Page 108 of The Haunting of Lockton

He undid my zipper and freed my cock, our kisses alternating between hard presses and ones so soft it was like we were afraid this thing between us would break. His long fingerscurled around my shaft, and I rocked my hips forward, seeking more of that delicious friction.

My hands dropped to his waistband and popped his jeans open, then unzipped them. As his cock sprang free, he softly groaned into the kiss and took both of us in his hand. The silky smoothness of him sliding against the underside of my cock, combined with the slight roughness of his palm, had my eyes rolling back. Add a little spit to the mix, and it was a recipe for total annihilation.

Being destroyed had never felt so goddamn amazing.

Neither of us lasted long. Our hot frotting session was a first for me. I had never done it before with anyone. When I came, I bit down on his bottom lip and pulled it between my teeth, my abdomen muscles clenching with my quaking release. He quaked, too, as his orgasm crashed into him.

I stayed on his lap afterward and dropped my face to his shoulder, my breaths rough. He cradled the back of my head and pressed a kiss to my temple. The action made that vulnerable place in my heart even more fragile. He had the power to break me and didn’t even know it.

“Check the glovebox,” he said. “There’s napkins to clean up with.”

I pulled back from his shoulder and peered at him. Moonlight highlighted areas of his pale skin as darkness kissed others. “You have napkins in your glovebox? Like a little old man.”

“Shut up. I eat a lot of fast food and save them. Clearly, for good reason. They’ll come in handy tonight, so you’re welcome.”

I snorted and pecked another kiss on his lips.

We eventually peeled apart and used the napkins to clean up our mess before continuing toward his house. No words were spoken, but our hands rested on top of the middle console, fingers linked.

When we pulled into his driveway, he cut the engine but remained seated. “As much as we don’t want this to end, it will have to, won’t it?”

“I don’t know.” And I really, really didn’t.

He gave a small nod and got out of the car. I followed him to the front porch and inside the house. The flickering blue light coming from the TV in the living room was all that cut through the dark; no other lights were on. A glance through the archway showed Alan in his chair, the movie holding his full attention.

“Still so weird,” I said, amazed. “He seems so human.”

“Heishuman. In all ways that matter.” Paxton flipped on the light so we weren’t in the dark and shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the hook, then placed his keys on the skinny table against the wall that held framed photos of him and a woman. His mom, maybe?

“Welcome home,” Alan said after materializing in front of us.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I’d probably never get used to that—him just popping in and out at random. Him in a soldier’s uniform didn’t help. Everything about him belonged to a different time.

“Watching anything good?” Paxton asked him.

“I wouldn’t call it good exactly.” Alan’s body did that flickering thing. “It’s… how did you phrase it before, a complete and utter dumpster fire? Plot lines that make no sense and characters with no depth. Yet, I can’t stop watching. I blame the male lead. He’s quite fetching.”

Paxton chuckled. “Who needs a plot when you have eye candy?”

Alan smiled and returned to the living room.

Paxton and I went upstairs. He grabbed me by the bicep and tugged me into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click. After turning on the faucet in the shower, he shed his clothes. Ipulled mine off too, more than happy to go another round with him. He pressed me against the shower wall and pushed into me from behind, fucking me nice and slow as warm water rained down on us. My stomach fluttered at the gentle kisses he placed on my nape.

“I can’t get enough of you, Skyler Knox,” he murmured, pumping his cock into me. His teeth grazed the back of my neck. “I don’t think I ever will.”

Pressure squeezed my throat. I heard what he didn’t say. His words went deeper than sex. “Then don’t stop.” I arched my back as he canted his hips and hit me at a different angle. “Take all you want.”

He did.

As he reached around and stroked my cock, fucking me faster, deeper, I came hard. He followed a handful of thrusts later, softly grunting in my ear.

We washed afterward and lazily dried off before crawling into his bed. He brought me to his chest, and I laid my head over his heart. It had been a long day, but I wasn’t ready to sleep.

“Tell me more about you,” I said. “You’re a psycho who puts pineapple on pizza, and you hate pickles. What else?”

He lightly laughed. “A psycho? Thanks.”

I smiled into his chest. “I saw the framed photos in the entryway. Is that your mom?”