Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“Fuck yes. I needed this,” Bruce said, and I did my best to tune him out while I took him. I slammed into him over and over and over again, hands on his hips, fingers digging into his skin.
Cyrus’s voice, his soft, “Crow…” was suddenly playing in my head, making me slam into Bruce harder, making me pull him up so he stood, his back against my chest, my arm around his body, hand on his throat as I railed him harder.
“So fucking good. God, you’re in a mood today. Harder.”
I shook my head, wanting his voice out of it, wanting to hear Cyrus say my name again. Wanting it to be his hole I was inside, his neck beneath my hand as I squeezed in a way I knew would get Bruce off but wouldn’t hurt him.
“Crow,” Cyrus said again inside my head, causing my body to slap even harder against Bruce’s.
I put more pressure on his throat, using my other hand to jerk him off. His smell was all wrong. His skin felt all wrong. I wished for the gentle hint of sugar, pictured big gray eyes that held a world of sadness, the way his mouth parted slightly when he slept…
My orgasm sneaked up on me, bowling me over as my body went rigid and I filled the condom with my desire for Cyrus.
Bruce came too, crying out, his slick release on my hand, which felt wrong there too.
“God, I want that again. I wish you’d stay and do it again.”
But I didn’t stay. I never did. I wiped his cum on a towel, pulled my jeans up and fastened them. I tugged five hundred dollars from my pocket, two more than he charged me, because I felt guilty fucking him while imagining Cyrus.
Then, like always, I was gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Cyrus
“Tell me where it hurts.”
Two months later, I couldn’t get the rough, gritty sound of Crow’s voice out of my head. It was all I’d thought about. Well, that, and the feel of him touching me, the gentle way he’d stroked my face as if I were something precious to him and he didn’t want to break me, though not in a way that made me feel like he thought I was weak. Plenty of men had made me feel that way, but with Crow it felt like I was something to cherish, like I meant something to him.
Which was absolutely ridiculous. The two times he’d been to town since I’d left his place, he’d proven that I was out of my mind and that him caring about me was just wishful thinking. Both times he wouldn’t even make eye contact. He’d ignored me when I’d tried to speak to him, to tell him I got confirmation it was a bad sprain, no fracture, and I just had to wear one of those special boots. I’d used the crutches I’d gotten from the doctor and had tried to give Crow’s back to him, but he’d only pushed them away and walked out.
And I was the idiot who had my feelings hurt about it. When would I ever learn? I had never truly mattered to anyone except my mom, and I never would.
I was off my crutches now and out of the boot. Would he care?
Sometimes Eddie made you feel like you mattered. He at least made you feel wanted.
I rolled over in my bed, hoping somehow the movement would make those thoughts fall out. I’d been having them more and more lately. Crow might not want me, but Eddie would, his friends as well, and it would help, even if only for a moment.
“That’s the dumbest thing you can do. When will you ever learn?” I asked myself, my words echoing in the empty room.
I wondered if Crow ever did that. Did he speak to himself? Just talk out loud in the cabin or in the woods? His voice had been rough, but I figured he’d had to use it some for him to still have it. But what did I know about those things?
With a sigh, I forced myself to sit on the edge of the mattress. I didn’t want to go to work, just wanted to sit in my bed all day, but I knew I had to go.
I plucked my antidepressant and mood stabilizer off my nightstand, took the pills with my water bottle, and was already waiting for the day to be over.
*
I couldn’t stop pacing. I’d done something really fucking stupid, and now that mistake was about to show up on my doorstep.
I wrung my hands, my stomach in knots. But I needed this. Needed something. Was it so bad to want to feel good? And Eddie was easy. Eddie always came because he knew that once he had me again, he could get me high and all that would matter was him and the drugs.