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He sighs, removing his cowboy hat and placing it on my head. “Did you really miss me?” he whispers, searching my eyes.
“Yes.” I move my hand to his face, stroking the rough bristles of your jaw. “Always.” Sighing softly, I put my lips at his neck and leave a lingering kiss below his ear. “I can show you how much I missed you if you let me.”
His hands find the back of my head, pulling my roaming mouth from his neck, holding my face firmly. Grinning, he lowers his lips to mine, stopping short of kissing me. “I missed you too.”
I rock my hips into his. “Ender…”
He smirks, avoiding my eyes. “Shhh…” His fingertips silence me.
“But I—”
He places his hand over my mouth. “Shhh…”
I close my eyes, doing my best to remain quiet. My hands tremble at the thought of him touching me again. Every year it feels like it’s longer and longer until I have his touch again. And when it’s finally there, it’s not enough. I want more.
Iachefor more.
Ender slouches in the chair, pushing between my legs with his hands on my knees. When I’m centered right above where he wants me, he lifts his hips enough I can feel him there, hard, teasing me. I want to push my bikini bottom aside and make him fuck me. Show me how much he missed me by physically taking me. I don’t know why, but that’s how I associated his desire for me. Not words, but physically. I should see how distorted this is, but I don’t. I can’t even comprehend why. Subjectively blind maybe.
I hold onto Ender’s strong biceps, arching into him as he curves around me. “You’d let me?” he asks, his voice rough.
The party around us is heating up, but no one notices the two of us in the chair. “I would.”
“Why?” I open my eyes. “You’d let me because you think this is how I want it?” His hips push again. “I don’t want teasing, Hads,” he grunts, his lashes fluttering, his mouth on mine. “I want all of you.”
“You do have me,” I assure, knowing that isn’t what he means.
Tucked away in the shadows of the flames, I rock into him until the need subsides and he carries me to the water’s edge, the party around us completely oblivious to what we’re doing.
“What are you doing?” I shriek as he carries me into the lake, waist deep.
“Cooling off.”
Fully clothed, we laugh, fight over dominance and before I know it, I’m submerged in the water, holding onto him.
We surface smiling, the fire in the dirt raging higher as Roman pours whiskey on it, and Ender’s mouth is on mine. “I can’t stop.”
“Stop what?”
“The need for you,” he breathes, holding tighter, his eyes only lit by the glow from the fiery sparks, but they’re filled with desire and fear. He’s weaker than he wants me to believe.
He pulls me around the side of the cove, in the trees. In shallow water, he stands, as if he’s going to leave, and I stop him, dropping to my knees in front of him. He smiles and pulls down on the front of his shorts enough that I can take his cock in my hands and mouth.
Holding my head with his calloused hands, he tips his head back and I take him into my mouth. He hits the back of my throat and turns away from the trail in case someone comes. As the moon lights up his body, I watch with fascination at the way his stomach muscles flex and contract.
It’s easy to think this is all we have. Sex. But it’s so much more. He’s vulnerable and shows me a side I never imagined he’d let me see like this. He’s weak, on the edge, and waiting for me. He doesn’t pressure me or push for more, but he gives when I ask. Takes when I let him.
He comes in less than a minute and I swallow, greedy for more.
When he’s finished, he pulls up his shorts and lifts me off the ground and into his arms. Water drips from his hair as he holds tighter. I wrap my legs around his waist and touch my fingers to his lips. “Was it good?”
“You’re the only one who makes me feel good.”
I think he’s referring to sex, and subtly letting me know he’s not with anyone else, but the saddest part about his statement is he thinks he’s not loved. By anyone. He’s hiding behind a closed door, and I don’t know how to open it.
29
WHEN I ACTED MY AGE