Page 47 of Someone to Call My Own
I’d been afraid for so long, and of so many things, that I wasn’t sure I could just turn it off like a switch, but I sure as hell wanted to try. I stared into his eyes, hoping he saw the truth in my words. I needed him to know that I wasn’t just saying these things because I had a tumor. I spoke from my heart. “I do love you, Jon. I denied it for months, gradually accepted it for a few more, and now I’m ready to embrace the love you bring into my life. I’m sorry it took me this long.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your Christmas gift or text message on New Year’s Eve. I was in a bad place and…” Jon’s words trailed off. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he was doing, and my expression must’ve belied the direction my mind had gone. “No! I wasn’t with another guy. Mentally, I wasn’t in a good place. I got shitfaced drunk on the booze you sent me and having myself a pity party for one. Another new year but nothing had changed. Then I got your text.”
I wanted to believe that it made him feel better, but he would’ve responded to me sooner if it had. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter that it took him two weeks to respond to my text after the hell I had put him through. I didn’t realize it at the time, but his appearance at Josh and Gabe’s the night before was his response. He was letting me know he was still there, but in person and not through a message.
“I can’t change what has happened between us, Jon. I can tell you that I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face, but it would be a lie.” That got his attention. “I am not proud of the way I reacted to you, or sometimes treated you, but I’m not sorry for loving my late-husband with my whole heart until I was ready to acknowledge I could love you just as much.” Understanding dawned in his blue eyes then he gently traced the tattoo inked over my heart. “This moment right here with you makes me want to fight in ways I never have in my life. Five years ago, I wanted to die too when I found out that River was taken from me. Today, I want to live a long life filled with… what is it you like to do?”
We both laughed at my question, realizing we didn’t know much about each other beyond our tragedies. I was a broken widower, and he was the mysterious man who’d witnessed the worst in humanity too many times to count. We were broken men with jagged edges that could cut a person deep if they were foolish enough to venture too close, but, somehow, we aligned perfectly to form something whole and beautiful.
I realized that it didn’t matter how much time I had left—hours, days, or a lifetime; I was going to discover everything there was to know about Jon Silver.
“Honestly, Emory, I don’t know what I like to do.” He grimaced when he heard how odd that sounded. “I didn’t have much time to discover anything about myself. The boy I used to be entered boot camp and stayed there. I emerged as a man, and my life experiences that followed made it harder and harder to remember who that boy was or what he liked.”
I admit that Jon’s tough, rugged side turned me on, but the more vulnerable parts of him owned me. I was pretty sure that very few people saw the real man and that made me feel even more special. I placed both my hands at his temples and narrowed my eyes like I was reading his mind.
“Careful,” he playfully admonished and lightly swatted my ass, “there’s top secret intel stored in there.”
“Yeah, I’m not getting anything that I could leak to a conspiracy theorist,” I said, playing along. “I see round, firm balls.”
“Yeah?” Jon waggled his brows because he liked where the conversation was going.
I closed my eyes and played up my abilities. “Hmmmmm. I see white balls with red stitching.” I reopened my eyes dramatically. “You love baseball!” Jon looked at me suspiciously like he was debating whether I pulled that out of his head or made a lucky guess. “Neither,” I said after a good chuckle. “I remembered you talking about the Reds game from the bachelor party weekend. I heard the excitement in your voice when you talked about it going into extra innings and the one time you saw a perfect game as a kid.”
“That was a magical night for a twelve-year-old boy,” Jon told me. “I’d won those tickets for making the honor roll all year long. They were up in the nosebleed section, but I didn’t care. The atmosphere was amazing, and, for once, my mom seemed carefree and happy. We ate hotdogs, popcorn, cotton candy, and drank way too many sodas.” Jon closed his eyes briefly and swallowed hard. “You could feel the crowd’s excitement build as the innings passed without the opposing team reaching base. Pure magic.” Jon smiled and said, “I remember my mom covering her eyes when the last batter hit a line drive toward the gap between second and third base. She yelled for the shortstop to catch the ball.” He laughed at the memory then added wryly, “He made a diving catch that still makes highlight reels nearly thirty years later.”
“That does sound like an amazing time,” I told him. “So, let’s plan to see a lot of baseball games this year.”
“I thought you didn’t like baseball.”
“Who said that?”
“I just assumed since you didn’t go to the Reds game that…” Jon’s voice trailed off. “Ah, you didn’t go because of me.”
“Yep.” Why bother denying it? “My hot water tank isn’t nearly as generous as yours, so we better get to washing up.”
“I’m only in here because you asked me. I have no problem smelling like you.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to rub my scent all over you again.” I hardly recognized the husky voice that came from my lips.
We had so many things to discuss, but neither of us wanted to talk right then. I had other ways I wanted to communicate with Jon first. Washing my body was difficult to do in the small shower. Instead of getting frustrated, I used it as an excuse to brush my leg against his erection. Jon jerked the washcloth out of my hands and shut the water off.
“You’re clean enough.”
He wasn’t nearly as forceful when he toweled me off though. I looked forward to the day that he would feel safe enough to toss me down and fuck me like an animal, but I was willing to settle for slow and sweet until then. Jon lay me down and lovingly kissed, licked, or nibbled on every part of my body until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please, Jon,” I pleaded.
He stopped tormenting me and reached for the drawer where I kept the supplies. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, halting him. He looked at me with a concerned gaze.
“Nothing between us ever again.”
“Are you sure, Emory? I mean, I get tested regularly and—”
“I’m sure.” I took the lubricant and slicked his bare cock with it. “I want to be yours.”
Jon dropped the condom wrapper and positioned himself between my legs. As much as I wanted him to take me hard and fast, I could feel the amount of pressure building in my skull and knew it wasn’t what I needed. Jon lowered his body over mine, supporting his weight on his forearm beside my head. He reached between our bodies to grip his dick and slowly pushed into me.
I whimpered at how good it felt having him inside me after that final barrier was removed. I wanted to close my eyes but didn’t want to miss a single expression that crossed his face as he loved me. I caught each of his gasps with my mouth, just as he did for me. I ghosted my hands all over his hard-muscled body and felt goose bumps pop up beneath my touch as Jon loved me thoroughly. He built my pleasure up slowly, turning me into a bundle of raw need by the time I reached the peak. I teetered back and forth—almost there, but not quite—until Jon said the magic words that pushed me over the edge.