs. "Sam, what the hell happened? I'm tired of all this secrecy. What is going on?"

"I'm okay, Mrs. Mckenzie." My wheezing gave me away.

She glared at me. "Don't lie to me, Steven. I'm going to get my stethoscope, and I expect your shirt off when I get back. And the truth, from both of you."

I glanced at Sam as she headed up the stairs. "I have to go. What am I going to say to her?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "How bad is it?"

"He kicked me a few times. Nothing bad."

He knit his brow. We both knew I always downplayed the injuries.

His mom padded back down the stairs and came up to stand in front of me with her hands on her hips. "Need help?"

I shook my head, and I didn't want to fight her on it. Her kindness over the years had probably saved my life.