Page 34

Thirty-Two

Jensen

I saac is fidgeting nervously on the sofa next to me. After we all greeted his brother, Caleb, Isaac’s mother got a text message that Adam and Sage were running late. So we’re in their living room, around the fireplace, catching up while we wait.

Caleb and Dean have gotten Isaac caught up on their lives. Then Isaac explained his rise to success, which everyone was already aware of, of course.

I’m impressed with the family’s ability to focus on each other rather than dwell on all the negative things that have happened to them in the past couple of years, mainly involving the patriarch of the family.

But when Caleb turns to his twin and asks, “Were you shocked to see him?” everyone freezes with nervous tension. Isaac looks so uncomfortable that I want to whisk him away from this house to protect him.

No one says anything for a while as we all wait for Caleb to catch on. “What did I miss?” he asks, looking around.

“Isaac was staying with me, Caleb,” Luke says bluntly. My eyes widen at his boldness to just come out with it. Then I squeeze Isaac’s hand in mine because I know he has to hate this.

“What?” Caleb asks. “What do you mean he was staying with you? Like this weekend?”

The air is so thick in the room, we could choke on it. I can see the regret in Luke’s eyes as he shakes his head.

“No, Caleb. He’s been with me since he left.”

I slowly watch Caleb’s anger build, and Isaac hangs his head as if to hide.

Caleb rises from the couch with hurt in his expression. “And you never told me?”

Suddenly, the two of them start bickering. Caleb harps on Luke for letting him worry over the last eleven years while Luke shouts back that his only priority was keeping their little brother safe.

Then, I look over and see Isaac’s eyes clench shut before he pops up off the couch in distress. His brothers continue to fight as Isaac storms from the room, jogging up the stairs and away from the chaos in the living room.

His mother looks at me with concern on her face, but when she moves to follow him, I put a hand up. “I’ve got him.”

Leaving the bickering behind me, I march up the large flight of stairs to the second story of the Goode house in search of Isaac. The house is massive. There’s a wing to the right with closed doors, which I assume are bedrooms. To the left, I spot an open door and a shadow cast across the floor.

As I reach the room, I stand in the doorway and watch as Isaac pours whiskey into a short glass on an old bar cart in the corner of a massive office. There is a mahogany desk on the opposite side and an open Bible on the table next to a large leather chair.

Stepping into the room, I close the door behind me to block the sound of his brothers still arguing downstairs. Isaac quickly gulps down the whiskey with a wince before going to pour another.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I say softly as I rest a hand on his to stop him. “That’s not going to make you feel any better.”

“I beg to differ,” Isaac replies with a huff.

I peel his hand from the bottle and force him to face me. He seems so closed in on himself. He won’t look at me or touch me and that’s not like him. Which means I know he’s in his head, probably blaming himself for all of this.

“Look at me,” I whisper, and his eyes slowly drift up to mine. Then, he suddenly melts into my arms. With his face in my neck, he wraps his arms around my body and we just hold each other for a while.

“None of this is your fault. You know that, right?” I mumble against the side of his head.

“Does it even matter? My brothers are fighting because of me. Did you see how sad my mom looked? It’s my fault I haven’t seen her in eleven years.”

Putting my hands on his face, I force him to look at me. “Isaac, stop. That was his fault. You did what you had to in order to survive, and that is never your fault. Your family knows that. They don’t blame you for leaving.”

Pain carves the features of his face as he closes his eyes and leans into my touch. “Just kiss me,” he pleads. “Nothing hurts when you’re kissing me.”

The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk as I bring his mouth to mine. Isaac’s lips are like heaven, soft and sweet.

“Just say the word, baby. I never want you to hurt.”

He smiles against my mouth as his arms hold me tighter, pulling me against him. We can’t hear the argument downstairs anymore. It’s like Isaac and I live alone in this bubble, safe from everything else in the world.

His tongue glides against mine, and a growling moan escapes my lips. What I meant as one soft kiss is quickly escalating into a heated make-out session.

It takes everything in me to pull away. “We can’t be doing this here.”

“Why not?” he asks, pulling me in for another scorching kiss. He’s clinging to me desperately, forcing a whimper out of me when he squeezes the back of my neck and bites hard on my lower lip.

I’m growing hard behind my zipper as my hands rest on his hips, no matter how much I want to grip him tightly. It feels wrong to be getting so aroused in his mother’s home with his family so close by.

“Isaac,” I whisper between kisses, but it’s no use. He’s forcibly trying to seduce me in what I assume is his father’s old office while his family is downstairs, and honestly, it’s working. I don’t know if it’s because we haven’t seen each other in days or because he just always has this effect on me, but it doesn’t matter because when it comes to Isaac Goode, I’m a weak, weak man.

Then he slides a hand down over my pants, squeezing the bulge as he whispers, “Please, Daddy.”

“Oh fucking hell,” I growl as I clutch his hips in my hands and turn his body, slamming it against a bookcase. When he calls me that, I am powerless. I want to give him everything he wants. I want to be everything he wants.

Isaac smiles triumphantly as I kiss him hard, grinding into him until he is moaning against my lips.

“If we get caught, it’s your fault,” I mutter as my hand slides up, encircling his throat in a gentle grip. “When you say things like that, I lose control.”

“I want you to lose control,” he replies wickedly.

Reaching down, I hook a hand under his thigh and lift it so I can grind myself even closer. Our cocks align through the thick fabric of our pants, and something about the pressure and the friction is divine.

He throws his head back as I drive my hips against his. Seeing his neck extended before me, I lean in and suck hard on the sensitive flesh.

“Fuck,” he cries breathlessly.

I can feel the pulse in his neck as I reach down and quickly undo his pants. I can’t believe I’m wrapping my hand around his cock while his family is still right downstairs. We were supposed to be here for his mother’s casserole and suddenly, I’m stroking his dick upstairs in his dad’s office.

Deviant. Sinner. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I shove the thought away as I drop to my knees and quickly take Isaac’s cock down my throat.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers as he grips hard on the bookshelf behind him.

My mouth was made for this cock. I wish I could spend every day of my life worshipping it. Making Isaac feel good is what makes me feel good, and there’s nothing sinful or wrong about that. It all feels so right.

He slides his cock along my tongue and I suck gently on the head with every stroke, feeling it grow more and more engorged with each pass of my lips.

If I keep working him like this, I’ll have him coming in seconds. Which I should probably do. It’s not like we have all the time in the world up here.

But I don’t stop. I need his cum too much. I want his pleasure on my face and in my mouth. And I certainly don’t give a shit anymore who is waiting on us. Everything in this room is all that matters.

He pulls at my hair as I suck him hard, my eyes cast upward to catch the euphoria on his face. When I feel his cock harden and swell, I hold my tongue and stroke him to his release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers before the orgasm takes him. His boots scrape against the hardwood floor as he comes on my tongue. A few drops of the warmth land on my cheek and I revel in it.

My cock is throbbing in my pants, and I fully intend to let it go, but Isaac takes one look at me with his cum on my face and lets out a growling sound.

“Come here.”

With one hand on my throat, he pulls me to my feet. Then, with a ravenous look on his face that is burned in my memory, he sticks out his tongue and licks a long line across my cheek, cleaning up his own release from my face.

“Holy shit, that was hot,” I whisper before kissing him hard. Our tongues tangle salaciously, the saltiness of his release bursting with flavor in our fused mouths.

He’s still eager for more as he fumbles with the zipper on my pants. I really should stop him, but I can’t help it. It’s been days since I felt his touch and I miss it. When he slides his hand in to grab my cock, I stifle a groan.

“Get on your knees, and let me feed you my cock,” I whisper into his ear with a hand on his shoulder. He moves to the floor without hesitation. I have to bite my bottom lip with how sexy he looks as he kneels in front of me. He’s staring at me as if he’s starving for my cock.

Holding my length at the base, I place the other hand on the back of Isaac’s neck and slowly slide my shaft between his lips. He sucks on it noisily.

“Better keep it down,” I whisper to him. “We wouldn’t want anyone to walk in and find you on your knees for me.”

He moans quietly around my cock as his head bobs up and down. Getting the base nice and wet, he grips it firmly and strokes it in time with his mouth. I let myself fall into the ecstasy of it. Staring across the room, I take in the large desk where his father once sat.

In some filthy fantasy, I imagine that I’m proving to that man who Isaac belongs to now. He’s mine . He will always be mine.

Isaac picks up his pace, tightening his lips around the tip of my cock, and it’s so intense I can’t last another minute. “Shit, Isaac, I’m coming.”

Shivers roll up my spine as my body seizes around him. I hold tight to Isaac’s head as my cock reaches the back of his throat. He spits and sputters, trying to take every drop of my cum. I’m so strung out on the pleasure of the climax that I almost miss the heavenly sight of Isaac swallowing down every bit. Not a single drop lands anywhere else.

“That’s my good boy,” I whisper as I stroke his head lovingly.

We’re both locked in some post-orgasm haze, and I’m not sure how long we stay like this. Eventually, I pull him to his feet and gather him into my warm embrace.

“We should…get cleaned up for dinner,” he says with his face in my neck, and I can’t help but laugh. Soon, we’re both lost in a fit of quiet laughter. My arms wind around him, holding him close and soaking in this moment.

“Let’s get down there.”

When Isaac and I come out of the office, the fighting downstairs seems to be over, which is a relief. I’m sure that casserole is ice cold by now, but after the appetite Isaac and I just worked up in that office, I’ll eat it, anyway.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, we descend the stairs and find that the family is no longer in the living room. Instead, they are gathered around the table. It would appear Adam never showed up after all.

Everyone is staring at us as we enter the room, and a blush rises to my cheeks. Caleb is laughing under his breath as Isaac and I walk down to the empty seats at the table.

“Sorry,” Isaac says, clearing his throat. “I didn’t know you guys were eating. I just needed to get away for a second.”

“It’s okay, darling,” his mother says. “We just sat down. Haven’t even said grace yet.”

“Where’s Adam?” Isaac asks as he takes a seat at the table.

“Something came up at work,” his mother says with a grimace. “We didn’t tell him.”

Sadly, Isaac nods. “That’s okay.”

The tension between Caleb and Luke has seemed to die down enough to make things bearable. The man with the buzz cut at Caleb’s side has his hand on his leg in comfort, and I think it’s doing a lot to settle his nerves.

“Jensen,” Isaac’s mother says sweetly. “Would you like to do the honors and say grace tonight?”

I pull in a deep breath before turning toward Isaac to gauge his reaction. I’ve never even prayed with Isaac before. It feels like my work as a preacher and my life with Isaac are two very different lives.

He gives a subtle nod as his lips press together.

“I’d love to,” I reply before turning my gaze downward.

For the briefest moment, a flush of shame courses through me. I’m a fraud. A liar.

You’re a failure. You don’t deserve to speak to God.

Closing my eyes, I push those thoughts away.

“Heavenly Father, we thank you for the blessing of this meal and for bringing this family together. Tonight is especially meaningful as they gather for the first time in so long, with hearts full of joy for the safe return of Isaac. Bless this food that was so beautifully prepared by Melanie. May we always cherish these times and remember those who are not with us tonight. Amen.”

“Amen,” Isaac mumbles at my side before the rest of the family joins in. He’s staring at me as if he’s noticing something for the first time. He doesn’t seem put off or uncomfortable, which is a relief. I know it can be jarring to see someone in their element for the first time.

“That was beautiful,” Melanie says from the head of the table.

“Thank you,” I reply softly.

As we eat, I glance around the table at Isaac’s family. I see so much love at this table, but I see pain, too. I can only imagine what they’ve endured these past few years. Now, Isaac is here, and they are one step closer to being whole again.

Everyone makes casual conversation, and it feels so normal. This is exactly what Isaac needs. The family he deserves.