Let Love Live (The Love Series #5) (12 page)

I saw the fear in his eyes, registered the rapid increase of his breathing. He moved away from me, only an inch or so, but I felt the warmth of his body vanish instantly. Sitting up quickly, he stared at me, more than just simple fright in his eyes.

“No, you can’t.” He shook his head violently as his voice took on a very frenzied tone. “I don’t know if I can deal with that, yet. What if it comes back to me?”

“Are you ashamed of me?” I sat up with him, crossed my arms over my chest. The hurt was clear in my voice no matter how much I wanted to disguise it as anger.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No,” he answered curtly. Frustration danced around us like the fireflies dotting the night sky.

“You fucking are. Don’t lie, you asshole.” I jumped up from where I was sitting and swung my leg over the outfield fence, heading toward the car. Before I could even open my door, I felt Shane step behind me. His hot breath was on my neck as he nudged his leg in between mine. He had me trapped between his body and the car and I couldn’t tell if I was happy or pissed about it.

But one thing was certain, I was fucking rock hard feeling him pressed up against me. He nuzzled my neck, his rough stubble leaving a delicious burn against my skin. The tip of his tongue flicked at my earlobe before he sensually pressed his full lips to the spot right below it. “I am
not
ashamed of you.” He pulled me closer, impossibly so. “Not at all,” he added as he grabbed at the bulge in my pants.

I arched my hips, trying but failing to pull away from him. Shane turned me in the strong circle of his arms before wrapping them around my waist, securing me to his body. His mouth crashed into mine, hard and fast, fevered and rushed. There was a sense of urgency to his kiss, but also a promise – I could taste it.

That taste – of blunt honesty and brutal truth – forced a garbled groan of pleasure to escape my mouth. Shane devoured it before pulling back from me, his eyes searching my face to make sure I was there with him. He grazed his knuckles along my cheek and jawline, canting his head to the side. “Believe me, please,” he begged. “I am not ashamed of you or of us.”

I closed my eyes slowly, just savoring the sincerity of his words, leaning into the tenderness of his touch. I nodded subtly, not wanting to break the contact of his hand on my face. My soft breath turned into a sharp inhale when he dragged the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. Out of pure instinct – or maybe it was just the desire to taste him – I darted my tongue out, and licked his finger.

Now, it was his turn to inhale sharply. Needing to taste more of him, I quickly grabbed his wrist and held his thumb in place. Without ever breaking eye contact, I sucked his thumb into my mouth. Sliding my lips and tongue across his skin, even if it was only his thumb, made me want to taste him all over.

We hadn’t gone
there
yet, but if I had my way, we would be
there
in about two minutes. When I lightly scraped my teeth over his thumb, he groaned as his head lolled backward.

Completely lost to the feel of my mouth secured tightly around his digit, he didn’t even realize that I had pulled us away from the door and opened it. I pushed him down onto the seat – sideways, so that his legs stuck out the door.

We’d been here a million times as kids, way into the night sometimes, playing manhunt and goofing around. No one ever came down here. It was private.

And privacy was just what I needed to do what I wanted.

I sank to my knees, the gravel of the parking lot biting into my skin. Shane tried to get me stand up. “What are you doing?”

“Something I’ve wanted to do for longer than I can remember.” He must have approved of my answer because the only response of which he was capable was to rake his fingers through my hair and pull my face up to his for a searing kiss.

His tongue swept into the corners of my mouth, a velvet lash of pure pleasure. If he hadn’t already owned me, he would have threatened to consume me. Feeling his lips against mine, as his tongue stroked every inch of my mouth, I knew I would be forever altered by this beautifully scared man.

He pulled away from me, catching his breath, his chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. Reaching into the backseat, he pulled out his baseball sweatshirt and folded it up into a pillow before sliding it under my knees.

The kindness of the action made my heart swell.

Knowing that he wanted what I was about to do just as much as I did made other things swell also.

He was wearing a pair of mesh athletic shorts, so access was easy. As I hooked my thumbs into the elastic at his waist, he lifted his hips from the seat so that I could slide them down to his ankles.

His cock, thick and veined, jutted out, bobbed under its own weight, reaching toward my lips as if it were teasing me, tempting me, taunting, “Go ahead. Lick me. Suck me. You know you want to.”

Shane’s scent invaded my senses, musky and masculine, but clean and soapy. I licked my palm, making it good and wet before stroking his throbbing cock. It made my head spin that I knew how to touch him, that I knew just what to do to make him go crazy.

His breath came out in short pants, in sizzling hisses that barely escaped his lips.

“You like that?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He rammed his hips forward, shoving his dick even further into my tight grip. “You know I do. Fuck, Dyl.”

I slowed my movements, rubbed my thumb over the wide crown, spreading the drop of moisture around. He looked down at me just as I shoved my own thumb into my mouth, tasting him for the very first time.

My mouth watered and I licked his cock from the base all the way to the tip. Feeling him harden even further made me hungrier for him. I wrapped my lips around him, taking as much as I could deep into my throat. Shane’s fingers dug into the back of my neck before he moved his hand to my face. He skimmed his palm over my jaw, feeling his tip of his dick roll inside my mouth, poking against my cheek.

“Oh…God…that feels amazing,” he grumbled. His fingers clenched the leather of the seat until his knuckles turned white.

I looked up at him at the exact second he looked down at me. It was the most intense connection I had ever felt. I may have had his dick in my mouth, but he had my heart in his hand.

Picking up the intensity, I wrapped my hand around the base, stroking him rhythmically as my mouth and tongue massaged the rest of him. Shane grabbed for my other hand as it rested on the seat, moving it to his tightening sac. He was close and the gentle play of my fingers over the skin there, along with the added pressure of my mouth had him coming in a loud roar.

I swallowed down every drop he gave me, as he convulsed beneath me. Out of breath and totally in awe of what had just happened, I rested my face on his leg and enjoyed the feel of his fingers playing through my hair.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Shane asked breathlessly.

I’m sure he could feel my smile against his leg. Looking up at him, I laughed. “Porn,” I deadpanned, watching him war with how to react to my answer.

When he started choking on his words, I laughed again. “Calm down, Shane. I’m kidding.” He pulled up his shorts and shifted over in his seat, making barely enough room for me to slide next to him. “I didn’t
learn
it anywhere. I just did what felt right.” I leaned my head on his shoulder as he draped his arm around mine. “Did it feel right?” Uncertainty swirled in my head.

He pulled me closer to him, kissed the top of my head, and smiled down at me. “Uh, yeah it did.”

“Good, then you’ll let me do it again?” I joked as we relaxed against one another.

“Only if you let me do it to you, too,” he whispered against my temple.

We sat in the quiet stillness for a while longer, listening to nothing but the sounds of the night and our quiet breathing. His words startled me, roused me out of my sleepy state.

“I’m sorry I screwed everything up. I let my grades slip for the last year, and then we lost states and my stats took a nosedive.” It took me a minute to realize what the hell he was even talking about.

Scranton.

I sat up, turned toward him, and gripped both of his hands in mine. “Listen to me, Shane. You didn’t screw up anything. We’ll figure it out.” I just didn’t know how.

Studying in the back corner of the poorly lit library of Sullivan County Community College was not exactly where I wanted to be. No, where I wanted to be was at Scranton, with Dylan. Even though he was only about an hour-and-a-half drive from me, it felt like he was a world away.

I missed him so much; it physically hurt. I tried to tell myself I only had to deal with being away from him for a year. Just one year. The main focus of the year was to get my grades back up and save up enough money to get out of here. To move away from my family and be done with this place.

But no matter how many times I told myself those things, I still felt like I couldn’t keep my head above water. Being with Dylan was the only thing that made me feel whole, complete – he made me feel alive.

Without him, the depression I had felt through most of my senior year came back in full force, making it nearly impossible to get out of bed some mornings. Of course, my father mistook this for me being a “lazy, unmotivated piece-of-shit” – an accusation that I no longer cared to defend.

To be honest, I felt worthless. Reid was enjoying his junior year of high school, living up his football season with endless parties and girls. I think he enjoyed being out of my shadow in that small school, even though he would never admit it. So rather than bringing him down, I lied to him constantly, that I had made friends, that I was enjoying college. I wanted him to believe me more than anything, because if he didn’t, if he prodded and asked me questions, if he tried to kick me out of this funk, I knew I’d break down.

I just had to focus, but at eight o’clock on a Thursday night in a dreary library with a textbook staring me down, focus was the last thing I had going for me.

Lost in thought about him, I pulled out my phone and tried to call Dylan. No one was around me and the librarian, who looked like she might keel over and die if someone made a moderately loud noise, was busy behind the front desk, typing away on the ancient computer.

His phone rang four or five times before the voicemail picked up. Sadly, even hearing his greeting made me feel a little better, not much, but a little, nonetheless. I left him a message, telling him I missed him and that I was looking forward to visiting him in a few weeks.

Just as I was sliding my phone back into my pocket, a strong hand clamped down on my shoulder, scaring the shit out of me. I turned in my seat, and saw Scott Henderson, from baseball camp, standing behind me. “Hey, Scott.” I stood and shook his hand.

“Shane. I thought that was you. I think we’re in the same sociology class.” His words were friendly, but I would always remember him for how he spoke about Dylan, at first, questioning his sexuality with an unmistakable disdain.

“Yeah, I think so.” He pulled up a seat next to me, and turned it backward before sitting in it. I returned to my seat and began packing my things up. I felt uneasy, whether it was because I was feeling lonely, or because Scott put me on edge, I just knew I wanted to get out of there.