Page 25 of Burning Demons (Burning Torments #1)

Chapter 25

Wren

There was a reason love was such a powerful and long-standing plot behind so many books, movies, poems, and epic tales. It was fucking complicated, and no two stories were ever the same. My story, our story, might have turned a corner, a fun, exciting, sexy corner, but nothing much had changed, other than everything.

Tate was still this incredible, vulnerable at times, and amazing guy who made me feel ten feet tall and humbled all at the same time. I, for the most part, was still a bit hesitant, reluctantly noticed when in public, and had a crazy bold streak when I got him alone.

So, yeah, the same.

But now, my heart shouted inside my chest, practically bursting with wanting to tell everyone, show everyone, how much Tate made me happy, how much he was the best part of my life. I held what we had with a protection so fierce it probably made me seem a little more pissed than I really was.

What we had, what Tate gave me, was priceless and irreplaceable. The blaze in my soul might have been bright, but I cupped it like a flickering flame, holding my breath so that I wouldn’t blow it out. It set me on edge and kept me there until Tate was back in my sights. Until his handsome face softened with a knowing smile just for me.

My grumpy exterior hid the gooey interior that melted every time Tate sent me a text during classes. We weren’t supposed to have our phones out, and the thought of him breaking rules for me was incredibly hot. I’d saved one of the pictures Sienna took of him during the fall festival to his contact. All day, that sexy smirk of his popped on my phone screen and had my imagination running crazy. Well, crazier.

He sent memes and stupid jokes, mostly. Then, he started sending me links for music schools and videos of various orchestras, including the BSO.

Playing for the Boston Symphony Orchestra would be a dream. One Tate remembered me briefly mentioning however long ago that was, considering all the links for apartments in Boston he also sent. The first few were ridiculous iron and brick lofts we’d never be able to afford, but it was nice to imagine living with him in one.

A part of me didn’t wanna leave the South. I liked it here okay. Even if we weren’t the most progressive, I didn’t have that grass-was-greener mentality. Every place probably had something wrong with it. Here, I knew what the somethings were, but moving had many positives too.

I wasn’t going to fulfill any dreams about playing the cello as a career by staying in Hickory Bend. And though Birmingham had an orchestra, I just didn’t see my future here anymore. The whole thing looked a little gray and shapeless right now, and that dragged my mood low by the time we got home from school.

After dinner and homework, Tate sat on my bed and watched me finish cello practice. With the way my mind drifted as it always did but his sparkling eyes keeping me grounded, my future took on more definition. The two things that made me the happiest were right here in this room. If I could play for him until my last breath, I think I’d call life a win. So, yeah, fuck yeah, why not pursue music professionally?

The thrill of a path laid before transferred into my music, and the slower strain of Bach flowed into the Vivaldi Concerto I practiced on my own. I pushed and pushed. My arms and fingers were already sore and cramping, but that was life, right? It hurt. It soared. It fell flat, but then it got back up again. I cracked my lids open for inspiration, and Tate straightened. With his eyes locked on mine and a sly grin fighting for freedom on his lips, I finished. The last note held, then faded into nothing.

Tate let go and smiled so brightly tears burned the backs of my eyes.

“I knew you could do it,” he whispered. His voice in the silence of my room was as pretty as anything I could play.

“I’m gonna go for it. I’m gonna pursue music.”

He cocked his head and bit his lip. His bangs were so long now he had to flick his head with the movement to get them out of his eyes. My dick surged with interest, and my heart rate spiked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I chewed my bottom lip. “I think so?”

Tate chuckled. “You do, or you do not. No thinking.”

“Okay, Yoda.”

“What?”

I gasped and stared. “You don’t know fuckin’ Yoda?”

“What is a yoda?”

“It’s a who. The greatest Jedi ever.”

“Oh. I get it. Right, right. Yoda. Star Wars . I thought you were talking about a brand or the name of a tractor or something.”

“Whew. Jesus, Tate. For a minute, I thought you’d never seen Star Wars .”

“I haven’t.”

“What?”

“Uh, I haven’t? I know about it, but I’ve never watched it.”

I threw my hands up. “Holy fuck. We’re watching Star Wars . Tonight.”

And that’s what we did.

Tate put on a pair of my pajama pants, sans boxers—he thought I hadn’t noticed—and sat back against my headboard as I cued Episode IV .

“Why is it called Episode IV ? Where’s one through three?” he asked.

“They’re out there but not important. You’re not missing anything.”

“How can you say that? You’re dumping me right in the mix. I’ll be lost.”

“You won’t be. This was the first one they made. The graphics aren’t the best, but it’s not confusing at all.” I crawled beside him and settled in. When the opening music hit, I shivered all over.

“A long time ago? Didn’t you say this was in space? I thought space was the future.”

I paused the movie and sighed. “It’s not Star Trek . Look, it says it right there: in a galaxy far, far away .”

“So these far, far away aliens are more advanced than us even ‘a long time ago.’”

“Are you gonna ask questions every minute?”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, just watch.”

My dad made me watch this as a kid. I grew up on Star Wars and was still as consumed as I had been back then. The old graphics never bothered me, but I worried Tate wouldn’t be as into it. He had one of my legs sandwiched between his, and his arms were wrapped around one of mine. He curled into my shoulder, and I grinned every time he tensed with the action. He was totally into it.

He passed out during Episode V . I brushed his hair with my fingers and missed the next thirty minutes of it as I stared at him, so I shut the movie off.

“Tate,” I whispered and scratched through his hair.

“Mmmm.”

“Tate. You gotta get up and go to your room.”

“Nooo.”

“Tate,” I laughed. “Come on, sleeping beauty.” I got up and shifted him into a sitting position. His hair stuck out all over his head, and a red mark creased his face where he’d slept on my wrinkled shirt. I rubbed over it with my thumb.

Tate smiled a little lopsidedly, then groaned as I helped him to his feet.

“Momma would shit if she found you asleep in my room,” I said as I walked him to his.

“Promise me one day we can sleep together,” he mumbled.

His sleepy, thick voice and dreamy words didn’t help the chubby in my boxers.

“Promise, baby.” It had slipped out before, but this was a little more intentional.

Tate grinned and fell into bed, mumbling, “Baby.”

A future with Tate was exactly what I wanted, but we had to survive our senior year first. Momma would kill us if she found out about this the wrong way, and I had no clue what the right way would be.

Tate had no answers either. We talked about how to come clean every free moment, which put a bit of a mood dampener on any sexy stuff. That was until Sam took Momma to dinner Saturday night and we had the house to ourselves for a few hours.

“Fuckin’ hell.” I bit my lip and groaned, rocking my hips against Tate’s ass. “Too good. I’m not gonna make it.”

We’d changed it up, just to try it. Tate was on all fours, and I was behind him. It had its appeal, that was for damn sure. I had the best view, watching myself sink inside him. I didn’t really have the self-control to last long but could hardly take my eyes off where our bodies joined.

“You better. You can’t stop yet.” Tate was breathless, which didn’t help. “Mmm. Harder.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tate.”

He laughed, constricting his already unbelievably tight body around me. “Harder, Big Country, please.”

“Tate. Stop.”

He clenched again, and I let loose. It was over anyway. I dug my fingertips into his hips, hauling him back as I pounded forward for as long as I could stretch it out.

“Shit! Shit. Oh, Jesus, fuck. Fuck.” Tate groaned so loud and came with a scream.

I didn’t need his pulsing ass pushing me over that edge, but when it did, fucking stars flashed before my vision went utterly black for a quick second, and then I collapsed over his back. With no good outlet for the emotions, I bit his shoulder—really hard. Tate gasped and shook. I should feel a little bad about it, but it wasn’t easy to control myself with him. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

“You keep squeezing my dick like that, I’m gonna get hard in seconds.”

“Good.” Tate’s voice was a bit muffled with his face smushed into the mattress. “You know I’m going to want it again before they get home.”

“Fuckin’ insatiable, Tate.” I eased out of him, kissing a trail down his spine until he shuddered when I pulled free. I slapped his ass lightly, which made him grin, and then I kissed the light pink mark.

“What did you think about doing it that way?” He glanced over his shoulder to watch me as I answered.

“I like it too much. Maybe we can do it again when I’ve got more control over myself. That didn’t last long.”

Tate chuckled.

“Don’t laugh at that, shithead. I’d like to see you try to hold out with a hot, greedy ass clutching your cock while watching the best porn in all the world.”

“I’m game when you are.”

I chuckled but huffed out a hesitant breath. I was fairly confident I was a top. I liked it—well, duh, no shit. But I liked the control of it. I liked Tate begging me, no matter what it was, harder, softer, faster, slower. Something inside felt right. Now, that was not to say I wasn’t more than curious about bottoming at least once.

“We’ll try eventually,” I said. “This is all so new. Do you mind if we wait on that? I mean, maybe we can fool around, but I mean, you fuckin’ me like that. Can we wait?”

Tate scrambled onto his side and cupped my jaw with his palm. “Of course. You know I was just teasing. I’d never pressure you like that.”

“I know, but I wanna make you happy, you know?”

“You do that by existing, Wren. We’ll do it when you’re ready or never if you never are.” He smiled, the killer one. “I love … I l-love what we do.”

“Me too.” I leaned closer and brushed a kiss over his throat, up to his jaw, then across his lips. “Now, lie back so I can suck your cock until you’re begging me to come again. Then I’m gonna fuck your come-soaked ass.”

Tate swallowed. “Uh, c-can I start begging now?”

In answer, I pushed his shoulders until he lay beneath me. My bed was a mess. I moved him to the clean side and lowered down, taking him to the throat once before popping off him and licking him up like cream.

He jerked and squirmed when I gave the tip too much attention, so I stayed clear of it while I tongued his veins and balls. The scent of musk and sweat filled my lungs, making me hard and hungry for him again. From behind had been hot as fuck, but I’d missed being able to judge his expressions, to make sure he was doing okay and I wasn’t hurting him.

When Tate lifted his hips, fucking my throat, I pulled off him, lubed up, and slid right back inside his hole.

“Yessssss. Yes, Tate.” My whole body shivered.

His legs were raised, but I looped my arms under his knees and set an easy pace to start. My lids were half-closed in ecstasy, and Tate writhed beneath me. When his gripping ass got to be too much, I dropped his legs, and Tate locked them around my waist. Arms now free, I gripped one hip and his cock and stroked him rough and fast to match my thrusts.

“Wren,” he whispered.

He kept a death grip on the pillow under his head as he came. With the first pulse of it, I shot off too. Our combined moans and the heady scent of sex saturated my room, and I’d swear, just the smell alone would get me hard again. I curled over him and rested my head on his shoulder.

“We should record that shit.”

I laughed but was too tired to do much more than shake my shoulders a little.

Tate winced when I pulled free.

“You promise it doesn’t hurt?” I asked.

He gave me a crooked grin and nodded. “Yes, I promise. Not like you’re thinking anyway.”

I nodded because I believed him and fell to the bed, exhausted. Tate curled into my shoulder, so I adjusted until we were wrapped around and tangled into each other.

Thoughts rambled in my head, one of which told me to get up, clean us off, and not fall asleep. I didn’t listen. I fell asleep. Tate did too.

And that was how Momma found us Sunday morning.

“Wren Bailey Wilkerson!”