What He Left Behind (5 page)

“Michael…fuck…” I wasn’t even in control of my body anymore. My hips lifted up, pushing my cock deeper into his mouth, and he groaned and stroked me even faster.

And I was
there
.

“Fuck!” I clapped my hand over my mouth, barely stifling a helpless moan, and holy shit, Michael didn’t stop. He didn’t even miss a beat, and he kept stroking my cock and bobbing his head until I shuddered hard and sank back to the bed.

Michael sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and flashed me the most delicious grin. “I’ve been wanting to do that forever.”

I’d forgotten how to speak, so I just gestured for him to come back up to me. He did, and he leaned in to kiss me but hesitated. “I, um, don’t know if you want to…after, uh…”

I grabbed him, pulled him in and kissed him. Before that day, the thought of kissing another guy after a blowjob was a little weird, but right then, it was hot, so I went for it. And holy fuck, it
was
hot. Like a vaguely salty reminder of what he’d just done to me, as if I stood a chance of forgetting any time soon.

He lifted himself up, probably to catch his breath. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. You?”

He grinned. “I’m great.”

“Yeah, you are.” I lifted my head and kissed him lightly. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

Michael laughed softly and shrugged. “I guessed.”

“Lucky guesses. It’s really good.”

“Yeah? What’s it like?”

“It’s awesome. In fact…” I nudged him onto his back. “You should try it.”

His eyes widened, and he squirmed a bit as I leaned down to kiss his neck. “D-don’t mind if I do,” he said. “Oh my God.”

“Same deal.” I kissed beneath his collarbone. “Tell me if you’re gonna come.”

Michael nodded vigorously, and he squirmed as I worked my way down his torso. I’d thought he’d done the same thing to me as a way to tease me, and maybe he had, but it was a damned good way to work up the courage to suck his dick. Inching closer to him, I told myself with every soft kiss that there was nothing to be nervous about.

When my lips reached his hipbone, there was no turning back, and looking up at him, I couldn’t imagine turning back. Yeah, I was nervous as hell and had no idea what the fuck I was doing, but that look on his face—eyes round and gleaming, breath coming in short, sharp gasps—killed any hesitation I had left. I’d damn well figure out what I was doing if it meant driving him as crazy as he’d driven me.

I stroked his cock, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence. I wasn’t so sure I could take him in my mouth—he hadn’t had much trouble with me, but his cock was a little thicker than mine. But I’d also seen pornos with guys who were hung like tree trunks, and they’d managed to fit into all kinds of places where they probably shouldn’t have, and Michael was much more…well-proportioned.

There was only one way to find out if I could take him.

Steadying him with one hand, I let the head of his cock slip between my lips. Instantly, I felt like an idiot for ever being afraid to do this. His skin was hot and salty, and I loved the way his hard dick slid between my lips, especially as I took him a little deeper. So that was why he was so into going down on me—this was almost as good as being on the receiving end.

“Oh…
fuck
.” Michael’s fingers curled around the sheets at his sides.

I glanced up at him, and my God, his face. His lips were parted, his cheeks and neck flushed, and his forehead was creased as he stared right back down at me with wide, gleaming eyes.

“D-don’t stop,” he slurred. “That’s so…oh fuck…”

I broke eye contact and kept doing what I was doing, not giving a damn that my jaw and my hand were starting to ache a little. As long as I was turning Michael on like this, I didn’t care.

A salty-sweet taste met my tongue. He must’ve been getting close. Was I ready for that? To have him come in my mouth? He’d let me come in his, but could I—

“Oh yeah,” he moaned, barely enunciating at all. “God, yeah. I’m…I’m gonna…”

I kept going. I kept stroking him as he got even harder in my hand, and the head of his cock seemed to swell between my lips. He moaned again, and then he whimpered, and his whole body tensed and arched. His breath caught. He ground out a curse, and suddenly, all the tension in his body released, and all the air rushed out of his lungs, and semen rushed across my tongue. There was more than I expected, and before I could even think twice, I swallowed it, and he kept coming, and the way he shuddered and groaned was too hot to be real.

I stopped, and Michael collapsed back onto the bed as if he’d actually levitated off it.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

I joined him up by the pillows, and like I had earlier, he grabbed me and pulled me into a kiss. Fuck. The taste of his orgasm, the tingling in my lips from going down on him, and now his always spectacular kiss? I never wanted to leave this bed.
Ever
.

When we finally separated, I touched my forehead to his. “So that’s why people like sex so much.”

He laughed breathlessly. “Yeah. That’s why. Jesus.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I have no idea if we’re doing any of this right, but everything we’ve done has been amazing.”

“I agree.” I brushed a kiss across his lips. “Imagine how much better we’ll be when we’ve had some practice.”

That grin damn near got me hard all over again. Wrapping his arms around me, Michael pulled me down to him. “You can practice on me all you want as long as you let me suck your dick again.”

I shivered. “Deal.”

In my car on the side of the road all these years later, I sniff sharply and wipe my eyes. I’ve thought about that night many times over the years, but it’s never made me cry before. Though my dick is hard and my body is trembling, the sting in my eyes is too intense to ignore.

They say losing your virginity means losing your innocence, but everything about that afternoon in Michael’s bed was innocent. It was sweet, and gentle, and one of those memories that I hope never, ever fades. It was a night when neither of us knew Steve existed or that he’d eventually find a way to leave his mark on every facet of Michael’s being. Before the panic attacks, the ER visits, the restraining orders that weren’t worth the paper they were printed on, not to mention all the fighting it took just to
get
one of those worthless pieces of paper. Before Michael watched his lifelong dream of becoming a veterinarian go up in smoke after he flunked out of school. He never has told me what happened, why he went from a straight-A student to failing his finals, but the way he averts his eyes whenever the subject comes up, and just knowing who he was going home to every night at the time, well, I can put two and two together.

But that afternoon we went to bed together for the first time, none of that had happened yet. Neither of us had any reason to be scared or cynical about the future, and it remains to this day one of the most beautiful sexual encounters I’ve ever had.

There was light in Michael’s eyes that day.

And so help me God, I will do whatever it takes to bring that light back to life.

Chapter Five

I finally get my shit together and finish the drive home. The whole way, I can’t stop asking myself—and the universe, and God and whoever happens to be listening—if I’m in over my head. I’m even more determined to help Michael, and even less certain of my ability to do it. I’m already emotionally exhausted, and we didn’t even get past a kiss.

Fuck. It’s not a question of whether I’m in over my head—it’s a question of how far.

I pull into the garage and park beside Ian’s car. As the garage door closes behind me, I shuffle to the door and into the foyer.

Ariel thunders in and bounces, running in circles at my feet.

“Hey, baby,” I say with a halfhearted smile and scratch behind her huge floppy ears. “Did you miss me?”

“She always misses you.”

Ian’s voice makes my heart clench. I look across the foyer into the living room. He’s on the couch, grading papers as always, with Rosie on his lap. She glances up at me, and she’s about as indifferent to my presence as she is to the papers Ian’s using her to prop up.

Ian isn’t quite so indifferent, though. His eyebrows arch enough that I know he sees right through me. He clicks off the TV, which he must’ve been using for background noise. “How did it go?”

“It…” I look down at the dog again because she’s easier to face at the moment than he is. And even she seems to be looking at me like “Well? How
did
it go?”

I clear my throat. “I think I need a drink.”

“I think I’ll join you.” He picks Rosie up and plants her on the other cushion. She hisses, and he grumbles “Bitch” as he gets up.

Usually, her attitude makes me chuckle—she really is kind of a bitch—but tonight, I just don’t have it in me. I reserve what energy I have left to get me from the foyer to the kitchen.

A glass of wine isn’t going to cut it tonight, so it’s straight to the freezer for the bottle of vodka that’s been in there for the past three years.

“That bad, huh?” Ian asks as I set the bottle on the counter.

Was it that bad? I don’t even know if it went badly, per se. Michael’s on board with the solution Ian suggested. He feels safe enough with me to do this. I can help. I can do something to
fix
this.

Ian wraps his arms around me, and I exhale.

“You okay?” he asks against my neck.

“I don’t know.” I rest my hands on his.

He holds me tighter. “You talked to Michael about it?”

“Yeah. He needs a little time to think, but it sounds like he wants to try it.”

“Oh. That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. I guess we’ll see what happens.”

“I guess we will.” He kisses my neck again but doesn’t say anything. Knowing him, he’s waiting for me to elaborate.

Finally, I lean against him. “It’s just so hard to see him like that, you know? Since I know what he was like when he was younger and hadn’t been put through the wringer, yet. It’s just—” My voice cracks. “It’s really hard to see.”

Ian holds me tighter and kisses just above my collar. “I can’t even imagine.”

“I kissed him. Didn’t go any further than that, though.”

Ian tenses a little, lips touching my skin but not moving. After a moment, he quietly says, “Oh.”

I turn my head slightly. “That’s okay, right? I mean, you’re—”

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” Ian turns me around and puts his hands on my hips. “I, uh… It might take some adjustment. Knowing you’re with someone else. Physically.”

“But you said—”

“I know, I know.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine with it. It’s, you know, going from ‘in theory’ to ‘in practice’.” Before I can ask for the millionth time if he’s
sure
about this, he says, “How was he with that? With kissing you?”

I swallow, my spine prickling at the memory. “It was harder for him than I thought it would be. He’s definitely got some ghosts hanging around in that department.”

Ian flinches. “God, what a travesty.”

“It really is.” I shudder. “I think this process is going to be slower than I thought. I think…” My brain is threatening to send me back to that place it went while I was in the car. Back to the better times that only make the present more painful to accept. “I need…” My eyes dart toward the bottle of vodka, which is starting to sweat on the counter. Then I release my breath and gently free myself from my husband’s embrace. “I think I need a shower. I feel like I’ve got”—I shudder—“Steve all over me.”

Ian nods. “Go. We’ll sit down and have a drink afterward, and maybe talk about this some more.”

“Good idea.”

I kiss him gently and then make my way upstairs, Ariel hot on my heels. She follows me to the bathroom, as she always does. I stop there and pet her, giving her some attention, and then send her into the bedroom to wait until I’m done with my shower. Closing the door is kind of a necessity with her in the house—otherwise it’s a good bet she’ll end up in the shower, as we’ve both found out the hard way a few times.

Alone in the bathroom, I turn on the water as hot as it’ll go and scrub until my skin is raw. I hope to God this doesn’t happen every time I’m with Michael. Hopefully it’s just my body reacting to the undeniable reality of how traumatized my best friend is and how much damage that cretin left behind. I’ve known all along that he hurt Michael, but I never realized Steve’s got a ghost like poison ivy.

The water is starting to get cool, and I’m as clean as I’m going to get, so I shut it off and get out.

After I’ve dried off, I wrap the towel around my waist. When I step out of the bathroom, Ariel isn’t there. The bedroom door is closed, and Ian’s lying in bed, in jeans and nothing else, but he’s not waiting for me so we can go to sleep or go downstairs for a drink. Not with that gleam in his eyes, and definitely not with the bottle of lube conveniently placed on the nightstand.

My shoulders droop. “Ian…”

“I know you don’t feel like it.” He swings his long legs over the edge of the bed and rolls to his feet. He takes off his glasses, sets them beside the bottle of lube and then crosses the room to where I’m standing. As he slides his hands over my bare waist, he adds, “I think it might be good for you to remember why you’re doing this.”

“Oh, believe me. I haven’t forgot—”

Ian’s lips stop mine. Whatever resistance I have is slipping away fast, and in spite of myself, I wrap my arms around him. How he’s in the mood is beyond me, but it’s contagious. I wasn’t thinking positively about sex when I came out of the shower, but even after all these years, Ian can still turn me on when he wants to, and he definitely wants to now. His mouth is taking over mine, and his palms are sliding all over my damp skin, and damn all these goose bumps for giving me away. And if they don’t give me away, the hard-on that’s swelling against his certainly does.

He guides me toward the bed, and with every step, his kiss gets more demanding. He wants me to remember why I’m doing this, what Michael’s been missing all this time and I’ve vowed to get back for him, but sex with Ian is on a whole different plane. Michael is—was—playful and leisurely, never in any rush. Ian doesn’t hurry either, but he’s rough and aggressive, the kind of man who leaves marks. Whenever he’s done with me, I’m satisfied beyond belief, and yet still begging for more.

Maybe he doesn’t want to remind me what I’m doing for Michael as much as he wants me to remember that he’s here too.

Oh, Ian.
I hold him tighter, kiss him harder.
You don’t ever have to worry that I’ll forget you
.

Ian nudges me back another step, and though my eyes are closed and I’m moving backward, I take the step without hesitation. His arm is around me, and he can see past me—he won’t let me fall or hit something. My mind is reeling with anticipation but not fear. Because there’s never been a trace of fear between us in the bedroom. Maybe some first-time clumsiness when we met, but actual fear? None. Never. I can’t imagine ever being scared of Ian, or of him recoiling from my touch the way Michael did tonight. I can’t imagine us ever touching each other any way besides…this. Like two people who are, for the time being, living and breathing for nothing beyond the other’s pleasure.

My calves touch the bed. Ian cups my cock through the towel and squeezes just hard enough to make my breath catch. With a gasp, I break the kiss and tilt my head back, and he goes right for my neck.

“You’ve done enough thinking for tonight,” he whispers, and his lips skate along my throat. “And you’ve got a lot of emotional shit ahead of you.” He kisses beneath my jaw as he tugs the towel free. “So for tonight, I want you to lie back, close your eyes and just enjoy being fucked.”

A shiver runs through me. My towel lands at my feet. “I think I like the sound of that.”

His lips curve into a grin. He plants one more soft little kiss on my neck and then lifts his head. “Anything you want tonight, it’s yours.”

A million fantasies rush through my mind—all the things we’ve done or talked about doing in a decade—but I just whisper, “You.”

Ian’s grin gets bigger, more wicked, and he kisses me once more.

Then he drops to his knees in front of me.

And everything just…disappears. His lips and tongue, his hands, the way he moans with pleasure as he’s sucking my cock—my brain can’t even comprehend anything beyond all this. I watch him, barely breathing. This is one of my favorite views ever. His brow is furrowed as if everything he’s doing requires intense concentration, and whenever his blue eyes flick up to meet mine, my heart nearly stops. Yeah, so much for not being in the mood.

“You’re fucking amazing.” I slide my hands into Ian’s hair and rock my hips, fucking his mouth slowly, and he groans and bobs his head faster.

Then he stops. Disappointment has about two seconds to set in before he meets my gaze again, and…
Jesus
. As he stands, eyes gleaming like they were when I came out of the bathroom, my whole body is electrified. I know exactly what’s next.

“Want me on my back?” I lick my lips. “Or—”

“I want you to stay right there. Don’t move.”

I don’t move. Ian takes off his jeans and boxers, and then he puts his arms around me again. Holding me, kissing me, turning me inside out.

Now we’re moving together. Going back. Going down. Even the instinctive fear of falling backward is barely there—Ian won’t let me drop.

And he doesn’t. He eases me down onto the bed, and sinks down on top of me, kissing me passionately and pressing his feverishly hot body against mine.

He doesn’t stay like that for long, though.

“I want you just like that,” he whispers, and kisses me once more. Then he sits up and reaches for the lube. As he strokes it onto his dick, I can barely lie still.

Yes. Yes. Fuck me.
The sheets gather in my curling fingers.
Right now.

He starts to guide himself in but hesitates. “On second thought…” He nudges my hip. “Turn around.”

Those two words go straight to my balls, and I bite down on a moan. He doesn’t just want to fuck me tonight—he wants to fuck me
hard
.

As I shift position, Ian hands me the damp towel I’d worn out of the bathroom.

“Put this down first.” He gives me a moment to smooth the towel on the bed beneath me.

Then he’s behind me. And he’s pressing against me. And my head is already spinning and the anticipation is going to drive me insane.

And just like it always does, the first stroke takes my breath away.

My head falls forward. The towel and sheets are flimsy anchors, but they’re something to hold on to, and I hold them tight as Ian’s cock slides deeper inside me. As he always does, he takes his time, letting me get used to him before he starts going to town on me. It doesn’t take long—we’ve fucked enough times, my body always yields easily to him—and he steadies my hips as he finds a perfect, smooth cadence.

For a few strokes, anyway. Just as my vision is starting to clear, and I can finally breathe, he speeds up. He has a death grip on me now and holds me perfectly still as he slams into me. Skin slaps against skin. Every thrust knocks breath from my lungs, and I’m pretty sure I’m moaning and cursing, but my brain can’t zero in on anything except the way Ian’s dick feels and his deliciously painful grip on my hips.

His weight shifts. Ian pushes me all the way down to the mattress, the cool and slightly damp towel beneath me emphasizing the warmth of his skin against mine, and he fucks me deep and hard, and between his cock inside me and his hot breath on my neck, I’m losing my mind. Nothing else exists, nothing else matters—just my husband’s amazing body against mine, his cock driving into me, my own cock rubbing against the coarse towel, and the orgasm that’s building by the second.

I claw at the bed. Curl my toes. Try to complement his thrusts, but I can’t move, so I just lie there. Lie there, close my eyes, enjoy the ride. Holy hell, I love the way this man fucks me. My orgasm is both irrelevant and inevitable—I don’t care if I ever come, because I feel so, so good, but I will because it’s impossible not to when Ian’s body is against me and his cock is moving inside me.

He groans in my ear. “Goddamn, you get tight when you’re close. You are…so…”

I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut and trying not to come quite yet. He’s close too, and I love how he sounds—the way his breath catches, the way his voice is strained and shaky.

Somehow, he manages to thrust even harder, as if he thinks he can possibly get any deeper inside me. I press my forehead into the mattress, gripping the edges of the towel and holding my breath and—

And he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.

And I come.

One second, I’m on the verge, and the next, I’m gone, and Ian knows just how to keep me going, fucking me relentlessly as I gasp and cry out and fall to pieces beneath him.

Then I collapse. All I can do now is lie there and be fucked, taking him again and again while aftershocks ripple through me and my fingers knead the comforter.

“
Fuck
.” Ian grunts. Forces himself into me. Trembles.

And exhales, his whole body relaxing on top of mine as cool breath rushes past my neck.