Page 32 of Don’t Say You’re Sorry (Hawthorne University #2)

I hesitate. “Were you serious about me fucking you? I want to,” I rush to assure him. “But I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to top. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He chuckles as he straddles me, taking my wrists and guiding them above my head. “I’m still the top,” he says near my ear. “Only instead of fucking you with my dick, I’m gonna fuck you with my ass. Is that okay?”

I breathe a sigh of relief and nod.

He uses the tie to secure my wrists to the headboard, the remote still clutched in my fist. I hit the button again, and he lets out another one of those throaty groans, his teeth nipping my earlobe. “Again.”

I hit the button again.

“One more.”

And again.

He curses, his mouth parted as he pants against my cheek. His thighs tense around my hips, and he reaches back, carefully removing the plug. He sets it down on the bed, and I turn it off. Lifting my head as much as I can, I watch as he slathers us both with lube.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yes. Are you?”

Instead of answering, he reaches between us, grabs the base of my dick, and lowers himself until the tip breaches his hole.

I pull on my restraints, wishing I could bite my fist to muffle the sounds coming out of me.

I’ve never felt anything like this before.

He’s wet and hot, squeezing me so hard that I don’t think I’ll make it another inch before I explode inside him.

“Oh, fuck, you’re tight.”

He snorts. “You’ve been watching too much porn. That’s a corny line.”

“It’s not a line, it’s the truth. I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

“I fit inside you, don’t I? Have a little faith in me.”

“Right. Sorry. Carry on.”

He bears down on me, and I drop my head back, my toes curling and my nails digging into my palms. He slowly lowers himself until I’m all the way inside him, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to come within the first five seconds.

“Adam, breathe.”

“Can’t,” I gasp. “If I move even an inch right now, it’s all over.”

“Trust me. Relax. It’ll feel even better.”

I’m not sure that’s possible, but still, I obey, forcing the breath out of my lungs and unclenching my muscles one by one.

“Good.” He leans over me, our mouths brushing as he rocks up and down. “Don’t tense up. Let yourself feel it.”

That’s all the warning I get before he presses the button on the remote again. This time, instead of arching away from it, I sink into it, my mouth open in a silent scream.

He was right. It’s even better when I let myself feel it.

He wraps his hand around my throat, hitting the button again and again as he slips his tongue into my mouth. I suck on it, hungry for everything he’s giving me.

I want more.

I demand as much into his mouth before pulling away. I bare my neck to him, and he obliges, sucking his mark into my flesh. My hips buck, and his movements falter as he groans into my neck. He liked that.

“Can I move?”

He nods. Bracing my feet on the bed, I fuck up into him as he bounces on my dick. His ass clenches around me, and I curse.

“Does it feel good?”

“So good,” he praises. “You gonna fill me up, little brother?”

Oh my God.

A loud moan tears from my throat as I come. He covers my mouth with his hand, shushing me as he rides me through it. Boneless and breathing hard through my nose, I blink up at him. “Do you think we woke them?” I ask against his palm.

“ We ?”

If I wasn’t tied to the headboard, I’d flip him the bird.

He glances at the door over his shoulder, waiting a few moments. When nothing happens, he breathes a sigh of relief and removes his hand from my mouth.

“My turn.” Grabbing his plug, he gently eases off me and pushes the toy back into his ass. I inhale a slow breath to stop myself from making a noise. “Do I need to gag you?”

I tilt my head side to side, considering. “That could be hot.”

Raising a brow, he grabs his T-shirt and stuffs it into my mouth. I widen my eyes in surprise.

“Careful what you wish for, little brother .”

“Oh, fuck you,” I mumble around the makeshift gag.

“I’m getting to that,” he jokes.

Maneuvering himself, he settles between my legs and pushes my thighs up to my ribs, twisting the plug in my ass.

“Can I take a picture of you?” he asks. “I want you to see what I see.”

I want to ask what that is, but I can’t speak, so I just nod.

He grabs his phone and snaps a photo of me, turning it around so I can see.

I look wrecked. Completely undone. My dark hair is a mess against the white pillows.

My pupils are blown wide. There’s a fresh hickey on my neck, covering the older, faded ones.

My spent dick is lying across my hip. My legs are spread wide, his fingers touching the plug in my ass. It’s hot. I look hot.

Is that what he wanted me to see?

Confused, I cut my eyes back to him.

“You’re beautiful.”

My brows dip.

“I love the way you are when you’re with me,” he whispers. “The way you let me see you, inside and out. The way you trust me completely. You’re so…pure,” he says after searching for the right word. “You’re too good for me, Adam.”

I shake my head vehemently. That can’t be what he thinks. That’s what I think about him .

He’s the pure one. He’s confident. Kind. Loyal. Loveable. Smart. Funny. Ambitious. Protective of those he loves. Determined to get what he wants out of life. Despite everything he’s been through, he lives every day with a smile.

He’s the sunshine after rain.

I’m nothing special. I’m antisocial. My grades are nothing to write home about. I’m unambitious. Pessimistic. Anxious. Awkward. I wouldn’t have a single friend if it wasn’t for him. I’d be a loner, locked in my room all day drawing and letting the world pass me by.

He could do so much better than me.

He sighs. “You don’t see it, do you?”

“No.”

“That’s okay,” He bends to kiss me, removing the plug from my ass. “Luckily for you, you’ve got me to keep telling you how great you are until you start to believe it.”

After prepping my hole with lube, he fucks me until I’m hard again. He makes me come again before spilling inside me, breathing hard into my neck, sweat dripping off his forehead onto my shoulder. I wrap my legs around him and wait for my heart rate to return to normal.

After a while, I tap his thigh with my heel. He lifts his head, and I give him a look. My voice comes out muffled around the shirt in my mouth. “I’m a little tied up here, sunshine.”

He laughs and frees me from the headboard.

“Your parents’ divorce wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

I look up at Easton. I’m on my front between his legs.

We’re still naked on his bed, plugged full of each other’s cum, and I’m drawing on his chest with the pen I found on his nightstand.

Drawing helps when I’m anxious, but I was too lazy to go to my room to get my iPad or a sketchbook, so I’m using his body as my canvas.

“Axel made me promise not to tell our mum, and I did it anyway,” I remind him.

He nods thoughtfully. “What if it had been you?”

“What?”

“What if your dad had hit you instead of Axel that day? Would he have told you not to tell?”

I hesitate. I never thought of it like that. “No, he wouldn’t have,” I say begrudgingly.

“No,” he agrees. “He would have done right by you, just like you did right by him. You protected him. And your mom. You did the right thing, baby.”

“Still. You didn’t see how broken she was after she kicked him out. It went on for months. She lost everything, Easton.” I clear my throat and look back down at his chest, continuing to draw. “Axel’s right. I can’t do that to her again.”

He pauses. “Do you want to break up?”

I don’t give myself time to think about it, scared of what would happen if I did. “No.”

I still don’t look at him, but I don’t miss the slow breath he lets out. He doesn’t say anything for a long time after that.

“What does that say?” he asks, looking upside down at the word I just drew above his nipple. “Sunshine?”

I pull back to look at my masterpiece. Yeah, I guess it does.

“Sorry. I was just doodling. You wanna shower?”

“No.” He runs his finger beneath the ink. “I’m gonna get this tattooed.”

I laugh. He doesn’t. He’s not joking.

“You want one?” he asks. “Want my nickname and my mark on you forever?”

I barely hesitate. The only reason I don’t jump at the idea is because I’m terrified of needles. Still, I rise and climb onto his lap, straddling him. He takes the pen and writes Sunshine on my chest, chewing his lip as he concentrates.

“Where are we gonna find a tattoo shop open on Christmas Day?”

“I know a guy,” he says distractedly.

I don’t like the sound of that.

I look down at my chest, watching as he slowly and carefully writes the last two letters.

Once he’s finished, he says, “Hey,” and lifts my chin with his knuckles. “You trust me, right? I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and press my forehead against his.

Little do we know, it’s not him we have to worry about. I’m the one who lets something bad happen to him . I’m the one who breaks him. My sunshine.