Page 21

Twenty

Jensen

T he pins crash at the end of the lane, but I only stare numbly in the distance without truly seeing them. My mother cheers, and my dad gives her a high five, but I hardly move.

“You see that, Jens?” my dad asks, trying to cheer me up.

Shaking myself out of it, I force a smile. “Great job, Mom.”

They both give me a pitying look. But they don’t know what to say because they don’t know what’s wrong. I lied and told them I was just in a funk, and they accepted that.

I haven’t spoken to Isaac since last night. He texted me later, asking me to call him, but I ignored it. Nothing has ever hurt so much.

I figured that hanging out with my parents would help tonight, but so far, I think it’s making things worse. They want me to be happy. They’ve said that a thousand times throughout my life. My mother says it more than anyone.

And yet she was the first person to put the nail in the coffin. She was the one who signed me up for Eternal Harmony. The person who pushed me toward the ministry. The person who has set me up on the most dates.

She’s the reason I can never be with Isaac. The reason I will never be truly happy.

Needing to get away, I stand from the chairs and walk over to the bar. My parents are distracted with their friends, so I grab a stool and order a tequila soda, imagining Isaac could be here to drink it with me.

After the first sip, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “Hey, son,” my dad says as he takes the seat next to me.

“Hey, Dad,” I mutter without emotion.

He holds up a hand for the bartender to bring him a beer. And for a few minutes, he doesn’t speak. We just drink in silence.

Which is good. I don’t have anything to say to him anyway.

My dad is a retired cop and about as tough and as masculine as it gets. He’s tall like me but beefier and stronger. With age, his physique has changed, leaving him with a large beer belly and a balding head.

“So…things didn’t work out with Gabby,” he mumbles, with his pint glass to his lips.

I groan inwardly. “We’re just friends.”

“That’s good. She seems like a good friend to have.”

Nodding, I take another drink and think nothing of it. Then he continues.

“Friends are all good and fine, but at some point, I want you to find a partner.”

I laugh at his use of the word partner . “Is this a cop metaphor?”

He doesn’t even break a smile. “No, it’s not.”

I have to swallow, discomfort growing inside me. I stare straight ahead, not meeting his gaze as I casually reply, “I’m trying, Dad. I date but haven’t found the right girl yet.”

He clears his throat as if he’s reacting to my statement. When I glance sideways at him, he’s wearing a scowl and staring across the bar. What did I say?

We drink in silence for a few more minutes. Then, to my utter dismay, I hear a familiar song play on the radio. It’s an old Theo Virgil track, one of his breakout hits. The same one I had on my phone ringtone for a while. The one that made me obsessed with his music.

Tears prick my eyes, and I’m about two seconds from standing from the bar and hightailing it out of this bowling alley entirely.

“I like this song,” my dad mumbles.

“Me too.”

With that, it feels a bit more casual between us. My dad finishes his beer, throws down a twenty, and stands from his stool. I think it’s done, and I’ve escaped any dangerous topics of conversation when he claps his hand on my shoulder again.

“I just want you to be happy, son. And I don’t care what that looks like. I hope you know that. You only get one life. Don’t waste it by trying to please everyone else.”

With that, he walks away, and Isaac’s song comes to an end. I sit at the barstools for a while, considering my next move, although I already know what I want to do.

But do I even deserve what I want?

Eventually, I stand from the bar and say goodbye to my parents.

“Oh, you’re off already?” my mom whines.

“Yeah. I need to uh…do something.”

My dad smiles as he picks up his bowling ball from the machine. Waving them goodbye, I leave the bowling alley in a rush. I’m in my car, driving without even really thinking about where I’m going. I have no destination in mind, just that familiar gravitational pull.

Before I know it, I’m texting him.

I don’t deserve it but open the gate, please.

He reads the message, and a moment later, it starts to roll open slowly. I pull my car through and up to his house. Then, I’m out and practically running to the door.

He’s standing in the doorway, a cold, emotionless expression on his face. He looks nothing like the star who takes the stage and commands a crowd. In a ripped muscle tee and a pair of tattered jeans, he looks like just a man. A brokenhearted man.

I stand two feet away, waiting to see if he wants to chew me out and curse my name. He doesn’t say a word. He just stares at me.

Lifting my arms, I let them drop in surrender. What the fuck do I say?

I could tell Isaac that I’m sorry or that nothing has changed since last night. Everything still stands. Everything about our lives and futures.

But I don’t want any of that darkness between us. So I close the distance between us without a word. Grabbing his face, I pull him in for a fierce kiss.

To my relief, he grabs me back, kissing me as passionately as I’m kissing him. His arms wind around my neck, and he lets my hands roam his body. I grip him by the ass and lift him a few inches off the ground. As I carry him inside, he clings to my neck like he needs me.

It should be a crime to be needed by Isaac Goode. He’s been hurt by those who he needed before, and I am a monster for being the man he needs now. But I can’t help it.

Because I need him too.

We stumble our way into the house. As we reach his living room, I’m tugging at his shirt desperately, and he’s practically ripping the buttons off mine.

Our shirts come off in a rush, hitting the floor as we reach the thick plush rug in front of the dormant fireplace. I drop to my knees in front of Isaac and tear open the button of his jeans. His fingers wind through my hair, tugging so hard it makes my eyes water.

I like the pain he inflicts. I deserve it.

After jerking his pants down, I pull the elastic of his briefs with them. As his cock bounces free, pointing straight at me, I grab the length and pull it to my mouth. I am not gentle or teasing this time. I wrap my lips around him and suck him into the back of my throat like my life depends on it.

Instead of moaning with delight, he growls in frustration. His grip is still tight, and he’s forcing himself deeper with each thrust. When I gag, spit flying from my mouth, he releases his grasp on my hair.

Grabbing him by the thighs, I wrestle him to the floor. He lets out a desperate sound, pulling my mouth down to his for a kiss. Then suddenly, he fights for control, rolling me to my back so he’s straddling my chest.

Staring down at me with passion in his eyes, I can tell that he wants to scream at me. He’s angry and I love it. I crave his fire. More than anything, I want Isaac to fight for himself, even if that means fighting me.

“You told me I could trust you,” he says in a low, raspy tone as if he’s speaking through gritted teeth. I’ve never seen him like this before.

“I know,” I reply.

“Then you left. You fucking left.” His palms are on my chest, his fingers pressing into me as if he wants to hurt me.

“You deserve better.”

His anger only grows as he leans closer and practically shouts. “ I will be the one to say what I deserve.”

“Good,” I reply flatly from the floor.

Suddenly, his anger starts to dissipate into sadness, and I find myself reaching for him. The moment I touch his face, the anger is back.

“I’ve been alone for a long time,” he mutters. “I don’t need you, not really. I just…want you. And I am so fucking tired of people telling me they love me and they care about me, and then they fucking leave. I’m so tired of being alone.”

Tears well in his furious eyes.

“Take it out on me,” I whisper. “I’m yours, Isaac.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he snaps.

“No promises. I can’t make a single promise to you.”

He winces, throwing his head back as he fights the urge to scream or cry, but it’s the best I can do. I hate it as much as he does.

“Is this what you want?” he asks in anger. “You want me to treat you like another hookup? A guy I fuck who means nothing to me?”

“No.”

“Neither do I,” he replies sadly.

To my surprise, he leans down and kisses me. I taste his rage and his hurt. And the harder he kisses me, biting and dominating my mouth, I realize he’s doing what I told him to. He’s taking it out on me.

His hands grip my hair again, pulling hard as he groans into my mouth. I savor every ounce of the pain. After breaking away from the kiss, Isaac stares down at me. His cock is still throbbing, resting on my chest. He glances down at it for a moment.

Then he starts to work his way up my body. Still holding my hair in his hands, he lifts my head and guides his cock to my mouth. I take every inch eagerly.

Isaac has come undone, and I adore him for it. He fucks my mouth, making me choke as he hits the back of my throat, and I know that if he didn’t trust me, he would never let himself do this. He’s comfortable with me, and it makes pride swell in my chest.

I want him to use me as much as he wants. I’m dying for him to make it hurt.

The harder he goes, the more it means to me.

Isaac’s thrusts pick up speed, and my jaw and throat begin to ache. I’m ready for his release. I need it.

His breathing starts to get shallow and tight. His face is contorted in pain, and I ready myself for everything he has to give me.

A moment later, he goes silent. Then warmth fills my mouth and I start to choke and spit while trying to swallow him down. He pulls out and strokes himself quickly through the rest of his climax. It’s degrading as his cum lands in spurts on my tongue, but there’s something intimate and sexy about that.

Isaac’s spine curls around me as he continues to unload into my mouth. He’s racked with pleasure and pain, shivering through his arousal.

My own cock is still stuck in my pants, throbbing with need, but I don’t care. I won’t touch it. This isn’t about me getting off. It’s about atoning for what I’ve done to him.

When he doesn’t have another drop left, he rolls over and collapses onto the floor next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my shirt, so I grab it and wipe my mouth. Then I turn and stare at him. He’s gazing, unfocused, at the ceiling as his chest heaves with the exertion he’s just spent.

Finally, he turns to look at me. When our eyes meet, the moment feels far more tender than it did a moment ago. With a deep sigh, Isaac rolls toward me. He presses his face to my chest as I wrap my arms around him. My hand strokes up and down his bare back.

“I didn’t mean to be so rough,” he whispers.

“You weren’t too rough. I wanted it that way.”

Neither of us speaks. We’re lying on a rug in his living room with nothing but the silence around us. He’s completely naked, but there’s a blanket on the couch nearby, so I just have to reach up to grab it.

Draping it over his body, I hold him close and kiss his head.

Then, with a shudder deep in my bones, I tell him everything.