Page 22 of Crossroads

TWENTY-ONE

“Tell me about your dreams.”

“My what?” I pull back and look into Jasper’s pretty green eyes that are sparkling with happiness.

I mean, they should be. We’ve been rolling around naked in his bed for the past half hour, kissing and exploring each other, but . . . we haven’t come yet, and I was kind of looking forward to that.

Jasper tucks one arm behind his head, though, looking all too comfortable, and smiles at me. “Why do you want to go to college? What’s after that.”

“So you mean like my hopes and dreams? Plans?” I ask.

He nods. “Unbelievable,” I grumble and fall next to him on the bed, flat on my back.

“I’m going to have to up my game if you really want to talk about life right now, when I was this close to sucking your dick and making you come your brains out. ”

His hand immediately goes to his dick and wraps around the base. “Jesus. Your mouth,” he gasps.

“That’s what I’m saying!” I tease, and he shoves my shoulder after letting go of his dick that’s still hard as steel, as is mine. I huff, though I’m not really that annoyed. It feels like we have time, but then . . . I also know we really don’t.

But our conversation at the pond earlier rings back into my ears, and I realize maybe he does need to talk. He’s nervous about going to see his parents tomorrow. I know that feeling—because I’m usually in trouble when I had to face my parents. But still, I get it, to a point.

“I don’t really know. I want to travel. See the world, I guess.”

I roll to my side and study him, his brow scrunched. “I never really wanted to do that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking where you live,” I say truthfully, though it’s funny because just a month ago, I’d have pitied him for only knowing Kensley. Now, not so much.

Jasper is simple in the most beautiful way. It doesn’t mean he’s stupid or doesn’t care about the rest of the world. It’s just that he can see the beauty right here in front of him.

“Do they pay you to travel?” He’s being serious, I think. “I mean, can you major in traveling?”

I grin. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know. I thought photography might be kind of cool. Maybe start a blog. Traveling. I don’t know.”

It sounds really lame, now that I say it out loud. And my parents would lose their shit if I ever dared mentioned that’s what I want to do with my life. Travel and post about it? Yeah. They’d die of shame.

“Hey . . .” I feel Jasper’s strong hand on my cheek and realize I’ve squeezed my eyes tightly closed. “If that’s what you want, I have no doubt that’s what you’ll do. It sounds nice.”

I snort but hope it’s not unkind. “You don’t have to lie to me. You’d hate that life.” He’s quiet for a while then, and I realize my fuckup. “Not that you’d have to live that life anyway. I mean . . . we aren’t together.” Wow. Shut up, Emerson. “I mean, you’ll be here in Kensley, so yeah.”

He grins at that and thankfully lets me off the hook. “It sounds nice for you. I think you’d be great at it, Emerson. Show people the world. Maybe I’ll follow your blog and live through you.”

I scoot closer to him, my heart pinching because that sentence . . . it’s sweet, but it’s also just all wrong. Following me through my social media and not right there with me. The summer is coming dangerously close to the end, and I thought I’d be happy about that.

All I feel is a sense of dread.

How many more nights will I get like this? Will it be enough to live my life fueled by these memories? Of him and me?

I feel desperate, all of a sudden. Needy, as I climb on top of his big body and kiss the hell out of him. He kisses me back, just as frantic. “Touch me,” I plead.

His hands smooth over my back as he swallows my tongue, but it’s not enough. I reach for the lube and place it next to us on the bed.

“Touch me. Everywhere. I need you.”

“Shhh,” he soothes me and then rolls us so I’m under him. I don’t really know what I’m asking for. I just know I’m feeling unsettled and clingy, terrified he’s going to let me go.

He kisses down my body slowly, and I lie there, panting, before he settles between my knees and wraps his hand around my shaft.

It’s something we’ve done so many times now, but it feels just as incredible as the first time when he drags his pink tongue through my slit and down over the head.

He circles each piercing and then sits back, his big cock standing tall and proud.

I want him inside me.

It’s an instant thought. One that scares and excites me at the same time, but I can’t seem to open my mouth to request it. We both got our test results back last week, and we’re both negative.

He could fuck me bare.

But I can’t open my mouth to say it.

I want it. I want it so badly, my brain is going haywire. But I’m breathing heavily, and nerves start to skitter down my body. I lick my dry lips and then open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Jasper—ever the calm to my storm—just smiles at me. “Shh. Trust me, okay?”

I nod immediately. There’s no one I trust more. His hands smooth over my lower stomach and down my thighs, making them quake. He reaches my calves and then wraps his hands around both ankles, pushing them back and directing me to plant my feet on the bed.

I feel exposed, but the hot and needy part is way more dominant. I squirm under his view as he looks directly at my asshole, my legs splayed for him, opening myself.

“You’re perfect, Emerson. Everything about you is so damn beautiful.” He reaches for the lube, and I watch as he flicks it open and then drizzles some on his fingers, rubbing the liquid between two of them. “Especially this pretty pink hole.”

My dick jerks at his praise, and he notices, that devilish smile almost wolfish as he leans forward and licks the tip again, swallowing the flavor and licking his lips.

“You taste so good.”

“Please, Jasper,” I say, shifting a little on the bed. Needy and wanton. I feel like I might combust.

He sucks the head into his mouth, just as I feel one slick pad of his finger circle my hole. He doesn’t press inside when I tense up, but I quickly calm and then press against him, trying to fuck myself on his finger.

He smiles around my cock, taking more into his mouth as he pushes his finger slightly into me. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not really that great either. “More,” I plead quietly, but he hears me.

He pushes into the knuckle and then stops, giving all his attention to my hard dick, sucking and licking before he pushes more inside. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a little uncomfortable. Though when he pulls his finger entirely out, I whimper at the loss.

“No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes me yet again, and I’d feel ridiculous if it was with anyone else. He adds more lube and then pushes his finger slowly back into me. Over and over, he pushes lube into me with one finger and then two, stretching me out as he sucks my dick, taking nearly the whole thing.

Of course he would master deep throating before me. The fucker.

But when his fingers brush over that magic spongy spot inside me—that thanks to a little Googling, I know is my prostate—I lose it, shooting into the back of his mouth and nearly blacking out from the sheer pleasure of it.

He massages my gland until I cry out with too much sensitivity, and then he slowly removes his fingers, his tongue licking up all the cum from my spent dick, and then crawls up my body to kiss me hard, letting me taste myself as he ruts against me.

My arms feel like jelly, but I do manage to reach down and wrap my hand around his hard cock, needing to be the one to make him come.

“You’re so beautiful, Emerson,” he repeats over and over, thrusting his hard dick into my fist, and I wish it was my ass, but I don’t say anything because he’s coming.

His face a glorious vision of ecstasy as he throws his head back and unleashes into my hand and all over my stomach.

How is this so good?

And how am I going to let this go?

Not only just this . . . but him?